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This episode we are covering the end of the reign of Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou.  We cover the events in the Chronicles, including the death of Nakatomi no Kamatari, the creation of the Fujiwara family, the destruction of Goguryeo, and the continued development of the Baekje refugees. For more, check out the podcast blog at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-128 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 128: Immigrants, Princes, and High Officials. There was a pall over the house, despite the visiting royal retinue creating something of a stir,.  While craftspeople were still hard at work repairing damage from the lightning strike only a few months earlier, that wasn't the reason for the low spirits.  Rather, the house was worried for their patriarch, the Naidaijin, Nakatomi no Kamatari.  He had fallen ill, and despite all the pleas to the kami and the Buddhas , it seemed the end might be near. And so even the sovereign himself had come.  Kamatari was not just a loyal official, but  a close friend of the sovereign, someone who had been there since the beginning.  And so we can imagine how Naka no Oe felt.  He may have been the sovereign of Yamato, but he was still a human being, visiting his friend of some 30 or so years, knowing that for all of the power that he held, there was nothing he could do against the ravages of time and disease.     The year is 668—Naka no Oe has moved the capital to Ohotsu, on the banks of Lake Biwa, and has formally assumed the throne. This episode we are going to cover the last several years of Naka no Oe's reign.  In contrast to last week's dive into Yamato science, this week is going to be a bit of a grab bag, looking at what was going on in Yamato and talking about what was recorded in the Chronicles. And for the most part, the entries for the rest of the year 668 are fairly normal, and yet there are some oddities… For instance, in the fourth month we are told that Baekje sent Mitosapu and others to offer tribute.  And any other time that would be just a normal thing.  Except that at this point in history, Baekje was about as going a concern as a parrot in a Monty Python sketch.  So if the Kingdom of Baekje was no longer a thing, who was it that was sending the tribute? Most likely it was the Baekje communities in exile living in the archipelago.  Remember how many of them had settled around Biwa and in 666, two thousand Baekje people were settled somewhere in the East.  These immigrants  were still being supported by the Yamato government, who were basically subsidizing their settlement for the first three years, during which time they would be expected to make it into a permanent settlement. Based on the way the Chronicles talk about it, these early Baekje communities sound like they were maintaining a kind of kingdom in exile.  With many immigrants from Baekje living together in proximity, they were likely keeping their own groups, with their own language and traditions, at least for now.  It would be interesting to know if there were specific Baekje settlements that have been identified through the archaeological record.   That said, we definitely see Baekje's mark on the archipelago: Physically, there are the Baekje style castles, and various temples following Baekje style layouts.  Of course there were also continental building styles, but some of that was shared across multiple cultures at this point, and one should consider how much Baekje influence might have been found in things that we later see as Japanese. Additionally, Baekje nobles were involved in the court, often given court rank based in part on their rank in Baekje, though it wasn't quite equivalent.  Still,  in time, some of the nobles would trace their lineages back to Baekje nobles and princes. Speaking of princes and Baekje, on the fifth day of the fifth month of 668 —a day that would come to be known as Ayame no hi, or Tango no Sekku, one of the major days of court ceremony—Naka no Oe went out hunting on the moor of Kamafu, known today as Gamou district, near Kanzaki, where 400 Baekje people had been settled.  He was out there with the Crown Prince, his younger brother, aka Prince Ohoama, and all the other princes and ministers.  A grand outing. A month later, however, tragedy struck.  One “Prince Ise” and his younger brother died on consecutive days.  While this was undoubtedly a blow to the court, the interesting thing for our purposes – which also highlights the challenge of interpreting the Chronicles is that we aren't exactly sure who this is referring to.  It's not the first time we've seen this title: we first see a “Prince Ise” show up around 650, during the presentation of the white pheasant that ushered in the Hakuho era, but we later see that that individual had passed away in 661.  We also see the name show up less than 20 years later in the Chronicles for another prince, so this can't be the same.  So this is clearly a position or title for a prince, but it isn't clear if it was passed down or inherited.   One possibility is that “Prince Ise” or “Prince of Ise” was a title for one of the royal sons. IAt this point in the narrative, Naka no Oe had three sons.  Prince Takeru had passed away at the age of 8, but he also had Prince Kawajima, Prince Shiki, and Prince Iga, aka Prince Ohotomo, all sons of “palace women”.  We know, though, that these princes show up later, so I don't think the so-called Prince Ise was one of them.  Perhaps another line?   The term “Prince” might also refer to something other than a royal son.  You see, English translators have often been somewhat cavalier with the way we tend to render titles.  The English term “Prince” has  been used for “Hiko”, “Miko”, or “Ou” (which was probably pronounced “Miko” in many of these cases).  And in English, we often think of “Prince” as the son of a king, but “Prince” can also be an independent ruler of a principality, or may just refer to a person with power in a monarchic state.  Even the term “king” is not unambiguous—early European accounts of Japan during the Warring States period often refer to the various daimyou as “kings”, given the often absolute dominion with which they apparently ruled their particular domains. At this time, the term “Miko”  (also pronounced “ouji”, or “koushi”, or even “sume-miko”) seems rather unambiguously to refer to a “royal prince”, from the lineage of the sovereign.  The term “Ou”, which also seems to be read as “Miko” in some cases, is also the term for “King” and probably more broadly fits the concept of a “prince” as a ruler.  However, in this case, it seems to be equal to the term “Miko”, and may have been used almost interchangeably for a time, though later it would be used to refer to members of princely rank who were not directly related to a reigning sovereign—the grandchildren and so forth of royal princes who did not go on to inherit. In this case, I think the best we can say for certain is that Prince Ise—or the Prince of Ise—was someone important enough to be included in the chronicles – but who he was, exactly, will remain a mystery for now. The following month, the 7th month, was chock full of activities.  First of all, Goguryeo sent envoys by way of Koshi—meaning they landed on the Japan Sea side, probably around Tsuruga.  While this may just have been closer, I suspect it meant they avoided any Tang entanglements traveling through the Bohai sea.  They did run into a spot of trouble, however, as the winds and waves prevented their return. Koshi also shows up as presenting some strange gifts to the court:  burning earth and burning water.  There is some thought that maybe this is something like coal or natural oil deposits. We are also told that in this month, Prince Kurikuma was appointed the governor of Tsukushi.  Kurikuma no Ou appears to have been the grandson—or possibly great-grandson—of the sovereign, Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou.  The position Kurikuma was given was important, of course, overseeing the Dazai, which meant overseeing anyone traveling to the archipelago from the continent. This would be a relatively short-lived appointment—this time.  He would be re-appointed about three years later, which would prove important, as he would be governor there during some particularly momentous events.    Stories appear to have continued about him in the Nagasaki region, and various families traced their lineage back to him. Also in that month, we are told that Afumi, home of the new capital, practiced military exercises—likely in preparation in case of a future Tang or Silla invasion.  Recall we discussed in Episode 126 how the choice of Afumi as a capital site might have been related to its defensibility in the event of such an invasion. At the same time, the court entertained Emishi envoys, and the toneri, by royal command, held banquets in various places. There is also mention of a shore-pavillion, presumably at Lake Biwa, where fish of various kinds came, covering the water.  Interestingly enough, there is another story of a “shore pavilion”, likely the same one, in the Fujiwara Family Record, the Toushi Kaden.  We are told that Prince Ohoama – Naka no Oe's younger brother spiked a large spear through a plank of wood in some kind of feat of strength.  This apparently shocked Naka no Oe, who saw it aa  kind of threat—perhaps seeing that his five-years younger brother was still hale and healthy.  Granted, Naka no Oe was only in his 40s, but his brother Ohoama was in his later 30s.  We are also told that at this time, in 668, Naka no Oe was apparently not doing so well, with people wondering if he would be with them much longer. The Toshi Kaden account seems rather surprising in that it claims Naka no Oe was so shocked by this proof of his brother's vitality that he wanted to have him put to death, suggesting to me that he felt that Ohoama might be a threat to him and his rule.  Ultimately, though, he was talked out of this by his old friend, Nakatomi no Kamatari – the one whom he had plotted with to overthrow the Soga, and whose relationship was initiated by an interaction on the kemari field, as we discussed in Episode 106. Speaking of whom: Nakatomi no Kamatari was still Naijin, the Inner or Interior Minister, and so  quite prominent in the administration. In the 9th month, as a Silla envoy was visiting the court, Kamatari sent Buddhist priests Hoben and Shinpitsu to present a ship to the Prime Minister of Silla, which was given to the Silla envoy and his companions, and three days later, Fuse no Omi no Mimimaro was sent with a ship meant for the King of Silla as well. This incident is also recounted in the Toshi Kaden.  In this case it says that the people, hearing about the gifts to Silla, were quite upset.  After all, it stands to reason:  Yamato was still smarting from their defeat at the hands of Tang and Silla forces, and building up defenses in case of an attack.  They'd also taken in a number of Baekje nobles and families, who may have also had some influence on the court.  We are told that Kamatari himself excused all of this by stating that “All under heaven must be the sovereign's land.  The guests within its borders must be the sovereign's servants.”  In this case, all under heaven, or “Tenka”, is a common phrase used to describe a monarch's sovereignty over everything in the land.  And so, while Silla envoys were in Yamato as guests, they also fell under similar rules, and as such were considered, at least by Yamato, as the sovereign's servants and thus worthy of gifts. The Silla envoys stayed for over a month.  They finally departed by the 11th month of 668, carrying even more gifts, including silk and leather for the King and various private gifts for the ambassadors themselves.  The court even sent Chimori no Omi no Maro and Kishi no Woshibi back with the envoy as Yamato envoys to the Silla court. This all tells us that just as the Tang were working to woo Yamato, Silla was likely doing so as well.  And while Yamato might still begrudge the destruction of Baekje, they also had to face the political reality that Baekje was probably not going to be reinstated again—especially not while the Tang government was occupying the peninsula. So making nice with both Tang and Silla was prudent. Furthermore, though they had been visited by Goguryeo envoys earlier that year, Yamato may have had some inkling that Goguryeo was not in the most powerful position.  Ever since the death of Yeon Gaesomun, the Goguryeo court had been involved in infighting—as well as fighting their external enemies.  One of Gaesomun's sons had been exiled and had gone over to the Tang, no doubt providing intelligence as well as some amount of legitimacy.  What they may not have known was that as Yamato was hosting the Silla envoys, a new assault by the Tang-Silla alliance was advancing on Pyongyang and setting siege to the city.  The Nihon Shoki records that in the 10th month of 668 Duke Ying, the Tang commander-in-chief, destroyed Goguryeo. This would dramatically change the international political landscape.  Tang and Silla had been triumphant—Yamato's allies on the peninsula had been defeated, and what we know as the “Three Kingdoms” period of the Korean peninsula was over.  However, the situation was still fluid.  The peninsula was not unified by any sense of the imagination.  The Tang empire had their strategic positions from which they controlled parts of the peninsula and from which they had been supplying the war effort against Goguryeo.  They also likely had to occupy areas to ensure that nobody rose up and tried to reconstitute the defeated kingdoms.  In fact, there would be continued attempts to revive Goguryeo, as might be indicated in the name we use: by the 5th century, the country was actually using the name “Goryeo”, a shortened form of “Goguryeo”, but we continue to refer to it as “Goguryeo” to distinguish it from the country of the same name that would be established in 918, laying claim to that ancient Goguryeo identity. A bit of spoilers, but “Goryeo” is where we would eventually get the name that we know the region by, today:  “Korea”.  In the Nihon Shoki it is referred to as “Gaori”. But none of that could have been known at the time.  Instead, there was no doubt some exuberance on the side of both Silla and Tang, but that would settle into something of unease.  With Baekje and Goguryeo destroyed, Silla may have thought that Tang would leave, allowing them to solidify their hold and manage those territories as an ally.  If this is what they thought, though, I'm not sure they had run it by the Tang empire just yet. In the Yamato court, there appear to have been separate factions: a pro-Tang faction, and also a pro-Silla faction.  We have to assume, based on the actions in the record at this time, that this was a ongoing debate. The last thing I'll note for the year 668 is attempted theft.  The Buddhist priest Dougyou stole Kusanagi, the famous sword forming part of the imperial regalia, and escaped with it.  Kusanagi, you may recall, was the royal sword.  It was named “Kusanagi” or “grass cutter” because it is said that when Prince Yamato Takeru was subduing the eastern lands, he was surrounded in a field that had been set on fire, and he used Kusanagi to create a firebreak by cutting down all of the grass around him.  The sword was given to him by Yamato Hime, the Ise Princess at the time, and it was thought to have been first found by the god Susanowo inside of the legendary Yamata no Orochi.  We talked about this in Episodes 16, 34, and 35.  Yamato Takeru left the sword in Owari, and it would eventually live there, at Atsuta Jingu, Atsuta Shrine, its traditional home. It isn't clear if Dougyou obtained the sword from Owari or if it was being kept in the capital at the time.  It would have likely been brought out for Naka no Oe's coronation, but then it would probably have been returned to the shrine that was holding it. Dougyou tried to head to Silla with his illicit goods, but wind and rain forced him to turn back around.  This is a fascinating story and there's a lot to dive into here. So first off, let's point out that this is supposed to be a Buddhist priest.  What the heck was going on that he was going to try to run a heist on what are essentially the Crown Jewels of the Yamato crown?  While the sword, mirror, and jewel were still somewhat questionable as the sole three regalia, they were clearly important.  We aren't given Dougyou's motives.  We don't know enough about him.  Was he anti-Yamato or anti-Naka no Oe?  Was he actually a Buddhist priest of his own accord, or was he a priest because he was one of those who had been essentially conscripted into religious orders on behalf of some powerful noble?  Was he a Buddhist who wanted to attack the hold of the kami? Was he pro-Silla, or perhaps even a Silla descendant, trying to help Silla? Or was he just a thief who saw the sword, Kusanagi, as a valuable artifact that could be pawned outside of Yamato? That last possibility feels off.  While we aren't exactly sure what Kusanagi looked like, based on everything we know, the sword itself wasn't necessarily blinged out in a way that would make it particularly notable on the continent.    And if Dougyou and whoever his co-conspirators were just wanted to attack the Yamato government, why didn't he just dump Kusanagi in the see somewhere?  He could have destroyed it or otherwise gotten rid of it in a way that would have embarrassed the government. It seems mostly likely that this theft had something to do with pro-Silla sentiment, as if Silla suddenly showed up with the sword, I imagine that would have been some diplomatic leverage on the Yamato court, as they could have held it hostage.  In any case, the plan ultimately failed, though the Chronicles claim it was only because the winds were against him—which was likely seen as the kami themselves defending Yamato. On to a new year.  At the start of 669, Prince Kurikuma (who we mentioned above) was recalled to the capital and Soga no Akaye was appointed governor of Tsukushi. We mentioned Akaye a couple of episodes back.  He was involved in the broken arm-rest incident, where Prince Arima was plotting against Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou, and Akaye's daughter Hitachi no Iratsume, was one of the formal wives of Naka no Oe, who would give birth to the princess Yamabe. Now Akaye was given the position of governor of Tsukushi. This position is an interesting one throughout Japanese history.  In many ways it is a viceroy—the governor of Tsukushi has to effectively speak with the voice of the sovereign as the person responsible for overseeing any traffic to and from the continent.  This also was likely a highly lucrative position, only handed out to trusted individuals. However, it also meant that you were outside of the politics of the court.  Early on that was probably less of a concern.  At this time, court nobles were likely still concerned with their traditional lands, which created their economic base, meaning that the court may have been the political center, but there was still plenty of ways to gain power in the archipelago and it wasn't solely through the court.  Over time, as more and more power accrued to the central court government, that would change.  Going out to manage a government outpost on the far end of the archipelago—let alone just going back to manage one's own estates—would be tantamount to exile.  But for now, without a permanent city built up around the palace, I suspect that being away from the action in the capital wasn't quite as detrimental compared to the lucrative nature of a powerful position.  Later, we will see how that flips on its head, especially with the construction of capitals on the model of those like Chang'an. For now, new governor Soga no Akaye was likely making the most of his position.  On that note, in the third month of 669, Tamna sent their prince Kumaki with envoys and tribute.  They would have come through Tsukushi, and Soga no Akaye likely enjoyed some benefits as they were entertained while waiting for permission to travel the rest of the way down to the Yamato capital.  The Tamna embassy did not exactly linger at the court.  They arrived on the 11th of the 3rd month, and left one week—seven days—later, on the 18th.  Still, they left with a gift of seed-grain made to the King of Tamna. On their way out, they likely would have again stopped in at Tsukushi for provisions and to ensure that all of their business was truly concluded before departing. A couple of months later, on the 5th day of the 5th month, we see another hunting party by Naka no Oe.  This seems to have been part of the court ritual of the time for this ceremonial day.  This time it was on the plain of Yamashina.  It was attended by his younger brother, Crown Prince Ohoama, as well as someone called “Fujiwara no Naidaijin” and all of the ministers. “Fujiwara no Naidaijin” is no doubt Nakatomi no Kamatari.  This is an interesting slip by the Chroniclers, and I wonder if it gives us some insight into the source this record came from.  Kamatari was still known as Nakatomi at the time, and was still the Naidaijin, so it is clear they were talking about him.  But historically his greatest reputation is as the father of the Fujiwara family, something we will get to in time.  That said, a lot of the records in this period refer to him as “Fujiwara”.  We've seen this previously—because the records were being written later they were often using a more common name for an individual, rather than the name—including title—that the individual actually would have borne at the time of the record.  This really isn't that different from the way we often talk about the sovereigns using their posthumous names.   Naka no Oe would not have been known as “Tenji Tennou” during his reign.  That wouldn't be used until much later.  And yet, many history books will, understandably, just use the name “Tenji” because it makes it clear who is being talked about. This hunting trip is not the only time we see the name “Fujiwara” creep into the Chronicles a little earlier than accurate: we are told that only a little later, the house of “Fujiwara” no Kamatari was struck by lightning.  But that wasn't the only tragedy waiting in the wings.  Apparently, Kamatari was not doing so well, and on the 10th day of the 10th month, his friend and sovereign, Naka no Oe, showed up to pay his respects and see how he was doing. Ever since that fateful game of kemari—Japanese kickball—the two had been fast friends.  Together they envisioned a new state.  They overthrew the Soga, and changed the way that Japan even conceived of the state, basing their new vision off continental ideas of statehood, governance, and sovereignty.  Now, Kamatari was gravely ill. What happens next is likely of questionable veracity Sinceit is unlikely that someone was there writing down the exact words that were exchanged, but the Chronicles record a conversation between the sovereign and his ill friend.  And the words that the Chroniclers put in their mouths were more about the image that they wanted to project.  According to them, Naka no Oe praised his friend, and asked if there was anything that he could do. Kamatari supposedly eschewed anything special for burial arrangements.  He supposedly said “While alive I did no service for my country at war; why, then, should I impose a heavy burden on it when I am dead?”  Hard to know if he actually felt like that or not, or if thr Chroniclers were likening him to  Feng Yi of the Han dynasty, the General of the Great Tree.  He was so-called because he would often find a tree to take time to himself.  He likewise was renowned for his dislike of ostentation, much like Kamatari foregoing a fancy burial mound. Five days later, Naka no Oe sent Crown Prince Ohoama to Kamatari's house to confer on him the cap of Dai-shiki, and the rank of Oho-omi.  They also conferred on him and his family a new surname:  Fujiwara, and so he became Fujiwara no Daijin, the Fujiwara Great Minister.  The next day he died.  One source known as the Nihon Seiki, said that he was 50 years old, but according to the Chronicles there was an inscription on his tomb that stated he died at age 55. Three days later, we are told that Naka no Oe went to the house of the now late Fujiwara no Naidaijin, and gave orders to Soga no Akaye no Omi, declaring to him his gracious will and bestowing on him a golden incense-burner.  This is somewhat odd, because as we were just talking about, Soga no Akaye had been appointed governor of Tsukushi, though the Toshi Kaden claims that it was actually Soga no Toneri who was in Tsukushi—but these could also mean the same people.  Why this happened right after Kamatari's death suggests to me that Soga no Akaye may have had something to do with the arrangements for Kamatari's funeral or something similar. Let's talk about this whole incident.  There are many that think the Nihon Shoki has things a bit out of order, and on purpose.  Specifically, it is quite likely that the name “Fujiwara” was actually granted after Kamatari's death, and not on the day of, as it has here.  He may even have been posthumously elevated.  But since the Fujiwara family would go on to be quite powerful, the order of events and how they were recorded would have been very important in the 8th century. By naming Kamatari's line the Fujiwara, the court were effectively severing it from the rest of the Nakatomi.  The Nakatomi family would continue to serve as court ritualists, but the Fujiwara family would go on to much bigger and better things.  This change also likely meant that any inheritance of Kamatari's would go to his direct descendants, and that a brother or cousin couldn't necessarily just take over as the head of the household.  So it's very possible that this “setting apart” of the Fujiwara family immediately upon Kamatari's death is a later fiction, encouraged by the rising Fujiwara themselves, in an attempt to keep others from hanging on to their coat tails, as it were. Also a quick note about the idea that there was an inscription on Kamatari's tomb.  This is remarkable because so far, we have not actually found any such markers or tombstones on burials prior to this period.  We assume that they would have been stone or wood markers that were put up by a mound to let you know something about the person who was buried there.  Over time, most of these likely wore away.  But it is interesting to think that the practice may have had older roots. The death of Kamatari wasn't the only tragedy that year.  We are also told that in the 12th month there was a fire in the Treasury, and that the temple of Ikaruga—known to us as Houryuuji, the temple built by Shotoku Taishi—also was burnt.  It isn't said how bad, but only three months later, in 670, another fire struck during a thunderstorm, and we are told that everything burned down—nothing was left. That said, it seems that they may have been able to reuse some of the materials.  I say this because an analysis of the main pillar of the pagoda in the western compound suggests that the tree it came from was felled in 594. The rest of 699 included some less dramatic events. For instance, in the 8th month, Naka no Oe climbed to the top of Takayasu, where he took advice as to how to repair the castle there.  The castle had been built only a couple of years earlier, but already needed repairs.  However, the initial repair project had been abandoned because the labor costs were too much.  The repairs were still needed, though, and they carried out the work four months later in the 12th month, and again in the 2nd month of the following year, and that stores of grain and salt were collected, presumably to stock the castle in case they had to withstand a siege. I suspect that the “cost” of repairing the castle was mostly that it was the 8th month, and the laborers for the work would have to be taken away from the fields.  By the 12th month, I can only assume that those same laborers would be free from their other duties. Speaking of costs, sometimes the Chronicles really make you wonder what was going through the mind of the writers, because they noted that the Land-tax of the Home Provinces was collected.  Maybe this was the first time it had actually been instituted?  I don't know.  It just seems an odd thing to call out. There was also 700 more men from Baekje removed and settled in Kamafu—Gamou District—in Afumi.  And then there was a Silla embassy in the 9th month, and at some point in the year Kawachi no Atahe no Kujira and others were sent to the Tang court.  In response, an embassy from the Tang to Yamato brought 2000 people with them, headed by Guo Wucong, who I really hope was getting some kind of premiere cruiser status for all of his trips. The following year, 700, started out with a great archery meeting, arranged within the palace gate.  I presume this to mean that they had a contest.  Archery at this time—and even for years to come—was prized more highly than even swordplay.  After all, archery was used both in war and on the hunt.  It is something that even the sage Confucius suggested that people should practice.  It is also helpful that they could always shoot at targets as a form of competition and entertainment. Later, on the 14th day of the 1st month, Naka no Oe promulgated new Court ceremonial regulations, and new laws about people giving way on the roads.  This rule was that those of lower status should get out of the way of those of higher status.  Funnily enough, in the description of Queen Himiko's “Yamateg”, back in the 3rd century, this was also called out as a feature of the country.  It is possible that he was codifying a local tradition, or that the tradition actually goes back to the continent, and that the Wei Chroniclers were projecting such a rule onto the archipelago.  I'm honestly not sure which is which.  Or perhaps they expanded the rules and traditions already in place.  There were also new laws about prohibiting “heedless slanders and foul falsehoods”, which sounds great, but doesn't give you a lot to go on. The law and order theme continues in the following month.  A census was taken and robbers and vagabonds were suppressed.  Naka no Oe also visited Kamafu, where he had settled a large number of the Baekje people, and inspected a site for a possible future palace.  He also had castles built in Nagato in Tsukushi, along the route of any possible invasion from the Korean peninsula. In the third month, we have evidence of the continued importance of kami worship, when they laid out places of worship close to Miwi mountain and distributed offerings of cloth.  Nakatomi no Kane no Muraji pronounced the litany.  Note that it is Nakatomi no Muraji—as we mentioned, the Nakatomi would continue to be responsible for ceremonial litany while the Imibe, or Imbe, family would be responsible for laying out the various offerings. Miwi would seem to be the same location as Miidera, aka Onjou-ji, but Miidera wouldn't be founded for another couple of years. In the 9th month of 670, Adzumi no Tsuratari, an accomplished ambassador by this point, travelled to Silla. Tsuratari had been going on missions during the reign of Takara Hime, both to Baekje and to the lands across the “Western Seas”.  While we don't exactly know what transpired, details like this can help us try to piece together something of the relative importance of the mission. In the last entry for 670, we are told that water-mills were made to smelt iron.  If you are wondering how that works, it may have been that the waterwheel powered trip hammers—it would cause the hammer to raise up until it reached a point where it would fall.  Not quite the equivalent of a modern power hammer, it still meant that fewer people were needed for the process, and they didn't have to stop just because their arms got tired. The following year, 671, got off to a grand start, with a lot of momentous events mentioned in just the first month of the year. First off, on the 2nd day of the first month, Soga no Akaye – now back from his stint as governor of Tsukushi - and Kose no Hito advanced in front of the palace and offered their congratulations on the new year.  Three days later, on the 5th day, Nakatomi no Kane, who had provided the litany at Miwi, made an announcement on kami matters.    Then the court made official appointments.  Soga no Akaye was made the Sadaijin, or Prime Minister of the Left, and Nakatomi no Kane was made Prime Minister of the Right.  Soga no Hatayasu, Kose no Hito, and Ki no Ushi were all made daibu, or high ministers.  On top of this, Naka no Ohoe's son, Prince Ohotomo, was appointed as Dajodaijin. “Dajodaijin” is a new position that we haven't seen yet, and it is one of those positions that would only show up on occasion.  It is effectively a *Prime* Prime Minister.  They were considered superior to both the ministers of the left and the right, but didn't exactly have a particular portfolio.  The Ministers of the Left and the Right each had ministries under them that they were responsible for managing.  Those ministries made up the Daijo-kan, or the Council of State.  The Dajodaijin, or Daijodaijin, was basically the pre-eminent position overseeing the Council of State.  I suspect that the Dajodaijin seems to have been the evolution of the Naidaijin, but on steroids.  Nakatomi no Kamatari had administered things as Naidaijin from within the royal household, but the Dajodaijin was explicitly at the head of the State.  Of course, Prince Ohotomo was the son of Naka no Oe himself, and the fact that he was only 23 years old and now put in a place of prominence over other ministers who were quite likely his senior, is remarkable.  I wonder how much he actually was expected to do, and how much it was largely a ceremonial position, but it nonetheless placed Ohotomo just below his uncle, Crown Prince Ohoama, in the overall power structure of the court. Speaking of which, following the new appointments, on the 6th day of the year, Crown Prince Ohoama promulgated regulations on the behalf of his brother, Naka no Oe.  There was also a general amnesty declared, and the ceremonial and names of the cap-ranks were described in what the Chronicles calls the Shin-ritsu-ryo, the New Laws. Towards the end of the first month, there were two embassies, both from now-defunct kingdoms.  The first was from Goguryeo, who reportedly sent someone named Karu and others with Tribute on the 9th day, and 4 days later, Liu Jenyuan, the Tang general for Baekje sent Li Shouchen and others to present a memorial.  I'm not sure if the Goguryeo envoys were from a government in exile or from a subjugated kingdom under Tang and Silla domination.  The Tang general in Baekje was a little more transparent.  That said, that same month we are told that more than 50 Baekje nobles were given Yamato court rank, perhaps indicating that they were being incorporated more into the Yamato court and, eventually, society as a whole.  That said, the remains of the Baekje court sent Degu Yongsyeon and others with tribute the following month. This is also the year that Naka no Oe is said to have placed the clepsydra or water clock in a new pavilion.  We talked about this significance of this last episode.  We are also told that on the third day of the third month, Kibumi no Honjitsu presented a “water level”, a Mizu-hakari.  This would seem to be what it sounds like:  A way of making sure that a surface is level using water.  There is also mention of the province of Hitachi presenting as “tribute” Nakatomibe no Wakako.  He was only 16 years old, and yet we are told he was only one and a half feet in height—one shaku six sun, more appropriately.  Assuming modern conversions, that would have put him approximately the same height as Chandra Dangi of Nepal, who passed away in 2015 but who held the Guiness World Record for the world's shortest person at 21.5”—or 54 centimeters.  So it isn't impossible. The fact that he is called “Nakatomibe” suggests that he was part of the family, or -Be group, that served the Nakatomi court ritualists.  Unfortunately, he was probably seen more as an oddity than anything else at the time.  Still, how many people from that time are not remembered at all, in any extant record?  And yet we have his name, which is more than most. In the following month, we are also told that Tsukushi reported a deer that had been born with eight legs.  Unfortunately, the poor thing died immediately, which is unfortunately too often the case. And then the fifth day of the fifth month rolled around again. This year there was no hunting, but instead Naka no Oe occupied the “Little Western Palace” and the Crown Prince and all of the ministers attended him.  We are told that two “rustic” dances were performed—presumably meaning dances of some local culture, rather than those conforming to the art standards passed down from the continent.  As noted earlier, this day would be one of the primary ceremony days of the later court. The following month, we are told that there was an announcement in regards to military measures requested by the messengers from the three departments of Baekje, and later the Baekje nobles sent Ye Chincha and others to bring tribute.  Once again, what exactly this means isn't clear, but it is interesting to note that there were three “departments” of Baekje.  It is unclear if this was considered part of the court, or if this was Baekje court in exile managing their own affairs as a guest in Yamato. It is also interesting that they seem to have been traveling to the Yamato court while Li Shouchen was still there, sent by the Tang general overseeing Baekje.  That must have been a bit of an awkward meeting.  We are told that they all took their departure together on the 11th day of the 7th month.  Does that mean they left with the Tang envoy?  Was the Tang inviting some of them to come back?  Or just that they all left the court at the same time. The same month, Prince Kurikuma was once more made Governor of Tsukushi—or possibly made governor the first time, depending on whether or not you think the Chronicles are accurate or that they pulled the same event twice from different sources.  We are also told that Silla sent envoys with gifts that included a water buffalo and a copper pheasant for the sovereign. The 8th month of the year, we hear that Karu of Goguryeo and his people took their leave after a seven month long visit.  The court also entertained the Emishi.  Two months later, Silla sent Kim Manmol and others with more tribute, but this envoy likely found a different feeling at court. And that is because on the 18th day of the 8th month, the sovereign of Yamato, Naka no Oe, took to his bed, ill.  There was a ceremony to open the eyes of 100 Buddhas in the interior of the palace, and Naka no Oe sent messengers to offer to the giant Buddha of Houkouji a kesa, a golden begging-bowl, an ivory tusk, aloeswood, sandalwood, and various objects of value, but despite any spiritual merit that may have accrued, it didn't seem to work.  Naka no Oe's illness continued to grow more serious.  He would continue to struggle for another two months, until, on the 3rd day of the twelfth month, Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou, sovereign of Yamato, passed away. For all that we should be careful to avoid the “Great Man” theory of history, it is nonetheless hard to deny that Naka no Oe had an incredible impact on the country in his days.  From start to finish, while one could argue that many of the reforms were simply a matter of time as the archipelago absorbed more and more ideas from across the straits, Naka no Oe found himself in the middle of those reforms.  The Yamato State would never be the same, and he oversaw the birth of the Ritsuryo state, a new state nominally based on laws and rules, rather than just tradition.  It may not be entirely clear, but he also helped inculcate a new sense of the power of the sovereign and of the state, introducing new cultural imaginaries.  Yamato's reach wasn't just vague boasting, but by instituting the bureaucratic state they were able to actually expand the reach of the court farther than any time before. And through those changes, Naka no Oe had, in one way or another, been standing at the tiller.  Now, he was gone, as were many of his co-conspirators in this national project.  Which leaves us wondering:  What comes next? Well, we'll get to that, but not right now.  For now, let us close this episode with Naka no Oe's own end.   Next episode, we can get into the power struggles that followed, culuminating in an incident known as the Jinshin no Ran:  The Jinshin war. Until then, thank you once again for listening and for all of your support. 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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Studijā RSU lektors, analītikas un vadības grupas “PowerHouse Latvia” direktors Mārtiņš Vargulis, Latvijas Ārpolitikas institūta pētnieks, LATO valdes loceklis Sandis Šrāders.

Following the death of Takara Hime, and the war on the Korean peninsula, Naka no Ōe was taking hold--or perhaps keeping hold--of the reins of government.  He wasn't finished with his changes to the government.  He also had a new threat--the Tang Empire.  They had destroyed Yamato's ally, Baekje, and defeated the Yamato forces on the peninsula.  While the Tang then turned their attention to Goguryeo, Yamato could easily be next.  The Tang had a foothold on the Korean peninsula, so they had a place to gather and launch a fleet, should they wish to bring Yamato into their empire. For more, especially to follow along with some of the names in this episode, check out our blogpost at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-125     Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 125: The Sovereign of Heavenly Wisdom The people of Baekje looked around at the strange and unfamiliar land.  They had fled a wartorn country, and they were happy to be alive, but refugee status was hardly a walk in the park.  Fortunately, they still knew how to farm the land, even if their homeland was hundreds of miles away, across the sea, and occupied by hostile forces.  Here, at least, was a land where they could make a home for themselves. Some of them had to wonder whether this was really permanent.  Was their situation just temporary until their kingdom was restored?  Or were they truly the last people of Baekje, and what would that mean? Either way, it would mean nothing if they didn't work the land and provide for their families.  And so, as with displaced people everywhere, they made the best of the situation.  They had been given land to work, and that was more than they could have asked for.  They might never return to Baekje, but perhaps they could keep a little of it alive for themselves and their descendants. Greetings, everyone, and welcome back.  Last episode we talked about the downfall of Baekje and the defeat of the Yamato forces at the battle of Hakusukinoe, also known as the Battle of Baekgang, in 663.  And yet, something else happened as well: the sovereign, Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou, died as the Yamato forces were setting out.  Immediately Prince Naka no Oe took the reins of government.  He would be known to later generations as Tenji Tennou, with Tenji meaning something like “Heavenly Wisdom”. Now Prince Naka no Oe has been in the forefront of many of our episodes so far, so I'd like to start this episode out with a recap of what we've heard about him so far, as all of this is important to remind ourselves of the complex political situation.  I'm going to be dropping – and recapping – a lot of names, but I'll have many of the key individuals listed on the podcast website for folks who want to follow along.  I would note that this episode is going to be a summary, with some extrapolation by me regarding what was actually happening.  Just remember that history, as we've seen time and again, is often more messy and chaotic than we like, and people are more complex than just being purely good or evil.  People rarely make their way to the top of any social hierarchy purely through their good deeds.  To start with, let's go back to before the year 645, when Naka no Oe instigated a coup against Soga no Iruka and Soga no Emishi.  In the Isshi Incident, covered in Episode 106, Naka no Oe had Soga no Iruka murdered in court, in front of his mother, Takara Hime, when she sat on the throne the first time.  And yet, though he could have taken the throne when she abdicated in apparent shock, he didn't.  Instead, he took the role of “Crown Prince”, but this wasn't him just sitting back.  In fact, evidence suggests that he used that position to keep a strong hand on the tiller of the ship of state. Prior to the Isshi Incident of 645, the rule of the Yamato sovereign had been eroded by noble court families.  These families, originally set up to serve the court and its administration, had come to dominate the political structures of the court.  The main branch of the Soga family, in particular, had found its way to power through a series of astute political marriages and the support of a new, foreign religion:  Buddhism.  Soga no Iname, Emishi's grandfather, had married his daughters to the sovereigns, and thus created closer ties between the Soga and the royal line.  He also helped ensure that the offspring of those marriages would be the ones to take over as future sovereigns.  Soga no Iname, himself took the position of Oho-omi, the Great Omi, or the Great Minister, the head of the other ministerial families.  As Prime Minister, he held great sway over the day-to-day running of the court, and execution of much of the administration.  Much of this was covered in previous episodes, but especially episodes 88, 90, 91, 92, 95, 98, 99, and 103. Soga no Umako, who succeeded his father as Oho-omi, was joined in his effort to administer the government by his grand-nephew, Prince Umayado, also known as Shotoku Taishi, son of Tachibana no Toyohi, aka Youmei Tennou, and thus grandson of Umako's sister, Kitashi-hime, and the sovereign known as Kimmei Tennou.  Umayado's aunt, sister to Tachibana no Toyohi, was Kashikiya Hime, or Suiko Tennou.  The three of them:  Soga no Umako, Prince Umayado, and Kashikiya Hime, together oversaw the development of Yamato and the spread of Buddhism.  Buddhism was also controversial at first, but they turned it into another source of ritual power for the state—ritual power that Soga no Umako, Prince Umayado, and even Kashikiya Hime were able to harvest for their own use. Unfortunately, the Crown Prince, Umayado, died before Kashikiya hime, suddenly leaving open the question of who would take the throne.  Soga no Umako himself, passed away two years before Kashikiya Hime.  When she in turn passed away, there was another struggle for the throne, this time between the descendants of Crown Prince Umayado and Soga no Umako.  Eventually, Soga no Umako's son and heir, Soga no Emishi, made sure that a more pliant sovereign, Prince Tamura, would take the throne, and Prince Umayado's own son, Prince Yamashiro no Oe, was cut out of the succession.  Soga no Emishi, serving as prime minister, effectively ran things much as his father had.  When Tamura diedhis queen, Takara Hime, took the throne, rather than passing it back to Umayado's line—no doubt with Emishi's blessing.  He was careful, however, not to provoke direct action against Yamashiro no Oe, possibly due to the reverence in which Yamashiro's father, Prince Umayado, aka the Buddhist Saint Shotoku Taishi, was held.  Meanwhile, Emishi appears to have been cultivating his grandson by way of Prince Tamura, Furubito no Oe, to eventually succeed to the throne, trying to duplicate what his own father Umako and even grandfather had been able to accomplish. Soga no Emishi's son, Soga no Iruka, was not quite so temperate, however.   Who would have thought that growing up at the top of the social hierarchy might make one feel a bit arrogant and entitled?   When Soga no Emishi was ill, Soga no Iruka took over as Prime Minister, and he didn't just stand back.  He decided that he needed to take out Furubito no Oe's competition, and so he went after Yamashiro no Oe and had him killed. Unfortunately for him, he apparently went too far.  There were already those who were not happy with the Soga family's close hold on power—or perhaps more appropriately, this particular line of the Soga family.  This kind of behavior allowed a group of discontented royals and nobility to gain support. According to the popular story recounted in the Nihon Shoki, the primary seed of resistance started with a game of kickball, or kemari.  Nakatomi no Kamako, aka Nakatomi no Kamatari, was the scion of his house, which was dedicated to the worship of the traditional kami of Yamato.  The Nakatomi were ritualists: in charge of chanting ritual prayers, or norito, during court ceremony.  This meant that their powerbase was directly challenged by the increasing role of Buddhism, one of the Soga patriarchs' key influences on the political system. Kamatari was feeling out the politics of the court, and seemed to be seeking the support of royal family members who could help challenge the powerful Soga ministers.  He found that support in two places.  First, in Prince Karu, brother to Takara Hime, the current sovereign, who had been on the throne ever since her husband, Tamura, had passed away.  And then there was the Prince Katsuraki, better known to us, today, as Prince Naka no Oe.  A game of kemari, where a group of players tried to keep a ball in the air as long as they could, using only their feet, was a chance to get close to the Prince.  When Naka no Oe's shoe flew off in the middle of the match, Kamatari ran over to retrieve it.  As he offered the shoe back to its owner, they got to talking, and one of the most impactful bromances in Yamato history was born. The two ended up studying together.  The unification of the Yellow River and Yangzi basin regions under the Sui and Tang, and the expansion of the Silk Road, had repercussions felt all the way across the straits in Yamato.  Naka no Oe and Kamatari were both avid students and were absorbing all that the continent had to throw at them about philosophy and good governance.  As is so often the case, it seems like idealistic students were the fertile ground for revolutionary new thoughts. There were problems implementing their vision, however.  Although the Nihon Shoki claims that Naka no Oe was the Crown Prince, that honor was probably given to Prince Furubito no Oe, who would have no doubt perpetuated the existing power structures at court.  This is something that the Chroniclers, or perhaps those before them, glossed over and may have even tried to retconned, to help bolster the case that Naka no Oe was actually working for the common good and not just involved in a naked power grab for himself.  There is also the question as to where Yamashiro no Oe had stood in the succession, as he likely had a fair number of supporters. With the destruction of Yamashiro no Oe's family, however, the balance of power shifted.  Although Soga no Emishi had long been an influential member of the court, and not solely because of his role as Prime Minister, Soga no Iruka was relatively new to power.  Yamashiro no Oe's family, in turn, likely had a fair number of supporters, and even neutral parties may have been turned off by Iruka's violent methods to suppress an opponent who had already been defeated politically.  Naka no Oe and Kamatari seem to have seized on this discontent againt the Soga, but they needed at least one other conspirator.  They achieved this by offering a marriage alliance with Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro, a lesser member of the Soga household, whose own immediate family had been supporters of Yamashiro no Oe, and so likely had plenty of grievances with his cousins.  Naka no Oe married Ishikawa no Maro's daughter, Wochi no Iratsume, also known as Chinu no Iratsume.  Together, these three—Naka no Oe, Kamatari, and Ishikawa no Maro—brought others into their plot, and finally, in 645, they struck.  Soga no Iruka was killed at court, in front of a shocked Takara Hime and Prince Furubito no Oe.  By the way, this is another thing that suggests to me that Furubito no Oe was the Crown Prince, because why was he front and center at the ceremony, while Naka no Oe was able to skulk around at the edges, tending to things like the guards?  After the assassination at the court – the Isshi Incident -- Naka no Oe gathered forces and went after Soga no Emishi, since they knew they couldn't leave him alive.  With both Soga no Emishi and Soga no Iruka dead, and Takara Hime having abdicated the throne in shock at what had just occurred, Naka no Oe could have taken the throne for himself.  However, in what was probably a rather astute move on his part, he chose not to.  He recognized that Furubito no Oe's claim to the throne was possibly stronger, and those who had supported the Soga would not doubt push for him to take the throne.  And so, instead, he pushed for his uncle, Prince Karu, to ascend as sovereign.  Karu was Takara Hime's brother, and they could use Confucian logic regarding deference to one's elders to support him.  Plus, Karu's hands weren't directly bloodied by the recent conflict. As for Prince Furubito, he saw the way that the winds were blowing.  To avoid being another casualty, he retired from the world, taking the vows of a Buddhist monk.  However, there were still supporters who were trying to put him on the throne and eventually he would be killed, to avoid being used as a rallying point. Prince Karu, known as Jomei Tennou, ruled for around a decade. During that time, Naka no Oe and his reformers helped to cultivate a new image of the state as a bureaucratic monarchy.  Naka no Oe was designated the Crown Prince, and Nakatomi no Kamatari was made the “Inner Prime Minister”, or Naidaijin.  Ishikawa no Maro was made the minister of the  Right, while Abe no Uchimaro was made Minister of the Left, and they ran much of the bureaucracy, but the Naidaijin was a role more directly attached to the royal household, and likely meant that Kamatari was outside of their jurisdiction, falling into a position directly supporting Naka no Oe.  They instituted Tang style rank systems, and set up divisions of the entire archipelago.  They appointed governors of the various countries, now seen as provinces, and made them report up to various ministers, and eventually the sovereign.  After all, if you were going to manage everything, you needed to first and foremost collect the data.  This period is known as the Taika, or Great Change, period, and the reforms are known as the Taika reforms, discussed in episode 108. They even built a large government complex in the form of the Toyosaki Palace, in Naniwa, though this may have been a bit much—for more, check out episodes 112 and 113. Years into the project, though, things seem to have soured, a bit.  Rumors and slander turned Kamatari against his ally, Ishikawa no Maro, resulting in the death of Ishikawa no Maro and much of his family.  Naka no Oe and other members of the royal family eventually abandoned the Naniwa palace complex, leaving now-Emperor Karu and the government officials there to run the day-to-day administration, while much of the court made its way back to the Asuka area.  Karu would later pass away, but the throne still did not pass to Crown Prince Naka no Oe, despite his title.  Instead, the throne went back to Takara Hime.  This was her second reign, and one of only two split reigns like this that we know of.  The Chroniclers, who were creating posthumous titles for the sovereigns, gave her two names—Kogyoku Tennou for her reign up to 645, and then Saimei Tennou for her second reign starting in 655.   During her latter reign, Naka no Oe continued to wield power as the Crown Prince, and the Chroniclers don't really get into why she came back into power.  It may be that Naka no Oe, in his role as Crown Prince, had more freedom: although the sovereign is purportedly the person in power, that position can also be limiting.  There are specific things which the sovereign is supposed to do, rituals in which they are expected to partake.  In addition, there were restrictions on who was allowed into the inner sanctum of the palace, and thus limits on who could interact with the sovereign, and how.  That meant that any sovereign was reliant on intermediaries to know what was going on in their state and to carry out their orders.  As Crown Prince, Naka no Oe may have had more flexibility to do the things he wanted to do, and he could always leverage the sovereign's authority. When Baekje was destroyed, and Yamato decided to go to their aid, Naka no Oe appears to have had a strong hand in raising forces and directing movements, at least within the archipelago.  When Takara Hime passed away rather suddenly, he accompanied her funerary procession much of the way back, and then returned to Tsukushi—Kyushu—to direct the war.   This is the same thing that Toyotomi Hideyoshi would do when he sent troops to Korea in the late 16th century.  Moving headquarters closer to the continent would reduce the time between messages.  Theoretically he could have moved out to the islands of Iki or Tsushima, but I suspect that there were more amenities at Tsukushi, where they even built a palace for Takara Hime—and later Naka no Oe—to reside in.  It was likely not quite as spectacular as the full-blown city that Hideyoshi developed in a matter of months, but the court could also leverage the facilities previously created for the Dazaifu. The war took time.  This wasn't like some “wars” that were more like specific military actions.  This was a war that dragged on for several years, with different waves of ships going over to transport people and supplies.  Things came to a head in the 9th month of 663, roughly October or November on the Western calendar.  The Baekje resistance was under siege, and their only hope was a fleet of Yamato soldiers coming to their aid.  The Yamato fleet met with a much smaller Tang fleet at the mouth of the Baek River—the Hakusukinoe.  They attempted to break through the Tang blockade, but the Tang had positional advantage and were eventually able to counterattack, destroying the Yamato fleet.  Without their relief, the Baekje resistance fell. The remnants of the Yamato army, along with those Baekje nobles that were with them, headed out, fleeing back to the archipelago.  One presumes that there may have been other Baekje nobles, and their families, who had already made the trip. After the entry describing this rout, on the 24th day of the 9th month of 663, we have a gap in the Chronicles of just a little more than 4 months.  We then pick up with Naka no Oe's government starting to look at internal affairs.  For one thing, we are told that he selected his younger brother, the Royal Prince Ohoama, as Crown Prince, and he made updates to the cap-rank system, changing it from 19 ranks to 26 ranks.  The first six ranks remained the same, but the name “kwa”, or “flower”, for the 7th through 10th ranks was changed to “Kin”, meaning “brocade”.  Furthermore, a “middle” rank was added between the Upper and Lower ranks, further distinguishing each group, and adding 6 extra ranks.  Finally, the initial rank, Risshin, was divided into two:  Daiken and Shouken.  We aren't told why, but it likely meant that they could have more granular distinctions in rank. At the same time that was going on, the court also awarded long swords to the senior members of the great families, and short swords to the senior members of lesser families.  Below that, senior members of the Tomo no Miyatsuko and others were given shields and bows and arrows.  Furthermore, the vassals, or kakibe, and the domestic retainers, or yakabe, were settled, to use Aston's translation.  The kanji used in the text appears to refer to settling a decision or standardizing something, rather than settling as in giving a place to live.  It seems to me to mean that the court was settling servants on families: determining what kind and how many servants that various houses could have based on their position in the hierarchy.  I can't help but notice that all of these gifts were very martial in nature.  That does not mean, of course, that they were necessarily because of the war over Baekje, nor that they were in response to the concern about a possible Tang invasion -- we've seen in the past where swords were gifted to people who had served the court --but it is hard not to connect these gifts with recent worries.  We also know that this year, Naka no Oe turned his focus on building defenses, setting up guards and beacon fires on the islands of Tsushima and Iki.   Should any unknown fleet be seen coming to the archipelago, the fires would alert the forces at Kyushu, so they could send word and prepare a defense. In addition, the court built an impressive defense for Tsukushi—for the Dazai itself, the seat of the Yamato government in Kyushu.  It is called the Mizuki, or Water Castle, though at the time “castle” was more about walls and fortifications than the standalone fortress we tend to think of, today.  Along those lines, the Mizuki was an earthen embankment, roughly 1.2 kilometers long, extending from a natural ridgeline to the west across the Mikasa river.  Archeological evidence shows it had a moat, and this line of fortifications would have been a line of defense for the Dazai, should anyone try to invade.  This construction was so large and impressive that you can still see it, even today.  It stands out on the terrain, and it is even visible from overhead photographs. In the third month of 664, we are told that Prince Syeongwang of Baekje and his people, were given a residence at Naniwa.  In fact, even though Baekje was no longer an independent kingdom, there appear to have been thousands of Baekje people now living in Yamato, unable to return home.  Many of these were former nobles of the Baekje court, which Yamato treated as a foreign extension of its own.  Resettling these people would be a major theme for the Chronicles, but we will also see, as we read further on, how their talents were leveraged for the state. Also in the third month, a star fell in the north—it says “in the north of the capital”, but I suspect that anywhere north, south, east, or west of the capital would have seen the same thing “in the north”.  There was also an earthquake, which isn't given any particular significance, beyond its mention as a natural phenomenon. On the 17th day of the 5th month of 664, so roughly 2 months later, we are told that Liu Jen'yuan, the Tang dynasty's general in Baekje, sent Guo Wucong  to Yamato with a letter and gifts.  We aren't told the contents of the letter, but one imagines that this may have been a rather tense exchange.  Yamato had just been involved in open warfare against Tang forces on the peninsula, and they still weren't sure if the Tang empire would come after them next.  Their only real hope on that front was Goguryeo, since the Tang and Silla were still trying to destroy the Goguryeo kingdom, and that may have kept the Tang forces tied up for a while.  No doubt Guo Wucong would have seen some of the defenses that Yamato was constructing during his visit. Guo Wucong would hang around for about seven and a half months.  He was given permission to take his leave on the 4th day of the 10th month.  Naka no Oe had his friend and Inner Prime Minister, Nakatomi no Kamatari send the Buddhist Priest, Chisho, with presents for Guo Wucong, and he and his officers were granted entertainments  before they left as well. Finally, Guo Wucong and his people returned to the Tang on the 12th day of the 12th month. While the delegation from the Tang was in Yamato, we are told of several tragedies.  First was that Soga no Murajiko no Oho-omi had passed away.  Soga no Murajiko appears to have been another son of Soga no Kuramaro, and thus brother to Soga no Ishikawa no Maro.  Unfortunately, we don't have much more on him in the record. Just a month later, we are told that the “Dowager Queen” Shima passed away.  Aston translates this as the Queen Grandmother, suggesting that she was Naka no Oe's grandmother. We are also told, that in the 10th month of 664, around the time that Guo Wucong was given leave to depart, that Yeon Gaesomun, the Prime Minister—though perhaps more correctly the despotic ruler—of Goguryeo, died.  It is said that he asked his children to remain united, but, well, even if we didn't know how it all turned out, I think we would look somewhat skeptically on any idea that they all did exactly as they were told.  Sure enough, in 667 we are told that Gaesomun's eldest son, Namseng, left the capital city of Pyongyang to tour the provinces, and while he was gone his younger brothers conspired with the nobility, and when he came back they refused to let him back in.  So Namseng ran off to the Tang court and apparently helped them destroy his own country. This is largely corroborated by other stories about Goguryeo, though the dates do seem to be off.  Tang records put Gaesomun's death around 666 CE, which the Samguk Sagi appears to follow, but on his tomb the date would appear to be 665.  Confusion like this was easy enough given the different dates and trying to cross-check across different regnal eras.  Sure, there were some commonalities, but it was very easy to miscount something. One last note from the twelfth month of 664—it seems that there were omens of apparent prosperity that came to the court from the island of Awaji.    First, there was rice that grew up in a farmer's pig trough.  The farmer's name is given as Shinuta no Fumibito no Mu, and Mu gathered this rice and stored it up, and thus, every day his wealth increased.  Then there was the bridal bed of Iwaki no Sukuri no Oho, of Kurimoto district.  They claimed that rice grew up at the head of his brides' mattress during her first night's stay with him.  And this wasn't just some brand new shoot, but overnight it formed an ear, and by the morning it bent down and ripened.  Then, the following night, another ear was formed.  When the bride went out into the courtyard, two keys fell down from heaven, and after she gave them to her husband, Oho, he went on to become a wealthy man. The exact purpose of these stories is unclear, but it seems to be that the Chroniclers are choosing to focus on stories of wealth and growth, which speak to how they wanted this reign as a whole, including the sovereign, to be remembered. However, more tragedy struck the following year, in 665,  when Hashibito, another Dowager Queen – this time the wife of Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou - passed away on the 25th day of the 2nd month.  On the first day of the 3rd month, 330 people took Buddhist vows for her sake. We are also told that in the second month the ranks of Baekje were cross-referenced with the ranks of Yamato, and then ranks were given out to some of the Baekje nobles that had come over to Yamato.  Kwisil Chipsa, who was originally ranked “Dalsol” in Baekje, was accorded “Lower Shoukin”.  That was rank 12 of the 26.  In comparison, “Dalsol” seems to have been the 2nd rank of 16 in Baekje.  Along with handing out rank, over 400 Baekje commoners, both men and women, were given residence in the Kanzaki district in Afumi.  This appears to be an area along the Aichi river, running from the Suzuka Mountains, west towards Lake Biwa. The court granted them rice-lands in the following month.  At the same time, several high ranking Baekje nobles were put in charge of building castles at strategic points around the archipelago.  These included one castle in Nagato, as well as the castles of Ohono and Woyogi, in Tsukushi.  Two years later, in 667, we also see the building of Takayasu castle, in Yamato and Yashima castle in Yamada, in Sanuki—modern Kagawa, on Shikoku, facing the Seto Inland Sea passageway.  Kaneda castle in Tsushima was also a Baekje-built one. We mentioned something about these castles last episode.  They were in the Baekje style, and as I said, the term “castle” here is more about the walls, which were largely made of rammed earth ramparts.  This means that you pile up earth and dirt in a layer and then the laborers use tools specifically to tamp it down until it is thick and hard.  Then another layer is piled on top and the process is repeated.  These walls were often placed on mountain tops, and they would follow the terrain, making them places that were easy to defend.  Beyond that, they didn't necessarily have a donjon keep or anything like that—maybe a tower so that one could see a little further, but being at the top of a mountain usually provided all the visual cues that one needed. We know there were other castles made as well.  For example, I mentioned last week about Kinojo, in Okayama, the ancient Kibi area.  Kinojo is not mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, but it clearly existed back then, and matches the general description of a 7th century mountain castle as built in Baekje.  The name means Demon Castle, and there is a story about it that is connected to the local Kibitsu Jinja—the Shrine to Prince Kibi.  According to legend, Kibitsu Hiko, aka Prince Kibitsu or, perhaps more appropriately, the Prince of Kibi, came to the area around the time of the Mimaki Iribiko, so probably about the 3rd century, at the head of a large force.  Kibitsu Hiko had come to defeat the demon, Ura, who lived in the nearby castle, hence Kinojo, and legend says that he freed the people from the demon's rule. As I also mentioned, last week, this particular castle may have ended up in the Momotaro story.  There are those who believe that the story of Momotarou is based on the story of Prince Kibitsu Hiko, and his defeat of the so-called demon, “Ura”.   Certainly the story has grown more fantastical, and less connected to the ancient history of the Kibi region, but it still may have its origin in a much more standard legend of a founding prince of the ancient Kibi kingdom that was later changed into a fairy tale.   More likely, the castle was built by a Baekje nobleman, often thought to be a prince, who settled in the area.  There is the possibility that the demon's name “Ura” came from a mistranslation of his name, or it is also possible that he was unrelated to the story at all.  The Kibitsu Hiko legend may have incorporated the castle, Kinojo, at a later date, once people had forgotten when and why the castle was actually built. It would make sense if Kinojo had been built as part of the defenses for Yamato, as that area overlooks a large part of the fertile plains of Okayama and out beyond Kojima to the Seto Inland Sea -- it is perched over a key overland route from the western edge of Honshu to Yamato, and there would have been several ways to signal boats to put to sea to intercept forces on the water.  . This all suggests to me that Kinojo was probably part of Naka no Oe's castle-building effort, even if it isn't specifically remembered in the Chronicle.  But building castles wasn't enough to bring peace of mind that Yamato would survive a Tang invasion, and it is possibly as a defensive measure that Naka no Oe would go on to do something truly incredible—he would eventually move the capital from Asuka and Naniwa all the way to the shores of Lake Biwa itself, establishing the Ohotsu palace.  This was a truly extreme step that didn't endear Naka no Oe to the court, but it had several advantages.  For one thing, this move pulled the capital further away from the sea routes, meaning that if they were attacked, they had a more defensible position.  Even more so than Yamato, the Afumi region around Lake Biwa is surrounded by mountains, with a few narrow passes that restricted movement in and out. One of these is the famous Sekigahara, which remained a choke point even up to modern times.  The name even means the Field of the Barrier, indicating the barrier and checkpoint that had been set up there in ancient times.  Moving the capital also pulled the court away from some of the previous political centers, which may have been another feature that made it attractive to Naka no Oe.  Many capital moves have been made, at least in part, to get farther away from strong Buddhist temples, and this certainly would have moved things out of the Asuka region, which by now was a hotbed of Buddhist temple activity. But we'll talk about that all more, next episode.  Until then, thank you once again for listening and for all of your support. 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

Täna õhtul kõlab Klassikaraadios Vanemuise sümfooniaorkestri vaikse nädala kontsert.

Kožešnický a kožedělný podnik Kara Trutnov měl za loňský rok zisk kolem 40 milionů korun. Výsledek je přibližně na stejné úrovni jako o rok dříve. Firma tak po vybřednutí z insolvence před třemi lety pokračuje v ziskovém hospodaření. Loňské tržby Kary byly zhruba 400 milionů korun.Karu v současnosti vlastní z větší části podnikatel Zdeněk Rinth, menšinový podíl má investiční skupina Natland. Rinth a Natland vyvedli Karu v roce 2022 z bankrotu, do něhož firmu přivedl předešlý majitel. Nyní současní vlastníci připravují podnik k prodeji.„Kara byla ve špatném stavu, byla v bankrotu. Spolu s Natlandem a s mým týmem se nám podařilo dostat podnik opět do kondice,“ řekl Zdeněk Rinth v pořadu Agenda SZ Byznys.Agenda. Rozhovory s top lídry českého byznysu, zakladateli firem, odborníky. Čtvrthodinka o byznysu z první ruky.Každý všední den na SZ Byznys a ve všech podcastových aplikacích.Odebírejte na Podcasty.cz, Apple Podcasts nebo Spotify.

ASV prezidents Donalds Tramps minējis, ka Grenlande nonāks ASV pārziņā "šādā vai citādā veidā". Kāpēc pēkšņi šāda interese par pasaules lielāko salu, kura praktiski ir neapdzīvota? Un, ko par šādu interesi domā Dānijas valdība, kuras pārziņā šobrīd ir Grenlande? Iepazīstam šo teritoriju, tās dārgumus un politiskās spēles par tās iegūšanu. Raidījuma ievadā grāmatu rubrikā jūras biologs Andris Andrušaitis iepazīstina ar Samantas Hārvijas (Samantha Harvey) grāmatu "Orbitāle" (Orbital). Bet studijā saruna ar polārpētniekiem, Latvijas Universitātes Eksakto zinātņu un tehnoloģiju fakultātes asociētajiem profesoriem Kristapu Lamsteru un Jāni Karušu, atvaļinātu vēstnieku, vieslektoru Latvijas Universitāte un Juridiskajā augstsskolā Gintu Jegermani. Attālināti runātājiem pievienojas Ivars Sīlis – latvietis, kurš dzīvo Grenlandē. Raidījumā arī īss kurss akmeņogļu vēsturē un to ciltskoka izpētē, ko palīdz lūkot Latvijas Universitātes Ģeoloģijas muzeja eksperte, ģeoloģijas doktore Vija Hodireva. Akmeņogles zinām kā lētāko un efektīvāko kurināmo siltuma un elektroenerģijas ieguvei. Pareizāk sakot – zinājām, jo nu jau ar katru gadu akmeņogļu ieguve kļūst aizvien dārgāka. Tas ir neatjaunojams fosilais kurināmais, un to ekoloģiskā pēda atmosfērā jeb izmeši ir liela un kaitīga. Īsi un vienkārši runājot, akmeņogļu dzimšanas gads – karbona jeb oglekļa periods, vairāk nekā 300 miljonus gadu senā pagātnē, vieta – bagātīgi augiem klāti purvi, tuvākie radinieki – māte kūdra un oglekļa „ģimenē” ietilpstošās brūnogles, grafīts, antracīts, dimants. Skatot zemes dzīļu slāņus Latvijā, akmeņogles pie mums nav atrodamas, toties Dienvidkurzemē ir rodamas brūnogles. Tās kā iespējamais kurināmais pētītas jau 19. gs. sākumā, bet konstatēja, ka brūnoglēm ir pārlieku daudz sēra piemaisījuma. Arī vēlāk – laikā līdz pat 20. gs 50. gadiem – šīs ogles tika iegūtas un pētītas, bet tā kā to praktiskā nozīme, tās dedzinot, ir ļoti niecīga, tad tagad tās vienkārši ir iegrāmatotas Latvijas derīgo izrakteņu sarakstā kā eksotisks ģeoloģisks veidojums, – tā grāmatā par mūsu zemē rodamajiem izrakteņiem raksta ģeologi Austra un Ģirts Stinkuļi.  

Ally Ayres and her husband, Nick, launched Karu Distillery in 2018 in the Devil's Wilderness, NSW. In a short time, they have stepped onto the global stage, winning awards at the International Wine and Spirits Competition and multiple others, and now, well, there is no stopping them. https://karudistillery.com.au/ SUBSCRIBE TO OUR NEWSLETTER FOR EXCLUSIVE ARTICLES, NEWS, GIVEAWAYS AND BEHIND THE SCENES https://deepintheweeds.us6.list-manage.com/subscribe?u=d33e307cf7100cf947e2e6973&id=d17d8213f5 Follow Over a Glass https://www.instagram.com/overtheglasspod  Host Shanteh Wale https://www.instagram.com/shantehwale/?hl=en Executive Producer Rob Locke https://www.instagram.com/foodwinedine/ Executive Producer Anthony Huckstep https://www.instagram.com/huckstergram/ LISTEN TO OUR OTHER FOOD PODCASTS https://linktr.ee/DeepintheWeedsNetwork Over a Glass is a wine & drinks podcast with Shanteh Wale exploring the personalities, stories and landscape of the wine and drinks business. An Australian Wine and Drinks Podcast from the Deep in the Weeds Network.

This episode we are taking a trip down the Silk Road--or perhaps even the Spice Road--as we investigate references in this reign to individuals from "Tukara" who seem to have arrived in Yamato and stayed for a while. For photos and more, see our podcast webpage:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-119 Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  This is episode 119: The Question of “Tukara”   Traveling upon the ocean was never exactly safe.  Squalls and storms could arise at any time, and there was always a chance that high winds and high waves could capsize a vessel.  Most people who found themselves at the mercy of the ocean could do little but hold on and hope that they could ride out whatever adverse conditions they met with.  Many ships were lost without any explanation or understanding of what happened to them.  They simply left the port and never came back home. And so when the people saw the boat pulling up on the shores of Himuka, on the island of Tsukushi, they no doubt empathized with the voyagers' plight.  The crew looked bedraggled, and their clothing was unfamiliar.  There were both men and women, and this didn't look like your average fishing party.  If anything was clear it was this:  These folk weren't from around here. The locals brought out water and food.  Meanwhile, runners were sent with a message:  foreigners had arrived from a distant place.  They then waited to see what the government was going to do.     We are still in the second reign of Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tenno.  Last episode we talked about the palaces constructed in Asuka, as well as some of the stone works that have been found from the period, and which appear to be referenced in the Nihon Shoki—at least tangentially.   The episodes before that, we looked at the expeditions the court sent to the far north of Honshu and even past Honshu to Hokkaido. This episode we'll again be looking past the main islands of the archipelago to lands beyond.  Specifically, we are going to focus on particularly intriguing references to people from a place called “Tukara”.  We'll talk about some of the ideas about where that might be, even if they're a bit  far-fetched. That's because Tukara touches on the state of the larger world that Yamato was a part of, given its situation on the far eastern edge of what we know today as the Silk Road.  And is this just an excuse for me to take a detour into some of the more interesting things going on outside the archipelago?  No comment. The first mention of a man from Tukara actually comes at the end of the reign of Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou.  We are told that in the fourth month of 654 two men and two women of “Tukara” and one woman of “Sha'e” were driven by a storm to Hiuga.  Then, three years later, the story apparently picks up again, though possibly referring to a different group of people.  On the 3rd day of the 7th month of 657, so during the second reign of Takara Hime, we now hear about two men and four women of the Land of Tukara—no mention of Sha'e—who drifted to Tsukushi, aka Kyushu.  The Chronicles mention that these wayfarers first drifted to the island of Amami, and we'll talk about that in a bit, but let's get these puzzle pieces on the table, first.  After those six people show up, the court sent for them by post-horse.  They must have arrived by the 15th of that same month, because we are told that a model of Mt. Sumi was erected and they—the people from Tukara—were entertained, although there is another account that says they were from “Tora”. The next mention is the 10th day of the 3rd month of 659, when a Man of Tukara and his wife, again woman of Sha'e, arrived.  Then, on the 16th day of the 7th month of 660, we are told that the man of Tukara, Kenzuhashi Tatsuna, desired to return home and asked for an escort.  He planned to pay his respects at the Great Country, i.e. the Tang court, and so he left his wife behind, taking tens of men with him. All of these entries might refer to people regularly reaching Yamato from the south, from a place called “Tukara”.  Alternately, this is a single event whose story has gotten distributed over several years, as we've seen happen before with the Chronicles.  .  One of the oddities of these entries is that the terms used are not consistent.  “Tukara” is spelled at least two different ways, suggesting that it wasn't a common placename like Silla or Baekje, or even the Mishihase.  That does seem to suggest that the Chronicles were phonetically trying to find kanji, or the Sinitic characters, to match with the name they were hearing.   I would also note that “Tukara” is given the status of a “kuni”—a land, country, or state—while “sha'e”, where some of the women are said to come from, is just that, “Sha'e”. As for the name of at least one person from Tokara, Kenzuhashi Tatsuna, that certainly sounds like someone trying to fit a non-Japanese name into the orthography of the time.  “Tatsuna” seems plausibly Japanese, but “Kenzuhashi” doesn't fit quite as well into the naming structures we've seen to this point. The location of “Tukara” and “Sha'e” are not clear in any way, and as such there has been a lot of speculation about them.  While today there are placenames that fit those characters, whether or not these were the places being referenced at the time is hard to say. I'll actually start with “Sha'e”, which Aston translates as Shravasti, the capital of the ancient Indian kingdom of Kosala, in modern Uttar Pradesh.  It is also where the Buddha, Siddartha Gautama, is said to have lived most of his life after his enlightenment.  In Japanese this is “Sha'e-jou”, and like many Buddhist terms it likely comes through Sanskrit to Middle Chinese to Japanese.  One—or possibly two—women from Shravasti making the journey to Yamato in the company of a man (or men) from Tukara seems quite the feat.  But then, where is “Tukara”? Well, we have at least three possible locations that I've seen bandied about.  I'll address them from the most distant to the closest option.  These three options were Tokharistan, Dvaravati, and the Tokara islands. We'll start with Tokharistan on the far end of the Silk Road.  And to start, let's define what that “Silk Road” means.  We've talked in past episodes about the “Western Regions”, past the Han-controlled territories of the Yellow River.   The ancient Tang capital of Chang'an was built near to the home of the Qin dynasty, and even today you can go and see both the Tang tombs and the tomb of Qin Shihuangdi and his terracotta warriors, all within a short distance of Xi'an, the modern city built on the site of Chang'an.  That city sits on a tributary of the Yellow River, but the main branch turns north around the border of modern Henan and the similarly sounding provinces of Shanxi and Shaanxi.  Following it upstream, the river heads north into modern Mongolia, turns west, and then heads south again, creating what is known as the Ordos loop.  Inside is the Ordos plateau, also known as the Ordos Basin.  Continuing to follow the Yellow river south, on the western edge of the Ordos, you travel through Ningxia and Gansu—home of the Hexi, or Gansu, Corridor.  That route eventually takes to Yumenguan, the Jade Gate, and Dunhuang.  From there roads head north or south along the edge of the Taklamakan desert in the Tarim basin.  The southern route travels along the edge of the Tibetan plateau, while the northern route traversed various oasis cities through Turpan, Kucha, to the city of Kashgar.  Both routes made their way across the Pamirs and the Hindu Kush into South Asia. We've brought up the Tarim Basin and the Silk Road a few times.  This is the path that Buddhism appears to have taken to get to the Yellow River Basin and eventually to the Korean Peninsula and eastward to the Japanese archipelago.  But I want to go a bit more into detail on things here, as there is an interesting side note about “Tukara” that I personally find rather fascinating, and thought this would be a fun time to share. Back in Episode 79 we talked about how the Tarim basin used to be the home to a vast inland sea, which was fed by the meltwater from the Tianshan and Kunlun mountains.  This sea eventually dwindled, though it was still large enough to be known to the Tang as the Puchang Sea.  Today it has largely dried up, and it is mostly just the salt marshes of Lop Nur that remain.  Evidence for this larger sea, however, can be observed in some of the burials found around the Tarim basin.  These burials include the use of boat-shaped structures—a rather curious feature to be found out in the middle of the desert. And it is the desert that was left behind as the waters receded that is key to much of what we know about life in the Tarim basin, as it has proven to be quite excellent at preserving organic material.  This includes bodies, which dried out and naturally turned into mummies, including not only the wool clothing they were wearing, but also features such as hair and even decoration. These “Tarim mummies”, as they have been collectively called, date from as early as 2100 BCE all the way up through the period of time we're currently talking about, and have been found in several desert sites: Xiaohe, the earliest yet discovered; Loulan, near Lop Nur on the east of the Tarim Basin, dating from around 1800 BCE; Cherchen, on the southern edge of the Tarim Basin, dating from roughly 1000 BCE; and too many others to go into in huge detail. The intriguing thing about these burials is that  many of them don't have features typically associated with people of ethnic Han—which is to say traditional Chinese—ancestry, nor do they necessarily have the features associated with the Xiongnu and other steppe nomads.  In addition they have colorful clothing  made from wool and leather, with vivid designs.  Some bodies near Hami, just east of the basin, were reported to have blonde to light brown hair, and their cloth showed radically different patterns from that found at Cherchen and Loulan, with patterns that could reasonably be compared with the plaids now common in places like Scotland and Ireland, and previously found in the Hallstadt salt mine in Central Europe from around 3500 BCE, from which it is thought the Celtic people may have originated. At the same time that people—largely Westerners— were studying these mummies, another discovery in the Tarim basin was also making waves.  This was the discovery of a brand new language.  Actually, it was two languages—or possibly two dialects of a language—in many manuscripts, preserved in Kucha and Turpan.  Once again, the dry desert conditions proved invaluable to maintain these manuscripts, which date from between the late 4th or early 5th century to the 8th century.  They are written with a Brahmic script, similar to that used for Sanskrit, which appears in the Tarim Basin l by about the 2nd century, and we were able to translate them because many of the texts were copies of Buddhist scripture, which greatly helped scholars in deciphering the languages.  These two languages were fascinating because they represented an as-yet undiscovered branch of the Indo-European language family.  Furthermore, when compared to other Indo-European languages, they did not show nearly as much similarity with their neighbors as with languages on the far western end of the Indo-European language family.  That is to say they were thought to be closer to Celtic and Italic languages than something like Indo-Iranian.  And now for a quick diversion within the diversion:  “Centum” and “Satem” are general divisions of the Indo-European language families that was once thought to indicate a geographic divide in the languages.  At its most basic, as Indo-European words changed over time, a labiovelar sound, something like “kw”,  tended to evolve in one of two ways.  In the Celtic and Italic languages, the “kw” went to a hard “k” sound, as represented in the classical pronunciation of the Latin word for 100:  Centum.  That same word, in the Avestan language—of the Indo-Iranian tree—is pronounced as “Satem”, with an “S” sound.  So, you can look at Indo-European languages and divide them generally into “centum” languages, which preserve the hard “k”, or “Satem” languages that preserve the S. With me so far? Getting back to these two newly-found languages in the Tarim Basin, the weird thing is that they were “Centum” languages. Most Centum languages are from pretty far away, though: they are generally found in western Europe or around the Mediterranean, as opposed to the Satem languages, such as Indo-Aryan, Iranian, Armernian, or even Baltic Slavic languages, which are much closer to the Tarim Basin.  So if the theory were true that the “Centum” family of Indo-European languages developed in the West and “Satem” languages developed in the East, then that would seem to indicate that a group of a “Centum” speaking people must have migrated eastward, through the various Satem speaking people, and settled in the Tarim Basin many thousands of years ago. And what evidence do we have of people who look very different from the modern population, living in the Tarim Basin area long before, and wearing clothing similar to what we associated with the progenitors of the Celts?  For many, it seemed to be somewhat obvious, if still incredible, that the speakers of this language were likely the descendants of the mummies who, in the terminology of the time, had been identified as being of Caucasoid ancestry.  A theory developed that these people were an offshoot of a group called the Yamnaya culture, which may have arisen around modern Ukraine as an admixture between the European Hunter Gatherers and the Caucasian Hunter Gatherers, around 3300-2600 BCE.  This was challenged in 2021 when a genetic study was performed on some of the mummies in the Tarim basin, as well as several from the Dzungarian basin, to the northeast.  That study suggested that the people of the Dzungarian basin had genetic ties to the people of the Afanasievo people, from Southern Siberia.  The Afanasievo people are connected to the Yamnayan culture. It should be noted that there has long been a fascination in Western anthropology and related sciences with racial identification—and often not in a healthy way.  As you may recall, the Ainu were identified as “Caucasoid” by some people largely because of things like the men's beards and lighter colored hair, which differ greatly from a large part of the Japanese population.  However, that claim has been repeatedly refuted and debunked. And similarly, the truth is, none of these Tarim mummy burials were in a period of written anything, so we can't conclusively associated them with these fascinating Indo-European languages.  There are thousands of years between the various burials and the manuscripts. These people  left no notes stashed in pockets that give us their life story.   And Language is not Genetics is not Culture.  Any group may adopt a given language for a variety of reasons.  .  Still, given what we know, it is possible that the ancient people of the Tarim basin spoke some form of “Proto-Kuchean”, but it is just as likely that this language was brought in by people from Dzungaria at some point. So why does all this matter to us?  Well, remember how we were talking about someone from Tukara?  The Kuchean language, at least, is referred to in an ancient Turkic source as belonging to “Twgry”, which led several scholars to draw a link between this and the kingdom and people called Tukara and the Tokharoi.  This leads us on another bit of a chase through history. Now if you recall, back in Episode 79, we talked about Zhang Qian.  In 128 BCE, he attempted to cross the Silk Road through the territory of the Xiongnu on a mission for the Han court.  Some fifty years earlier, the Xiongnu had defeated the Yuezhi.  They held territory in the oasis towns along the north of the Taklamakan dessert, from about the Turpan basin west to the Pamirs. The Xiongnu were causing problems for the Han, who thought that if they could contact the remaining Yuezhi they could make common cause with them and harass the Xiongnu from both sides.  Zhang Qian's story is quite remarkable: he started out with an escort of some 99 men and a translator.  Unfortunately, he was captured and enslaved by the Xiongnu during his journey, and he is even said to have had a wife and fathered a child.  He remained a captive for thirteen years, but nonetheless, he was able to escape with his family and he made it to the Great Yuezhi on the far side of the Pamirs, but apparently the Yuezhi weren't interested in a treaty against the Xiongnu.  The Pamirs were apparently enough of a barrier and they were thriving in their new land.  And so Zhang Qian crossed back again through Xiongnu territory, this time taking the southern route around the Tarim basin.  He was still captured by the Xiongnu, who spared his life.  He escaped, again, two years later, returning to the Han court.  Of the original 100 explorers, only two returned: Zhang Qian and his translator.  While he hadn't obtained an alliance, he was able to detail the cultures of the area of the Yuezhi. Many feel that the Kushan Empire, which is generally said to have existed from about 30 to 375 CE,was formed from the Kushana people who were part of the Yuezhi who fled the Xiongnu. In other words, they were originally from further north, around the Tarim Basin, and had been chased out and settled down in regions that included Bactria (as in the Bactrian camel).  Zhang Qian describes reaching the Dayuan Kingdom in the Ferghana valley, then traveling south to an area that was the home of the Great Yuezhi or Da Yuezhi.  And after the Kushan empire fell, we know there was a state in the upper regions of the Oxus river, centered on the city of Balkh, in the former territory of the Kushan empire. known as “Tokara”.  Geographically, this matches up how Zhang Qian described the home of the Da Yuezhi.  Furthermore, some scholars reconstruct the reading of the Sinic characters used for “Yuezhi” as originally having an optional reading of something like “Togwar”, but that is certainly not the most common reconstructed reading of those characters.  Greek sources describe this area as the home of the Tokharoi, or the Tokaran People.  The term “Tukhara” is also found in Sanskrit, and this kingdom  was also said to have sent ambassadors to the Southern Liang and Tang dynasties. We aren't exactly certain of where these Tokharan people came from, but as we've just described, there's a prevailing theory that they were the remnants of the Yuezhi and Kushana people originally from the Tarim Basin.  We know that in the 6th century they came under the rule of the Gokturk Khaganate, which once spanned from the Liao river basin to the Black Sea.  In the 7th and 8th centuries they came under the rule of the Tang Empire, where they were known by very similar characters as those used to write “Tukara” in the Nihon Shoki.  On top of this, we see Tokharans traveling the Silk Road, all the way to the Tang court.  Furthermore, Tokharans that settled in Chang'an took the surname “Zhi” from the ethnonym “Yuezhi”, seemingly laying claim to and giving validation to the identity used back in the Han dynasty.   So, we have a Turkic record describing the Kuchean people (as in, from Kucha in the Tarim Basin) as “Twgry”, and we have a kingdom in Bactria called Tokara and populated (according to the Greeks) by people called Tokharoi.  You can see how this one term has been a fascinating rabbit hole in the study of the Silk Roads and their history.  And some scholars understandably suggested that perhaps the Indo-European languags found in Kucha and Turpan  were actually related to this “Tokhara” – and therefore  should be called “Tocharian”, specifically Tocharian A (Kuchean) or Tocharian B (Turfanian). The problem is that if the Tokharans were speaking “Tocharian” then you wouldn't expect to just see it at Kucha and Turpan, which are about the middle of the road between Tokhara and the Tang dynasty, and which had long been under Gokturk rule.  You would also expect to see it in the areas of Bactria associated with Tokhara.  However, that isn't what we see.  Instead, we see that Bactria was the home of local Bactrian language—an Eastern Iranian language, which, though it is part of the Indo European language family, it is not closely related to Tocharian as far as we can tell. It is possible that the people of Kucha referred to themselves as something similar to “Twgry”, or “Tochari”, but we should also remember that comes from a Turkic source, and it could have been an exonym not related to what they called themselves.  I should also note that language is not people.  It is also possible that a particular ethnonym was maintained separately by two groups that may have been connected politically but which came to speak different languages for whatever reason.   There could be a connection between the names, or it could even be that the same or similar exonym was used for different groups. So, that was a lot and a bit of a ramble, but a lot of things that I find interesting—even if they aren't as connected as they may appear.  We have the Tarim mummies, which are, today, held at a museum in modern Urumqi.  Whether they had any connection with Europe or not, they remain a fascinating study for the wealth of material items found in and around the Tarim basin and similar locations.  And then there is the saga of the Tocharian languages—or perhaps more appropriately the Kuchean-Turfanian languages: Indo-European languages that seem to be well outside of where we would expect to find them. Finally, just past the Pamirs, we get to the land of Tokhara or Tokharistan.  Even without anything else, we know that they had contact with the court.  Perhaps our castaways were from this land?  The name is certainly similar to what we see in the Nihon Shoki, using some of the same characters. All in all, art and other information suggest that the area of the Tarim basin and the Silk Road in general were quite cosmopolitan, with many different people from different regions of the world.  Bactria retained Hellenic influences ever since the conquests of Alexander of Macedonia, aka Alexander the Great, and Sogdian and Persian traders regularly brought their caravans through the region to trade.  And once the Tang dynasty controlled all of the routes, that just made travel that much easier, and many people traveled back and forth. So from that perspective, it is possible that one or more people from Tukhara may have made the crossing from their home all the way to the Tang court, but if they did so, the question still remains: why would they be in a boat? Utilizing overland routes, they would have hit Chang'an or Louyang, the dual capitals of the Tang empire, well before they hit the ocean.  However, the Nihon Shoki says that these voyagers first came ashore at Amami and then later says that they were trying to get to the Tang court. Now there was another “Silk Road” that isn't as often mentioned: the sea route, following the coast of south Asia, around through the Malacca strait and north along the Asian coast.  This route is sometimes viewed more in terms of the “spice” road If these voyagers set out to get to the Tang court by boat, they would have to have traveled south to the Indian Ocean—possibly traveling through Shravasti or Sha'e, depending on the route they chose to take—and then around the Malacca strait—unless they made it on foot all the way to Southeast Asia.  And then they would have taken a boat up the coast. Why do that instead of taking the overland route?  They could likely have traveled directly to the Tang court over the overland silk road.  Even the from Southeast Asia could have traveled up through Yunnan and made their way to the Tang court that way.  In fact, Zhang Qian had wondered something similar when he made it to the site of the new home of the Yuezhi, in Bactria.  Even then, in the 2nd century, he saw products in the marketplace that he identified as coming from around Szechuan.  That would mean south of the Han dynasty, and he couldn't figure out how those trade routes might exist and they weren't already known to the court.  Merchants would have had to traverse the dangerous mountains if they wanted to avoid being caught by the Xiongnu, who controlled the entire region. After returning to the Han court, Zhang Qian actually went out on another expedition to the south, trying to find the southern trade routes, but apparently was not able to do so.  That said, we do see, in later centuries, the trade routes open up between the area of the Sichuan basin and South Asia.  We also see the migrations of people further south, and there may have even been some Roman merchants who traveled up this route to find their way to the Han court, though those accounts are not without their own controversy. In either case, whether by land or sea, these trade routes were not always open.  In some cases, seasonal weather, such as monsoons, might dictate movement back and forth, while political realities were also a factor.  Still, it is worth remembering that even though most people were largely concerned with affairs in their own backyard, the world was still more connected than people give it credit for.  Tang dynasty pottery made its way to the east coast of Africa, and ostriches were brought all the way to Chang'an. As for the travelers from Tukhara and why they would take this long and very round-about method of travel, it is possible that they were just explorers, seeking new routes, or even on some kind of pilgrimage.  Either way, they would have been way off course. But if they did pass through Southeast Asia, that would match up with another theory about what “Tukara” meant: that it actually refers to the Dvaravati kingdom in what is now modern Thailand.  The Dvaravati Kingdom was a Mon political entity that rose up around the 6th century.  It even sent embassies to the Sui and Tang courts.  This is even before the temple complexes in Siem Reap, such as Preah Ko and the more famous Angkor Wat.  And it was during this time that the ethnic Tai people are thought to have started migrating south from Yunnan, possibly due to pressures from the expanding Sui and Tang empires.  Today, most of what remains of the Dvaravati kingdom are the ruins of ancient stone temples, showing a heavy Indic influence, and even early Buddhist practices as well.  “Dvaravati” may not actually be the name of the kingdom but it comes from an inscription on a coin found from about that time.  The Chinese refer to it as  “To-lo-po-ti” in contemporary records.  It may not even have been a kingdom, but  more of a confederation of city-states—it is hard to piece everything together.  That it was well connected, though, is clear from the archaeological record.  In Dvaravati sites, we see coins from as far as Rome, and we even have a lamp found in modern Pong Tuk that appears to match similar examples from the Byzantine Empire in the 6th century.  Note that this doesn't mean it arrived in the 6th century—similarly with the coins—but the Dvaravati state lasted until the 12th century. If that was the case, perhaps there were some women from a place called “Shravasti” or similar, especially given the Indic influence in the region. Now, given the location of the Dvaravati, it wouldn't be so farfetched to think that someone might sail up from the Gulf of Thailand and end up off-course, though it does mean sailing up the entire Ryukyuan chain or really running off course and finding yourself adrift on the East China sea.  And if they were headed to the Tang court, perhaps they did have translators or knew Chinese, since Yamato was unlikely to know the Mon language of Dvaravati and people from Dvaravati probably wouldn't know the Japonic language.  Unless, perhaps, they were communicating through Buddhist priests via Sanskrit. We've now heard two possibilities for Tukara, both pretty far afield: the region of Tokara in Bactria, and the Dvaravati kingdom in Southeast Asia.  That said, the third and simplest explanation—and the one favored by Aston in his translation of the Nihon Shoki—is that Tukara is actually referring to a place in the Ryukyu island chain.  Specifically, there is a “Tokara” archipelago, which spans between Yakushima and Amami-Oshima.  This is part of the Nansei islands, and the closest part of the Ryukyuan island chain to the main Japanese archipelago.  This is the most likely theory, and could account for the entry talking about Amami.  It is easy to see how sailors could end up adrift, too far north, and come to shore in Hyuga, aka Himuka, on the east side of Kyushu.  It certainly would make more sense for them to be from this area of the Ryukyuan archipelago than from anywhere else.  From Yakushima to Amami-Oshima is the closest part of the island chain to Kyushu, and as we see in the entry from the Shoku Nihongi, those three places seem to have been connected as being near to Japan.  So what was going on down there, anyway? Well, first off, let's remember that the Ryukyuan archipelago is not just the island of Okinawa, but a series of islands that go from Kyushu all the way to the island of Taiwan.  Geographically speaking, they are all part of the same volcanic ridge extending southward.  The size of the islands and their distance from each other does vary, however, creating some natural barriers in the form of large stretches of open water, which have shaped how various groups developed on the islands. Humans came to the islands around the same time they were reaching the Japanese mainland.  In fact, some of our only early skeletal remains for early humans in Japan actually come from either the Ryukyuan peninsula in the south or around Hokkaido to the north, and that has to do with the acidity of the soil in much of mainland Japan. Based on genetic studies, we know that at least two groups appear to have inhabited the islands from early times.  One group appears to be related to the Jomon people of Japan, while the other appears to be more related to the indigenous people of Taiwan, who, themselves, appear to have been the ancestors of many Austronesian people.  Just as some groups followed islands to the south of Taiwan, some appear to have headed north.  However, they only made it so far.  As far as I know there is no evidence they made it past Miyakoshima, the northernmost island in the Sakishima islands.  Miyako island is separated from the next large island, Okinawa, by a large strait, known as the Miyako Strait, though sometimes called the Kerama gap in English.  It is a 250km wide stretch of open ocean, which is quite the distance for anyone to travel, even for Austronesian people of Taiwan, who had likely not developed the extraordinary navigational technologies that the people who would become the Pacific Islanders would discover. People on the Ryukyu island chain appear to have been in contact with the people of the Japanese archipelago since at least the Jomon period, and some of the material artifacts demonstrate a cultural connection.  That was likely impacted by the Akahoya eruption, about 3500 years ago, and then re-established at a later date.  We certainly see sea shells and corals trade to the people of the Japanese islands from fairly early on. Unlike the people on the Japanese archipelago, the people of the Ryukyuan archipelago did not really adopt the Yayoi and later Kofun culture.  They weren't building large, mounded tombs, and they retained the character of a hunter-gatherer society, rather than transitioning to a largely agricultural way of life.  The pottery does change in parts of Okinawa, which makes sense given the connections between the regions.  Unfortunately, there is a lot we don't know about life in the islands around this time.  We don't exactly have written records, other than things like the entries in the Nihon Shoki, and those are hardly the most detailed of accounts.  In the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, we see people from Yakushima, which is, along with Tanegashima, one of the largest islands at the northern end of the Ryukyu chain, just before you hit Kagoshima and the Osumi peninsula on the southern tip of Kyushu.  The islands past that would be the Tokara islands, until you hit the large island of Amami. So you can see how it would make sense that the people from “Tokara” would make sense to be from the area between Yakushima and Amami, and in many ways this explanation seems too good to be true.  There are a only a few things that make this a bit peculiar. First, this doesn't really explain the woman from “Sha'e” in any compelling way that I can see.  Second, the name, Kenzuhashi Tatsuna doesn't seem to fit with what we generally know about early Japonic names, and the modern Ryukyuan language certainly is a Japonic language, but there are still plenty of possible explanations.  There is also the connection of Tokara with “Tokan”, which is mentioned in an entry in 699 in the Shoku Nihongi, the Chronicle that follows on, quite literally to the Nihon Shoki.  Why would they call it “Tokan” instead of “Tokara” so soon after?  Also, why would these voyagers go back to their country by way of the Tang court?  Unless, of course, that is where they were headed in the first place.  In which case, did the Man from Tukara intentionally leave his wife in Yamato, or was she something of a hostage while they continued on their mission?   And so those are the theories.  The man from “Tukara” could be from Tokhara, or Tokharistan, at the far end of the Silk Road.  Or it could have been referring to the Dvaravati Kingdom, in modern Thailand.  Still, in the end, Occam's razor suggests that the simplest answer is that these were actually individuals from the Tokara islands in the Ryukyuan archipelago.  It is possible that they were from Amami, not that they drifted there.  More likely, a group from Amami drifted ashore in Kyushu as they were trying to find a route to the Tang court, as they claimed.  Instead they found themselves taking a detour to the court of Yamato, instead. And we could have stuck with that story, but I thought that maybe, just maybe, this would be a good time to reflect once again on how connected everything was.  Because even if they weren't from Dvaravati, that Kingdom was still trading with Rome and with the Tang.  And the Tang controlled the majority of the overland silk road through the Tarim basin.  We even know that someone from Tukhara made it to Chang'an, because they were mentioned on a stele that talked about an Asian sect of Christianity, the “Shining Religion”, that was praised and allowed to set up shop in the Tang capital, along with Persian Manicheans and Zoroastrians.  Regardless of where these specific people may have been from, the world was clearly growing only more connected, and prospering, as well. Next episode we'll continue to look at how things were faring between the archipelago and the continent. Until then thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.  

Internetā ievērojamu uzmanību guvusi satraucoša vīriešu kopiena, ko dēvē par "inceliem". Šie ir jauni vīrieši, kuru tiešsaistes diskusijas fokusējas uz rasismu, sevis nicināšanu, naidu pret sievietēm un sabiedrību kopumā. Pētnieki, mediji un politiķi norāda, ka inceli ir nopietns apdraudējums sabiedrībai, demokrātijai un vienlīdzībai.  "Latvijas Avīzes" žurnāliste Līga Aija Lagzdiņa intervijā ar jauniešu psihoterapeitu Nilu S. Konstantinovu, Centra "Marta" sabiedrisko attiecību vadītāju Martu Kraujiņu, Latvijas Universitātes Juridiskās fakultātes asoc. prof. Kristīni Dupati un somu pētnieci   Emīliju Lounelu apspriež iemeslus, kādēļ daudzi jauni vīrieši pievienojas šai kopienai, un vai arī Latvijas varasiestādēm būtu jāpievērš uzmanība šim fenomenam. Raidieraksts ir Eiropas Savienības finansēts. Paustie viedokļi un uzskati atspoguļo autora personīgos uzskatus un ne vienmēr sakrīt ar Eiropas Savienības vai Eiropas Izglītības un Kultūras izpildaģentūras viedokli. Ne Eiropas Savienība vai Eiropas Izglītības un Kultūras izpildaģentūra nenes atbildību par paustajiem uzskatiem. Funded by European Union. Views and opinions expressed are however those of the author(s) only and do not necessarly reflect those of the European Union or the European Education and Culture Executive Agency (EACEA). Neither the European Union nor EACEA can be held responsible for them.

Tänases saates on kolm külalist Saaremaalt: kapten ja kirjanik Lembit Uustulnd ning konkursi "Solistica" korraldajad Pilvi Karu ja Merle Rekaya.

Though it may not seem like it on first glance, across Asuka there are various remnants of a much grander period.  Postholes tell the story of palaces built over and over on the same spots.  In addition, there are the various temples and various carved stone statues and other features.  This episode we'll talk about some of the stonework and palace complexes built during Takara Hime's reign, as well as the deadly politics that were still the currency of the court. For more, check out our blogpost at:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-118 Rough Transcription Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 118: Stonework and Treason Before we dive into the episode, a quick shout out to thank Bodil for supporting us on Ko-Fi.com.  For information on how you can also help support the show, we'll have information at the end of the episode or go check out our podcast page at SengokuDaimyo.com. And now, on with the episode:   Soga no Akaye's mansion was busily quiet.  There was plenty of chatter, but it was mostly in hushed tones as servants busied themselves with their work, but wondered what was going on.  They couldn't help but notice the high ranking visitors that had come.  It was to be expected, though.  After all, their master was in charge while the rest of the court was away on a retreat, comforting the sovereign in her grief.  And so why wouldn't people be showing up to meet with him? But nobody was quite sure what all of these visitors were discussing.  They had all gone into an upper story of the building, but the crowd included some powerful figures, including, some said, a royal prince.  Who's who and where people stood in the court were always topics of discussion, but especially now.  After all, what they were dealing with was unprecedented:  who had heard of a sovereign stepping down in the first place, let alone stepping back up because they then outlived their successor?  But she was no spring chicken, either.  Surely it would be her son that would finally ascend the throne next, right?  But that was never guaranteed. Either way, some of the servants grumbled, a change would be nice.  Ever since the royal family had moved back to Asuka, formally making it the capital again, there had been a flurry of activity. Sure, it meant that a certain amount of prestige returned to that region, and houses that had been in disrepair were suddenly occupied again.  But there was so much more.  Just about all of the available labor pool that wasn't working the fields was working on this project or that—there was almost nothing left for anyone else.  How was anyone else supposed to get things done when all of the able-bodied people were already toiling on the sovereign's own vanity projects?  And after building that giant government complex in Naniwa, no less! Such was, I imagine, the hushed rumor-mongering going on in the house when suddenly there came a loud “crack” as of a piece of wood snapping in two.  Later they would learn that an old wooden rest had broken, but that wasn't immediately obvious.  The servants did notice that shortly thereafter, their visitors began to depart, heading back to their own mansions. As for Soga no Akaye, he said nothing, but he seemed drained.  He had a heavy look, as though he was bearing an incredible weight.  Soon thereafter, he requested a brush and some paper, and he began to write out a letter…   So we are talking about the second reign of Takara Hime, who came back to the throne in 655, following the death of her brother, Prince Karu, known as Koutoku Tennou.  For the first time she reigned, the Chroniclers gave her the name “Kougyoku Tennou”, but for her second reign she would be known in the Chronicles as “Saimei Tennou”. We already discussed some of what was recorded as happening in the north during Takara Hime's second reign, with the Emishi and the Mishihase and the expeditions by Abe no Omi no Hirafu.  This episode we are going to focus more on what was going on in the Home Provinces of Yamato—and most specifically the impact that Takara Hime's reign would have on Asuka. I've noted in the past how modern Asuka can seem like your typical rural Japanese town.  Roads weave between rice fields, flanked by densely packed neighborhoods at the foot of the green hills or lining the shores of the Asuka river.  To the north, the valley opens onto the vast Nara basin—a largely flat region that is much more heavily populated but still would be considered “inaka”, or rural country, by anyone from a metropolis like Tokyo or Ohosaka.  To the south, the land rises up into mountain peaks.  Beyond that ridge, the land drops into the Yoshino River Valley, but otherwise the rest of the Kii peninsula, to the south, is covered in a sparsely populated mountain range, where small villages carve out a life in the nooks and crannies between the numerous ridges, finding the rare spot of flat land to build houses and plant their fields.  Looking at it today, Asuka might seem idyllic, rural, and calm.  And yet, back in Takara Hime's day, it was anything but. When Takara Hime moved back to Asuka, she went on a building spree.  In fact, the Chronicles actually complain about all of the building that she was doing, and we'll get to that.  Much of this episode is going to revolve around her building projects, as well as her comings and goings.  While we'll talk about what the Chronicles say, I also want to talk about some of what still remains in Asuka.  Certainly the grand palaces are gone, for the most part leaving little more than post-holes, lying beneath the rice fields.  A bit more obvious are the various kofun, scattered across the landscape, but beyond that there we also see stone works, including numerous carved stones, which range from crude statues, which may have been minimally worked, to elaborate fountains, which would have used natural water pressure to create impressive waterworks.  These latter works demonstrate the sophistication of the masons of the time, and hint at the grandeur of the various palaces, gardens, and mansion complexes that once populated the landscape.  And if you want a little feeling of what it is like, I talked a bit about walking through Asuka in a bonus episode back in March of 2024—if you are interested, look up “Traveling Through the Ancient Nara Basin, Part 2.   So along with what we see in the Chronicles, I want to talk about some of these other features, even if we aren't entirely sure of when, exactly, they were built.  There are a few, though, that we do suspected were built in this period, by Takara Hime, or at least at her order.  So we'll talk about those as we get there. Her reign wasn't all about building things, though.  Politics in the Yamato court remained as cutthroat as ever.  Although Prince Naka no Oe, Takara Hime's son, had been designated as “Crown Prince” he had not taken the throne, despite being of age, and we aren't told why, though the fact that Takara Hime had previously abdicated because of the events of the Isshi Incident, back in 645 (see Episode XX) may have meant that she was still considered the senior eligible member of the royal line.  Then there was the case of Prince Arima.  Prince Arima was the son of Karu, aka Koutoku Tenno, which made him Naka no Oe's cousin.  This wouldn't have meant anything had his father not ascended to the throne.  And under the succession practices of the time, although Naka no Oe was designated as the Crown Prince, that wasn't a guarantee that he would be next in line, so Prince Arima may have been a potential candidate.  However, there is at least one source that says Prince Arima was not yet of age, but still a teenager.  Still, that was no doubt old enough for some in the court to support him—and as we'll see in later centuries, age limits could be negotiable.  So we'll also discuss that, as well. So let's get into it. When the royal family first moved back to Asuka, in 653,  they took up residence in the temporary palace of Kahabe no Miya.  Unfortunately, this name doesn't tell us much about where the palace was located.  There is one theory that the Kawabe no Miya might be at what is known as the Asuka Inabuchi Palace site, up in the Asuka river valley, in the modern Iwaido district, a little south of the famous Ishibutai kofun site.  This is believed to have been a palace—or at least the mansion of some very wealthy family—given its layout, including what appears to be a cobblestone courtyard, and the lack of any roof tiles, which would have been reserved for temples, at that time. The term “temporary” palace comes up a lot in the Chronicles.  In most of the cases where it is used, it suggests that there was already a building in place and the sovereign took up residence there, hence the term “temporary” palace.  Often times we see that a temporary palace is said to have been “built”, at which point I have to wonder if that is truly the case—did they actually build a brand new structure to temporarily house the sovereign and the royal family—or does it just refer to the fact that they may have taken an existing compound and perhaps made some slight changes to accommodate the royal dignity?  Unfortunately, the Chronicles don't really go into much detail. Wherever the Kawabe no Miya happened to be, it does seem to have been temporary, as we later see Takara Hime back at the Itabuki palace, and indeed she reascended the throne there in 655.  The Itabuki palace first shows up in Takara hime's first reign, and seems to be one of at least two royal palaces in Asuka at the time, the other one being the Woharida Palace.  The Woharida palace had been around for a while – it was noted as early as 603, in the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno, and there is the suggestion that it was still around in the time that Karu, aka Kotoku Tenno, was reigning.  We know that Takara Hime took up residence there at some point during her own reign as well.  But in 643 she had the Itabuki palace built, though apparently that didn't mean that the Oharida palace was completely torn down and abandoned – it just was no longer the primary site of court ritual.  Of course, the Itabuki palace wouldn't be the seat of the government for long, either, as the Isshi Incident took place there in 645, and Karu would subsequently move the capital to Naniwa, building the Toyosaki palace. And so the Itabuki palace remained, but was not exactly kept up, so that when the royal family returned to Asuka, it wasn't ready for them to inhabit, and likely required extensive renovation.  Nonetheless, it was being inhabited two years later, when Takara hime again ascended the throne. A quick note here about the name “Itabuki”, because we think that this likely referred to a very specific style of construction that was used.  Up to this point, as far as we can tell, the primary roofing material for all major buildings was a kind of local thatching – we still see this today on some shrines and other buildings.  “Itabuki”, in contrast, refers to a roof made with wooden boards.  Today, we have buildings with rooves where the roof shingles are overlapping boards of wood or bark from the cypress tree: thin layers stacked one on top of the other.  Even today, the modern Imperial Palace in Kyoto uses wood shingles rather than the curved roof tiles that many people think of when they think of Asian architecture. So that's the Itabuki palace, all spruced up and ready for Takara hime to occupy again.  That said, remember the older Woharida palace, the other one in Asuka? Later in 655, a project was started to update that palace as well.  We are told that as of the 13th day of the 10th month there had been a plan to add roof tiles to one of the buildings at the Woharida palace, but unfortunately much of the timber from the mountains and valleys that was designated for the project was found to be too weak from rot, and so they decided to not go forward with that plan.  I would note here that tiled rooves, while they might seen somewhat easier to put together—after all, you only need a layer of interlocking and overlapping tiles—are extremely heavy.  They are known to deform the wooden structures underneath them, and can weigh hundreds of pounds per square foot.  Much of the classic shape of these tiled rooves developed over time to compensate for some of that weight, so this makes me wonder if the wood the palace craftspeople brought in was really that rotten, or if it was just not strong enough for the work that they were trying to do.  After all, were they applying the same techniques as for a temple, or were they simply trying to replace traditional thatching or shingles with clay tiles?  Either way, the project failed, even after all of the work that had gone into it.  This is a small entry in the Chronicles, but it would have meant levying corvee labor that had to go out to the designated regions to source the timber, not to mention setting up the kilns to make the tiles, as well as other preparations that would have been necessary.  In other words, a lot of work, for apparently no payoff. On top of that, we are told that around that time, in the winter of that year—which would have been the 10th, 11th, or 12th month, roughly corresponding from late November to February of the following year—the Itabuki palace caught fire and burned down, and so the sovereign and her retinue decamped to the temporary palace of Kawara – the River Plain or Field. “Kawara” could theoretically refer to just about any flat area by a river. Aston points out that “Kawara” can also mean “rooftile”, which is interesting given what we just talked about, the entry immediately before that deals with attempting to add new rooftiles to a part of the Oharida palace. However, there is some thought that this refers to the Kawara Temple, Kawaradera, and you can find claims that Kawaradera was built on the site of the temporary palace.  There is a reference to Kawaradera in the previous reign, in the year 653, though another source apparently says it was talking about Yamadadera, instead.  There isn't another mention of “Kawaradera” that I can find until 673, so it is entirely possible that the temple started its life off as a mansion or even a temporary royal palace of some kind, and was later turned into a temple. Kawaradera itself is rather interesting.  If you visit the site, today, you can see large stone bases that help to demonstrate the size of the ancient temple.  It was one of the four Great Temples of Asuka, along with Asukadera, Kudara Ohodera, and Yakushiji.  And yet, unlike the other three, we don't have clear indications about its founding in the Chronicles.  When the capital eventually moved to Heijo-kyo, in Nara city, many of the other temples were removed to the new capital, but not, as far as I can see, Kawaradera.  Donald McCallum suggests that this is because it was replaced, instead, by Koufukuji, a temple with deep ties to the descendants of Nakatomi no Kamatari, the Fujiwara clan.  He suggests that mention of the temple in the official records may have even been suppressed by individuals such as Fujiwara no Fubito.  Kawaradera remained in Asuka.  Eventually it fell to ruin, but there is still a small temple on the site, known as Gu-fuku-ji. As for the Kawara Palace, if Kawaradera really was in operation by 653, it is possible that the sovereign took over some of the buildings at Kawaradera, or perhaps the temporary palace was simply somewhere nearby. In any case, they don't seem to have stayed there for too long—they started work on a new palace the following year.  This was the later Okamoto Palace, and from what we can tell it was built on the same site as the Itabuki Palace, south of Asukadera.  This site would see multiple palaces over the years, and even today you can go and see some of the post-holes that they have found, indicating the size of the complex through the years. Based on the layout and size of the Asuka palaces, it seems that these early palaces focused on the “dairi”, the private quarters of the sovereign.  This seems to have ignored the reforms made with the Toyosaki palace design in Naniwa in the early 650s.  That palace, which was built on an incredibly grand scale, consisted of both the private quarters and the public government offices.  But in Asuka the royal family's “palace” appears to have only consisted of the private quarters, for the most part.  So where was the actual bureaucracy happening?  Were there other facilities we don't know about?  Or perhaps, the Toyosaki palace itself was overly ambitious, and there wasn't actually the staff for such a grand complex?  After all, they were just setting up the bureaucracy and perhaps their reach had exceeded their grasp.  Or was it the case that things werestill being run out of the palace complex in Naniwa while the sovereign lived in Asuka?  That seems to have been roughly 10 hours away, by foot, though perhaps only half that by horse. The northern end of the Asuka valley is not as well suited to a large palace complex.  Not only was it already full of temples and the like, but the ground itself rises to the south, and the hills on either side start to come together.  It certainly isn't the kind of place to layout a grand city.  But perhaps that was not the intent—at least not immediately.  It didn't matter much, though, because the Later Okamoto palace, as it came to be known, was not long for this world.  Scarcely had it been built and occupied but that it caught fire and burned down—another expenditure of funds and labor that were once more counted as nothing. In fact, Takara hime was apparently on a tear, and went ahead and initiated quite a few projects that happened in 656.  We are told that nearby Tamu Peak was crowned with a circular enclosure, close to where two “tsuki” trees grew.  A “lofty” building was erected and called both Futatsuki no Miya (the Palace of the Two Tsuki) and Amatsu Miya (the Palace of Heaven).  She also had a new palace erected in Yoshino, possibly as a seasonal retreat.  And with this she was just getting started. She also had laborers dig a canal all the way from the western end of Mt. Kaguyama all the way to Mt. Isonokami.  We are told that 200 barges were then loaded with stone from Mt. Isonokami and hauled to the mountain east of the palace, where the stones were piled up to form a wall.  This last one had people up in arms.  They called the canal the “mad canal” and said that it wasted the labor of over 30,000 people.  On top of that, she used 70,000 men to build the wall.  To top it all off, the timber for the palace rotted away and the top of the mountain where they were building collapsed.  We are told that people cursed it all, crying out: “May the mound built at Iso no Kami break down of itself as fast as it is built.” So, yeah, people weren't too happy.  We, however, just might be – because all of this building work? It leaves traces in the landscape. We aren't always sure about locations in the Chronicles, as it is very easy for names to shift over time or for things to be renamed at a later date. But what we do know is that there are quite a few examples of stone work in the Asuka region.  There is the kame-ishi stone that looks only vaguely carved—it appears to have two carved eyes, but otherwise appears to use the natural shape of the stone to evoke a tortoise—that sits near the site of Kawaradera and Tachibana-dera.  There are the various saruishi—carved figures that are purportedly based on saru, or monkeys, but are likely meant to represent people.  They may have once adorned an elite family's garden or similar, and they were since moved to the tomb of Kibitsu hime.  There are various fountains and waterworks.  And then there are the Sakafune-ishi ruins, sitting along a ridge east of the palace site.  This consists of a large stone up on the hill, with carved channels that appear to be made to channel water poured into the grooves.  At the bottom of the hill there is a turtle shaped stone basin, filled from a boat-shaped water tank.  Across the hill is example of stone work, including possible walls. Given the apparent age of everything, and its location, it is thought that this may all be part of the Futatsuki no Miya complex that Takara hime built.  Unfortunately, it is still not clear how it was meant to operate.  After Asuka was abandoned as the capital, knowledge of the site also disappeared.  There were some stories that arose about the stone that it was used for some kind of sake-brewing, hence the name, but nothing truly concrete has arisen.  There may have been other structures, perhaps made of wood, that are no longer present, and the stone itself appears to have broken and eroded away over the years.  It may have been meant as a ritual site, or perhaps it was just built as some kind of wonder for the people.  It doesn't fit into any clear model of any Buddhist or even ancient Shinto practice, nor is it clearly connected to other continental practices.  We certainly know that they did plenty with water, given the number of waterworks and other carved stones, including a model of Mt. Sumera, we are told was built to the west of Asukadera on the 15th day of the 7th month of the following year—657. Maybe these are remnants of that project Whatever its purpose, the Sakafune-ishi site does seem to compare favorably with what is described in the Nihon Shoki, and perhaps it was considered such a waste of resources just because it didn't fit in with the prevailing ritual culture.  Maybe Takara hime was too artistically avant-garde for her time. “Wasting resources” would, in fact, become a chief complaint against Takara Hime during her time on the throne.  And that takes us from seemingly harmless construction projects into the court politics of the day.  Now as you should recall, Prince Naka no Oe, Takara Hime's son, was the Crown Prince at this point, and quite influential.  He was supported by various courtiers, such as Nakatomi no Kamatari, the Naidaijin, but his eventual ascendancy to the throne was not entirely assured.  We've seen plenty of examples where someone would seem to be in line for the throne and they didn't ever make it.  We know that there were several other royal princes at this time.  One of the youngest was Prince Takeru, a grandson of Takara Hime, who was born around 651.  Then there was Prince Naka no Oe's brother, Prince Ohoama.  He was also one of Takara Hime's sons, and while we haven't heard much of him in the narrative, we will definitely see more of him in the future.  On top of the two of them, there is Prince Arima, whom I talked about at the beginning of the episode.  Prince Arima was mentioned as the son of Karu and Wotarashi Hime, but his mother was not Karu's Queen—that was Hashibito, daughter of Okinaga Tarashi-hi Hironuka, aka Jomei Tennou, and Takara Hime.  Yup, Karu basically married his own niece, though that may have been an attempt to keep the most direct connection possible to the royal line.  Arima's mom Wotarashi Hime, on the other hand, was the daughter of Abe no Kurahashi no Oho-omi—the Minister of the Left, or Sadaijin, during Karu's reign.  Strictly speaking, based on the way that the succession has been depicted so far, Prince Arima wouldn't technically meet the requirements.  That said, we've seen where that has been bypassed in the past, and no doubt people were aware just how easily it would be to rewrite the history, if they had to.  He was young—but not so young that he couldn't be involved in the politics of the court. Other than a note about his parentage at the start of Karu's reign, Prince Arima isn't mentioned again until the ninth month of 657, and right off the bat you can tell where the Chroniclers fall on his personality.  They describe him as deceitful, and claim that he pretended to be insane—a term that doesn't really show up elsewhere, so it is hard to know what exactly is meant.  Is he the Hamlet of his age?  Arima used this as an excuse to go to Muro Onsen—thought to be modern Shirahama Hot Springs, on the southwestern end of the Kii Peninsula.   When he came back he sang its praises, claiming that “scarce had I seen that region, when my complaint disappeared of itself.”  The Queen wanted to go and see for herself. Overall, this hardly seems to be very “deceitful”, though it is suspected that Arima may have feigned an illness to avoid some of the politics around the start of the new reign.  Given his father Karu's recent death, it would likely have been easy enough to claim that he was greatly depressed.  We aren't told how long he stayed at Muro Onsen, but presumably it was for some time. At the start of the following year, on the 13th day of the first month, Kose no Tokuda no Omi, the Sadaijin, or Minister of the Left, passed away.  This would have no doubt created some ripples, but little more is said—we don't even have the name of who succeeded him in the position, at least not in the Nihon Shoki.  Four months later, which is to say in the fifth month of that same year, 658, Prince Takeru passed away.  He was only 8 years old, but as the grandson of Takara Hime a temporary tomb was constructed in the Imaki valley.  Takara Hime lamented his death greatly, and in the 10th month, she took Arima's advice and went to visit the Ki Onsen.  She had several poems composed and handed them to Hata no Ohokura no Miyatsuko no Mari to record them for posterity. While she was away, Soga no Akaye no Omi was the acting official in charge.  And several weeks in, he addressed Prince Arima.  He noted that there were three problems with Takara Hime's government. First – She builds treasuries on a great scale, collecting the riches of the people. Second – She wastes the public grain revenue in digging long canals. Third – She loads barges with stones and transports them to be piled up into a hill. This may have been popular opinion, but it was also rather treasonous talk.  Prince Arima simply smiled and said: “I have only now come to an age where I am fit to bear arms.” So, yeah, he was basically saying that he was old enough to take up arms—and presumably lead others in a rebellion, if that was the case. Two days later, on the fifth day of the 11th month, Prince Arima met Akaye at his mansion.  They went into one of the upper stories, where they wouldn't be interrupted, and there they conspired together.  Others were also involved, it seems—Mori no Kimi no Oho-ishi, Sakahibe no Muraji no Kusuri, and Shihoya no Muraji no Konoshiro.  There are a few different books that claim to record what the plans were.  One says that Soga no Akaye, Shihoya no Konoshiro, Mori no Oho-ishi, and Sakahibe no Kusuri divined the future of their conspiracy by drawing slips of paper, to see how it would turn out.  Another book states that Arima claimed he would burn down the palace and take 500 men to march down south.  There he would waylay Takara Hime at the harbour of Muro.  They were going to exile her to Awaji island, setting up a fleet of ships to ensure she could never leave. As they were discussing what to do—no doubt talking about how the Prince could take the throne, a leg-rest that they were using broke.  Another book claims it was an arm-rest, instead, but otherwise the details are the same.  They both agreed that was a bad omen, and decided not to proceed any further with their plans.  Prince Arima returned home, but apparently Soga no Akaye had a change of heart.  He apparently figured that his only way out was to turn in the others and admit everything.  And so, that night, Akaye sent Mononobe no Enowi no Muraji no Shibi, who was in charge of the labourers working on the palace.  They surrounded the palace and then Akaye sent a mounted courier to inform Takara Hime. That letter must have laid everything out.  Takara hime had the conspirators arrested and brought to Ki Onsen.  Arima's servant, Nihitabe no Muraji no Yonemaro, followed them.  Prince Naka no Oe himself questioned Arima about why he plotted treason.  Arima's answer is a bit cryptic:  “Heaven and Akaye know.” He responded, “I do not understand at all.” In the end, all of the conspirators were found guilty, and executed.  Tajihi no Wosaha no Muraji no Kuniso was sent to do the task.  Prince Arima was strangled at the Fujishiro acclivity, along with Shihoya no Konoshiro and Nihitabe no Yonemaro.  Before being executed, Konoshiro made a rather macabre request, asking that—presumably after he was dead—they cut off his right hand and make it a national treasure.  The other two conspirators, Mori no Oho-ishi and Sakahibe no Kusuri, were merely banished, presumably having played less of a role. Once again, we must remember that we are only getting one side of the story.  It is definitely convenient for Naka no Oe to have a potential rival out of the way.  At the same time, it is certainly plausible that there was more than a little bit of consternation about how Takara Hime had been spending so much on all of these construction projects.  And yet… were these Takara Hime's projects, alone? Remember, Prince Naka no Oe seems to have had a fair bit of clout.  He orchestrated the original coup, where he killed Soga no Iruka and his father.  And then he declined the throne, but became a major part of the new government.  He was apparently powerful enough that he organized the move back to Asuka against the wishes of Karu no Ohokimi. So would all of these projects have been done without his involvement? This is an area where I have to admit that I probably need to check my bias.  On the one hand, it is rare enough in patriarchal accounts to see women with agency and in positions of power, and so it is easy enough to make an assumption that any agency they are given in the record, they likely had more than is mentioned.  At the same time, in this particular instance, at least, Takara Hime's role in this could just as easily be a cover to preserve the image of Naka no Oe, who is certainly portrayed as a hero figure, bringing much needed change and modernization—such as it was—to Yamato.  His enemies are always shown to be in the wrong, and even if he is accused of something horrible—such as the death of Soga no Ishikawa no Maro—it turns out that it was actually the fault of someone else, such as the person who slandered Maro to him in the first place.  So could it be that these unpopular construction projects were actually his doing, all along?  Was the conspiracy simply to overthrow Takara Hime, or was it focused on both her and Naka no Oe, together? To be honest, I couldn't say for certain.  All we have to go on is what the Chroniclers tell us, and they lay the blame fairly firmly at the feet of Takara Hime.  But do remember that Naka no Oe is not necessarily the Shining Prince that he is often made out to be, and that people rarely come to or stay in power in a society like Yamato's by being nice all the time.  We certainly know what he is capable of from the Isshi Incident, and we shouldn't forget that in the narrative. Now when Takara Hime returned from Ki Onsen after winter ended, in the new year.  We are told that she got back on the third day of the first month of 659.  A couple of months later, on the first day of the third month, she went to Yoshino and held a banquet there—no doubt at the palace she had had constructed.  This may have been at the site of Miyataki Ruins, where excavations have revealed numerous examples of roof tiles and other artifacts that may have come from a building from the Asuka or Nara era. The visit to Yoshino must have been quick, however, as we are told that two days later she visited Hira-ura in Afumi, on the shores of Lake Biwa.  Perhaps this only means she left two days later, since that must have been quite the journey back in the day.  Would she have traveled on horseback, or in a carriage or something similar?  No doubt a full procession would take time, and I doubt that the sovereign would push herself.  We also don't have a reason for her to go, that I can see.  It is an odd entry, to say the least. And I think it may be best to end it there.  I do encourage anyone who can to get down to Asuka and plan to spend a couple of days if you really want to get around.  You may want to rent a bike or even a car to get to everything, though you can walk to most things.  There are several museums and cultural centers set up to expound upon Asuka culture, with a focus on the history and archaeology specifically of that period. The palace site where Takara Hime ruled would continue to be the location of at least two more palaces, which we'll talk about in time.  Before that, though, we'll want to cover a few more things.  Most importantly, we'll want to talk about the relationship with lands outside of the archipelago.  We'll discuss the man from Tukhara—who may have simply been from the Ryukyu islands, or possible from as far aways the Dvaravati Kingdom, in modern day Thailand, or even from the western edge of India and Pakistan, having traveled the Silk Road.  Some have even suggested that he may be a Tocharian, and we'll talk about what that means.  And then, before we finish, we'll have to talk about everything else going on, including the conclusion of the Tang-Baekje war. Until then thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.    

Happy New Year!  This is our 2025 recap episode.  In this case, we actually are recapping a fair bit more than just the year, going over the previous evolution of the Yamato state up to the period of the Great Change, or Taika, which we covered this past year.  There's a lot more that we expect to get into this next year, and this will hopefully tee us up for what is to come. For more, including a full list of our previous references, check out: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-newyear2025   Rough Transcript Shinnen Akemashite!  Happy New Year and Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is the New Year's Recap episode for 2025! It's that time again:  we are going to look back at what happened in the episodes this year.  That was only episodes 101 to 117—we'll skip the travelogue episodes for the time being.  This covered the years of the early to mid-7th century, from roughly 613 to 659.  That is easily within the lifetime of a single individual, and yet a lot was going on. At the start of this year, we were at the height of Soga power. In 2023, we covered how back in 587, Soga no Umako had wrested power away from the powerful Mononobe clan, defeating Mononobe no Moriya.  As you may recall, the sovereign known to posterity as Jimmu Tennou was the descendant of the Heavenly Grandchild known as Ninigi no Mikoto, at least according to the Nihon Shoki.  The Mononobe clan claimed descent from none other than Nigi Hayahi, the Other Heavenly Grandchild, whose offspring were said to have been defeated by Jimmu. You may recall that scholars generally consider the story of Jimmu, and the nine sovereigns that immediately followed him, as almost certainly a later addition to the story of the royal lineage. So when did the story of Nigi no Hayahi's defeat enter the picture? And was its inclusion perhaps related to the defeat of the Mononobe by the Soga family?  A family that successfully intermarried with the Royal House, themselves, such that all later sovereigns would trace their ancestry back to the Soga house? Of course, under Soga dominance we saw the rise of figures like the Soga descended Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno.  During her reign, major reforms were carried out, Buddhism became fully established by the State, and ties with the continent were strengthened.  Politics would continue to be dominated by Soga, even after the death of Soga no Umako and Kashikiya Hime, with Soga no Emishi taking up the mantle of Prime Minister, working closely with his son, Soga no Iruka.  The Soga family was so entwined with the politics of rulership that the main rivals of the Soga were… the Soga.  That is to say different Soga-descended lineages, like that of the Prince Umayado, aka Prince Shotoku. Rather than supporting Umayado's son, Prince Yamashiro no Oe, Soga no Emishi backed another candidate to the throne, Prince Tamura.  , of the royal Okinaga lineage. Tamura came to power as Jomei Tenno, but there is little doubt that Soga no Emishi was the one in control. Later, when Tamura passed away in 641, Yamashiro no Oe continued to be passed over.  In fact, Soga no Emishi supported the ascension of Tamura's wife, Takara hime, over Yamashiro no Oe, and there is evidence that he supported a prince known as Furubito no Oe as the Crown Prince and eventual successor.  All of the evidence—which, to be honest, is rather biased—suggests that the Soga family were setting up a series of puppet rulers who would do their bidding, or at least be pliable to their suggestions. There must have been some pushback, though, especially when one considers how strong the cult of Prince Shotoku, aka Umayado, would eventually become.  One imagines that Prince Yamashiro was another pole around which those who opposed the Soga family could rally.  After all, he was the son of Crown Prince Umayado, and likely had just as much of a claim as Tamura and his children.  And so, to counter this threat, Soga no Emishi's son and successor, Soga no Iruka, took matters into his own hands. In a brazen display of the violence of court politics, Soga no Iruka had Yamashiro no Oe accused of plotting against the throne and took an army to arrest him—no doubt in the hope that the prince would resist.  Eventually they cornered Yamashiro and his family, who committed suicide rather than submit. This attack was likely targeted to take out the rival to the Soga family's preferred Crown Prince, Prince Furubito no Oe, but rather than quell any dissent, the move seems to have enflamed the passions of those who wanted to see an end to the Soga house.  Those passions took particular root in none other than Furubito no Oe's younger brother, Prince Naka no Oe.  Together with the support of his uncle, Prince Karu; the head of the Nakatomi house, Nakatomi no Kamatari; as well as another scion of the Soga house, Soga no Kuroyamada, Prince Naka no Oe staged a coup d'etat.  Using the death of Prince Yamashiro no Oe as an excuse, they engineered a plot to assassinate Soga no Iruka in court, in front of Naka no Oe's own mother, Takara Hime no Oho-kimi.  After Iruka's death, Naka no Oe and his supporters then took the fight to Soga no Emishi, who committed suicide and set his own house on fire in what came to be known as the Isshi Incident. This shocking assassination caused Takara hime to step down.  The Soga-backed Prince Furubito no Oe, rather than stepping up and taking the throne, retreated to a Buddhist temple and took holy orders, effectively retiring and theoretically taking himself out of court politics.  That left Prince Naka no Oe and his uncle, Prince Karu, as possible candidates. We are told that Prince Naka no Oe declined to take the throne himself, instead supporting his uncle, Prince Karu.  Prince Karu took the throne, and is known to us as Kotoku Tenno, today.  Prince Naka no Oe stepped up as the Crown Prince, and with the help of his co-conspirators, such as Nakatomi no Kamatari, Soga no Kurayamada, and others, they began a project to remake the Yamato government, using continental models—specifically the Sui and Tang courts, which were also influencing the governments of the Korean peninsula, such as those of Baekje and Silla. This is known as the Taika, or Great Change, era.    There had been previous movements to adopt some of the continental trends, but nothing to this extent, which culminated in a tremendous palace complex built in Naniwa—modern Ohosaka.  Governors were sent out to the east of the country. The old, decentralized system was being replaced by a centralized bureaucracy. And yet this wasn't entirely a smooth transition.  Early on there was a threat by supporters of the previous Crown Prince, Furubito no Oe.  He was killed to put down any possible revolt.  Later, Naka no Oe was hoodwinked into going after his own co-conspirator, Soga no Kurayamada, resulting in Kurayamada's death and the punishment of his entire family.  A few years later, Naka no Oe moved back to Asuka, taking most of the royal family and the court with him, abandoning the grand government complex that they had built in Naniwa for reasons that remain unclear. Shortly thereafter, Karu, aka Kotoku Tenno, passed away.  But rather than Naka no Oe taking the throne—or even Karu's son, Prince Arima—the throne went back to Naka no Oe's mother, Takara Hime.  This is the only case we have of a single sovereign reigning twice, and the Chroniclers gave her two separate regnal names—Kogyoku Tenno to refer to her first reign and Saimei Tenno to refer to her second. And this is the reign that we are going to start the new year with. Beyond what was going on on the archipelago, there was also plenty that we covered on the continent.  We started the year with the Sui dynasty having consolidated control and working to continue to expand their territory north, south, and west, while also connecting the economic areas of the Yangzi and Yellow rivers. Unfortunately, through their wars and public works projects they overextended themselves, and the dynasty fell, replaced, in 619, with the Tang dynasty.  The Tang continued to expand, taking control of important points on the Silk Road and becoming a hub of trade and commerce.  At the same time, they were contesting their borders with the Goguryeo, who, themselves, had come under the control of Yeon Gaesomun, an infamous noble and anti-Tang hard-liner, who had staged a coup, murdered the Goguryeo king and any who stood against him, and who had installed a puppet king on the throne.  It is little wonder that the Tang dynasty was courting Goguryeo's enemy, Silla, to pressure them from the other side.  This eventually kicked off the Tang-Goguryeo war, with the loosely allied Tang and Silla fighting on and off with Goguryeo and their ally, Baekje, who was also invested in stifling Silla's ambitions on the peninsula. So that's where we are:  The Korean peninsula is currently embroiled in conflict between the three kingdoms on the peninsula and the nearby superpower, the Tang Dynasty.  Meanwhile, Yamato, on the archipelago, is going through a whole… thing.  What that is, we'll try to get into over the next year. Given all of this, let's go over some of the themes from the past year.  To start with, let's talk about expanding Yamato influence. From what we can tell, Yamato's influence in the archipelago had peaked around the 5th century, between the creation of giant Daisen Ryo kofun and the reign of Wakatake no Ohokimi, aka Yuryaku Tenno.  Wakatake no Ohokimi had courtiers from as far away as Kyushu and the Kanto plain.  However, from what I can tell, Yamato's influence appears to have temporarily waned, possibly coinciding with the end of Wakatake's own dynasty, with a new dynasty coming to power in the 6th century. It is possible that Wakatake was simply never quite as powerful as the Chronicles make out, but there are a few other things that make me think that the end of the 5th and early half of the 6th century were a low point in Yamato's power.  For one thing, we see a drop off in interactions with the continent after 479—or at least anything beyond the tip of the Korean peninsula.  In addition, we see smaller rooms built in the region of the Nara Basin and the Kawachi plain, while more “royal” tombs continue to appear elsewhere in the archipelago.  It isn't that they stopped, but the size decreased, suggesting that Yamato didn't have the same labor pool it used to. On top of that, we have the dynastic change.  We are told that the line related to Wakatake died out and they had to bring in someone from Afumi and Koshi, who traced their lineage back to the legendary Homuda-wake, aka Ōjin tennō, some five generations back.  Many scholars suggest that this connection was a later merging of the lineages, suggesting that, in reality, an entirely new branch of sovereigns had come to power. Finally, we can see the Chronicles focusing more and more on the areas near to Yamato, the area known as the Home Provinces, possibly because Yamato only held direct control over these areas, while control beyond that was only nominal.  Local elites in those regions had a lot of autonomy, and if Yamato did not have anything in particular to offer them, they would not have a reason to necessarily go along with Yamato's requests. This may have even been part of the impetus for the so-called “rebellion” by Iwai, in Kyushu.  As you may recall, in the early 6th century Iwai attempted to ally with Silla against Yamato and Baekje, with the idea of cutting off Yamato's access to the continent.  This ultimately failed, and Yamato ended up creating what would become the Dazaifu near modern Fukuoka, but the fact that Iwai could contemplate it and gather such support would suggest that Yamato was at least perceived as vulnerable. Now up to this point, we see several different policies that were used for increasing the court's control.  Early on, this was done by doling out various elite goods.  We also see Yamato soft power in the form of spiritual authority and the expansion of local Yamato cultic practices out into the other lands of the archipelago.  There was also the tradition of monumental tombs, and especially the royal keyhole style tombs, which spread out from Yamato and was likely as much an indication that those regions saw Yamato practices as worthy of emulation, at the least, and perhaps saw Yamato as a cultural nexus on the archipelago. To all of this, they eventually added the “Be” system.  This appears to have been copied from systems being used on the Korean peninsula, and it focused on creating familial units to organize various industries, with family heads responsible for reporting and funneling necessary goods up to the court.  This eventually included the noble “uji” clans, with their power bases in various geographic regions. Yamato extended its influence through a variety of methods, including various public works projects.  These included things like the building of ponds, or reservoirs, which would have been critical to the wet-rice paddy agriculture that was the economic backbone of the Yamato government.  Another means of extending government control was the “miyake”, or Royal Granaries.  Originally we see these set up in the Nara basin, but during the current dynasty they had been extended all the way out to Kyushu. Ostensibly, they were there to collect rice for taxes, but they appear to have acted as government offices, providing a presence for Yamato even out in the hinterlands.  Eventually they would turn the area in Kyushu, the Dazai, into its own, semi-autonomous extension of the Yamato government, as well. In the past year of the podcast, we've seen many of those older forms of government control replaced with a new bureaucratic system.  This included an upgrade to the rank system, which was a way for the government to both organize the bureaucracy while also creating a means to award individuals.  Early rank systems had initially been granted at the family level, but following a continental model meant that the new system was based solely on the individual.  Thus they could hand out rank to various kings and chieftains across the archipelago and entice them into the Yamato orbit, a trick they had been doing previously as well with various types of recognition.  Those that took the titles and rank that Yamato handed out gained a certain amount of legitimacy, locally, but since that legitimacy was tied to the Yamato court, it also helped solidify Yamato's own influence on those areas. That doesn't mean that all expansion was peaceful.  Yamato contested on their eastern and northern border with the people referred to as the Emishi, which eventually included contests as far north as the island of Hokkaido with the Mishihase people. There was another form of soft power used by the court in the way that it supported Buddhism, which was still a new religion at this point, having arrived in the early part of the 6th century.  Patronage of Buddhism would lead to the building of temples and otherwise claiming some authority in the spiritual realm, beyond simply the court's control of the Mt. Miwa site.  Furthermore, the state itself took particular interest in Buddhist institutions, and cracked down heavily on the clergy, ensuring that they reported up to the court, formally solidifying the connection between temples and the State. But then they went a bit further and instituted actual governors.  They were appointed by the Yamato government, and they were particularly installed in the Eastern lands—referred to as provinces.  These governors reported to the court, and appear to have initially been separate from locally recognized elites, who were known as the Kuni no Miyatsuko.  The governors were to take stock of the areas under their authority and report up information such as a summary of the lands and local census information.  This meant that Yamato did not need to rely on local elites to administer an area, they would have greater insight into what was actually going on. This was all combined with the institution of new laws on taxes, corvee labor, and more, while eliminating traditional practices such as the Miyake and even royal tomb-building.  The latter was likely affected by the various public works projects, but also the fact that more work was going into the building of things like Buddhist temples. As we noted back in the previous year, Buddhist temple building appears to have had a hand in the end of the prolific kofun building, at least in Yamato proper.  Kofun were memorials—meant to carry on the memory of an individuals well after their death.  They were ritual sites, and families were set up to care for them. Temples, likewise, were erected with certain memorial qualities.  Donating to build a temple was thought to increase one's karma, and thus do wonders for your next life.  Temple patrons would be remembered, and services were carried out, but temples also had a certain public aspect to them, as well.  On top of that, they were new, and no doubt exotic, with their tiled rooves, intricate carvings, and colorful buildings.  Much of the labor that would have built tombs appears to have been co-opted, instead, to build temples. Some of the temples founded in this period include Asuka dera, aka Hokoji, built on or near the Soga family compound, as well as other Asuka temples, such as Yamadadera, Kawaradera, Toyouradera, and Kudaradera.  There was also Houryuji, erected by Prince Umayado near his house, and the ancient temple of Shitennouji, erected in Naniwa.  Of these, both Horyuji and Shitennoji continue, today, at or near their original with some of the oldest extant buildings in Japan.  Asukadera was moved to its modern site of Gangoji, in Nara city proper, but there is still a smaller Asukadera on the original site, with what may be one of the original images, though the buildings have been rebuilt after numerous fires and disasters over the years. Of course, a big part of all of these foreign ideas, such as Buddhism but also Confucian thought as well, was the growing influence of the continent, whether in the form of Baekje, Silla, Goguryeo, or beyond.  While there had been influence ever since the Yayoi period—and arguably even during the Jomon, in some instances—there seems to have been an acceleration once Yamato began to import Buddhism, which was likely connected with all of the learning and texts that were also being imported around that time.  Then, during the Sui and Tang dynasties—both of which the Chronicles simply label as the “Great Tang”—the court sent several embassies to the Sui and Tang emperors, bringing back individuals with actual experience in the way things were happening outside of the archipelago. And we should not discount the various embassies to and from the Korean peninsula.  Yamato was increasing its involvement in peninsular affairs.  They continued to be concerned with the state of Nimna, also known as Imna or Mimana, which had been assimilated by Silla, along with the rest of Gaya, or Kara, by the early to mid-6th century, with many accounts dealing with attempts to reinstate Nimna as a separate and sovereign entity. Along with this, Yamato continued their relationship with Baekje, who sent Prince Pung to reside at the Yamato court.  This continued a long-standing tradition that is portrayed as a type of diplomatic hostage, though there have been several times that princes at the Yamato court came back to Baekje to rule after the king died or was killed.  All of this to say that not only did ambassadors from Yamato go to these countries, but ambassadors also traveled to Yamato, while various immigrants from these areas of Baekje, Silla, and even Goguryeo occasionally settled in Yamato.  This further increased the number of individuals with knowledge and experience of continental concepts and technology, and we can see their influence in numerous different ways. This was all part of what led to the Yamato government's adoption of Tang style law codes, though it should be noted that the law codes were not taken wholecloth.  Rather, they were adapted specifically to the issues of the archipelago.  This was the beginning of what came to be known as the Ritsuryo system, literally the system of laws and punishments. Under this system, the government went from a single Oho-omi, or great minister, to two Great ministers, one of the left and one of the right.  These would come to be known as the Sadaijin and the Udaijin.  Nakatomi no Kamatari was afforded a special place as the third minister, the minister of the center, or Naidaijin, possibly referring to his responsibilities with the interior of the royal household, while the ministers of the left and right would have had particular ministries beneath them - eight ministries in total, with various departments underneath them.  They would be assigned to report either to the Minister of the Left or the Minister of the Right, each one overseeing, effectively, half of the government portfolio. This system, combined with the governors and the Tomo no Miyatsuko in the provinces, meant that Yamato had much more granular control over the workers and the means of production.  They organized households into villages, and villages into districts.  There were lower level officials who reported up the chain all the way to the great ministers, the Daijin, or Oho-omi.  This meant that they effectively abolished the Be and Uji system, at least as it had been set up.  These familial groups continued to operate as families, or perhaps more appropriately as “clans”, given how the groups had come to be. These officials were granted rank and, more importantly, stipends from the government.  A portion of taxes, which were paid in rice, went to various officials.  This meant that officials not only relied on the government for their status, but for their incomes as well. This went along with an attempt to implement something known as the “equal field system”, imported, again, from the continent.  This determined who would work what fields, and was another way that the government was involved down to the actual labor producing the rice that was the economic engine of the State. And that covers most of what we've been up to this past year.  There have been individual accomplishments that we didn't get into, but there is plenty there if you want to listen to it. So that covers the past year in the podcast—a little over half of the 7th century.  It really was a time of dramatic change—whether or not “Taika” was the name given to part of it, it certainly feels appropriate.  Even though the court eventually moved to Naniwa, this is the height of the Asuka period, and the start of the Ritsuryo state.  It would form the foundations for what was to come, and themes from this period will continue to show up again and again. In this next year, we are going to continue to look at Takara Hime's reign and beyond.  We'll see the resolution of the Tang-Goguryeo war, and the impact of all the continental fighting on the archipelago.  We'll also see continued developments within the archipelago itself, hopefully getting through to the end of the 7th century. We are actually reaching the end of the material in the Nihon Shoki.  This does not mean that we are running out of material, though.  The Chronicles end in 697—less than 40 years out from our current place in the Chronicles.  From there, we have the Shoku Nihongi, which covers 95 years, until 797 CE.  Translation of much of the Shoku Nihongi is available through the work of Dr. Ross Bender, and you can find his work online if you want to get a leg up on the reading, though that is a ways out.  For now, we can still comfortably continue with the Nihon Shoki, at least through the reign of Temmu Tennou. Until then, Happy New Year!  As usual, thank you for listening and for all of your support.  Thanks also to my lovely wife, Ellen, for her continued work at helping to edit these episodes! Remember, 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 Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  

This is the second of two episodes talking about the people in the north of the Japanese archipelago:  The Emishi and the Mishihase.  Last episode we covered things from an archaeological overview, looking at the traces of the Epi-Jomon, Satsumon, and Okhotsk Sea cultures.  This episode focuses more on what was actually written in the Nihon Shoki, including a journey to introduce Emishi to the Tang Emperor himself! For more information, check out our podcast blog at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-117   Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 117: The People of the North, Part 2 Abe no Hirafu gazed out at the sea, waiting for his opponents to appear.  He had traveled with a fleet to the far north, into a land that was unlike anything that most of his men had ever seen.  They were far away from the rice fields of their home villages.  Up here, the people made their way by hunting and fishing, and the land was much more wild.  Besides the people, the land was also home to giant bears, much larger than anything back in the Home Provinces.  Giant beasts with paws the size of a man's head.  They were truly incredible, but they were not his target this time. As he watched the waves, he saw his prey emerge.  They rowed their ships around the cape, coming out from the defensive position they had previously established.  Where Hirafu's men flew banners made of silk, his opponents had created flags made of feathers, which they hoisted high in their boats.  They were small in number, but they knew this land and these waters.  They were comfortable traveling in the cold and unforgiving seas, and they no doubt had reinforcements.  Hirafu may have had the upper hand, but he knew he couldn't get too cocky. It was probably too much to hope for that the size of his fleet alone would cause them to submit.  If they could be bought off, then perhaps that was best, but Hirafu knew that was probably unlikely.  This was going to be a fight, and Hirafu and his men were ready for it. Before we jump into the episode proper, a quick thank you to Hakucho for donating to support Sengoku Daimyo.  We always appreciate any support, and there is information at the end of each episode on how to help out if you would like to join them. Last episode we introduced the Emishi and the Mishihase and talked about them and their connections to the Yamato and Japanese state, as well as to the modern Ainu people.  We went over a lot of the archaeological findings, and talked about how the Jomon period, uninterrupted in northern Honshu and Hokkaido, eventually gave way to the Epi-Jomon and Satsumon cultures, while the Ohokotsk Sea Culture is observed from around the 5th to 9th centuries, and we talked about how these existed in the lands we know as being connected to the Emishi and the Mishihase people mentioned in the Chronicles. This episode we are going to rely a lot more on the narrative found in the Nihon Shoki, but I wanted to make sure that we had that discussion about the archaeology, first, so that people would have a background.  If you haven't already done so, I highly recommend going back and giving Part 1 a listen. So let's back up a bit, and let's set the scene on the peninsula and the archipelago, and see what led up to this moment. In 654, the sovereign of Yamato, Karu, aka Kotoku Tennou, had passed away in his palace in Naniwa.  His sister, Takara Hime, and other members of the royal family had gathered once more in Naniwa when they caught word of his illness, but their visit was brief.  Karu passed away on the 1st day of the 10th month, and a little over two months later he was buried.  After that, rather than taking up residence again in Naniwa, the court moved back to the old capital of Asuka, where Takara Hime re-ascended the throne.  It was now the year 655, almost a decade since Crown Prince Naka no Oe had orchestrated the murderous coup that had seen the powerful scions of the Soga family cut down in front of Takara Hime and others, causing her to abdicate.  And now, well, perhaps Naka no Oe was comfortable controlling things from behind the scenes, because Takara Hime was once again the one in power—or at least the one sitting on the throne.  And there's a LOT that would go on during this reign according to the chronicles. On the peninsula at this point, the Tang-Goguryeo war was in full swing, with the Tang dynasty regularly harassing Goguryeo.  Goguryeo was at least nominally allied with Baekje, whose ruling family also claimed descent from a shared Buyeo ancestor, and Baekje was, of course, a long time ally of Yamato.  Meanwhile, Silla had thrown their lot in with the Tang dynasty, though as alliances went it was not exactly an alliance of equals – and most alliances came and went as the political winds changed throughout the peninsula. Over time, we'll see some resolution coming to the situation on the peninsula.  But overall, one of the biggest trends is that during Takara Hime's second reign, Yamato was reaching out to a much wider world than it had in the past.  This included connections to the south—to those on the Ryukyu islands, and possibly beyond.  And there were continued efforts to reach out to the Tang empire, with varying degrees of success.  Those that did go would sit and learn at the feet of some of the most famous scholars in the world, including the Buddhist priest, scholar, and traveler, Xuanzang, someone I cannot wait to get into in a future episode, as he really demonstrates just how connected the world had become at this time in a way that is often hard for us to comprehend, today. But there is also plenty happening in the archipelago, and even just in Asuka.  In fact, regardless of what the Chronicles say, there are a lot of ancient monuments and archaeological finds in the Asuka region that aren't directly mentioned in any historical record, but can be generally traced to this era - reminders of this period that are literally carved in stone.  We still have plenty of questions as to just what was going on, but we're starting to see more and more lasting physical traces. Our first relevant entry in the Nihon Shoki for the topic of this episode comes from the 7th month of 655, the year that Takara Hime had taken the throne.  We are told that 99 Northern Emishi and 99 Eastern Emishi were entertained at the court of Naniwa—presumably using the government facilities built during Karu's time.  At the same time, there were 150 envoys from Baekje who were likewise feted.  Caps of honor, of two grades in each case, were bestowed on nine Emishi of Kikafu and six Emishi of Tsugaru.  This is an interesting record, and let's explore what it means for Yamato's view of itself and its own authority.  First, the Baekje and the Emishi are being streated similarly—they both appear to be groups that are from *outside* Yamato conducting some kind of diplomacy with the court.  That said, it is quite clear from the way that the Chronicles deal with them that Yamato viewed each group as distinctly different.  Baekje was Yamato's continental ally, and their primary means through which they could access the continent and all that it had to offer.  They had helped bring Buddhism to the archipelago, and were clearly seen as a civilized country.  The Emishi, on the other hand, were Yamato's own “barbarians”.  They were outside and Yamato clearly saw them as less civilized.  In many ways Yamato viewed the Emishi similar to how the Tang court likely viewed Yamato.  After all, just as Tang literature talked about the differences between the quote-unquote “civilized” center of the empire and the so-called “barbaric” lands beyond their borders, Yamato could place itself in a similar position, simply by placing the Nara Basin at the “Center” and with the Emishi helping define that which was outside.  So in an odd way, this may have been uplifting for Yamato's own self-image. And just as the Tang court enticed border states into their sphere of influence with the promise of imperial titles, the Yamato court similarly was bestowing rank upon the Emishi, making themselves the granter of prestige and recognition.  By being a part of the system, you were rewarded with recognition of your status, something that likely appealed to many. As to the places referenced – Kikafu and Tsugaru – Aston isn't certain about Kikafu, but Tsugaru seems quite obvious as the northernmost tip of Honshu, in modern Aomori prefecture, where the islands of Honshu and Hokkaido are separated by none other than the Tsugaru strait. The fact that the Chroniclers differentiated between the Eastern and Northern Emishi likewise suggests that this was not a monolithic state.  Yamato saw a difference between the Emishi in one part of the archipelago versus the other. Three years later, in the 4th month of 658, Yamato sent one of the largest expeditions against the northeast.  Abe no Omi—other entries name him as Abe no Omi no Hirafu—took 180 ships up north on an expedition to the Emishi.  We are told that he met with the Emishi in the districts of Aita and Nushiro, believed to be in modern Akita prefecture.  Akita prefecture is on the western side of Tohoku, towards the very northern tip.  It is opposite Iwate prefecture on the east, and just below Aomori prefecture, which, at the time, was known as Tsugaru.  This was on the extreme end of Honshu. Both Aita and Nushiro quickly submitted to the Yamato mission.  Still, Abe drew up his ships in order of battle in the bay of Aita, where an envoy from the Emishi named Omuka came forward and made an oath.  He swore that they had no ill-intentions.  The fact that the Emishi were armed with bows and arrows was not because they were at war, but because up in that area of Tohoku, they were all hunters, and so it was their regular tool.  They swore to the gods of Aita bay that they had not raised arms against Yamato, but they were willing to submit to Yamato rule. For his part, Omuka was granted court rank, and local governors were established at Nushiro and Tsugaru—likely meaning they recognized local chieftains and made them responsible for representing the others.  Finally, they summoned the Emishi of Watari no Shima to the shores of Arima, and a great feast was provided.  After that, they all returned home. The  term “Watari no Shima” seems to almost undoubtedly refer to the island of Hokkaido.  “Watari” means to cross, so referring to the “Emishi of Watari no Shima” likely referred to the Emishi on Hokkaido vice those in the Tohoku region. The entire entry seems a bit suspect.  Abe no Hirafu takes an armed party up north and then they all… just sit down and have tea together?  There seems to be a lot of missing context.  Of course, from Yamato's perspective, they were the civilized center.  Does that mean that any violence they committed was simply swept under the rug of history?  Or did they truly meet with such quick submission that only a show of force was necessary? There is one other entry for 658, relative to all of this. It isn't given a specific date, so it is unclear when, exactly it occurred, but it may shed some light.  That entry states that Abe no Hikida no Omi no Hirafu, warden of the land of Koshi, went on an expedition not against the Emishi, but against the Mishihase, or Su-shen.  He is said to have brought back from this trip two live “white bears”, or “shiguma”. So was his expedition really against the Emishi, or was his actual goal to fight the Mishihase, which means he didn't just stop at the end of Honshu, but he continued on to Hokkaido—Watari no Shima—and up at least to Central Hokkaido, where he would have met with the people of the Okhotsk Sea culture—likely the Mishihase of the Chronicle?  Or was he sailing against both? This also leads to numerous other theories as to just what was going on.  While Yamato was pushing on the Emishi from the south, were these Mishihase likewise encroaching on the Emishi in the north?  Were they pushing them south or absorbing those in the farthest north?  There seems to have clearly been a difference and some conflict between them, as evidenced by later entries, which we'll cover in a bit. Quickly, though, I do want to touch on the idea that they brought back two “white bears”.  “Shiguma” appears to refer to a “white bear”, and at its most simplistic understanding, this would seem to refer to a polar bear, but that seems quite a stretch.  Today, polar bears largely live in the arctic regions, out on the permanent sea ice, where they are able to hunt.  They are considered an aquatic animal, living mainly in the ocean, though they will come ashore to hunt, on occasion.  Still, they are mostly adapted to life on the sea ice. While the climate of the 700s was different, I don't know that the sea ice extended that far south.  It is possible that polar bears had been captured much further north, and then sold to people further south, through the extensive trade networks that ran up through Kamchatka, Siberia, and even across the Aleutian chain, but as far as I can tell, polar bears would not have been living in Hokkaido or even in the Kuril or Sakhalin islands at that time. It is much more likely that the “Shiguma” was one of the Hokkaido brown bears.   They may have been albino, but more likely it was simply an easy designation to distinguish them from the bears of the rest of the archipelago—the Asian black bear.  These are clearly black bears, though their fur can appear lighter in some instances.  Meanwhile, although brown bears can be a very dark brown, their fur can vary to almost a blond, and if you look at many photos you can see how they might be considered “white”, especially compared to the black bear that was the norm in Yamato.  I suspect that this is actually the species that Hirafu brought back, and which would be referenced in later entries, where “shiguma” furs appear to be have been quite plentiful, suggesting it wasn't just a rare mutation. In addition, I can't help but note that the presence of bears, here, seems to also further connect with modern traditions of the Ainu of Hokkaido.  Most notably in their reverence for bears, including the traditional Iyomante ceremony.  There is also evidence of the importance of bears in what we see of the Okhotsk Sea Culture.  It is hard to tell if there is more from this interaction, but it still raises some questions. But I digress.  While there are still a lot of gaps, we can see that the Emishi were being brought into the fold, as it were, while the Mishihase were apparently the threat that Yamato would be fighting.  In fact, I can't help but wonder if the threat posed by the Mishihase didn't help encourage the Emishi to ally themselves with Yamato in an attempt to protect themselves. Whatever happened, the relationship with the Emishi, from that point, seems to place them as subjects of Yamato.  We are told that three months later, over 200 Emishi visited the Yamato court, bringing presents for the sovereign.  These were not just the Emishi of the far reaches of Tohoku, but seems to have included Emishi from several different regions.  We are also told that the entertainment and largess provided by the court was even greater than any time before, no doubt presenting the carrot in contrast to Abe no Hirafu's stick. One of the carrots handed out was court rank,  We are told that two Emishi of the enigmatic Kikafu region each received one grade of rank while Saniguma, the Senior governor of Nushiro, was granted two steps in rank, making him Lower Shou-otsu in the rank system of the time, and he was given the superintendence of the population register—likely meaning he had a charge similar to the other governors dispatched to take a census and let the court know just how many people there were in the region.  His junior governor, Ubasa, received the rank of Kembu, the lowest rank in the system. Meanwhile, Mamu, the Senior governor of Tsugaru was granted the rank of Upper Dai-otsu and Awohiru, the Junior governor of Tsugaru, was granted the rank of Lower Shou-out. At the same time, two ranks were granted on the Miyatsuko of the Tsukisara Barrier and one rank was granted to Inadzumi Ohotomo no Kimi, Miyatsuko of the Nutari Barrier.  These last two appear to have been members of Yamato rather than Emishi, but clearly all related to the issue of the borders and beyond. And so we are given three different locations.  We are not told the names of the Emishi from Kikafu, but we are given the names of the senior and junior governors—likely local chieftains co-opted into the Yamato polity—of Nushiro and Tsugaru.  Together with the name “Omuka” we have some of our earliest attestations to possible Emishi names—though whether these were names, titles, or something else I could not say.  We have Saniguma, Ubasa, Mamu, and Awohiru.  None of these are given with family names, which seems to track with the fact that formal “family” names appear to have been an innovation of the Kofun culture, rather than an indigenous phenomenon. I would also note that I am not sure if these ranks came with any kind of stipend: after all, much of that region wasn't exactly suited to rice-land, so where would the stipend come from?  That said, there were certainly more practical gifts that were laid out for them as well.  The governors of Nushiro and the governors of Tsugaru were each given 20 cuttle-fish flags—likely a banner similar to the koi nobori, or carp banners, in use today—as well as two drums, two sets of bows and arrows, and two suits of armor.  This seems to be one for the Senior and one for the Junior governor.  In addition, Saniguma was commanded to “investigate” the Emishi population as well as what Aston translates as the “captive” population—by which I suspect they mean those living in bondage within the Emishi communities.   It is interesting to me that even though the senior governor of Tsugaru was given a higher rank, this last duty was only given to the governor of Nushiro. And there you have it.  With all of that the Emishi were at least nominally subject to the Yamato court.  They were still, however, cultural outsiders.  It is quite likely that they spoke a different language, and given the number of placenames in Tohoku that seem to correspond with the modern Ainu language, it is quite likely that a language at least related to modern Ainu was spoken in the Emishi controlled areas. A similar pattern to the year 658 took place in the entries for the following year.  Once again, Abe no Hirafu went north with 180 ships on what we are told, at least in Aston's translation, was an expedition against the Emishi.  He assembled a selection of the Emishi of Akita and Nushiro, totaling 241 people, with 31 of their captives, as well as 112 Emishi of Tsugaru with 4 of their captives, and 20 Emishi of Ifurisahe.  Once he had them all at his mercy he then… feasted them and gave them presents.  Is this really what an expedition *against* the Emishi looked like?  It almost sounds more like a diplomatic mission. We are told that after feasting and giving the assembled Emishi presents, Abe no Hirafu made an offering to the local gods of a boat and silk of various colors. He then proceeded to a place called “Shishiriko”, where two Emishi from a place called Tohiu, named Ikashima and Uhona, came forward and told him that Yamato should create an outpost at Shiribeshi, on the west coast of Hokkaido, which would be the seat of local Yamato government.  This sounds not entirely dissimilar from the idea of the Dazai in Kyushu.  Abe no Hirafu agreed and established a district governor there. Relevant to this, between the 7th and 8th centuries, we see clusters of pit dwellings in Hokkaido largely in the areas corresponding to the modern sub-prefectures of Sorachi, Ishikari, and Iburi, with many of them clustered near modern Sapporo, and a very small number near Rumoi, further north along the western coast. Once more it is another account, not the main narrative of the Nihon Shoki, where we might see what was really going on.  That entry claims that Abe no Hirafu went north to fight with the Mishihase and, on his return, he brought back some 49 captives.  So was this what all of this was really about?  Was he going up there to fight the Emishi, or was he perhaps fighting with the Emishi against the Mishihase? When Abe no Hirafu finally returned, it seems that the provincial governors of Michinoku—pretty much the whole of Touhoku—and Koshi, which was also a land known for being home to Emishi, were granted two grades of rank.  Their subordinates, the district governors and administrators, each received one grade of rank. We are also told that on the 17th day of the 3rd month of 659, that a copy of Mt. Meru was constructed on the riverbank east of Amakashi no Oka and that Emishi of Michonoku and Koshi were both entertained there.  Little more is given, and, again, it isn't clear if this is before or after Hirafu's expedition of that year. Mt. Meru—read as Shumisen, today—is the mountain at the center of the world, according to some Buddhist traditions.  Building a copy would have been a statement, creating a copy of the mountain and bringing the center of the universe to you.  This was probably a feature in a garden—at least that is how it was conceived of during the reign of Kashikiya Hime.  This second one may have been made with a pile of stones, and there have even been found some features in Asuka that some think could be remnants of this ancient model of the universe, but they aren't without controversy. In any case, that same year that the Emishi were brought to Asuka to view this Buddhist monument, in 659, a mission was sent to the Tang court.  We'll talk about the mission at some other time, but for now I want to focus on the fact that they brought with them an Emishi man and a woman to show the Tang emperor.  Regrettably, we don't know their names, and we don't know their status in Emishi society.  Were these captives, possibly enslaved?  Or were these volunteers, who had gone willingly with the envoys to see the lands beyond their home.  They likely had heard of the Tang empire from Yamato, and so it wouldn't be so surprising if they decided to go see it for themselves. Where it is of particular interest to us right now is that we have an apparent eyewitness account of the description given to the Tang Emperor about the Emishi by the Yamato envoys.  Be aware that the envoys were not necessarily experts in Emishi culture, and may not have met any other than their travel companions, but the description, given by none other than Yuki no Hakatoko, who was apparently there, at the Tang court, when it happened, gives us invaluable insight into how Yamato viewed the Emishi. The entire thing is a bit of a question and answer session as the Tang Emperor, Tang Gaozong, inquired about the Emishi and who they were.  In response to his questions, the envoys assured him that Yamato and the Emishi were at peace with each other.  They further noted that there were three different groups of Emishi.  Those farthest from Yamato were the Tsugaru Emishi.  Next, slightly closer to Yamato, were the Ara-Emishi.  “Ara” in this case means “soft”, and was probably a reference to the fact that those Emishi closer to Yamato were seen as more compliant.  Finally ,there are the “Nigi-Emishi”, living right on the borders.  “Nigi” in this case seems to refer to them being the “Gentle” or even “Civilized” Emishi.  I suspect that those living closest to Yamato were also the ones doing things like farming, and possibly building burial mounds.  They may have even mixed with some of the border communities, and may have included Wa communities that were outside of Yamato's influence.  After all, it isn't entirely obvious that “Emishi” referred to a single ethnic identity. In providing further answers to the emperor's questioning, we are told that the Emishi, at least according to the Yamato envoys, didn't farm, but instead they sustained themselves through hunting and fishing.  Furthermore, we are told that they didn't live in houses, but instead they dwelt under trees and in the recesses of the mountains.  This one is a little more questionable, after all, we have evidence of pit houses and villages all the way up to Aomori and back to Jomon times.  However, it is quite possible that Yamato was often encountering hunting parties, which very likely may have been using makeshift shelters or utilizing natural features like caves when they were out traveling.  Some of this, though, may have been built around ideas and concepts of how quote-unquote “barbaric” people lived, focusing on the exceptional, exotic, and sensationalist instances rather than on the more mundane day-to-day details.  Finally, the emperor himself commented on the “unusual appearance” of the Emishi.  We know that the Japanese terms for the Emishi refer to them as hairy barbarians, and if they were anything like modern Ainu, they were likely a good deal more hirsute than their Yamato neighbors.  This was no doubt a stereotype, as, again, Emishi may have also included some members of the Wa in their numbers, but they also appear to have included groups of people that were quite physically distinct.  Some DNA evidence also bears this out, and even today many people with deep ancestral ties to the Tohoku region demonstrate closer ties to ancient Jomon populations than to the succeeding Yayoi population that came over from the continent with their rice farming techniques. And so that gives us mostly what we know about the Emishi, except that they seem to have left out the Emishi of Watari no Shima—the Emishi of Hokkaido.  They would have been beyond the Tsugaru Emishi, unless they were considered similar, and painted with the same brush. And speaking of Watari no Shima, we have one more entry before we bring things to a close, and that is from the third month of the year 660.  Once more, Abe no Omi, who must have been getting his frequent sailor miles in by this point—or at least one hopes he had been invited to the Captain's circle at least.  Anyway, Abe no Omi was sent on yet another expedition, this time with 200 ships, and this time quite specifically against the Mishihase.  He made a stop in Michinoku on the way up where he brought some of the Emishi on his own boat—possibly as translators and guides.  They then continued northern until they reached a large river—Aston suggests that it was possibly the Ishikari river, north of modern Sapporo.  There they found a thousand Emishi of Watari no Shima encamped. Upon seeing the Yamato forces, two men came out from the camp to let Hirafu and his men know that the Mishihase had arrived in their own fleet, threatening to kill all of them.  And so they asked permission to cross the river over to Hirafu and join him.  Specifically we are told they asked to “serve the government” suggesting that they were willing to suborn themselves if Hirafu would assist with driving off the Mishihase. Hirafu had the two spokespersons come aboard his ship and then show him where the enemy was concealed.  They showed him where, telling him that the Mishihase had some 20 ships. Hirafu sent for the Mishihase to come and face him, but they refused.  And so instead he tried a different tactic.  He piled up colored silk cloth, weapons, iron, etc., in sight of the Mishihase, hoping that their curiosity and greed would get the better of them.  Sure enough, they drew up in their boats, which were decorated with feathers tied on poles like a flag.  Their vessels were powered with oars, and they brought them to the shallows.  From there, they sent two older men out to inspect the pile.  The men came out, and when they saw what was there, they exchanged their clothes for some from the pile and took some of the silk cloth and then returned to their ship.  After some time, they came back out, took off the exchanged garments and laid them down with the silk.  With that, they then boarded their ship and departed. Aston suggests that this behavior mimics an aspect of something called an “unseen trade” which he claims had been common in the region of Hokkaido until recently.  I hadn't found anything specifically about that, but it does make a kind of sense, especially if groups are possibly hostile and perhaps don't speak the same language. So does that mean that, for all of his military might, Hirafu was basically just buying off the Mishihase? In any case, it seems they did not take it.  They left the garments and the silk, which seems to have indicated that they had no deal, and they departed.  Hirafu pursued the Mishihase, and tried to get them to come out again—presumably looking for a stand up fight between his 200 ships and the MIshihase's 20, but instead the Mishihase headed to the island of Herobe, in another part of Watari no Shima.  After a while of being holed up, the Mishihase did sue for peace, but by that point, Abe no Hirafu was having none of it.  So they took themselves to their palisades and there they tried to hold out against Abe no Hirafu's forces.  Noto no Omi no Mamukatsu was slain in the fighting, as we can only suspect that others were as well, but over time the Yamato forces began to wear them down. Finally, when it seemed there was no way they could win or escape, the MIshihase took the drastic step of killing their own women and children, perhaps fearing what the Yamato soldiers would do to them if they were caught. And with that, it was over.  There are only a few mentions of the Mishihase, or even the Emishi, in the rest of the Nihon Shoki.  Granted, as we will eventually see, the people of Yamato were no doubt pre-occupied with what was going on to the west, where the Baekje-Tang war would be soon coming to a close.  Abe no Hirafu would be called on, once more, in that famous conflict, but we are going to save that for another day. For now, I think we can end things here.  Or just about.  I would be remiss if I didn't mention that there is a theory that many of these expeditions were actually the same thing, but recorded slightly differently in different ways, with some confusion about the actual dates.  Even if that was the case, it doesn't necessarily discount the overall information provided, and that information seems to at least somewhat conform to what we know about the archaeological record, as far as I can tell.  Granted, this is still the story as told by outsiders.  Since the people labeled “Emishi” didn't leave us with any records of this time, themselves, we don't exactly have their side of things, which is something we should keep in mind. This isn't the last time the Emishi will pop up in Japanese history.  Even if they were being granted rank, the Emishi remained a group apart.  Succeeding generations of Japanese would settle in the Tohoku region, eventually absorbing or pushing out the Emishi, or Ezo, while on Hokkaido, the people we know as the Ainu, who were likely an amalgamation of both Okhotsk Sea people and Epi-Jomon and Satsumon cultures, would eventually become dominant across the island of Hokkaido—at least until the 19th century. But that is for much later episodes.  For now, we'll continue to stick with our small, but active corner of the 7th century.  There is still a lot more to explore in this reign.  Next episode will be our annual New Year's recap, and then we will continue on with more from this episode in the following year. Until then thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.

This episode we go back to the continent for a bit to see how things are going.  Hint:  not well.  While Yamato was building its new bureaucratic state, Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla were battling it out while the Tang empire and their ambitions loomed over them all.  Yamato is about to get pulled into the conflicts, but before that, let's look at what was happening from the point of view of the various penninsular polities. This episode goes back over some of the information in Episodes 107 and 109, but mainly to place it in context of what was happening in Goguryeo, Baekje and Silla as opposed to simply viewing it from the rise of the Tang Empire or the occasional mentions in the Nihon Shoki.  Much of it relies on what we have in the Samguk Sagi, the Korean annals of the Three Kingdoms. For more, check out our blogpost: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-115 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 115: Red Banquets, Fashion Disasters, and Other Continental Adventures It was the year 642, and the hall was decked out in the finest, with banners hung and tables set.  The scene was awash in gold and silk and silver.  The guests were no less opulently adorned: The crème de la crème of Burana, aka Pyongyang, capital of the state of Goguryeo.  The tables were piled high with food, and there was a low murmur as the assembled guests talked quietly as they waited for their host. These guests were among the highest nobles in the land.  180 members of the most powerful families.  As they mingled, they talked.  Much of it was gossip, the currency of court politicians everywhere. They discussed who was up and down in the constant fight for favor.  Who had made a misstep, or was seen talking to the wrong person?  Or how about that time that someone wore the wrong clothes, or misspoke in court? Other conversations focused outward, on the threats from beyond the border.  But the majority of conversation had to do with their host, a striking individual. The murmurs continued as they waited for him to arrive..  Yeon Gaesomun was a hard-liner, pushing his agenda for stronger defenses against Tang encroachment.  That might be understandable for someone stationed out east, as he had been, but the King himself and his supporters felt that relations needed a more diplomatic touch.  Now that Gaesomun was back in the capital of Pyongyang, would he change his approach? The conversation continued apace as people ate and drank.  The whole time they remained blissfully unaware of what was happening just outside.  Drowned out by the sound of the banquet, troops were quietly assembling just outside, girding themselves for what would soon be an irrevocable step forward.  As orders came down the line, they drew their weapons, and then they burst through the doors… Last episode we talked through much of the Hakuchi era, from 650 to 654.  This episode I want to finish out the era, in order to do so we're once again going to touch on what was happening over on the continent. Some of these events we've talked about already: Last time we did a deep dive into this subject, back in Episode 104, we focused primarily on the Tang dynasty and its rise.  We also talked somewhat about Yamato's conflicts with Tang, Goguryeo, and others in Episode 107.  But at this point it's useful to go back and put that Continental narrative together a little bit more clearly, to set the stage for what will be happening in Yamato in the next reign after Karu. This episode we are going to go back over some of that info, but I want to center the narrative a bit more on the peninsula, rather than on the Tang dynasty. As you may recall, the Tang dynasty started in approximately 618, taking over from the Sui.  By 628, the Tang had defeated the Gökturks, and they continued to expand.  They conquered Turpan and Gaochang, in the Western Regions, and their control over the Silk Road was substantial, opening up tremendous trade routes that brought in wealth and more.  The capital of Chang'an became a true center of learning, and the government instituted a national university that was attended by elites from both in and outside the empire. This episode, though, we are going to focus more on the area of the Korean and Liaodong peninsulas, where the countries of Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla contended with each other.  Goguryeo was the largest and perhaps even the most powerful of the three, but it was also on the border with the Tang empire, who were nothing to sneeze at given their own string of military victories.  So Goguryeo was beset from all sides, and needed a sizeable force on their western border.  Everything was in a tenuous balance, of sorts. When it came to the Tang empire, Goguryeo walked a delicate line.  On the one hand, they wanted access to the trade goods and the knowledge that was accumulating in the Tang empire and making it the envy of most other nations in the region.  On the other hand, they had to be constantly on the lookout for a possible invasion, and so needed to show their strength.  This wasn't without some confidence.  After all, Goguryeo had defeated attempts by the Sui dynasty to invade, and so they had proved up to the challenge—at least so far. In 619, on the eve of the Tang dynasty's founding, King Yeongnyu of Goguryeo, whose personal name was Geonmu, sent a tribute mission to the Tang, to encourage good relations.  By 622, Goguryeo was responding to the Tang dynasty's request to return soldiers captured during the attempted invasions by the Sui.  They kept sending missions on an annual basis, playing the part of a friendly tributary. Further on the peninsula, Baekje and Silla were likewise reaching out to the Tang dynasty, similarly hungry for the trade goods available in the markets of Chang'an.  Baekje, sitting on the coast of the Bohai sea, had direct routes to the mainland; to both the Yellow river and Yangzi river deltas.  They may not have had an overland border, but the sea was open to them. Silla, on the other hand, was not so quite so fortunate.  They were mainly situated on the east side of the peninsula, and though they had some access through the Han river, near modern Seoul, their access was constantly threatened by both Baekje and Goguryeo.  In 626, a Silla mission to the Tang complained about this very thing, claiming that Goguryeo was attacking them.  In response, the Tang requested peace, and Goguryeo apologized and backed down.  That said, it is unclear if the Tang would have taken much action.  They were, at that point, more focused on the Gökturks and others.  That military action ended with the defeat of the Gökturks in 628, however, a victory for which Goguryeo sent congratulations.  One has to imagine, however, that the congratulations were a bit mixed.  After all, without the Gökturks to hold their attention, what was to keep the Tang dynasty from looking at further conquest? The question of how to react to the Tang Empire seems to be one that split the Goguryeo court.  Some members of the court wanted to appease the giant on their doorstep, with offers of tribute and nominal submission, with the goal of making it clear that they were not a threat and that military conquest was unnecessary.  They could all live in harmony, one with the other.  To that end, they would not want to be too blatant about building up their forces or defenses in an act that could be seen as a prelude to military action.  On the other side were the hard-liners: members of the court that felt that they had to maintain a strong military defense against the likely possibility of a Tang offensive.  To these hawks, military strength was the deterrent, as power only truly respected power.  To be seen as weak and submissive would be to seem vulnerable, and an easy target. Still, there seems to have been relative, if uneasy, peace for a time.  Goguryeo continued to build their relation as a tributary state, and most of the action seems to have actually been taking place in the peninsula.  For Silla, 632 was a banner year, as Queen Seondeok came to the throne.  She was the eldest daughter of her father, who had no sons to inherit, and so she came to the throne.  She is said to have been quite intelligent, and the Samguk Sagi gives various accounts of her Holmsian powers of deduction.  For example, upon seeing a picture of flowers, she immediately concluded that, though they were beautiful, they had no fragrance.  She noted the lack of bees and butterflies around the flowers, and based on that observation she deduced that the flowers must have no scent to attract them. Queen Seondeok would oversee Silla in a time when they were growing closer to the Tang and also seeing increased pressure from Baekje and Goguryeo.  We mentioned how, in 626, Goguryeo had blocked Silla's mission to the Tang court.  Then, in 636, a Baekje general led 500 troops to Mt. Doksan, to attack the Silla position there.  Two years later, Silla defeated Goguryeo troops outside Jiljung Fortress. This wasn't constant warfare, but it did mean that the armies had to be on a constant wartime footing.  You never knew when your neighbor might sense a moment of weakness and try to take advantage of it.  Of course, as the old adage goes, “the enemy of my enemy is my friend”.  Baekje and Goguryeo were more directly on the Tang Empire's borders.  And so we see Silla cultivating a special relationship with the Tang. This is nothing new, by the way.  Various dynasties in the Yellow River basin had used similar tactics for generations.  Immediate border countries were often treated more severely, with threats of punitive expeditions if they did not fall in line or give themselves over completely to become a direct vassal of the empire.  Countries just beyond the border were often treated with a lighter touch, luring them into complacency and even friendship with access to elite trade goods, and more.  As borders shifted, so too did the relationship between the empire and those on its borders. Goguryeo and Baekje fell into the former category, while Silla seems to have been in the latter—at least for now.  And yet all three were still trying to get what they could.   In 640, Seondeok sent her sons to enroll in the Guoxue, or National University, that Tang Taizong had set up in Chang'an.  This university had gathered Confucian scholars from all corners of the world.  The school is described as having some 1200 bays, with 3,260 students.  Besides Silla, Goguryeo and Baekje also sent their princes, who mingled with elites from Gaochang, Turpan, and elsewhere.  It was opportunities like this that made Chang'an so attractive: a place where the elites of Silla, Goguryeo, and Baekje, could mingle with the members of the Tang Court and the western regions, beyond, sharing ideas and learning about the wider world. The following year, in 641, there are two items of note.  One is the inspection by Chen Dade of the Tang-Goguryeo border.  We talked about this back in episode XXX.  Under the pretense of a diplomatic mission, Dade arrived at the border with numerous gifts of silk, presenting them to the various fortress commanders and then asking to be shown around.  The Commanders were more than happy to show Dade their impressive fortifications, and they were exceedingly polite, but little did they know that Dade's true purpose was to scout for weaknesses in Goguryeo's defensive line.  His report back to Tang Taizong would be critical in what was to come. Also in this year, King Uija of Baekje came to the throne.  We talked about how Uija had sent his son, Prince Pung, to Yamato, and we've touched on him a few times here and there.  Uija was clearly a proponent of the alliance with Yamato, and, as we'll see, he was no friend to Silla.  The following year, in 642, Ujia's forces attacked Silla, capturing 40 strongholds, and pushing Silla's expanding borders back to the Nakdong river, retaking much of the area that had been under the control of the various Kara, or Gaya, confederacy.  This likely included places like Nimna and Ara, though we can't know for certain.  We do know that Baekje forces took Taeya fortress in the south of the peninsula, which gives us an idea of the extent of Baekje's victories. In response to Baekje's brazen attacks, Silla went  to a seemingly unlikely ally.  They reached out to Goguryeo.  In fact, they sent none other than Kim Ch'unch'u. Kim Ch'unch'u was the grandson of the 25th king of Silla, King Jinji.  Though his father, Kim Yonsu, had lost any claim to the throne when King Jinji was overthrown, he was still of “seonggol”, or “Sacred” bone rank, a concept somewhat similar to the kabane of Yamato, though in this case the “Sacred bone rank” indicated nobles specifically descended from the royal family.  These would have likely been the various Royal Princes and their families in the Yamato hierarchy.  Kim Ch'unch'u, in particular, seems to have been well regarded by the Silla court of his day, and since his own daughter had been killed by Baekje, he had a personal stake in the matter.  And so he led the embassy to Goguryeo's capital at Pyongyang to request that they send troops to aid Silla. There was only one problem.  Goguryeo was still fuming about territory that they had lost to Silla many years ago.  They agreed to send troops, but only if Silla would agree to a little quid pro quo.  Silla would need to return the Chungnyung pass and cede everything northwest of it back to Goguryeo.  This would return much of Goguryeo's territory north of the Han river and modern Seoul. Kim Ch'unch'u  rebuked their offer, calling it a threat against Silla.  This angered King Yeongnyu, and Kim Ch'unch'u was jailed for his disrespect.  Ch'unch'u was able to get word out of his imprisonment, however, and Queen Seondeok sent what the Samguk Sagi calls a “Death Squad” of 10,000 soldiers with the aim of breaking him out of prison.  As soon as Goguryeo heard that these troops were on the move, they decided that holding onto Ch'unch'u wouldn't be worth it, and they released him rather than fight.  Kim Ch'unch'u was returned safely, but without the support that he wanted. That said, there may have been other things going on in Goguryeo. The pro-appeasement camp and the hard-liners were fuming, and things in the court were coming to a head.  The two sides pulled against each other in the way that they shaped policy.  For the most part, King Yeongnyu was pro-appeasement, but there were powerful figures in the hard-liner camp, such as Yeon Gaesomun.  At 46 years old, he was a descendant of at least two previous “Magniji” court officials—a title roughly equivalent to that of a Prime Minister, and one of the most powerful roles a non-royal court noble could aspire to.  Gaesomun himself was the Western Governor, directly responsible for the fortresses that defended the border with the territory of the Tang Empire.  As such, it is little wonder that he may have been a bit more focused on the threat that they posed, and he likely held the loyalty of not a few troops. And perhaps this is why King Yeongnyu started to suspect him of being a problem, and why he plotted to have him killed.  Word of the King's plot reached Gaesomun, however, and he decided to take matters into his own hands. Returning to Pyongyang in 642, Gaesomun let it be known that he was throwing a lavish banquet to celebrate his rise to the position of Eastern governor.  He invited over one hundred of the opposing court nobles under this pretence.  But that is all it was. When the nobles had gathered at the banquet site, Gaesomun struck.  He had loyal forces rush in and kill all of his opponents, and then, before an alarm could sound, he rushed his troops over to the palace and murdered King Yeongnyu.  It was the Goguryeo's own Red Wedding, and it would hold a particular place of infamy in Korean history, which said  that the troops dismembered the corpse and discarded it without ceremony. In place of King Yeongnyu, Gaesomun propped up Yeongnyu's nephew, King Bojang.  Gaesomun then appointed himself the Dae Magniji, the Great Prime Minister, or perhaps more fittingly “Generalissimo”.  Though King Bojang sat upon the throne there was no question that it was Gaesomun who now ruled Goguryeo. Gaesomun's legacy is complicated.  Under the Confucian values of the time, many early historians vilified him for murdering the king, and blamed him and his harsh policies for the eventual downfall of the kingdom.  He is portrayed as a man lusting after power. We are given examples of his harsh demeanor, and the Annals state that when he got off of his horse he had high ranking nobles and military officials lie on the ground so that he could step on them, rather than touching the ground.  Of course, some of this we should likely take with a grain of salt, given the Chroniclers' generally dim view of him in general.   On the other hand, some modern histories believe that he wanted Goguryeo to take a tougher stance against the Tang.  Early Korean nationalists rehabilitated him, exalting him for taking such a hard stance against the Tang, or, in their eyes, China.  I suspect that he was a little of both.  A tyrant and a despot—as many rulers of the time were—but also dedicated to the defense of his nation. We mentioned this briefly back in Episode 107, but I wanted to touch on it here in more detail as it really leads to where we want to discuss.  A very brief mention of this lies in the Nihon Shoki, where it says that “Irikasumi” the “Prime Minister” of Goguryeo slew the king and over 180 others.  For the most part it tracks, though it does say that it happened in 641, which may easily just be a simple scribal error. The general narrative from here is that the Tang dynasty used Gaesomun's usurpation as a pretext for war against Goguryeo, but the narrative seems a bit more complex, and when we are reading we should keep in mind that none of the players in this drama knew the outcome beforehand.  And so, as is often the case, things are quite as straightforward as they may seem when we zoom out and take a look at the macro level of historical events, where we've already decide what events we believe to be important and which were less so, often based on knowing the outcomes.  Of course, the Chroniclers would have had similar narratives, but they were still trying to catalogue the events of each year as best they could. And that brings us to the year 643.  In this year, Silla went to the Tang dynasty to ask them for assistance against both Baekje and Goguryeo, who were planning to cut off Silla's access to the Tang court.  Tang Taizong agreed to help, but only if Silla would accept a Tang official who would come and oversee Silla.  Taizong's reasoning is given, which follows a typically misogynistic logic:  “Because your country has a woman as a ruler, neighboring states belittle it.  As you have lost the authority of the ruler, thus inviting the enemy to attack, no year will enjoy peace.”  He basically said that Silla needed a big strong man to help out, and he was willing to send someone—along with troops—to do just that.  Of course, I think we can all see how that was likely to end up, and any thoughts Silla had of being an equal partner in such an arrangement were nothing more than fantasies.  Tang Taizong was agreeing to assist, if Silla became a protectorate of the Tang court. The Silla envoy, for his part, took a very political stance.  No doubt knowing just how bad this was for Silla, but not wanting to disrespect the Tang emperor, whose assistance they still needed, he acknowledged the emperor's words without accepting the terms, returning without the promised help, but also without completely subordinating his country to the Tang empire. Although the troops were not forthcoming, the envoy's mission still had a positive impact.  Having heard that the envoy was traveling to the Tang court, King Uija of Baekje proactively withdrew the troops he had that were planning to attack with Goguryeo and cut off Silla's access to Chang'an.  Thus, Silla's corridor was maintained. Goguryeo, for their part, continued to attack Silla's border, but even though Gaesomun was one of the hard-liners when it came to Goguryeo-Tang relations, his initial envoys to the Tang court took a conciliatory stance towards the Tang empire.  Gaesomun promoted Daoism over Buddhism, and had his emissaries request and bring back 8 Daoist sages from the Tang court. Many historians feel that this was actually something of a show.  Sure, they would get knowledge and learning from the sages, but more importantly was to put the Tang at ease and hopefully allow Goguryeo a chance to annex Silla before the Tang war machine got up and running.  For their part, the Tang were already considering their next moves against Goguryeo, with some suggesting that they use proxies, like the Khitan and the Malgal, to make an attack.  Emperor Taizong's advisors suggested that the best course of action would be to lull Goguryeo into a false sense of security prior to a massive assault.  And so there were no major attacks that year. In 644, however, the Tang sent a message to Baekje and Goguryeo that they would need to stop invading Silla, and that if they didn't do so, the Tang would attack.  Gaesomun was actually leading troops in an attack on Silla when news of the messenger arrived at Goguryeo's court in Pyongyang.  Gaesomun's response was that he was simply trying to reclaim the territory that Silla had previously stolen from them many years earlier.  Along with their excuses, they sent along gold and 50 hostages from the Goguryeo court, but they were refused by the Tang.  It was probably pretty clear at this point that things were coming to a head—and diplomatic relations finally broke down in 645. That year the Tang dynasty—in conjunction with Silla, the Samguk Sagi tells us—launched a massive invasion of Goguryeo.  The pretext of which was, as I mentioned, Gaesomun's usurpation of the throne, but let's not kid ourselves:  The Tang dynasty were not shy about pushing out their borders. The Tang troops, who had been preparing for the past year, invaded in a two prong attack.  An overland attack struck at Gaemo—modern Shenyang—while naval forces landed on the Liaodong peninsula.  These forces initially swept through the border fortresses along the Liaodong penninsula with seeming ease.  Remember Chen Dade and his little factfinding mission?  No doubt all of his work came in quite handy.   Things were going well, and Tang Taizong himself joined the campaign. Still, each fortress took time, so that even though the invasion started in April, they reached Ansi by June. We are told that Goguryeo had amassed over 150,000 forces at Mt. Jipul, near Ansi, a walled fortress town with an estimated population of around 100,000.  Those numbers may be exaggerations, but the context is clear:  This was not just a small fortress and Goguryeo sent a lot of troops to reinforce the area. On the other side, Goguryeo was facing odds that were probably more like 3 to 1, with a massive Tang invasion force, which, since they had split, were attacking from two different directions.  Sure enough, the Tang were able to catch the defenders out of position, with the troops that had crossed the sea assaulting from the front while the overland forces attacked Goguryeo's rear.  It is estimated that over 50,000 Goguryeo troops were killed or captured in the battle. And that left only the fortress of Ansi, with a garrison of maybe 5,000 troops, to face the Tang, who had otherwise swept through previous defenses in relatively short order.  It would have been understandable had they capitulated.  There were still other fortresses between the Tang armies and the capital of Goguryeo at Pyongyang, not to mention the extremely mountainous terrain between the Liaodong and Korean peninsulas.  And yet, the Ansi garrison refused to give in.  The Tang forces, for their part, knew they could not leave an enemy to their rear, and so rather than continuing on, they set a siege to the fortress town. Although we are told that the Tang forces brought siege engines with them, the garrison at Ansi held out.  In fact, they held out for three months, and fall was beginning to turn to winter.  Winter in northeast Asia would bring snow and mud.  Furthermore, the Tang supply lines themselves were fairly long at this point.  Eventually, the defenders won out, and the Tang forces turned back.  On the march back towards Chang'an, Tang Taizong and his troops were caught in an early winter blizzard, which killed more of the soldiers.  Emperor Taizong founded Minzhong Temple—known today as Fayuan Temple, in modern Beijing—to commemorate his fallen soldiers. Although the Tang forces retreated, it is hard to say that Goguryeo was truly victorious in the outcome of the war.  Many Gogouryeo troops perished in the fighting, while Tang could now regroup.  Goguryeo was unlikely to be a major and immediate threat to Silla, as they would need to continue to maintain troops and rebuild the fortresses taken by the Tang, but that didn't mean that Silla was off the hook, either. Through this all, Baekje had taken the opportunity to harass Silla's western border.  They sent wave after wave against Silla, whose forces in that area were under the command of general Kim Yusin.  The Samguk Sagi mentions that his forces would turn back one attack, and he'd be almost back home, when another attack would come and he would have to go back out.  In one particularly poignant moment, he even got so close as to see his house, but he could not stop, and so he marched straight past the gates as he prepared to repel yet another invasion from Baekje. Winter brought a pause to the fighting, and in 646, things seem to have been relatively calm, if still quite tense, as all sides recovered from the events of the previous year.  Nonetheless, this is seen as the start of what is known as the Goguyreo-Tang war, a series of conflicts that would continue for approximately the next 20 years.  Goguryeo, for their part, attempted to normalize relations with the Tang, even sending two women—specifically the Annals state that they were two beautiful women—as a peace offering.  Tang Taizong politely refused them, however, claiming he wouldn't dare to separate them from their families.  In reality, he was rebuilding his forces, preparing for another assault, but that would take time.  In the meantime, diplomatic channels remained open, which really demonstrates the political situation in general, at the time.  Even if two sides were attacking one another, diplomatic envoys were still being exchanged.  Furthermore, though the trade routes may have been slightly less stable, trade continued, regardless.  The following year, 647, Emperor Taizong launched fresh assaults against Goguryeo.  This time, rather than a larger army, he instead had them focus on small-scale attacks that would weaken the kingdom of Goguryeo, forcing them to constantly be on guard and to pour resources into supporting their borders.  At the same time, Silla suffered tragedy as Queen Seondeok died, and Queen Chindeok took the throne.  Later in that year, Baekje troops attacked three Silla fortresses.  They were pushed back, but the Silla troops took heavy casualties.  As we can see, the fighting continued throughout the peninsula. Meanwhile, over on the Japanese archipelago, they were busy incorporating the new reforms.  Envoys from Silla, Baekje, and Goguryeo would continue to travel to the Yamato court, which one imagines made for some rather tense State dinners. The year after that, in 648, while Tang forces continued to harass Goguryeo, Baekje attacked and took ten Silla fortresses.  Upon hearing this, Silla general Kim Yusin rallied the troops, counterattacked, and destroyed the invading forces.  Silla's Prince Ch'unch'u himself, the one who had previously gone to Goguryeo to ask for support against Baekje, traveled to the Tang court in Chang'an.  There he requested assistance against Baekje's continual harassment of Silla's borders. It is unclear how firmly Baekje and Goguryeo were allied together and coordinating attacks, but  it does seem clear that they were aligned in their goals.  Baekje may not have been in direct conflict with the Tang, but their attacks on Silla likely kept Silla from further harassing Goguryeo, who was actively involved in defending against Tang attacks.  So whether there were formal treaties or not, lines were drawn, but these were still independent states with their own goals and aspirations. And so, when Ch'unch'u's ship was returning from Chang'an and ran into a Goguryeo patrol, one can understand their apprehension.  Ch'unch'u was known to Goguryeo, and if we was captured it is unlikely that he would live long enough to be rescued by an elite Silla death squad once again.  And so, his men devised a plan, and a man named On Kunhae put on the clothes of a high official—possibly Ch'unch'u's own.  When the Goguryeo patrol captured the ship, they killed him, believing he was a Silla noble or at least an important envoy.  Unbeknownst to them, Ch'unch'u himself had been transferred to a smaller, less assuming ship, which quietly made its way past the patrol and back to Silla controlled territory. And so, once again, we see us how dangerous things were getting at this point.  Travel was risky at the best of times, but now, with the possibility of being intercepted by a hostile country's forces, who knew what might happen. Hostilities continued until 649.  That year, Tang Taizong passed away, and shortly before he did, he pulled back the troops.  His death only brought a brief pause, however, as his son and heir, Tang Gaozong, took the throne and would launch his own series of wars against both Goguryeo and Baekje.  In 650, Gaozong received Prince Kim Ch'unch'u once again as an ambassador from Silla, this time with a poem penned by Queen Chindeok herself.  In the form of poetic verse, she asked for help against Baekje, who had continued their attacks.  Throughout the previous year attacks had continued back and forth.  Silla general Kim Yusin again managed to push back and defeat the Baekje forces, but one can only imagine the toll this was taking on Silla's ability to defend itself over time.  This was the content of the note.  Prior to this, Silla really had gone all in on strengthening their ties with the Tang dynasty, going so far as to institute Tang court dress—both in their robes and caps.  This point had been specifically negotiated by Prince Ch'unch'u with the previous emperor, Tang Taizong.  It sounds as if Silla was trying to have the Tang court recognize their own court nobles and put themselves in a place to receive Tang court rank, though how, exactly, they received said rank is unclear—did it come from the Tang or was it granted by the Queen of Silla. Either way, it was clearly seen by other nations—or at least Yamato—as an unwelcome statement.  In 651, Silla envoys arrived at Tsukushi—modern day Kyushu—wearing their new Tang style clothing and they were turned away.  Specifically the Dazaifu sent them back claiming that they weren't dressed as envoys from Silla should be.  On top of this, we are told that Kose no Omi then suggested that *rather than go to war* over this, they should just make a show of force when the envoys came back.  And let me reiterate that: according to the Nihon Shoki this was such an affront that Yamato was considering whether they should launch a punitive military strike against Silla for sporting the wrong fit.  Talk about a fashion disaster! In the end, they took Kose no Omi's advice, which was that the next time Silla arrived they would have ships lined up all along the Seto Inland Sea as the envoys made their way to Yamato so that there was no doubt in the envoys' minds about just what Yamato could do. This is a great demonstration of how something we might consider innocuous was clearly a Big Deal for the people at the time.  I suspect that there were at least two possible reasons for why this was, besides just considering themselves the arbiters of fashion.  For one, remember that Yamato considered Silla to be subordinate to them, at least in their worldview.  Just like they had been concerned about at least maintaining the fiction that Nimna was still an active and independent entity, this broke the illusion that Silla was a tributary of Yamato. At the same time, it may have just been that they were putting on airs and it was seen as impersonating and even speaking for the Tang court.  After all, if a Tang envoy showed up, I doubt that Yamato would turn them away. In either instance, we can see the lines being drawn, with Silla taking a clear stance in connecting themselves with the Tang court while Goguryeo, Baekje, and even Yamato were still in contact with them, but from a more independent capacity.  In 652, for instance, we know that Goguryeo again sent tribute to the Tang court, no doubt in an attempt to normalize relations.  Still, the alliances were firming up. In 653 we have two items of interest:  one from the Samguk Sagi and one from the Nihon Shoki.  In the Samguk Sagi it explicitly mentions that Baekje and Wa formed an alliance.  This is significant in that the Samguk Sagi really doesn't mention Wa nearly as often as we would expect it to, while the Nihon Shoki is constantly discussing Baekje and Yamato relations.  I imagine that there must have been a significant escalation of Wa involvement around this time for the Samguk Sagi to mention it. On the other hand, the Nihon Shoki doesn't really mention it.  Sure, there are annual tributes mentioned from Baekje and Silla—and occasionally Goguryeo—but they were more focused on another event: an embassy that the Yamato court sent to the Tang dynasty.  This was the first embassy to be sent in some time—at least according to the Nihon Shoki—but it was quite the affair.  Two ships were prepared.  The first ship was led by Kishi no Nagani and his assistant, Kishi no Koma, along with the envoy, Nunobara no Mita.  They were accompanied by numerous students and student priesets, all sons of court nobility, including Jou'e, the son of none other than Nakatomi no Kamatari the “Naidaijin” or central prime minister.  In total, there were 121 people on board the ship. The other ship was led by Takada no Nemaro and his assistant, Kamori no Womaro, as well as their accompanying envoy, Hashi no Yatsute.  Along with various students, they had 120 on board the ship.  Two ships, each with an individual in charge of the particular embassy, meant that even if they met with an accident along the way, they would have someone to carry on the mission.  And that foresight proved unfortunately necessary when the ship carrying Takada no Nemaro sank in the straits of Takashima off the coast of Satsuma.  The ship went down and only five men survived, largely by lashing themselves to a plank and drifting ashore at Takashima island.  There, one of the survivors, Kadobe no Kogane, gathered bamboo and made a raft, by which they made it to Shitojishima.  They surived six days and nights without any food, but they made it.  When he heard about it, the sovereign congratulated Kogane and rewarded him with rank and various presents for his work to bring people back home. Another mission, launched the following year, shows that being lost at sea wasn't the only danger for international travelers back in the day.  In the 2nd month of 654, Takamuku no Kuromaro led another embassy to the Tang court.  He was the Controlling Envoy, though the Chief Ambassador was Kahabe no Maro, assisted by Yenichi no Kusushi, a name that Aston suggests translates to something like “Doctor Yenishi”.  A list of other names are given as well of those who were also on the mission.  More sobering is the outcome of the mission, where we are told what happened to everyone.  Though they reached the Tang court, not everyone would make it back.  According to the author Yuki no Hakatoko—an interesting tidbit in that they seem to be giving us the author of one of the accounts that they used in the compilation of the Nihon Shoki, and we'll come back to him in a later episode—according to Hakatoko, the student priest Enmyou died in Tang, while the student priests Chisou and Chikoku both died at sea.  Another person named Chisou, but using different characters, returned in a Silla ship in 690.  Gakusho died in Tang and Gitsu died at sea.  Joye returned in 665 in the ship of Liu Tekao.  And then others—about 12 total—along with two individuals who were considered Japanese born abroad, came back in 654 with returning envoys.  We are even told that Takamuku no Kuromaro, one of the figures who helped set up the government and played a major role in diplomatic relations with the continent, passed away on this mission as well. So going on one of these missions may have given you some awesome opportunities to see the world like nobody else, but they were anything but guaranteed.  For many people, it was a one way ticket, and we should keep that in mind when we hear about the people going on them. There were other intricacies to deal with as well—including navigating the pathways to the Tang court.  You may remember that Yamato was allied with Baekje in some way.  And yet the 654 mission we are told went by way of Silla and then anchored in Laichou, on the Shandong peninsula.  Later that same year, the previous mission, with Kishi no Nagani and others, returned to Yamato escoted by envoys from both Silla and Baekje.  While the narrative largely focuses on what they obtained, one imagines there were probably some tensions in all of that.  After all, just a year before we are told that Baekje and allied with Wa—which is to say Yamato—against Silla.  So had Silla not yet heard about the alliance?  Or was that just considered par for the course at the time? The year 654 would have more direct considerations for all concerned, however.  In that year, Queen Chindeok of Silla died, as did Karu of Yamato.  In Silla, the new King was none other than Prince Kim Ch'unch'u, known to history as King Muyeol.  As we touched on, earlier, Ch'unch'u was intimately familiar with the Tang court and had spoken directly with the Tang emperor, so this likely only further cemented ties between the Tang and Silla.  Meanwhile, in Yamato, Queen Takara Hime, aka Kyougyoku Tennou -slash- Saimei Tennou, was re-ascending the throne, rather than making way for Prince Naka no Oe, a truly interesting state of affairs. Moving forward, the alliances would continue to solidify, though diplomatic missions would continue to travel between the various countries.  After all, they didn't exactly have many other means of communicating with each other—no email or telephones back then. Tang Gaozong would continue to attack and harass Goguryeo, though Yeon Gaesomun would continue to fend off attacks, while Baekje and Silla would continue their struggles as well.  Both Goguryeo and Baekje would ally against Silla, who in turn would call upon the might of the Tang empire.  All in all, it was a time of great conflict, generally known as the Tang-Goguryeo War, and it was a long-term conflict punctuated with times of peace in betwetween the various offensives.   Yamato was less directly involved, but still affected.  After all, they were closely aligned with Baekje, and they had to wonder what would happen if Silla came out victorious.  Would they be cut off from the continent entirely?  Or would they be forced into a new state of having to send tribute to Silla as an inferior country if they wanted access to continental goods and knowledge?  While we know how it played out, today, at the time the outcomes were far from certain. All of that will continue to provide a backdrop for the second reign of Takara Hime, aka Saimei Tennou.  A part of me wonders if this wasn't also part of the reason to move the capital back into Asuka, in the Nara Basin.  I imagine that a capital sitting on the edge of the water, relatively speaking, while good for trade and foreign relations, also felt rather exposed if anyone were to sail a fleet down the Seto Inland Sea.  Or it may have just been a return to the more familiar lands of Asuka. As conflict on the continent continued to escalate, Yamato would not be able to stay unaffected.  The question is whether or not they would be ready when and if anything came their way.  It was a tense period, certainly. And we'll get more into that as we move forward in the next episode with the second reign of Takara-hime, aka Saimei Tennou. Until then thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.

This episode we look at the Hakuchi era.  Specifically, the implementation of something called the "Equal Fields" system, which seems to be what the court was trying to implement in some of their early Ritsuryo edicts.  And then we'll see why this era is the "Asuka" period and not the "Naniwa" period, despite the grand temple to government erected in that area of ancient Osaka. For more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-114 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 114: Public Lands and Remote Work   In the early evening, Karu paced through the halls of the inner palace.  The grand scale of the construction was impressive, and it was built and furnished with the finest materials available.  In all aspects it was the shining jewel.  The center of the Yamato world.  The entire thing still felt new. And yet, for all of that, it now felt strangely empty.  So many of those who had previously graced its halls were only memories.  Karu looked over the halls and wondered:  Was it worth it?    He had worked with his nephew and others to build a Kingdom worthy of the name.  They had instituted reforms to model themselves after the major powers of the day.  They had a built a palace to last the test of time.  This wasn't just another place to be abandoned—this was meant to be the bedrock on which the new State would stand.  It was the center of ritual and of the government. But was it?  The government was more than just buildings.  It was the people who made up the offices and the ministries.  It was the entire royal family.  It was the scholars and the officials, debating just how things should work. What would happen when Karu was gone?  Would this system last the test of time?  Or would it disappear, to be replaced by something new?  For centuries, every sovereign had made a new home for themselves every time the previous sovereign passed away.  Is that what would happen to Karu as well? As the sun set, and darkness set in, Karu could only wonder what the future might hold. So here we are in the Hakuchi era, during the reign of Karu, aka Ame Yorodzu Toyohi, which is to say between the years 650 and 654.  The era of Great Change was now the era of the White Pheasant – listen to our last couple of episodes to understand why -- and all of the changes weve been discussing were starting to really come together.  Front and center of those changes was the Nagara Toyosaki Palace, a physical manifestation of the new bureaucratic system of government that the sovereign, Karu; the Crown Prince, Naka no Oe; and others had put into place.  The work of this government was happening on a stage much grander than anything that had previously been seen in the islands. This was the start of what we know as the Ritsuryo Era, and it was finally coalescing.  In this episode we'll talk about how, in the Hakuchi era, we see the implementation of the continental system known as the “Equal Field System”, and how the bureaucratic government was extended down to the individual household.  This was all part of what we've come to know as the Ritsuryo state, which we talked about back in Episode 108 as we started all of these changes.  We are now seeing the foundations of that new state, and we are several years into its implementation, seeing those early edicts finally starting to bear fruit.All of this, of course, was focused on the seat of government in Naniwa. And yet, spoiler alert, this is not called the “Naniwa Era”.  We are still in what many refer to as the Asuka Era.  So what happened?  Towards the end of the episode we'll talk about what happened as the era came to a close, or at least as much as we know. To kick us off, let's talk about where we stand in the Hakuchi era, and look at the culmination of these early Ritsuryo changes we've been talking about. Whatever else had happened, various good omens, crises, and so on – the work of the government was continuing.  Once again, we see records of various envoys from the continent —and we'll get into the international situation, later—but for now, let's focus on what was going on in the archipelago itself.  Specifically, I want to talk about something called the Equal Field System, another innovation that Karu and his administration introduced to Yamato. The Equal Field System goes back to at least the Northern Wei dynasty, over on the continent, in the late 5th century.  It attempted to solve several issues regarding how the government could make sure that land was being worked—and that the government was also getting its cut.  To that end, let's back up a bit and talk about concepts of public versus private land, and how they apply to Yamato at the time. The concept of “private” land may seem simplistic, as we have an idea of what it means today.  Your “private” land is land you own, of course.  “Public” land belongs to the government.  But in Japan—and in much of East Asia—those concepts weren't necessarily the same.  In many early theories of land ownership, all land belonged to the State—individuals were simply using it.  To a certain degree, even today, land is often held only so long as you have a deed or other proof of ownership that is recognized by the State, but concepts like eminent domain can supercede that ownership. So for our purposes, here, Private land was land where all the produce went to a private individual or private interest,  such as a family—or even a temple or shrine.  If it was truly privately-owned land, then all of the produce of that land went to the owner.  Even if the government technically owned the land, the land could still be considered private, meaning that it wasn't  considered taxable by the government – whoever controlled the land got all the produce. In contrast to that, public land was land where the government was owed some or all of the produce.  It might have been worked by individuals, but was still taxable in part or full.  An early system that goes back to at least the Zhou dynasty was known as the Well Field System.  In this system, land was ideally divided into nine squares.  The eight squares of land on the outside of the square would all be held and worked by private farmers, who were able to keep whatever they produced on the land.  In return, they were to provide labor on the public land in the center, the produce of which went to the State, which could then be stashed away in case of famine or used to help increase the State's coffers and thus pay for other amenities. Of course often it just went into the pockets of various aristocrats.  I also wonder just how much effort was actually put in to working the public land in the Well Field System. That name, by the way, comes from how the whole schematic looked when drawn out.  The hanzi, or kanji, for a “well”—as in a place where you draw water—is much like a modern hashtag mark.  Think two horizontal and two vertical lines, like a tic-tac-toe board.  This comes from the fact that wells were often square or rectangular holes, the sides of which could be reinforced with wood.  At the top, the well frame was often formed with overlapping wooden beams, forming a shape similar to a hashtag.  And so in the Well Field System, the center of the tic-tac-toe board was the public land, and everything else was private.  This system fell apart with the fall of the Zhou during the Summer and Autumn periods, though there were attempts to revive it.  After all, it had been mentioned in the Book of Rites, the Liji, and it was praised by Mengzi—the famous scholar and philosopher we known to the West by his latinized name of  “Mencius”.  As such, it was officially documented as a “good idea” and so there were often attempts to revive it. The Northern Wei, however, took a slightly different approach.  In the late 5th century, they were looking for a way to curb the power of aristocratic families.  Since the Qin dynasty and onwards, they had seen the growth of families accumulating land and thus wealth and power.  These powerful families were both necessary and a threat, as they held the power to prop up or tear down a government.  Farmers would need to rent land from the powerful landowners, paying them a portion of their harvest as rent. To counter this, the Northern Wei instituted the Equal Field system.  Under this system, they claimed government ownership of vast swaths of land and then provided equal parts of that government land to every adult person.  Upon a person's death, their land would revert back to the government, who could then redistribute it to others.  The peasants would then be expected to provide a portion of the harvest as tax—they would provide food-rent for the land, as well as payment in cloth and a set number of days of corvee labor.  The key was that all of this payment was due to the government, and not to private aristocratic families. After the Northern Wei fell, the Equal Field system was reinvigorated by the Sui and Tang dynasties, who extended the system across their territories—or at least within the Yellow River and Yangzi River basins.  The system did have some allowances for inheritance—especially in instances like mulberry groves, which would be maintained by successive generations.  In general, however, most of the land was to be reclaimed by the government upon a person's death or at the point that they reached 60 years of age, and then it would be redistributed. This is still a relatively simplistic overview, and there were plenty of different adjustments and changes to the system over the years.  Key for us, though, is looking at the adoption of the Equal Field concept in the archipelago. Up to this point, land ownership in Yamato, such as it was, fell under various family groups.  They would own the land and whatever was produced on it, so it was truly private land.  “Yake” were set up by the families as central storehouses and administrative centers.  In this case, the royal family was, in many ways, just another landowner, and their “yake” are indicated in the Chronicles with the royal “mi” honorific—hence the “miyake”. As the reformers went about making changes in the period between 645-650, they adopted the concept of the Equal Field System.  Prominent figures such as Naka no Oe himself gave up their private fields, and the royal lands were turned into government lands.  They instituted the concept that all land in the archipelago nominally belonged to the State, and that others worked it at the Sovereign's pleasure. As we talked about in the past several episodes, this made the Sovereign and the State more prominent in people's lives, and it built bonds with the peasants in that they were granted land on which to work and make a livelihood.  They didn't necessarily have to work out a separate arrangement with some noble family, and the fields and taxes were “equal” for every person. Of course, surveying the land, taking a census, and distributing the land to the people didn't happen overnight, and it isn't even clear how well it occurred outside of the lands originally owned by the royal family, at least initially.  We are told that even though the project had kicked off years earlier, back in 646, it wasn't until the second month of 652 that we are told that the distribution of rice-land had been completed.  30 paces of land—Aston notes that it was 30 paces long by 12 paces wide—made up a single TAN of rice-land, and 10 TAN made up a CHOU.  Each TAN or land a person was granted was expected to provide back to the government a sheaf and a half of rice, with each CHOU providing 15 sheaves. This effort simplified taxation, in a way—everyone owed the same thing, based on their household and how much land they had been granted.  However, it also would have required an enormous bureaucratic engine.  Scribes would have been in high demand—anyone who could read and write.  Without modern computers, they would need to hand count everything in a given district, then send those numbers up to the governor, and then send them again to the capital.  Hence the giant government complex set up in Naniwa to oversee all of this and to ensure that the government worked as intended. In the fourth month of 652, the work continued.  We are told that the registers of population were prepared—presumably based on the information that had been previously acquired from around the provinces and sent to the court.  The earlier edicts from 646 that outlined this system—which we mentioned back in Episode 109—was finally put in force.  As we noted back in that episode, 50 houses made up a township, or RI—the character used is also pronounced “SATO”, today, and often refers to a village.  Each RI had an appointed elder, or head, using the term “CHOU”.  This term is still found today in modern parlance:  The head of a company, or “KAISHA” is the “SHACHOU”, while the head of a division, or BU, within said company would be the BUCHOU.  KAICHOU is the head of an association, or “KAI” and the “GAKUCHOU” is the head of a “DAIGAKU”, a university—basically the University President.  In this case the “CHOU” of the “RI” would be the “RICHOU”, using the Sino-Japanese On'yomi pronunciation, though in the vernacular they probably would have been called the “Sato-osa”.  All of this just means village head or village chief. So 50 houses made up a RI, with one RICHOU at the head.  In addition, each house would have a senior member appointed as the official head of household, or KACHOU.  From there, houses were associated together in groups of five for mutual protection, with one head, or CHOU, per group of five.  And okay, so they were creating groups of people for administrative purposes?  Who cares?  Well, the thing about this is that it was encoded into the new legal system, and it had several implications.  Chief among them was the implication of primogeniture: Since the most senior person was made the KACHOU or head of household (and by “person” I think we can assume that “man” was a given, unless there were no men in the house for some reason), this meant that the eldest person in the household was automatically the one who inherited that position, along with the status and control that came with it.  As we've seen, up to this point, it was not necessarily the case that the most senior person would inherit in ancient Yamato tradition.  Inheritance could pass from a younger brother to an older brother, or to a younger son of a younger son.  While there was some apparent concern over lineage and making sure that the individual was of the proper bloodline, at least for royal inheritance, there was not an automatic assumption of precedence for who would inherit. Of course, as we've seen, this set off all sorts of disputes and problems, especially among the elite where wealth and power was involved.  However, I think it is fair to assume that these problems weren't relegated purely to the upper levels of society.  Inheritance is always tricky, even in cases where it seems like it should be straightforward. I imagine that the institution of primogeniture as a legal concept would have had consequences beyond just inheritance.  It set up ideas of who was “important” in the family, and the family is often a microcosm of society at large.  Primogeniture meant that age and masculinity were both valued over youth and femininity.  That isn't to say that pre-Taika Ritsuryo was a bastion of equality, but we do see more instances where men and women seem to be on closer to equal footing. In the concept of primogeniture, I believe we can also see the institution of Confucian values—not surprising as this whole thing is cribbed from the continent, with a lot of it being taken from the Tang court.  We've discussed Confucian concepts of filial piety and how that fed into patriarchal—and frankly monarchical—ideas.  The Father and Son, the Ruler and Subject, the Husband and Wife, Elder Brother and Younger Brother, etc.  These were the relationships that were important and they defined much of the way people were expected to interact. As the new system being instituted copied the form of continental government, it would have also been preaching many of its values, as well.  Scholars will continue to debate how widespread the changes actually were.  Did the equal-fields system exist all the way out to the edge of Emishi territory?  Did it cover the mountainous regions of Honshu?  How about to the West of Yamato?  We don't know, but nonetheless, we do see both the expansion and centralization of Yamato power, so there seems to be something to it. By all accounts, the work that had taken place in this era appears to have been a smashing success.  The Taika reforms had taken hold, and the Ritsuryo state seemed to be off to a roaring start.  At the center of it was the newly built Nagara Toyosaki Palace, a giant stage for carrying out the business and ritual of the State.  One would think that the founders of this new State would have been overjoyed.  Naka no Oe, Nakatomi no Kamatari, and the sovereign, Karu, among them.  And yet, the story doesn't seem quite that simple. The first Ministers of the Right and Left had already passed away.  Abe no Oho-omi had passed of what appears to be natural causes, but Soga no Oho-omi, aka Ishikawa no Maro, was undone by slander, accused of treason, and took his own life rather than being killed by the government forces sent after him.  And in the 6th month of 653, the sovereign was told that the Priest Min had passed away. Min—Aston sometimes transcribes it as “Bin”—was one of the sources for much of the information about the continental systems of government.  We've mentioned him on and off for the last 5 or 6 episodes, though you may not have always caught the reference.  Also, since even Aston switches between pronunciations at times, I apologize if I haven't been consistent.  If I said Priest “Min” or “Bin”, we're talking about the same person.  He was a Buddhist priest who had traveled to the Sui dynasty in 608, spending 24 years there, witnessing the change from the Sui to the Tang, returning to Yamato in 632.  He was consulted on various omens, and he and Takamuko Kuromaro, who had also been made a State Scholar, or Hakase, at the same time, both worked to set up the eight ministries of the state, the core of the Ritsuryo bureaucracy. The death of Min was felt across the organs of state.  Both the Queen Dowager and Naka no Oe, the Crown Prince, sent messengers to offer condolences.  The sovereign commanded the painters, Koma no Tachibe no Komaro, Funado no Atahe, and others to make a large number of figures of the Buddha and Boddhisatvas.  They were to be placed in the temple of Kawaradera, though other sources say Yamadadera.  Both of these are in Asuka—although the capital had moved to Naniwa, and there was the temple of Shitennoji there, just south of the palace, I can't help but notice that many of the established temples remained in and around the old capital at Asuka. 653 saw something else, which also seems a bit odd, given the apparent success of the government.  We see that in this year the Crown Prince, Naka no Oe, petitioned his uncle, the Sovereign, to move the royal residence back to the Yamato capital, which is to say Asuka—in the heartland of Yamato as opposed to outside the Nara Basin, like Naniwa.  This is quite the request.  They had just finished establishing a large palace complex in Naniwa.  Why would they pull up stakes and move everything back to Asuka? So the sovereign, Karu, denied Naka no Oe's petition.  Regardless, Naka no Oe took his mother, the Queen Dowager, as well as Karu's own Queen, Hashibito and the younger royal princes, and he moved all of them back to Asuka, moving into the temporary palace of Kawabe.  The ministers and the various Daibu all followed him.  He basically moved the royal family and the court back to Asuka, without Karu's permission, and everyone followed him. We aren't told why this happened.  Was there a falling out between Naka no Oe and the Sovereign?  Was there some other issue that caused Naka no Oe to want to abandon the capital they had worked so hard to build? Karu was understandably upset by this apparent betrayal.  He expressed himself in a poem which he sent to his wife: KANAKITSUKE / AGAKAFU KOMA WA / HIKIDESEZU AGAKAFU KOMA WO / HITO MITSURAMUKA The pony which I keep/ I put shackles on / And led it not out Can anyone have seen / The pony which I keep? And if it wasn't enough that the people had left. We see once more, on the New Year's Day of 654, that the rats likewise left Naniwa and migrated towards Asuka.  This last one I certainly question as to whether or not it happened, but the meaning and symbolism is clear.  The Chroniclers are telling us that the effective capital was moving back to Asuka.  The time in Naniwa was limited. This doesn't appear to have negatively affected the fortunes of Naka no Oe and his supporters.  On the contrary: Nakatomi no Kamatari no Muraji, on this same New Year's Day, was granted the Shikwan, the purple cap, and his fief was increased.  The Toushi Kaden, the History of the Fujiwara House, says that it was increased by 8,000 households. It seems that the business of the government continued apace through 654, though it is a bit unclear just how things worked, given the split between Asuka and Naniwa.  Was Karu left alone in the giant complex he had built?  Or was it still where all of the government work happened?  If so, just how much were the high ministers missed, or were they working remotely, via messenger and post-horse? Whatever the situation, it would resolve by the end of the year.  On the 1st day of the 10th month, Naka no Oe learned that his uncle, the Sovereign, had taken ill.  Naka no Oe and the entire court returned to Naniwa to see him.  Nine days later, on the 10th day of the 10th month, Karu passed away in the state bedchamber he was around 57 or 58 years old.  He was temporarily interred in the southern courtyard, and Mozu no Hashi no Muraji no Doutoko oversaw the palace of temporary interment.  He would be buried in the Ohosaka Shinaga Tomb, which was built near the site of tombs associated with Kashikiyahime and others, south of the Yamato river, on the west side of the mountains that separate the Kawachi plain from the Nara basin. Two months later, Naka no Oe and his mother made it official, and formally moved to the temporary palace of Kawabe in Asuka.  Naka no Oe's mother, Takara Hime, would come to the throne on the third day of the first month of the new year, 655.  It would be her second time on the throne.   Since she reigned twice, the Chroniclers actually gave her two posthumous regnal names.  For the first reign they named her “Kougyoku Tennou”.  In the second reign they named her “Saimei Tennou”, to distinguish from her first reign on the throne.  As far as I know this has only happened twice—the second time being with Kouken, aka Shoutoku, Tennou in the late 8th century. Why she took the throne again is not addressed.  She had been the sovereign, stepping down during the Isshi Incident, when Soga no Iruka was killed in front of her.  At that time, Naka no Oe had been urged to take the throne, but he decided against it.  After all, Furubito no Oe was still around at that time, and seems to have had his own claim.  Naka no Oe couldn't take the throne while Furubito was still alive and, at the same time, claim to be the filial person that Confucian theory said he should be.  And so his uncle, Karu, took the throne, since nobody could really say anything against it.  Now, though, Furubito no Oe and Karu were both deceased.  Why didn't Naka no Oe, the Crown Prince, ascend the throne?  Again, we aren't given an answer.  There is one other thing that is possibly worth noting, however: Karu had a son.  This may be whom they are referring to as the “younger princes” who were brought to Asuka when everyone moved there.  This was Prince Arima.  He is believed to have been born in 640, so he would have been about 15 years old at the time of his father's death.  Naka no Oe was the Crown Prince, but did Arima also have a claim?  He was, after all, the male son of the most recent sovereign, Karu, and his queen, Hashibito hime.  This is something that we will definitely look at in a future episode. It should be noted that Naka no Oe was born in 626.  He would have been 18 or 19 years old during the time of the Isshi incident, and was only ten years old, 29 years old, when his mother took the throne for the second time, in 655.  She, on the other hand, was about 62 years old when she took the throne the second time.  The consensus is that even though she reigned as sovereign, the true power continued to rest with the young Naka no Oe and his clique, and they would continue to direct the government for the next several decades. And with that we largely bring to a close the Hakuchi era.  The era ended with Karu's death, and no new era was declared for Takara Hime's reign.  The period from the Hakuchi era to the start of the Nara period is often referred to as the Hakuho period.  An unofficial name taken from the names of the nengo on either side of it.  It often is used specifically to reference the art of the period, as more and more continental influence continued to pour in. Next episode, we'll take a look at the various interactions with the continent and go a little more into the politics of the time.  Takara Hime's second reign—for which she was posthumously given the name “Saimei Tennou”—dealt a lot with the continent, among other things.  Things on the Korean peninsula were heating up, and the Tang was continuing to push against those on their borders, both along the Silk Road to the West, but also against states like Goguryeo, in the northeast.  And yet it wasn't a time of constant warfare, either.  We'll do our best to look at what was happening. Until then thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.

So the year 649 was so bad that they went and changed the whole calendar to forget about it!  In 650 a white pheasant is brought to the court, and they sieze on that as a chance to rename the era from Taika to Hakuchi.  That should make things better, right? This episode we talk about this event--their reasoning, as well as what is recorded as having happened.  We also take a look at the completion of the Ajifu no Miya and how it was renamed to the Naniwa no Toyosaki no Nagara no Miya, or the Toyosaki Nagara Palace of Naniwa.  This is thought to be what we know today as the Early Naniwa Palace, and it was a real change, and, in many ways, the physical manifestation of the Taika era reforms. For photos and more, check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-113 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 113: The White Pheasant.   The officials of the court stood sentinel at the palace gates, a formidable line of authority draped in flowing, vibrant robes that signified their rank. Each step down the line revealed a cascade of colors, a living tapestry of power and prestige. Only the envoys from distant shores stood apart, their unique uniforms adding an exotic flair to the proceedings, as well as a certain legitimacy as outside witnesses.   The air crackled with anticipation as the crowd waited, their breath held, until four figures emerged, bearing aloft a magnificent litter adorned with intricate decorations that shimmered as they caught the sun's rays.   Upon that litter rested a cage, and within it,a dazzling white pheasant, plucked from the untamed wilds of Anato. Whispers rippled through the throng; some questioned the significance of this fragile creature, while others dared to see it as a divine omen. Was this bird as pure as the tales had promised? The capital had buzzed with rumors ever since its unexpected arrival, and those in the back stretched their necks, desperate for a glimpse of this rare marvel.   The past year had cast a shadow over the Yamato court, leaving the air thick with uncertainty. Yet, this ethereal bird, shimmering with the promise of renewal, seemed to herald a shift—an opportunity for rebirth that everyone craved.  At the very least it was a much needed distraction from everything that had previously occurred.   As the litter glided past, the courtiers bowed deeply in reverence, forming two disciplined lines that followed through the grand gates. Together, they marched into the palace, hearts pounding with hope. They were not just entering a building; they were stepping into a new era, one that, with a whisper of fate, could rise above the struggles of the past.     This episode we kick off the start of a new era—the Hakuchi era, or the era of the White Pheasant.  It followed the Taika era, and it does have a different feel.  It is less about new edicts and more about how things were shaking out and coming together.  And one of the things that was coming together was the Nagara no Toyosaki palace, which is believed to be the same one known to archaeologists as the “Early Naniwa Palace” unearthed in Ohosaka and dated to the mid-7th century.  We'll actually start with a look at this palace, continuing our discussion from last episode, as our sovereign, Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou, seems to have been a bit crazy about all of his palaces, and figuring out just which is which can be an issue in and of itself. We'll also touch on the start of this new era, and look at why and what it meant to come up with a new era name—a new “nengou”—in the middle of a reign like this.  And so we catch ourselves at the start of the year 650, still, technically, in the Taika era.  The year started well enough, with the sovereign celebrating the new year at the Ajifu palace and then coming straight back—the Ajifu palace was apparently yet another new palace and it seems construction had only recently begun.  Now, There is some confusion between the Ajifu palace and the Toyosaki palace.  The Ajifu palace is traditionally thought to have been located on the opposite side o f the Yodo river, in the area of modern Settsu city, on the site of what became the Ajifu Shrine.  Others have suggested that it was actually on the Kanimachi plateau, which is where the Toyosaki palace was.  Notably the “Toyosaki” palace is not located anywhere near the modern area of “Toyosaki” with which it seems to share a name.  From what little information we have, it seems to have been quite the complex.  As to why he would need yet another palace, I could not say.  And yet, later we see that the Ajifu Palace is eventually named the Nagara Toyosaki Palace.  So are they one and the same?  Did they move the Toyosaki Palace?  Or did they build the Toyosaki Palace and then *rebuild* it as the Ajifu Palace—aka the Nagara Toyosaki Palace? At this point the way that the Chronicles talk about it, the Ajifu palace site seems to have been almost purely conceptual, while previous accounts seem to indicate that the Toyosaki Palace was already in use.  That would have made for an interesting New Year's celebration, probably in temporary buildings erected quickly amongst the grass and fields, with some nearby tomb mounds that would need to be leveled or moved to make room, we are later told.  It seems they were still surveying the site, but I guess Karu really was looking for a change.  And so he celebrated the new year at the Ajifu palace, but quickly returned back to wherever the work of the government was actually occurring. As to where that was, well, we talked last episode about all of Karu's meanderings from one palace to the other.  The Nihon Shoki text itself is not exactly clear, as I read it.  It doesn't help that the term for palace, or “miya”, appears to refer to both a complex and a single residence, without a clear distinction given between the two.  And so, though I mentioned it last episode, let's recap what we know about the palaces this reign. So in 645, we are told that Karu decided upon Naniwa and we are told that this is the “Toyosaki” palace.  Then in 646, Karu took up residence in the “detached” palace of Koshiro in Sayabe, Naniwa.  This was likely him repurposing the Miyake, the government offices with the royal granaries.  He was only there for about two months, though, before he returned.  Then, in the third month of 646, he issues an amnesty claiming to have taken up residence in the new palace—but we aren't told which one. In 647, two years into the reign, the government offices at Wogohori are torn down and a palace was built there.  Now this is somewhat confusing because there appear to be two government districts:  Wogohori and Ohogohori.  You'll probably notice how similar these two sound, though it may have been more like “wogopori” and “opogopori”. Back in the day.  Wo-gohori, or the “Small District”, is mentioned once, but mainly just as a place name.  Ohogohori, or the “Big District” has previously shown up as the place with government offices for the envoys from overseas.   Confusing matters, in a later entry, Karu eventually moves out of the palace at Oho-gohori and into the palace that would be known as the Nagara Toyosaki palace.  So was he at Wogohori and then later at Ohogohori?  Or was there some scribal error such that the two got confused? And then in 648 we are told that Karu moved into the Toyosaki palace in Naniwa.  Two years later, in 650, and he is now celebrating New Year's at the Ajifu palace, which may refer to a location on the other side of the Yodo river, but is likely in the spot we now think of as the Nagara Toyosaki Palace.  We then know that in 651 they were still building a palace.  And it isn't until the last day of 651 that Karu would formally move from Ohogori into the Ajifu palace, which we are told was then renamed the Nagara no Toyosaki no Miya---the Nagara Toyosaki Palace. I have several thoughts on all of this.  One, is that there may have been two “Toyosaki” palaces—there was the Toyosaki palace that he first moved into, and then there is the Nagara Toyosaki Palace.  “Nagara” appears to mean something like “Long Handle”, but other than that, I don't know that there is a good translation.  It may refer to the fact that it was meant to last longer, or that it was even larger than the previous palace.  It may even be that the original Toyosaki Palace was just a few of the buildings, and that eventually it grew into the larger Nagara Toyosaki Palace, but if that is the case, what is up with term “Ajifu”?  Was that just one building in the larger palace?  Or are earlier mentions of “Toyosaki” anachronistic, and perhaps it wasn't until the entire thing was complete that they gave it that name?  Many modern accounts appear to conflate the Toyosaki palace with the Nagara no Toyosaki Palace, saying it just took that long to build.  That would imply that the Ajifu palace really was there on the Kamimachi plateau, at the known Naniwa palace site.  Alternatively, “Nagara” could possibly have been a reference to the fact that the Ajifu palace was an extension of the larger Toyosaki complex, possibly built out of the government offices of either Wogohori or Ohogohori. For all that we don't know exactly what was happening here, we have a pretty good idea in the archaeological record about at least one of the palace sites on the Kamimachi plateau.  This site has been identified as the Toyosaki palace of Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou, and it would actually be reused at a later date.  Sure enough, there are remains of at least two palace complexes on the site, with the one from our period known as the “Early Naniwa Palace” site. Based on its size and layout, this Early Naniwa palace was the first of its kind.  Previous palaces in Asuka had not dissimilar designs in terms of the general arrangement, but this clearly made use of the structure of continental style palace complexes, and was likely intended to be a new, permanent capital. The north of the palace complex consisted of a rectangular, walled section 185 meters east to west and 200 meters north to south, making up the “dairi”.  That's almost 10 acres of enclosed space, set aside as the sovereign's personal living quarters. South of that was a smaller area with the front hall, one of the largest for its time.  It was 36 meters east to west and 19 meters north to south.  This would have been the hall called the “Daigokuden” in later palaces, where official rituals would take place.  There was a gate between it and the Dairi, to the north, as well as a gate to the south, flanked by two octagonal buildings, which led to the Chodoin, the main working area of the court complex. This is part of what sets this palace apart from others, and why it likely took a while to build.  It may also explain all the different palace names as there was probably a lot of construction for a long time.  In previous instances, as far as we can tell, the sovereign's palace was both their home and the building where state business was conducted.  Think, perhaps, of the White House, in the US, and then imagine that the White House, the Capitol Building, and the Supreme Court were all part of the same compound, with only the barest of concessions to privacy between them.  In this new layout, the dairi was reserved to the sovereign, there was a small area for the official throne room, and then south of that was the Chodoin, the court hall complex. This was a huge change to how things had operated in the past.  While the main audience hall was still nominally part of the dairi, so the “private” areas of the palace weren't entirely “private”, it was still leaps and bounds more separated than in the previous palaces we've uncovered.  Sure, the idea of lining up buildings from the front gate to the larger buildings towards the back, making people approach successively larger and more impressive buildings, generally seems to have been a thing as far back as the Makimuku Palace near Mt. Miwa, back in the third century, but even then, there is no clearly defined separation between the public and private spaces of the sovereign.  There does seem to have been restrictions on who could enter what parts of the compound, with the sovereign's personal quarters being the most restricted, but now there were walls and gates and guards separating one area from another. The Chodoin itself, the main “business” or “public” area of the court, appears to have been about 262.8 meters north to south and 233.6 meters east to west—a little over 15 acres.  Most of that was open space between the 14 “choudou” halls lined up symmetrically, 7 on either side.  These were the individual buildings where the various government officials were to meet and conduct business, as well as conduct rituals, feasts, etc.  There was a southern gate that provided the entrance to the Chodoin and led to another large area with the Choshuden, the buildings where officials could change into and out of their formal court uniforms, and otherwise prepare for or close out the day.  South of that was the main gate for the entire compound, the Suzaku gate, named for Suzaku, the red bird of the south, one of the four directional guardian spirits. We know the buildings largely from their post holes.  They were made of wood, and it is likely that most of them were thatched.  They may have been painted white, vermillion, and green—classic paints that were based on continental styles and which were said to help prevent the wooden pillars from rotting too quickly.  It is unsurprising that this would have taken years—but it is also possible that they built some quarters for the sovereign and then built out from there.  This also would have been key to a lot of the governmental reforms, providing an actual location for the work that the reforms were directing. Of course, there was a lot of work to be done, and the halls in the palace were limited, so two areas to the east and west of the complex were set aside and appear to have been built up with other government offices, suitable for carrying out the day to day minutiae that was required. There is still a question of whether or not they also instituted the larger grid system city layout around the palace complex.  Currently we have no evidence for that, though perhaps they were considering it, eventually.  Unfortunately, with all of the construction in Osaka over time, I don't know if we could be able to find or discern such a layout if we did find it.  For now, we will stick with what we know:  an absolute unit of a court complex that took them several years to build. Getting back to the Chronicles: Our next entry in the Nihon Shoki, after the New Years celebration, tells us that in the second month, Kusakabe no Muraji no Shikofu, the governor of Anato Province, brought a white pheasant to the court.  The report claimed that it had been caught by Nihe, a relative of Obito, the Kuni no Miyatsuko of Anato, on the 9th day of the first month, on Mt. Wonoyama. For reference, the land of Anato was at the far western end of Honshu, part of the San'yodo, itself a designation for the lands along the Seto Inland Sea coast from Harima, modern Hyogo prefecture, out to Anato, modern Yamaguchi prefecture.  It was on the Honshu side of the Shimonoseki strait, which was the main entrance from the Korean Strait and the Japan Sea to the Seto Inland Sea.  The area would later be known as Nagato, which would eventually be called Choshu, an area which any students of the fall of the Tokugawa shogunate are sure to recognize. We discussed back in Episode 94 how white or albino animals—assuming they weren't normally white—were considered particularly auspicious.  So in 598, the land of Koshi sent a white deer they had found to the court of Kashikiya Hime, which is to say Suiko Tenno.  And so the white pheasant from Anato was clearly seen as an omen—but was it truly auspicious.  Here we see the court investigating this, and how exactly they go about that is somewhat enlightening as to how the court thought in general. First, they made inquiry of the lords of Baekje—I would suspect this referred to those recognized as Baekje nobility residing in the archipelago, rather than sending a correspondence to the peninsula and back.  That they went to someone from Baekje would seem to indicate the importance they placed on Baekje as a conduit for continental learning.  Indeed, the answer they got back—whether from a single, unnamed individual or a group of Baekje nobility—was that White Pheasants were recorded in the 11th year of Yongping, which would be 68 CE to us, during the reign of Ming of the later Han dynasty.  Han Mingdi, aka Emperor Ming of Han was born Liu Yang and also known as Liu Zhang, reigned from 57 to 75 CE.  Ming and his son, Emperor Zhang oversaw a period of particular prosperity for the Eastern Han dynasty.  On the other hand, there was an attempt to curse Emperor Ming in 67 CE, which ended with the death of the ambitious Prince Jing of Guanglin.  Then, in 70, Prince Ying of Chu was also convicted of using magic to try and secure blessings while he fomented revolution against the emperor, and he was exiled, where he committed suicide.  So I don't know if this marks the pheasant as particularly auspicious or not. Asking the Buddhist priests, who frequently studied not just Buddhist canon, but other continental texts, they mostly drew a blank—at least on the specifics of a white pheasant.  They did recommend that a general amnesty would not be amiss, as it would bring joy to the people.  I guess if you aren't sure about the nature of an omen you can certainly do something to help it out. And while they weren't specifically sure about a white pheasant in Buddhist scripture, a couple of priests did have suggestions. The Priest Doutou recounted a story from Goguryeo, when the court there wished to build a new Buddhist temple, but could not divine a suitable and auspicious site.  When someone witnessed a white deer, they chose that spot for the temple, which was then called the Temple of the Park of the White Deer.  According to Doutou, this temple established Buddhism in Goguryeo. Furthermore, he recounted, when a white sparrow was seen on the farmstead of another temple, or when a dead crow with three legs had been brought back from the Tang dynasty, the people had proclaimed both of these to be good omens.  So given all of that, Priest Doutou concluded, a white pheasant must be especially auspicious. The Priest Bin agreed.  Bin, you may recall, had been heavily relied upon for his knowledge in setting up the new governmental structure, which would seem to indicate that he was quite well-versed in continental ideas, and he had even traveled there himself.  He provided the court several different reasons that a white pheasant might appear. First, it might appear when a ruler extended his influence to all four quarters. Second, it might appear when the sovereign's sacrifices are appropriate, and when his banquets and clothing are in due measure. Third, it might appear when the sovereign cultivates frugality. Finally, it might appear when the sovereign was humane. He didn't provide any specific examples of how he arrived as his conclusions—at least nothing was recorded—and so he may have been relying on his own expertise.  However, he did recount one tale in particular.  It was a story from the time of Emperor Cheng Wang of the Zhou dynasty.  Cheng Wang is said to have reigned in the 11th century BCE, from 1042 to 1021, and so take that how you will.  Important to us is not what happened so much as what the Yamato court believed had happened—what was the historical truth that they were workin with at the time? According to Bin, during Cheng Wang's reign, the Yuehshang family brought a white pheasant to the court.  Apparently it had been three years without any exceptional storms or rains, and neither the rivers nor seas had flooded.  Apparently the old men found this an extremely long time to go without some kind of disaster, indicating that the pheasant was clearly an auspicious omen in deed. Priest Bin also mentioned other accounts, but the Chroniclers omitted them from the record. Whatever they were, the court had heard enough.  The White Pheasant was declared auspicious, and a new era was declared:  the Hakuchi, or White Pheasant, era.  They let the white pheasant loose in the royal garden, presumably with clipped wings or otherwise kept from flying off, and then preparations were made  immediately to officially inaugurate the new era 6 days later, on the 15th day of the 2nd month of 650. Before we get into that, though, I want to pause and take a look at something here:  The authority of precedent.  Time, as conceived of in the continental model, was cyclical.  There was the cycle of day and night.  The cycle of the year and the repeating seasons.  Likewise the planets and heavens all had their own cyclical periods.  In addition, there was the idea that the Yin and Yang forces in the universe likewise cycled through predictable patterns—the sexagenary cycle, or cycle of 60 years, being an example of a longer term cycle.  And then there was the Buddhist cycle or death and rebirth, at least as long as one remained tied to this mortal plane of existence. If time is cyclical, then one can look to the past to predict the present.   Stories of the past were seen as holding authority over similar events in the present.  Understanding these historical stories and being able to pull from them provided its own kind of power and authority.  Rather than attempting to reason from first principles, precedent was often a more convincing argument. Being able to read and write and recall all of these stories gave scholars the ability to influence events.  Of course, who had time to do all that other than people like Buddhist priests or the doctors of the court? This is also one of the reasons that people would have had to write down histories and, eventually, to keep diaries and accounts of what happened.  Those accounts would, over time, become essential records to invoke for moments like this—and even a record like the Nihon Shoki or the Kojiki would have similar significance.  In many ways, it is propaganda, but not just in how it describes the past as the Chroniclers wished it to be, but it set the precedent for succeeding eras to look back on.  While we may challenge that view, today, for many from the 8th century onward the events described in the Nihon Shoki were considered the gospel truth in more ways than one. Of course, all that aside, we've had plenty of auspicious events before, but why, now, would they be enough to trigger a new era?  Why not just note them and move on? Well, to start with, let's face it, nobody is likely to name 649 as the greatest year ever, any time soon, and certainly not the Yamato court.  The Crown Prince, Naka no Oe, had been tricked into thinking that his co-conspirator, Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro, was a traitor.  To be fair, Maro had been more than complicit in the murderous takedown of his own relatives to set up the current government, and history has time and again suggested that those who put someone on the throne can just as easily take them off it.  That's why they are often either brought deeper into the inner circle, or removed—either physically or more euphemistically.  In this case, though, it seems that fears of Naka no Oe and others were unjustified, and they sent the royal troops after an innocent man; or at least a man as innocent as any of the other elites at that time.  After all, the wealth of the elites came from the rice fields that they owned—or that were at least designated for their stipends—and they certainly weren't working those fields themselves, so make of that what you will. All of that had led to the death of Maro, his family, and the rest of his household.  That, in turn, led to the death of his daughter, Miyatsuko Hime, who was married to Naka no Oe himself.  When they finally did realize what had happened, the best justice they could figure out was to send the scandal-mongering Soga no Musa out to Tsukushi in a form of luxurious banishment.  Demotion by promotion, as he was made the Viceroy of Tsukushi, the top man of the court at the edge of the archipelago. To say that the year 649 had been a bust is an understatement.  Don't get me wrong, it was a far cry from the worst year that the archipelago had ever experienced—or would in the future, for that matter.  But that was scant comfort to the folks living in it. And so it was with some relief, I suspect, that the court welcomed news from the far flung land of Anato, because they really needed a distraction. With that in mind, let us move on to the events of the 15th day of the 2nd month of the year 650, describing how they inaugurated the new era.  Now, if the Chronicles are to be believed, this is not the first time they inaugurated a new era—we are told that year 645 was considered the first year of Taika, or Great Change.  But, assuming that did happen, and that it wasn't just named after the fact, the era would have started at the same time as a new reign.  Previously, from everything we can tell, dates were based regnal years.  Things are recorded as happening in the X year of Y sovereign.  Some of the oldest accounts seem to even note it more as X year of the sovereign who reigned from the Y palace, as the palace was likely more distinct a feature than the names and titles that they used, and the posthumous names, like “Koutoku Tennou” were not actually used until the end of the 7th or early 8th century. It is possible that Hakuchi is actually the first true nengo—or era name—and the first one that appears in the middle of a reign—though even here some say that the instantiation of “Hakuchi” is anachronistic. Personally, I see no harm in taking it at face value, at least for now, while acknowledging that everything in the Nihon Shoki is suspect.  Still, we are approaching a time when the events being written down may have still been in the living memory of people alive at that time.  720 is only 70 years away, and the project started even before then, so unless there are obvious discrepancies or supernatural events, we can probably assume that the Chronicles at this point are largely truthful, if possibly embellished. And so it is we are told of what happened.  To begin with, the court lined the ministers of the left and right and all of the functionaries in four lines outside the “purple” gate, as they would during a New Year's reception, like the one they had just had at the Ajifu palace.  The “Purple” gate was probably a reference to the southern gate The fact that the courtiers lined up at the south gate in the same way that they would have during a New Year's reception would seem to indicate that this was seen as the start of a new year.  It was no longer a Taika year—starting on that day it was now the first year of Hakuchi.  The month and day would not change, however, so it was still the 15th day of the 2nd month.  That means that technically the first year of Hakuchi would only have ten and a half months in the year—maybe eleven and a half, if there was an extranumerary month.  Likewise, the last year of Taika would only have one and a half months.  And if you are thinking that must make Japanese dates really tricky around the start or end of year, you don't know the half of it.  Sometimes events will get placed in the wrong “era” because they happened a few months before or after the change, and people forget that when they are translating to and from western dates.  It also means era names can't just give you the years of the era, but really need to give you the month and date it starts and ends.  Fortunately, most people are quite understanding about the occasional mistake.  But anyway, I digress. The courtiers were lined up as though for new years, and then they watched as Ahata no Omi no Ihimushi and three others bore a litter with the pheasant on it and went ahead through the gates.  The others followed in rank order—with the Ministers of the Left and Right leading the various functionaries.  The Baekje prince Pungjang and his uncle, Sesyeong Chyungseung, whom we mentioned back in Episodes 105 and 107, as well as Mochi, the physician to the King of Goguryeo, a scholar attached to the court of Silla, along with other important persons all advanced as well into the Central court of the palace. The pheasants litter was taken up by Mikuni no Kimi no Maro, Wina no Kimi no Takami, Miwa no Kimi no Mikaho, and Ki no Omi no Maro, who brought it to the front of the hall.  There, the ministers of the left and right then took the front of the litter, while the Prince of Ise, Mikuni no Kimi no Maro, and Kura no Omi no Woguso took hold of the rear.  Together, they placed it in front of the throne.  The sovereign, Kura, and the Crown Prince, Naka no Oe, examined the pheasant together. The Crown Prince then backed away, and the new Minister of the Left, Kose no Omi, presented a congratulatory address. He gave thanks to the sovereign and claimed that the pheasant was a sign that the sovereign would rule for one thousand autumns and ten thousand years across the Great Eight Islands—the Ohoyashima—of the archipelago and the four quarters of the earth.  Effectively, this is a long-winded version of “Banzai”, the congratulatory wish of ten thousand years of life for an emperor. Karu responded to this address by quoting auspicious times that white animals had been omens of good rule.  He then gave credit to the ministers and functionaries, and urged them to continue to provide good service.  Then he declared a general amnesty, forgiving various offenses, and noted that the era name would change to “Hakuchi”. Karu then directed presents to be handed out to the Ministers, the Daibu, the officials of lower rank, all the way down to the clerks.  Each received gifts commensurate with their rank.  Finally, Kusakabe no Muraji no Shikofu, the governor of Anato, was commended, and granted the rank of Daisen along with what we are told were a goodly number of presents.  In addition, the commuted taxes and corvees of Anato were remitted for three years, meaning that Anato would be allowed to keep all of the rice and product for themselves—something that was likely quite significant, though it is unclear whether this means that it was felt down at the level of basic workers or it just meant that the governor was able to keep what he taxed from the people for himself. And with that, we enter a new era.  Forget the unfortunate bloodshed and regrettable decisions of the previous year, this was a new start.  And that is often how these eras were seen.  Whether it was a new reign or things were just going so poorly that the court felt there needed to be a new start, future nengo would often follow a similar pattern.   And there was no set time for how long an era would last.  In fact, here's a little trivia for you:  The shortest nengo in Japanese history was “Ryakunin”, and it lasted just under two and a half months from late 1238 to the start of 1239.  It really shows how important it was to come up with a good name of these eras, as “ryakunin”, which seems to mean something like “humane period”, could also be written with characters meaning “abbreviated person”.  So they decided to abbreviate the era, instead, changing the era name again. This first year of the new era of Hakuchi continued relatively normally.  In the fourth month there were envoys from Silla—another source, according to the Nihon Shoki, claimed that Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla sent envoys every year from this reign onward.  Then, in the tenth month, we see more work being done on the palace—presumably the Ajifu palace.  We are told that presents were given out in respect to tombs that had been demolished to make room for the new construction, as well as for the people who had been moved off their land.  Then Aratawi no Atahe no Hirafu was sent to place the boundary posts, no doubt marking out the outer extremities of the new palace precincts. In addition, that month work began—no doubt at the court's direction—on a giant tapestry, or mandala, with a sixteen foot tall Buddha image, attendant Boddhisatvas, and figures of all eight classes of beings according to the Buddhist cosmology.  That includes Heavenly beings, such as Devas; dragons; demonic Yaksha, Gandharva, and Asura; the bird-like Garuda and Kimnara; and the snake-like Mahoraga.  All told, there were some 46 figures.  It doesn't seem to say where it was to be installed, though it may have been made for the new palace complex. Also in that year we are told that the court ordered Aya no Yamaguchi no Atahe no Ohoguchi to carve one thousand images of Buddha—but once again, we aren't told where they resided.  We do know that the 16 foot tall embroidered Buddha was completed in the 3rd month of 651: it had taken them approximately five months.  The day after they were completed, the Dowager Queen, Takara no Himemiko, aka the former sovereign, Kougyoku Tennou, who had stepped down in 645, invited ten Buddhist teachers and prepared a feast and entertainment, likely to bless and show off the completed images. At the end of 651, the palace itself was finally complete.  We are told that over 2100 priests were invited to the Ajifu palace to read the Issaikyo on  the last day of the year.  The Issaikyo is the entirety of the Buddhsit canon, and so this was probably done in the abbreviated tendoku style, with priests just reading the chapter headings and flipping through the sutras, though with 2100 it is possible they just each red a different portion, all at the same time.  As it grew dark, the palace courtyard was kept bright with 2700 lights while we are told that the Antaku and Dosoku sutras were read.  Aston notes that these “sutras” of Antaku and Dosoku don't appear to reference any actual sutras that we know of, and posits that they may simply be rituals for home safety and the like.  Given what we know about the fate of so many of these old wooden palaces, it makes sense. After the sutras were read, the sovereign, Karu, formally moved from his residence in Ohogohori into the new palace, which was called Naniwa no Nagara no Toyosaki no Miya.  As I noted at the beginning, it is unclear if this was the Ohogohori or Wogohori, and it is even somewhat murky as to whether or not it was considered a palace.  Not to mention that after the New Year's ceremonies were completed, the royal chariot—which would have been carrying the sovereign—went back to Ohogohori.  I guess things weren't quite ready yet.  He would return on the 9th day of the third month, and even then we don't see a note that the palace was completed until the 9th month of 652.. There is a lot here where we see things that appear to be scheduled so that they can occur on auspicious days, even if everything else isn't quite ready.  So, for example, reading the sutras and formally “moving” into the palace on the last day of the year so that one could host the New Year's celebration there the next day.  That seems like something that was done purely for ceremonial purposes.  You may recall that in 650 they did the same thing. There are a few more references to the palace.  On the 15th of the 4th month of 652, the Buddhist ascetic E'on was invited into the Dairi to explain the Muryouju Sutra, also known as the Sukhavati Vyuha sutra.  E'on was made a lecturer, and there were said to be 1,000 ascetics in the audience, listening to his teachings.  That apparently went on for five days, being discontinued on the 20th day.  And the power of the sutras, and E'on's teachings, is shown in the weather, because the Chronicles claim that large rains began to fall in a monsoon that lasted for nine days.  This wasn't a gentle “water your crops” kind of rain.  This was more like a “demolish your buildings and destroy your fields” kind of rain.  There must have been massive flooding as men, horses, and cattle were caught up in the water and drowned. Given the way this is written, I'm not entirely certain of the takeaway.  Were the sutras that powerful that they brought rain, and E'on didn't understand his own strength?  Or was it a punishment for stopping E'on from continuing his lecture?  Or was it the rains that caused the lectures to stop, perhaps making it untennable for people to sit out in the courtyard and listen as the rains came down?  My rational brain suspects the latter, but I'm not sure how it was read by the people of the 8th century. On the last day of 652, priests and nuns from around the country were invited to the dairi, to the interior of the palace, and entertained and given a feast.  Alms were given and lights kindled to celebrate the new year. But that's the last entry I really see for the palace, as such.  There was plenty more happening through the era, and we'll touch on that.  We start to see Silla and Tang dynasty getting chummy, and we also see some of the reforms still working their way across the land.  We also have Yamato's own expeditions out to the Great Tang dynasty.  But we'll save that for the next episode, as we continue to dive into the Hakuchi era. And so, until next time, thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.

A peek into the vibe. Over an hour flowing thru tracks for the Dogglounge family. Live Wednesday nights at the station. Enjoy... .. . DJ Channing Tracklist 1Music and the Rhythm (Original Mix) by Playin' 4 The City, Electra Weston2Coat On (Original Mix) by Zoe Kypri, KingCrowney3Pushin' feat. Teresa (Main Vocal) by Physics4Walk Like A (Spaceman) (Original Mix) by Moto Tembo5Someone Is Humorous (Original Mix) by Jack District6The Swipe (Extended Mix) by Erik Hagleton7Slightly Frozen (Original Mix) by Powel8More People 'In Many Ways' (Original Mix) by Angelo Ferreri9Ode To My Latinas (Original Mix) by Joeski10Dog Town (Deez Raw Life Remix) by SINS (UK)11Need It (Original Mix) by Pedro Costa12Phaser Is Set To Stunning, Let's Go (Original Mix) by Powel13Mod Flow (Original Mix) by Karu, Pat Lezizmo14In the Stream (Powel Remix) by lycoriscoris, Powel

This episode we continue looking at the Taika reforms, covering only 3 months, but with edicts about mounded tombs, the labor due to the state vice individuals, and a variety of "offenses", often countering current practices such as forcing people to undergo "harai" in many instances. For more, check out the blog at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-110 Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 110: Manual Labor, Mounded Tombs, and Marital Missteps. Maro sat by the small campfire he had made along the river's edge.  The water nearby was going to be the catalyst for the gruel that he was making with some of the last bit of food that he had.  As he stirred the pot, he looked over at his friend, lying out, his head propped up against the rock. Maro and Sumi had been working on one of the large tombs in Asuka at the commandof their lord, who had built it for his deceased father.  Now they were released and headed back to their village, still two days out.  Unlike their superiors, they didn't get horses to ride across the landscape, so it would be a few days before they returned home.  Unfortunately, Sumi had grown ill, and he was now almost delirious with fever.  Maro couldn't bear to leave his friend, but he also cursed his luck. What if Sumi were to die?  It was one thing to die at home, or even when they were working on the tomb.  But now they were travelers—strangers on the road.  If something happened to Sumi, Maro knew he couldn't just leave him, but neither could he go trudging through the countryside with a dead body.  Even association with death would bring problems for him, and if local villagers were to find out, they could force him to pay for the necessary ritual purification—or worse.  Heck, even something as simple as cooking rice on the side of the road could bring problems for a poor traveler—hence why Maro had found some place off the beaten path and away from prying eyes. Under his breath he prayed to whatever powers were listening to help Sumi recover.  If they could only make it back to their village, then everything would be alright. Once again, we are looking at the second year of Taika, 646.  As we heard in the past couple of episodes, the first year of Taika saw a plethora of edicts that would bring radical change to the way that the sovereign interacted with the land and the people.  These provided the start of  much more direct rule,   and yet also set the stage for a new bureaucratic state, with various new officials up and down the hierarchy. This episode we are continuing to look at what happened in the first several months of 646, largely because there was so much going on that it's worth focusing in on this short time period.   For one thing, we really should talk a little bit more about how this entire Taika era is reflecting the culmination of what appears to have been a major change to Yamato's cultural identity over the preceding century or so—a change in perspective that may not have even been entirely apparent to them, but which allowed Naka no Oe and the sovereign, Karu, aka Koutoku Tennou, to get away with these pronouncements that restructured the basic foundations of the Yamato state.  These changes include the death knell of the kofun period, with new restrictions on how mounded tombs were to be created, including how large they were allowed to be.  We'll also look at a litany of items being called out in the third month of the year—many of which directly affected people at the lowest ends of the economic spectrum and which give us a view of some of the practices that had presumably been going on prior to the edict. As we've already discussed, the early part of the year 646 saw quite a few quote-unquote “normal” things happening.  The sovereign moved into a new detached palace, perhaps while the Toyosaki Palace was being built.  This was the Koshiro Palace of Sayabe, in Naniwa.  Emissaries were sent out to restore—or possibly build—the arsenals; you may recall that the governors were supposed to gather up all of the weapons and armor in a single place so that it could be available, just in case.  Envoys from the Emishi came to do homage, and there was another round of envoys from Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla.  Apparently, this time, there were no complaints about the tribute.  That was all in the first two months.  By the third, the governors had been called to account for their misdeeds, but also pardoned – we talked about this two episodes ago, when we explored the new system of governors, but this is when their pardons happen – and the sovereign moved out of the Koshiro Palace, presumably to take up residence in the shiny new Toyosaki palace that was just getting blessed and which was the nominal reason for the general amnesty across the land. And with all of that over… well, it was time to get back to figuring out what part of the traditional order they would overthrow next.  And apparently, Karu, our sovereign, had an idea.  He sent a question to the Crown Prince, Naka no Oe, to see what he thought about it, and we are given the Prince's response in a letter back to the crown on the 20th day of the 3rd month of 646.    The question Karu had askedwas roughly: what should be done about a group of families called the Iribe, including the Koshiro no Iribe of the Omi, Muraji, the Tomo no Miyatsuko, and the Kuni no Miyatsuko; and the Mina no Iribe of the Royal Princes.  Karu had also evidently asked what should be done about the Miyake. Now the question reading as “what should be done about these people” sounds a bit ominous, so before we get to Naka no Oe's suggestions, let's explore just who were the “Iribe” mentioned here.  As far as I can find, there doesn't appear to be another use of that word in the Chronicles, but the other terms around it provide clues and we have a general consensus about what this is all about.  “Koshiro”—the Child's Generation—and the “Mina”—the exalted name—suggest that the Iribe were those families set up in the name of a given prince or person.  As we've talked about on the podcast in the past, from the start of the various “Be” families, there was a longstanding tradition of creating specific families to support given individuals: for former queens, princes, and more. These families often took the name of the palace where these individuals  resided.  The output of these families and worker groups would then go to support that individual and their relatives. The language used in Naka no Oe's letter, here, suggests that various other elites had set up similar groups for themselves or their own relatives This is supported by the fact that the Miyake are also mentioned.  The Miyake were the royal granaries, and while they had a political significance in extending the presence of the Yamato throne, they were also supplying income, in the form of rice, to the throne and various members of the royal family. So, Karu's question basically boiled down to: what do we do about all of these groups that exist purely to support elite families?  Naka no Oe's response reflects the new order that he was pushing for in this period.  He notes that there is only one sovereign, and only the sovereign was owed the labor of the populace—suggesting that the labor of the Iribe and those otherwise conscripted into labor should be done according to the new labor laws they had just enacted.  This also suggested that even the Miyake should be abolished. This was another Big Change in the Taika era, and once again, this would have large ramifications, as it suggested, once again, that the traditions of people providing labor to these elite families would go away—although not entirely.  As we will see, elites would still get an income, but it would no longer be based on your hereditary rank and position and provided by groups bound to your service alone, but instead based on your appointed rank and position in the new government.  Those serving in government would continue to receive a stipend based on the labor of agricultural workers on land allotted to such purpose by the state, and in fact we've already seen where stipends were increased for some officers.  This goes along with the idea, at least, of a more merit-based society.  Those who worked hard and proved themselves would find their way to the highest positions and thus the greatest income for themselves and their families.  In reality, these promotions were highly political affairs, and most likely to go to those who came from the families already in power.  How that was envisioned, though, changed in this period, and it really emphasizes the shift that must have occurred within the cultural imaginary of the time. I've mentioned before the concept of the cultural imaginary, and it is something that I think we really need to talk about during this period—during the Great Change.  It is clear that, even if the term “Taika” was applied after the fact, people recognized that there was a sea change going on.  That change is externally represented by the edicts and the change going on in the way the government was operating.  However, this couldn't have happened without at least the tacit approval of the rest of the elites.  If Naka no Oe had just been a lone voice preaching the benefits of a more centralized state, with the sovereign at the top of a bureaucratic system that had never before been seen in the archipelago, then he could easily have been dismissed.  The other members of the court could have effectively revolted, refusing to comply and possibly even forcing a change in government.  And of course, that may have been part of what was behind the attempted revolt around Prince Furubito no Ohoye, which we talked about last episode. However, enough people continued to side with Naka no Oe and Nakatomi no Kamatari and their ideas that any opposition was unable to overcome their momentum.  So why? I would suggest that this was the result and culmination of a new way of envisioning—of imagining, if you will—the Yamato state.  It is an image that would have been familiar to the Chroniclers, and we see it throughout their narrative: the image of an imperial state, with the sovereign—known to the Chroniclers as the Sumera no Mikoto, or Tennou—at the very top.  The Sumera no Mikoto, as the sovereign would eventually be known, held authority not only in the secular realm, but also in the spiritual—in the Buddhist and in matters of the kami.  It envisioned the sovereign as the natural ruler of all of the archipelago, and even beyond. This was an image that is very much in line with the thinking of continental scholars.  It conforms, to a point, with Confucian and Buddhist ideas of what a Good Ruler should be, and, by extension, what the role of the State was and how the people should operate within that realm. Prior to the 6th century, there had been another image of the sovereign—the image of the Oho-kimi.  There are similarities—after all, power is power and humans are going to human.  But there were clearly other prevailing ideas in play back then.  We've talked about the idea of co-rulers, who ruled in tandem.  And we've seen examples of female and male rulers at various levels of society.  Spiritual authority came from the ability to intercede with the kami, and there were no native Buddhist traditions prior to 538—despite attempts by the Chroniclers to paint prior generations with the brush of Buddhist and Confucian morality.  One's place in society wasn't dictated by their own personal accomplishments as much as it was the accomplishments of their extended family, though even some of that may have come about as late as the 5th or 6th centuries.  Perhaps more importantly, prior to the 6th century, the sovereign's direct control only extended so far.  They were the sovereign of Yamato, and though they may have had influence over others in the archipelago, they did not necessarily have direct control over their lands and people.  By all accounts, the people owed their service not to the sovereign in Yamato, but to their local elites, who in turn may have had duties to those above them. But along with books and immigrants from the continent, the people of the archipelago got new ideas of what the government should look like.  These may have been foreign ideas, but over time we had new generations growing up with new and different examples of how things should work.  These new ideas worked their way into their thinking about how elited should behave and act, and colored their image for what a proper State should look like.  Sure, they understood how their own traditions worked, and that is still the mode under which they operated, but they were ready to change. Some of this change started back in the era of Prince Umayado and the sovereign, Kashikiya Hime.  Umayado's purported 17 article constitution, as we noted, didn't exactly lay out specific laws and punishments.  It wasn't a true legal code, though it was accompanied by a few legal changes, including the first attempt at a rank system for individuals.  More importantly, though, it articulated a set of values on which the government should be founded.  Whether or not these values were actually articulated to Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, or even whether they were written down before the Chronicles were put together is debatable, but that whole episode certainly suggests that these kinds of ideas, which were rife with continental thought, were making their way into society. And thus, Naka no Oe was able to suggest his and Karu's reforms based on arguments that no doubt resonated with the people of the time, as many of those in government would have been reading similar texts.  So even while it was seemingly against their immediate interests to give up control of labor or production, they had already been provided an exemplar of how this would work.  They had a new imagination of what their culture should be and look like. And that's why I bring up the idea of a new cultural imaginary taking hold.  A cultural imaginary is the collection of various shared values and concepts that a group envisions for themselves. If we think of modern countries, one can look at American culture, where there are shared values of freedom, individuality, etc.  These are backed by common, shared ideas and stories—stories of the Founding Fathers, separating themselves from Great Britain, but also ideas of the Old West and concepts of the rugged cowboy on his horse.  These stories and images help us to determine our shared values and understanding.  It also tends to define the “us” versus “them”.  Why are *we* the way we are and why are *they* different? To be clear, these stories are not always true, and can change over time.  Early visions of America included some people, but not everyone.  Stories turned George Washington into an almost mythical figure, with an emphasis on his heroic qualities and his honesty.  Our modern version of the Old West is often driven by what we saw in movies, which in turn were influenced by dime novels of the late 19th and early 20th centuries.  The historical Old West tended to be quite different—and much more complex and diverse—than our modern visions of it. We can see similar forces at work in the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki.  These were written with the cultural values of the 8th century, and deliberately or not, their values are reflected back into the past, which is then what later generations would hold onto, defining their own image of who they were and how things should be. When the cultural imaginary of what your society or culture *should* be conflicts with what people actually see happening, that often creates tension.  That tension can be resolved in a variety of ways, but it often requires something to change.  In this case, the cultural imaginaries of the elite had been flooded with examples of Confucian and Buddhist morals.  The stories and values had been passed along with knowledge of astronomy, mathematics, and more, in the media they were consuming from the continent.  There were also those who had come from the continent—from Baekje, Silla, and beyond—who no doubt also had absorbed some of these stories and values and were passing them on, as well. And so it wouldn't have taken that much for Naka no Oe to point out how the system that they were laboring under differed from what a so-called “good” government should look like.  So in a way, there was already buy-in for a change, at least at the top.  And thus it appears as though Naka no Oe and Karu were able to get many of the elites to give up a measure of their own autonomy under the old system for the benefits of the new system that was being created.  Mind you, it likely didn't hurt that the throne was also ensuring that they gave out lavish gifts of silk, gold ingots, and hefty stipends to many of the more influential members of society as well. There are still questions as to how much actually changed, initially.  Sure, we see the edicts and an intent to change, and the local elites of Yamato seem to have been going along with it, but we don't quite see how quickly these edicts were accepted in places like Izumo or Kibi, and I wouldn't be surprised to learn that, at least initially, many people just paid the edicts lip service, waiting to see whether or not they would actually be enforced.  Still, these are definite changes away from the previous cultural norms. Which leads into the next big edict, which focused on regulating tombs. While the ancient burial mounds which could be called “kofun” continued to be built into the 8th century in one form or another, by most timelines, the Kofun period ended around 538 with the introduction of Buddhism and the start of what is known as the Asuka period.  As we've noted, even the kingly tombs of the royal family from the end of the 6th century stopped relying on the round-keyhole shaped tomb shape.  By the early 7th century the building of temples had become the new memorial for the ultra-wealthy of Yamato—a temple being a memorial that could be built before you passed and carry on your memory to later generations as a place of worship.  This was no doubt helped by the idea that you would also accrue a fair bit of karma, the spiritual capital of the Buddhist worldview. However, a mounded burial was still de rigeur for the elites and certain families, including those who had come over from the continent.  The last keyhole style tombs known to have been built appear to be out in modern Chiba prefecture, in the Kanto region, in the first half of the 7th century.  From then on, we largely see round, square, or octagonal tombs.  Some of the latest tombs that we know of, in the late 7th and early 8th centuries, show clear signs of continental influence.  Kitora kofun and Takamatsuzuka Kofun, both in the Asuka area, are decorated in ways similar to tombs in Goguryeo, including paintings of the four directional animals mentioned in the Liji, the Confucian Book of Rites: Suzaku, the red bird of the south; Byakko, the white tiger of the west; Genbu, the black tortoise of the north; and Seiryuu, the blue dragon of the east.  Takamatsuzuka also contains murals of courtiers dressed in clothing that would be quite at home on the continent and which looks quite different from the clothing seen on haniwa figures from only a century or so earlier. Tombs were also more likely to be clustered together, and often only contained a single burial, rather than evidence of a double burial.  This was likely influenced by the edict of 646.  That edict also gives us ideas on what was considered to be reasonable for that era, and provides some of our best descriptions in the written record to help us better understand tomb construction. I would also note that the court had moved to Naniwa, and near to Naniwa were some of the largest of the kofun, including Daisen-ryo, the largest kofun in Japan and one of the largest mausoleums in the entire world.  So perhaps that was also influencing their thoughts. The edict starts out noting that large, mounded tombs are wasteful.  This shouldn't be a surprise:  large tombs were always about conspicuous consumption as a sign of the wealth and power of the occupant and their family.  As noted earlier, however, a lot of that seems to have shifted to the building of temples, and as such, tombs were no longer seen as something to waste resources on.  However, since it was still tradition, it was still happening, hence the edict. And so it goes on to limit the size of the tombs.  At the largest, it says a tomb should be no more than about nine shaku wide and 5 shaku wide on the inside—one shaku being approximately 1 foot—and no more then 9 hiro to a side and 5 hiro in height.  A “Hiro” was an ancient measure that was generally the length of two outspread arms.  This was about 5 shaku, or 5 feet.    That means that we are still talking about a mound 45 feet on a side, which is nothing to sneeze at.  But this size was reserved for princes and up.  The Daijin—the great ministers of State—could have similar inner dimensions for their sarcophagus, but the outside was limited to only seven hiro to a side and three hiro in height.  Lesser ministers only got 5 hiro to a side and 2.5 hiro in height, while others were allocated no mound at all, and a smaller inner chamber. In addition, the number of laborers and how long they could work on a tomb was also capped.  The largest tombs were allotted 1,000 laborers for 7 days.  The Daijin received 500 laborers over 5 days.  Other ministers received 250 laborers for 3 days, while below that you received 100 laborers for 1 day or 50 laborers for no more than 1 day.  Here we see the state once again asserting itself into the relationship between the various individuals and the laborers—previously, an elite family would have just used as many laborers as they had private access to, but now things were being regulated and it was all based on your rank and position within the civil service of the new government. In addition, how the deceased was delivered to the monument also was regulated.  A carriage was permitted for the highest ranked individuals—the members of the royal family.  Ministers could be placed on a bier and carried by pall-bearers.  No mention is made of people of the lower class, with the assumption that they likely didn't get such a ceremony. White cloth hangings were allowed in many cases—white is practical, in that it isn't dyed and so it wouldn't be as expensive, but it was also considered the color of death in Buddhist and continental tradition, so not surprising.  They also allowed small stones to be used for princes down to the rank of “sho-chi”—that was the lowest official rank.  These stones could refer to several things, and we aren't quite sure.  According to Aston, the compilers of the “shukai” edition of the Nihon Shoki attributed this to memorial stones set up with inscriptions about the deceased, but as he points out, we haven't found anything that really correlates to that.  Aston instead suggests that what is meant are the stones used to build the roof of the main chamber.  If you look at tombs like Ishibutai kofun, you can see the large stones used there, but this may be referring to something similar, possibly using smaller stones that took less effort to haul into place.  There were also stones used on the outside to decorate the kofun back in the day, and I suppose that they could have meant that as well. More than just regulations, there were prohibitions placed on burials.  For one thing, the concept of a temporary interment was discontinued for everyone.  In the past, a body would be buried or even placed in a hut for some time and then the burial would take place at a later date.  There are several reasons this may have been done in the past, from the purely ritual to the more practical.  However, that was no longer considered to be appropriate.  Likewise, commoners were required to be buried within a day of their death.  This goes along with talk about reducing “pollution”, which may have referred to spiritual as much as physical pollution, and so plots of ground were set aside specifically for burials, and people were not allowed to be buried outside of those official locations.  That could certainly help explain why we see more clusters of burials in this later period.  Using the sides of hills and ridges may have also meant that the tombs didn't take up important agricultural lands. There were also prohibitions on sacrifices to the dead.  For one thing, nobody was permitted to sacrifice themselves through strangulation—which apparently had been a thing even though we are told that human sacrifice was prohibited back in the time of Mimaki Iribiko, and the reason that haniwa were invented.  You also weren't allowed to sacrifice someone's horse or bury valuables along with the dead.  These are all things that we see in the early mounded tomb culture, including burials in the Kara, or Gaya, region of the Korean peninsula, and we certainly find plenty of grave goods in the archipelago.  It makes me wonder if this is one of the reasons that painted tombs, like Kitora and Takamatsuzuka, were used, perhaps in place of more lavish grave goods going into the burial.  There was also a prohibition on an apparent custom where people would cut their hair and stab themselves in the thigh prior to pronouncing a eulogy.  Similar traditions are found elsewhere, often to emphasize that people were grieving the dead. And since you can't punish the dead, if there were any problems then it would be the dead person's relatives who would be punished, instead. Speaking of punishments, this starts to get into a part of the Taika reforms that really focuses on the various offenses that people were apparently committing and needed to be stopped.  It is unclear to me how often these offenses occurred, and in some cases I wonder if they were things that were actually happening or if they were carryovers from the continental tradition.  Still, I tend to come down on the idea that these were likely things that were actually happening, and didn't fit in with the social norms and values that Naka no Oe and his cohorts were attempting to put in place.  Some of these will likely resonate with us, today, but others are a bit more difficult to fully grasp. One of the things that is perhaps most difficult for us to grasp today is the concept of “harai”, which Aston translates as “purgation” and is most commonly translated, today, as “purification”.  “Harai” is an important concept in Shinto, and has been something that seems to have been there in some form from the earliest times. In Shinto there is a concept of “pollution” or “tsumi” that can occur, and it may or may not be something that a person has control over.  For example, blood and death are forms of pollution—which also means that, by extension, birth also includes pollution in the form of blood.  “Tsumi” can also be something that occurs because of things that a person does, where they break the social mores or norms.  A number of examples are contained in the stories provided during the Age of the Gods.  In particular, you can see in the tales of Izanagi and Izanami, where Izanagi, coming back from the land of the dead, dips himself into the ocean to wash away any impurities—any pollution.  We talked about that back in episode 14.  In episode 15, we talked about some of the not-so-great actions of Susano'o.  Some of these, like the backwards flaying of the colt and flinging it through the roof of his sister's building is somewhat obvious.  But then there were things like moving the stakes delineating the rice fields, or letting livestock in to trample the young growth.  Those were some other examples of tsumi that were part of the many things that got him kicked out of Takamagahara, the High Plain of Heaven. An important thing here is that tsumi is not necessarily about a person's intentions, motives, nor responsibility.  For all types of tsumi, some form of harai, or purification, is called for.  Today, there are various ceremonies that can be performed by Shinto priests to help remove the effects of tsumi, and that seems to have been the case back in the Kofun and Asuka periods as well, but there was a catch: it wasn't without costs.  And apparently those costs could be significant—significant enough that it was almost like a kind of punishment.  Aston suggests that harai could include various payments, perhaps seen as a kind of sacrifice, but that could be more than some people could afford.  If we look back on the story of Susano'o, he had to have his hair and nails cut as part of his penance—his harai.  There is also some thought that this may have just been a literal payment to the community, like a fine.  I would note that “harai” can mean either purification or payment, depending on the kanji used.  So just keep that in mind when we talk about “harai”. Now here are some of the things that, according to the new edicts, people were to stop doing. First, there were people who saw or heard something—presumably something important—and yet they wouldn't say anything.  That wasn't going to fly anymore.  So I guess this is the pro-snitching rule—if you see something, say something. Then there were enslaved people who apparently would leave poor masters to find someone wealthier to serve, hoping to improve their lot.  Again, this was right out.  We are reminded that Yamato was a slave-holding society, and they weren't going to allow that. On the other hand, the new rules also put a stop to husbands who would dismiss their wives and then, when the wives remarried, try to make a claim on the new husband's property.  Similarly, there were some men who demanded a family's daughter for his wife, but before they consummate the marriage, she marries someone else.  In some of those cases, the men would, again, make demands on the property of the new husband's family as well as the wife's family.  The new edict put that strictly out of bounds. Following on a theme of women and marriage: there was a tradition in some places that widows who, when they married after 10 or 20 years, or even unmarried women got married for the first time, they would be forced by the community to pay for some kind of “harai”.  This, along with the other practice mentioned, was forbidden.  No longer would they have to pay for getting married. Now in some cases, it looks like men who wanted to divorce their wives wouldn't just let them out of the arrangement. Rather, they would sell their wives into slavery—another thing that the new edicts said would no longer be tolerated. And then there was the case of a man who believed his wife was having an affair.  In that case he now had to obtain at least three credible witnesses before bringing it up to the authorities.  One presumes this was to protect women from men simply making a baseless claim with no proof.  Not that a determined man couldn't find—or even bribe—three witnesses to come forward and accuse his wife, but it at least upped the ante a little bit.  Whether this was to provide protection to women or whether it was just to reduce the amount of work on government officials who would have to investigate and come to a decision isn't exactly clear. I would note that while many of these new rules were coming down on the side of protecting women, to some degree, there is still a very heavy patriarchal bias demonstrated throughout. In addition to all the information on marital affairs,  there were a few other, unrelated issues, but all of them were connected to the need to do harai.  And now we come back to our story about poor Maro and Sumi from the beginning of the episode: let's say a man, finishing his forced labor, is returning back when he falls ill on the road and dies in some village.  According to established traditions, the people there could then require his companions or even family members to perform harai—presumably meaning that they would have to pay the village something or at least pay for the ritual cleansing, to compensate for the tsumi that the death caused.  Similarly, if someone were to drown, his companions would be held responsible.  Even if someone were to stop and cook rice by the roadside while traveling, they could be made to perform harai.  And the harai for all of this was so onerous that we are told that even a younger brother might completely ignore the body of his elder brother, just to avoid being associated with him and thus forced to perform harai. In all of these cases, the edict said that this would no longer be acceptable.  You couldn't just put the squeeze on someone to perform harai just because their companion happened to pass away. Being on the road and traveling—especially for official government service—was clearly something that was on their mind.  Moving on from the list of things that were to be discontinued without exception, there were a few other cases that were dealt with in the same edict. First, there was the case where peasants, heading to the capital, would leave their horses with someone in Owari or Mikawa, for example.  They would leave cloth and bundles of hemp as payment for the person to look after their horses, and even procure a spade as a gift when they returned.  However, when they got back, they would find that their horse had died, or else the horse had been sold, but the owner was told it had died.  The last trick, if it was a mare, was to get the mare pregnant and then claim that the pregnancy had polluted their house, therefore the owner would have to do harai, meaning that the horse usually ended up staying with the person who was supposed to be holding onto it. The solution was to use the new bureaucracy.  The owner and the person who agreed to keep the horse would make their statement to the village elder and the owner would hand over the renumeration to the elder as the third party.  This payment would be held by the elder until the owner returned, at which point it was handed over to the person who had kept the horse.  This way the person keeping the horse knew that he would be paid for his troubles, but only if the horse was still around when the owner returned. So they effectively invented the concept of escrow.  I suspect that such a system could be applied to many other such endeavors as well, where there was otherwise no guarantee of payment at the end of a task nor guarantee that the task would completed as agreed if they got the money up front. Besides that, the edict also had a short note about dues payable to Market Commissioners for main roads and to ferrymen—likely various fees.  Instead, these kinds of positions would be granted rice-land which could be cultivated and they could receive a stipend from that. Finally, during the key agricultural months, everybody was to be working on cultivating rice-land.  The edict specifically calls out that they should not eat dainty food nor drink sake, I suspect because dainty food wouldn't give you enough energy and drinking sake would impair your ability in the field.  Each quarter, the Kuni no Miyatsuko were to send messengers to remind the people of this edict—a kind of human public service announcement. So all of that was part of an edict on the 22nd day of the 3rd month of 646.  I am not sure that there is a clear theme to all of it, other than calling out old practices and describing how things would be done from here on out.  There is clearly a concern with harai and how it would affect people's willingness to do the right thing. The next set of pronouncements would come almost five months later, and a lot of that had to do with names, as well as further work on the creation of the government bureaucracy, but that is going to take a lot more time, and so I think that for now we'll end this here:  The link between the state and laborers has been changed, the tomb-building has been strictly regulated, and a series of rather specific pronouncements and prohibitions has been issued. And so, until next time, thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.

This week's “How She Finds Purpose” insight comes from Rachel Karu. She says - “So to create space for yourself to really reconnect to what I like to call your sage self, which is that part of you that knows who you are, knows what your values are, knows what your strengths are, what energizes you.” Rachel is the author of Stepping Into More, Lessons on a Recovering Perfectionist and also has a companion CD of songs by the same title. Her personal journey as a recovering perfectionist inspired her to create Stepping Into More, a professional and personal development company, which is dedicated to supporting clients to identify their GPS, the idea being to unearth and honor their true north. Before launching her company, more highlights from Rachel's corporate experience include human resource manager at EMI Music Distribution and manager of organizational development training at Easton Sports. In this episode we discussed: Rachel's personal journey as a recovering perfectionist her GPS framework for discovering your purpose, and to lead a more fulfilling life redefining success to measure it by joy and fulfillment, not just external achievements ‌ Connect with Rachel at: Website: http://www.steppingintomore.com LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/rachelkaru/ YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/c/RachelKaru   Would you prefer to watch or listen to the podcast on YouTube?Head on over to https://www.youtube.com/@leadershippurposepodcast   Want to connect? Connect with Dr. Robin on  LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/robinlowensphd/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/robinlowensphd Instagram:  https://www.instagram.com/robinlowensphd/ Email: Robin@LeadershipPurposePodcast.com   Thank you for listening! Rate, review, & follow on Apple Podcasts or your favorite podcast player. Talk to you soon!   This episode was produced by Lynda, Podcast Manager for GenX Creative Entrepreneurs at https://www.ljscreativeservices.co.nz    

Reform, Rebellion, and Rats!  And all in less than a year!  This episode we continue to look at the Taika era and the reforms that bear the era's name.  We are still covering, though, just the first year or so from the start of the era--through 645 and very early 646.  And yet there is a lot going on, some of it as part of the reforms and some of it just the normal international and domestic politics. For more check out https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-109 Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this episode 109: Radical Reforms, Resourceful Rats, and Precarious Princes. ----------------- Prince Furubito no Ohoye looked out over the changing autumn leaves of Yoshino.  Where the mountains had been painted pink in cherry blossoms just seven months earlier, the mountains were now covered in garments of red, yellow, and orange.  Seven months.  A lot could happen in seven months.  Seven months ago, Prince Furubito had been in line for the throne.  His main contender for the position was dead, and he had the support of the most powerful men in the court.  Then it had all come crashing down in an instant. After the turmoil of the court earlier in the year, life in the countryside was no doubt a welcome respite.  The former Crown Prince had narrowly avoided sharing in the fate of his Soga relatives, who had been killed in front of him.  Furubito was no stranger to the literally cutthroat politics of the day.  Soga no Iruka had killed Yamashiro no Ohoye, son of Shotoku Taishi, ostensibly to place Furubito on the throne, no doubt with the expectation that the Soga descended prince would be easier to control.  Furubito himself had not been entirely out of the loop on that whole thing, either, specifically advising Iruka that he should make sure to send subordinates to do the dirty work and keep himself out of harm's way.  Now Furubito's seemingly untouchable supporters, Soga no Iruka and his father, were, themselves, dead at the hands of Furubito's younger brother, Prince Naka no Ohoye.  Their mother, Takara, had immediately abdicated, and Prince Furubito was suddenly in the crosshairs, potentially standing between his murderous brother and the throne.  And so he took himself out of the picture and retired, becoming a monk at a temple in Yoshino, a mostly wild area south of Asuka and the traditional heartland of Yamato, where sovereigns of the past had sometimes gone to get away. Furubito had spent the last several months there in the mountains, out of the political center, but that didn't mean he was completely on his own.  Not everyone was against him, and he still had people bringing him news.  He may have retired from the world, but he wasn't without his resources.  And there were those still in his camp, who thought he should be on the throne.  They just had to keep it under wraps until it was too late for Prince Naka and his cohorts to do anything about it.   So, with that little snapshot of life in Yoshino, let's get into it.  We're talking about the Taika era, so let's first start out with a recap of last episode and some things to keep in mind, and then continue with the story of the reforms, looking at what else was happening in that first year, as well.   We'll talk about the diplomatic missions from the Korean peninsula, the edicts focused on the Yamato elite and the clergy, as well as the strategic use of the change in the capital.  We'll also address just what happened with the “other” crown prince, Furubito no Ohoye. First off, let's quickly recap: So last episode we started talking about the Taika era and the Taika reforms.  In particular, we looked at how the governance of the archipelago had changed—as best as we can tell, at least, from the evidence available to us—and we looked at some of the very first edicts that went out.  According to the Nihon Shoki, things started with the appointment of the Ministers of the Left and Right, the Sadaijin and the Udaijin.  As later institutions were created, these ministers would each take a portion of those institutions into their portfolio, effectively dividing the management of the government.  Although the Sadaijin, or Minister of the Left, was considered senior to the Udaijin, the Minister of the Right, at least in later years, it should be noted that this system would prevent, at least on paper, a single prime minister from taking the reigns of the entire government, as the Soga seem to have largely done.  Presumably this meant that the sovereign, as head of state, would have the ultimate authority over the realm. Still, from the very get-go, we see that there are positions set up outside of this dynamic.  For one thing, you have the creation of the seemingly nebulous “Naidaijin”.  This is interpreted as the Minister of the Interior, meaning inside the royal house, and it was first granted to Naka no Ohoye's bro and best bud, Nakatomi no Kamatari—the co-conspirator who had helped make all this possible in the first place.  While the Sadaijin and Udaijin nominally had most of the power—and we see them referenced executing that power on a not infrequent basis—the position of Naidaijin appears to be almost extra-numerary, and is rarely mentioned, and yet he seemed to have wielded considerable power and influence.  This pattern of creating or using positions to exalt a singular individual, who would effectively run the affairs of state, is something that we'll see repeated multiple times in the future.  Whether this positionwas something like dajo daijin or kampaku, powerful individuals would often find their way, regardless of the bureaucratic norms. In addition to the Naidaijin, however, the position of the royal princes—especially the Crown Prince—seem to be untouched.  These were another class of elites often with wealth and influence, but who are largely outside the system of court ministers.  In fact, the bureaucratic system of government only really covered those positions by the so-called “commoner” families—elite families that nonetheless were not considered to be in a direct line of succession for the throne.  These were the members of the various be and uji corporate families that were created to serve the Yamato government.  After all, you don't hear of Royal princes taking on the position of a minister or anything similar, and presumably they managed their own affairs and estates as members of the extended royal family, with the sovereign as the familial head.  And then there were the peasants—the agricultural workers and truly common people who were so far removed from court business that they weren't even part of an uji clan or official familial unit other than their village, serfs or semi-free people—as free as anyone was in those days, though they were likely tied to the land by tradition and necessity—who owed service to some group of elites.  One of the things we are seeing in these reforms is a move to redirect the responsibilities of those serfs and semi-free people more directly to the state, with edicts directly addressing their status and their responsibilities.  That's something we'll talk about more as it comes up. But before that, let's get caught up on some other things happening in the first few months of the Taika era.  Sure, Naka no Oe and Kamatari were working closely with our sovereign, Karu—aka Koutoku Tennou—to get their reforms in place. As we talked about last episode, they were sending out governors, hanging bells outside of the palace, and otherwise trying out all kinds of new stuff.  However, as that was going on, they still had to deal with the day to day of the government.  Life didn't just stop while they ramped up their transition to a new, bureaucratic monarchy. One such routine event for a new reign was the designation of Karu's wife, Hashibito, as the queen.  In the fine Yamato tradition of keeping it all in the family, Hashibito was Karu's niece, the daughter of Karu's sister, Takara, aka Kougyoku Tennou, and her late husband, the sovereign Tamura, aka Joumei Tennou.  That made Hashibito a sister to Prince Naka no Oe, who was now his uncle's brother-in-law and, since he was named Crown Prince, his heir.  Probably don't think about it too much. There was also the matter of foreign envoys.  As you may recall, the murder of Soga no Iruka and his father, known to us as the Isshi Incident, kicked off during a court reception for peninsular envoys.  Two months later, we are told that envoys from Baekje, Goguryeo, and Silla all arrived with tribute.  These appear to be separate from those who had witnessed Naka no Oe's bloody coup d'etat, and given the time it took to travel, they may have already been on their way when everything went down.  They arrived in the 7th month of the year, not quite a full month since Karu had taken the throne. This might have been a regular visit, but we get some interesting information from the Chronicles about it.  Kose no Tokuda no Omi addressed the envoys, at least those of Goguryeo and Baekje.  Although it is also noted that Silla envoys arrived as well, communications with them are not recorded.  There was also a slight problem in that one of the envoys (whose name Aston transcribes as “Chaphyong Yonbok”, suggesting that he was actually the Minister of the Left, Yonbok) apparently traveled all the way to Yamato just to come down with an illness.  He stayed at Naniwa and rested while the other envoys made the journey onward, presumably to the palace in Asuka, where the court received the tribute. As for Goguryeo, Kose notes that Yamato and Goguryeo had not had formal relations for very long.  This is unsurprising, given that Goguryeo was on the far north of the peninsula, and would have had to go through either Silla or Baekje controlled territory to get to Yamato, and they weren't always on the best of terms with either of the other countries on the peninsula.  There were some attempts to reach the archipelago by landing on the northern edge of Honshu, along the Japan sea coast, landing near Tsuruga, on the western edge of the land of Koshi, but still, Yamato's relationship with Goguryeo does not appear to have been as old or as consistent as Yamato's dealings with their less distant neighbors.  Tokuda, the Yamato officer addressing the Goguryeo envoys, wished for long and continued interactions, but that was about it. Baekje, though, was another story, and a bit of a conflicting one.  The speech that Tokuda gives according to the Chronicles is likely heavily edited to sound more regal and to be in line with the Chroniclers' ideas of Japan's place in the world, but it is also possible that they were just using flowery, continental style pronouncements.  It starts off with the somewhat audacious statement that Karu is a God-incarnate, which tracks with the idea that he is descended from the Heavenly Grandson, who came down from Takama no Hara.  This same language was used with Goguryeo, earlier.  Then Tokuda repeats the claim that Baekje is a vassal state of Yamato, claiming that they were considered an “internal Miyake”, likely referring to a land that was supposed to be directly controlled by Yamato.  One is left to wonder just how Baekje felt about all of this, but then again, things may have been lost in translation from one court to the other. Finally, Baekje was admonished for not bringing sufficient tribute from Nimna, since it had theoretically been placed under Baekje's care. And here's where I see some conflicting information.  After all, we know that Silla had absorbed Nimna well before this period, and Silla had been made to bring two ships during tribute missions or to meet the Yamato delegation with two ships to preserve at least the fiction that Nimna was still an independent country and ally to the archipelago.  That was all back in the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou, or earlier .  Of course Baekje would not have any tribute from Nimna, and yet the Yamato court seem to have expected something unless, of course, they were just putting on some kind of show for Silla's sake?  It seems like the matter of Nimna, which was no longer a going concern on the peninsula, was still something that Yamato was keeping front and center in their mind.  Whatever the logic, Tokuda says that the sovereign pays special attention to the tribute from Nimna, and as it was deficient, they returned the tribute back to Baekje until they could bring the expected amount. There is plenty of ink that has been spilt on the subject of the diplomatic tribute systems that were set up across East Asia, largely as part of or in imitation of those systems set up by dynasties like the Han and the Tang.  As we understand it, diplomats were expected to come to a foreign sovereign's courts as petitioners, bringing with them “tribute”—basically trade goods—to grease the wheels of international relations.  The receiving country would reciprocate with lavish gifts on the envoys, in turn, often in excess of the “tribute” they had brought—at least, that is how the central Sinic dynasties operated.  In this way, diplomatic missions were not only profitable for international relations, but also for acquiring elite goods that could not easily be otherwise obtained, and for that, envoys were willing to go along with the polite fiction that they were truly subordinate to the power they entreated.  It is unclear whether or not this went both ways.  I suspect that the Han or Tang dynasties  would not have accepted the idea that their own ambassadors would be bringing tribute to any “lesser” nation.  However, amongst nations like Yamato, Baekje, Silla, and Goguryeo, were there similar concerns?  Unfortunately, we don't really have a clear, contemporary record of these interactions, and can only make assumptions based on what sources do exist.  I suspect, however, that Baekje, though willing to indulge Yamato's fantasies, did not actually consider itself an “inner miyake” of Yamato—though they were a trusted ally.  Most of the time. Which makes me wonder how they took such a snub.  Unfortunately, both Baekje and Yamato sources appear to be quiet on that front. The envoys did not leave empty-handed, however.  They sent away the wife and children of a man identified as “Wisa”—likely hostages being held at the Yamato court as part of the other diplomatic system between Baekje and Yamato.  We are not told why, however, so we are left only to speculate on what actually happened. Later that month, and into the next, the reforms were really kicked off, sending out the governors to the eastern provinces and proclaiming some of the early edicts we talked about last month And while the court was waiting for news to come back from those governors, there was another issue that they were tackling, and that was further incorporating the Buddhist clergy and temples into the state government.  Yeah, if you hadn't already guessed, Yamato at this time didn't exactly have a principle of the separation of church—or in this case temple—and state.  In fact, quite the opposite.  For a little over two decades at this point the court had assumed the authority to appoint individuals at the head of the Buddhist clergy, presumably to keep them in line ever since that one incident with the axe—and if you want a reminder, check out Episode 102. And so a messenger was sent from the court to Kudara-dera to gather all of the clergy there.  That was the temple near where Tamura had built his palace, Kudara no Miya, and it reportedly had an absolutely jaw-dropping pagoda, so perhaps little wonder that it was a central location.  After recounting the history of Buddhism in the archipelago, the court representative appointed chief priests to ten different temples, as well as the chief priest of Kudara-dera.  They then made a promise that the Sovereign—which is to say the State—would pay for the repairs of any of the temples built by the Tomo no Miyatsuko; the courtly families.  At the same time, the court also appointed temple commissioners, and expected them and the chief priests to report out the number of priests and nuns, as well as acreage of cultivated temple land.  Interestingly, these commissioners were to report directly to the state, rather than through the local governors, indicating that the temples appear to have been somewhat exempt from the local civil authorities, though still under the thumb of the sovereign and the national government.  This was likely done through the “Houtou”, or “heads of the Law”, another set of positions for people appointed to oversee Buddhist practice. In the following month, the court moved on from the clergy and focused on the courtiers: the Omi, Muraji, and the Tomo no Miyatsuko, and not in a fun way:  These leading families were called to the carpet for what was seen as a host of offenses.  They were accused of compelling their own vassals to labor at their pleasure, and appropriating land for their own private use, denying it to the people.  This included mountains, hills, ponds, and even portions of the sea, which they turned into their own private hunting and fishing reserves.  They would take prime rice-lands—land that could be brought under cultivation—and use it purely for themselves.  They would take portions of the public land, divvy it up, and sell it off as if it were their own.  Or they would just rent it out, so that they would collect rent on the property and those who farmed it wouldn't actually own anything, making them a kind of tenant farmer or even something like a sharecropper.  Furthermore, when they collected taxes from those in areas they oversaw, they were accused of taking a portion off the top for themselves before turning over the rest to the government. And finally, they would take their own people and build palaces for themselves.  This practice, though probably nothing new, went against the direction the new state was headed, and if it was allowed to continue, it would potentially reduce the number of laborers available for government projects. To be clear, not all of the noble families were doing this, but enough that a broad edict was required.  This edict not only called out these practices, but specifically banned the private sale of land—likely meaning that it was up to the State to decide how land was apportioned—and it forbade anyone making themselves into a landlord. Now for anyone who has been following along—or simply looked at human history—the way that the elites had been concentrating power is hardly surprising.  History books are filled with examples of those in power using it to aggregate more and more to themselves, especially without some kind of regulation.  While the Taika edict treats this like an aberration of the way things should be, it is more likely that this is actually how the system had been designed to work up until this point.  There were elites who operated at different levels in an hierarchical structure.  Those above provided legitimacy and preferential treatment to those they considered their vassals.  Those vassals were left to largely run things as they saw fit at the lower levels, as long as they maintained an expected flow of tribute up the chain.  As long as things didn't get out of hand—no rebellions, famine, etc.—then there was little reason for those at the top to be concerned. Here, though, we are seeing a different imagining of the state: one where the governance of the state truly does flow from the sovereign down to the people.  Those who had been studying the Buddhist and Confucian canons from the continent had been introduced to new ideas of what a state ought to be, and now that they were in power, they were determined to implement those ideas. One has to imagine that this ruffled more than a few feathers, and I have to wonder if it didn't contribute, at least in some way, to what else was happening around the same time.  Remember, all of this—the tribute missions, the governors, the gathering of the clergy, and dressing down the courtiers—all happened in the first three months of the new reign—the Taika era.  But in the ninth month, the court's attention was also turned to another matter, when a man named Kibi no Kasa no Omi no Shidaru came to Naka no Ohoye with a confession:  He claimed he had been party to a meeting in Yoshino with none other than Prince Furubito no Ohoye, along with members of the Soga, the Yamato no Aya, and the Yechi no Hata.  They were all disillusioned with this new reign and how they got here, and were plotting to put a stop to it by overthrowing Karu and putting Prince Furubito on the throne. So, yeah, this is where we circle back to where we started the episode – imagining Prince Furubito, hanging out in the mountains of Yoshino, enjoying his near escape and contemplating his retirement.  Things weren't quite that peaceful. I'd note that another source claims that the guy who spilled the beans, Kibi no Kasa no Omi, instead went to the Daijin, the Great Ministers, Abe no Oho-omi and Soga no Oho-omi, the ministers of the Right and Left.  Regardless of who he spoke to, he ratted out all of his co-conspirators. The details are sparse on just how everything unfolded from there, but we know that Naka no Ohoye appointed two generals to go and arrest—by which I'm pretty sure he meant assassinate—Prince Furubito no Ohoye.  Whether or not the Prince had actually kicked off discussions or had even participated in any significant way, Naka no Ohoye's brother was too dangerous as a symbol around which anyone discontented with the new order could try and rally.  And it's not at all surprising to imagine that there are those who were not exactly happy with where things were going.   The throne was exerting greater control than it had in some time—perhaps more than it ever had, at this scale.  The foreign ideas that had come in the way of books and learning may have, at first, been just another way for the elite to demonstrate their own superiority, but now these ideas were starting to affect the way they, themselves, had to operate.  You could either accept it as the way forward or you could resist.  Those who would resist, though, needed someone to rally around.  Since the Sovereign and the Crown Prince were both pushing for change, anyone opposed would need to find a new sovereign to uphold their own ideas.  To that end, Furubito no Ohoye must have been an enticing figure.  He really was from the old school. Sure, that was a Soga dominated school, drenched in the blood of other members of the royal family, but it was still something that those who wanted to conserve their old way of life could use to legitimize their position. And that made Furubito no Ohoye dangerous, regardless of whether or not he encouraged such individuals or not. And so Uda no Yenomuro no Furu and Koma no Miyachi departed with a sizeable force to take out the Prince.  Which, spoiler alert: they did. There are some conflicting accounts on this.  Some records claim that the attack force didn't set out until more than two months later, on the 30th day of the 11th month.  Others say that the generals were actually Kosobe no Omi no Abe and Sahekibe no Komaro, at the head of only thirty men.  It is possible that both accounts are correct in some way, or that various family records retroactively  claimed credit for the attack.  It may also be that the time from the conspiracy's discovery to the eventual resolution—the killing of Furubito and his household—took a little over two months to complete; a not unreasonable situation. This whole event is often talked about as Furubito no Ohoye's revolt, and if we take the Chronicles at face value, that is largely accurate.  However, we don't have many actual details, and we do know about Naka no Ohoye—we know that he hadn't been afraid to kill Soga no Iruka in broad daylight, in the middle of the court.  Would it have really been too much for him to manufacture a conspiracy to provide him an excuse to take out his older brother and thus prepare his own eventual rise to the throne?  On things like this, the Chronicles are largely silent, and we can only speculate as to what was actually going on.  Still, I have to wonder. Following the death of Furubito no Ohoye, and the suppression of the rebellion in his name, the sovereign, Karu, announced that he had settled on a location for his new palace.  While most of the edicts at this time broke new ground, this one did not, following a tradition that, if we believe the Chronicles, had been around for centuries.  Each new sovereign would designate a location for their new palace, moving out of the palace of their predecessor.  Usually this would beannounced at the very start of a reign, but as we've seen, this reign had gotten off to a busy start, and so we don't see mention of the new palace until the twelfth month. The tradition of moving out of an old palace and into a new one is thought to have typically been due to the ritual pollution, or tsumi, attached to the palace of a sovereign who has died -- often in the palace itself, if they were lucky enough to pass away in their sleep.  Of course, in this case the throne didn't pass on the occasion of the sovereign's death, but there had certainly been plenty of blood spilled in the palace, recently, so I imagine that moving the palace was to be expected. Less expected was exactly where he moved the palace to, since Karu decided not to stay put in the Asuka region, and instead chose to move the palace to the port of Naniwa, where the continental envoys came. There are numerous examples throughout Japanese history where a change was made to move the capital, or at least the seat of government, to somewhere new.  In many cases, this was to get away from various political forces that had become entrenched in the capital region.  Courtiers and their retinue would settle near the palace, and soon an entire area was controlled, physically and politically, by a few powerful families or institutions.  The Asuka region, for example, had started out as the ancestral stronghold of the Soga clan, and for the past century had operated as the seat of Soga controlled sovereigns.  Tamura, or Jomei Tennou, had seemingly tried to move a little ways outside, near the site of Kudaradera, but his wife and successor, no doubt with the assistance and counsel of Soga no Emishi, had moved back into the Asuka valle, proper. Moving to Naniwa would have been quite the undertaking, as it didn't just mean moving the palace, but it meant moving the whole infrastructure of the government.  Granted, this wasn't exactly on par with the size and complexity of the Imperial dynasties in what we now know as China, but it did mean that the powerful families would need to make sure that they had a residence of some sort near the new capital if they wanted to be close to the reins of power.  That meant that they would need to also expend some of their own resources, as well. Also, it would be a good time to provide a sense of renewal for the era.  The Chroniclers added a line, taken from various Chinese histories, that shortly after the announcement of the new capital's location, rats were seen moving across the countryside in the direction of Naniwa.  At its most basic level, this likely recognized that when the people abandon a capital for a new city, that new city quickly has its own population.  No doubt it was felt that the rats had simply followed the people there.  The migration of rats would figure into several other movements during this reign, as well.  It was apparently a popular trope. The movement started in the twelfth month of the first year of Taika, or 645, and would be completed in the third month of the following year, 646.  That was around the same time that word was coming back from the lands in the east about just how things were going with the newly appointed governors.  Giventhe killing of Furubito no Ohoye in the 11th month of 645, as well as everything else that was now happening, the capital would be the catalyst for a fresh new slate in more ways than one.  The building of the new palace, and the need to entreat the kami, that would be used as an excuse to issue a general amnesty -- the “Get out of jail free” card for the governors and others who hadn't quite gotten on board, which we talked about last episode.  They were shown the stick, but offered a carrot.  While not explicitly stated, this may have also been a time to bury the hatchet for the pro-Furubito faction as well, giving them a chance to move on.   And there was a lot of movement to be had.  We are told that there was a proclamation in the first month of 646—a proper edict of reforms.  These are laid out in four articles, and are perhaps the closest we have to a true “code” of the reforms from this era.  And warning: this is where the reforms get really radical. The first article was on land ownership and allocation.  Specifically, it abolished the various royal Miyake and the previously established “representatives of children”—which I'm guessing refers to the various families that were tasked with supporting some of the various royal princes and other royal descendants.  It also abolished various farmsteads of serfs and abolished the bonds of those serfs who owed their service to various royal families; the ministers, the Omi and the Muraji; and general courtiers, the Tomo no Miyatsuko; as well as the various lords of the lands, the Kuni no Miyatsuko, and even down the villages, to the level of the Mura no Obito. In place of these mechanisms of bringing in rice and other goods, various fiefs were created out of the previously held land and redistributed to various princes and officials on a descending scale, with those at the top of the courtly rank system getting the most productive, and less for those further down.  To sweeten this deal, gifts of cloth were also given at the time of the edict, likely as a way to offset any harsh feelings. In the end, this article completely rewrote how land was owned in the archipelago, at least in principle.  The land belonged to the sovereign, who apportioned it out as required.  The fiefs would then supply incomes to government officials, effectively providing them a salary.  Those higher in the court system, which is to say those with a higher court rank, would have a larger stipend.  Some version of this system, which wasn't always as strictly enforced, would continue right up until it was abolished in the early Meiji era. The second article of the reforms largely targeted the capital and the “Home Provinces”, recognized, today, as the area from modern Iga city in the east; to Mt. Seyama, in Wakayama, to the south. It extended westward past modern Kobe to the Akashi area, and north to Afusakayama, on the southwestern shores of Lake Biwa, due east of modern Kyoto city.  These correspond largely to the areas that were traditionally under Yamato's direct rule, and where many of the noble families had their base of operations.  Actual governors were appointed to the home provinces, like Kii, Kawachi, Harima, Yamashiro, etc., with various roads, barriers, outposts, and more created to secure the home territories.  Post horses were included, and this is the first mention of the creation of bell tokens, a kind of bronze amulet with various round “bells” incorporated into the design.  These bell tokens would become a kind of badge of office for anyone traveling, as they would be used at government posts along the road to determine what kinds of and how many horses a given official was entitled to during their official travel. The area within the capital itself was divided into “wards”, or “Bo”.  Each ward would have an “wosa” appointed from the population.  Aston translates this as “alderman”, though it feels like “magistrate” is more appropriate.  For every four wards, an unagachi, or chief magistrate, was appointed.  These wosa and unagachi were charged to watch over the people and investigate criminal matters.  They were supposed to be people of “good character and solid capacity”, and if nobody in the ward could serve, then someone could be chosen from an adjoining ward, instead. Throughout the rest of the home provinces, the land was divided up into “townships” (RI or Sato), rather than wards, and townships would be gathered into “districts” (GUN or Koori).  Large districts were those with over forty townships.  Middle districts were those with anywhere from four to thirty townships.  And districts of three or fewer townships were considered Lesser Districts.  The Japanese for these would be Tai-gun, Chuu-gun, and Shou-gun, but I should note that it is unclear whether that was the actual term used or just the way to write it in the Sinitic style of the Chronicles.  The governors of these areas were the Tairei and Sharei, glossed in Japanese as the Koori no Miyatsuko and the Suke no Miyatsuko, though Aston suggests those were just translations, and the Yamato court was probably using the On'yomi for the names as this was an attempt to copy continental governance.  For these positions, you were expected to be not just good, but of “unblemished” character.  They were assisted by clerks and others who were skilled in writing and arithmetic.  I suspect a lot of this was also applied to the governors discussed in the previous episode, though we did not see such a clear list of qualifications for them and their staff at the time. So that set up the governance of the capital and the capital region, in a model that would be followed elsewhere. The third of the four articles provided for drawing up accounts of the land and people—much as the governors were doing in the east.  They also create The Books, as in the accounting books for the government.  These were to record the state of, well, the State.  How many people, what land was out there, in what condition, and to whom did it belong.  It would be the official register of receipts telling everyone what land belonged to whom. It also defined the townships, or Ri, as being made up of 50 households, with one magistrate per township, as above.  However, given that these townships were in the countryside, the magistrate was also responsible for the direction of sowing the crops and the cultivation of mulberry trees, used primarily for silk production.  It also fell to the magistrate to enforce the payment of taxes, both in rice and forced labor. And here we see just how much those taxes were.  Rice fields were measured by “tan”, sometimes translated as “kida”, which was an area of thirty paces by twelve paces.  That comes out to somewhere between 9,000 to 11,000 square feet, depending on the size of the pace—a modern “tan” is figured at 10,800 square feet, or a little over one thousand square meters or a bit under one quarter of an acre.  From there, ten tan would make a CHO, the largest land unit mentioned here.  All of this was only true of flat land, however.  For steep and wooded land, the various officials in charge would need to make special arrangements.  Afterall, a thousand square meters of cliff face wasn't exactly producing a ton of rice—or mulberry trees, for that matter.  The tax for each tan of cultivated land  was 22 bundles of rice on the stalk.  A single bundle was the amount that a person could reasonably grasp in one hand.  Ten bundles made up a sheaf, so actually it was 2 sheafs and 2 bundles.  The edicts then laid out the math to verify that for a CHO it was 22 sheafs, or ten times that of a TAN.  And all of this can be pretty boring and, well, academic, but it starts to get us a glimpse into life outside of the elite courtiers.  We can see that they assumed a community was about 50 households in rural areas, and you likely would have gotten to know your neighbors, as they were the ones you were planting and harvesting with.  While I'm not sure that a TAN was equivalent to a single field, we can see that four TAN would have been roughly an acre of land—an acre itself being an agricultural unit that was about as much land as a single individual could work in a day. What isn't clear from all of this is what was the expected gross yield of the field—in other words, how much of the crop would the farmers themselves be able to keep?  In later centuries, farmers often couldn't afford to keep their own crop of rice, and had to settle for eating millet and other, cheaper grains, with almost all of the rice they grew going to pay their taxes Besides taxes on the fields, there were also other taxes to be considered, but these were dealt with in the fourth and final article of the reforms of 646.  Up front, this article abolished any earlier taxes that may have been imposed, clearing the way for a new tax structure.  From there, it first laid out a series of alternatives to rice for paying your taxes.  One was the ability to pay in cloth, so for instance, if you had a single TAN of land, you could pay the 2 sheafs and 2 bundles of rice OR you could pay 10 feet of fine silk, 2.5 feet in width—the width of most home looms at the time.  Alternatively there were conversions into coarse silk (double it to 20 feet) or another bast fiber cloth (double again, to 40 feet).  Silk thread or silk floss are not mentioned as a substitute for the rice tax on land. But: this Article also laid out additional taxes to those on the fields.  Each household would have to also produce at least 12 shaku—roughly 12 feet—of bast fiber cloth each year.  There were also other taxes such as salt, etc., all depending on what was locally produced.  And on top of that, for every 2 townships of 100 people, they had to produce a single horse for the government.  A particularly fine horse could be used to cover the taxes for up to 4 townships.  And if they could not produce a horse, they would need to provide up to 12 feet of cloth per household to offset the cost of the government buying one.  That is 12 feet of cloth in addition to what they already had to pay. In addition to that, every person was expected to supply a sword, armor, bow and arrows, a flag, and a drum.  This may have only been for those able-bodied men called up for service, though—it isn't exactly clear. And then, when there were public works to be done, each township had the responsibility to offer up a single, able-bodied individual, and to provide 22 feet of cloth and 5 masu of rice for their service, to keep them clothed and fed.  This was actually an improvement on previous corvee labor requirements, which required one person per thirty households, who were all supposed to support them. Finally, there is a note about Uneme—the handmaidens at the court.  Uneme were drawn from the sisters or daughters of district officials of the rank of shorei and upwards.  Each Uneme was expected to be furnished with one male and two female servants to attend to their needs.  They would be provided cloth and rice similar to laborers, except that the cost was to be spread out across one hundred households, not just fifty. Again, we get a glimpse of what life under the new regime was like—or at least what it was supposed to be like.  We saw mention of taxes and other such things early on in the Chronicles, but this is the first time we really get to see what kinds of taxes would be levied on the common households.  A single agricultural household would likely be responsible for some portion of the town's field-tax, as well as a tax of cloth on their own home, and possibly supporting a laborer or even the purchase of a government horse.  Finally, they could also be responsible for providing for one of the handmaidens of the court. It was clear that the state was extending its reach in new ways.  In some cases this would have clearly been an improvement: there was a reduction in the amount of labor that people had to provide, and things were being standardized.  There were bureaucratic lines being built from the townships and wards up through to the sovereign, providing a clear connection between sovereign and vassal.  On the other hand, this trod on the ancestral traditions of certain groups.  We saw the attempted revolt around Prince Furubito no Ohoye, but after his death, the opposition didn't really have a central figure to rally around.  And so the reforms would continue. Although the reforms at the start of 646 may have been some of the most formal, there is still a lot of change to come and we'll deal with that in the next few episodes. Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.

We are finally starting to get into the Taika era and the Taika reforms, which would really start the transformation of Yamato into the bureaucratic state of the Nara period.  This episode, we look back at how the Yamato state had been changing up to this point, some of the possible influences and precursors, and then dive into some of the first edicts, largely dealing with sending out governors to the provinces.  These governors, or "kokushi", were originally temporary positions, limited in what they could do.  More info over at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-108  Rough Transcript   Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 108: The Great Change ……………….. The Kuni no Miyatsuko, hereditary leader of his lands, likely heard the news before they arrived.  Apparently Yamato was sending out an official—a kokushi—who was going to be doing some sort of survey.  Whatever.  Just another person from Yamato's court—what did it matter?  His family had been in charge of the local lands for as long as anyone remembered, and while they might give nominal fealty to the Oho-kimi in Yamato, along with the occasional bit of taxes, paid in rice, what consequence was it to him?  Some might say he was a big fish in a small pond, but it was his pond.  Always had been, and always would be.  Wouldn't it? ……………….. And we are back with our regular chronological podcast, and we are finally going to pick back up on the fall out from the events of 645, the Isshi Incident, when Prince Naka no Oe orchestrated the murder of Soga no Iruka, and later his father, Soga no Emishi, in full view of the court, including his mother, Takara, aka Kougyoku Tennou.  That incident would be the start of Naka no Oe's own rise to power and the reshaping of Yamato from the its longstanding clan based system of government to a new national government of laws and punishments, known generally as the Ritsuryo system.  This episode we'll dive into this new system and the so-called “Taika reforms” that brought it about, the changes it ushered in, and the ripples this sent throughout the entire archipelago.     The term “Taika” itself means “Great Change”, and it isn't clear to me if it was picked because they expected to be making big changes or after the fact, but in the minds of most Japanese historians it is quite accurate. The entire system actually took about a century or so to really come together—we often think of the Ritsuryo system as it was in its final version.  This period, though, is where things kicked off, so we'll be setting the stage and talking about some of the edicts during this period that eventually became the written code of the Ritsuryo system.  This was started by Naka no Oe who, spoiler alert, would eventually reign as sovereign and be known as Tenchi Tennou.  The system he helps put into place would continue to be used and refined even after his death and even after the end of the period covered by the Nihon Shoki. So after some background, we'll get to some of the very first edicts this episode, and then spend more time on them again, in the future. The RitsuryoThe Ritsuryo system was based largely on continental models, with Confucian ideals and the legal code of the Tang dynasty having particular influence.  And as we discuss these changes, which were huge, I'll start with some clarifications and caveats.  This was a system of government based largely on continental models, with Confucian ideals and the legal code of the Tang dynasty having particular influence.  That   One of the first things to emphasize is that said, itthis wasn't exactly an immediate revolution and reformation.  Based on the entries in the Nihon Shoki, some of the work had already  been started long before Naka no Oe came on the scene, largely attributed to the influence of Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, and things like the 17 article constitution and rank system, which we discussed back in episode 95.  And even after its initial implementation, there would come various tweaks to the system.  Although there are numerous edicts made in the initial years of what is known as the Taika era, leading this change to often be given the nickname of the “Taika reforms”, the earliest formal administrative codes would come much later, firming up in the 8th century. Another thing to keep in mind as we realize, as we start looking at these changes is that the Yamato courtit didn't necessarily discard the old system, either.  Changes like this take time, and something even if it is implemented for a year or two , it might not stick.  This is one of the reasons that it is important that two of the apparent architects of the new system for these changes were there present through much of its implementation, actively guiding and shaping the process direction that the changes would take.  These two individuals at wereas Prince Naka no Oe and Nakatomi no Kamako, later known in this reign as Kamatari, which is the name I'm going to use from here on out as it is the much more well known in case anyone decides to look up information later. Finally, I would also note that many of these changes were being applied at the level of the elites of society, how they organized power and how they approached governance – but  we should also spare a thought for how this affected the majority of people.  After all, it was the majority of people who were working the fields, cutting the wood, or fishing the seas.  The elites were often otherwise engaged, and whichthat isn't to say that they did nothing.  Often they were coordinating and bringing things together, but that was a smaller part of the overall population.  In these reforms we get to see some rare glimpses into how all of thisit may have affected people beyond just the court elites. To set this up, let's start with a look at what brought us here, and how things changed over time and how they had governed things up until now—or at least as best as we can make out from our various sources.  From there we can take a look at some of the earliest edicts related to the changes evolution in the government, focusing how they focused on consolidating the power and support at the center of the Yamato court and starteding to make more concrete Yamato's control across the rest of the archipelago. We've covered much of the development of complex society in Yamato this in previous episodes:  How Yayoi society came with or at least introduced a form of stratification evident in graves, grave goods, as well as other patterns of lifeways.  Local elites rose up to oversee communities, and eventually extended their influence, creating the various “kuni”, or countries—regional collections of communities that came together under a leadership structure and some shared cultural values.   Some of the earliest stories give us the Hiko-Hime leadership structure, often with a male and female head of state, though sometimes shown as elder and younger co-rulers.  This is backed up by some evidence in the kofun era, as we see large, single-purpose tomb mounds built for what we can only assume are the elite.  Their construction would have required control of a large labor force, indicating a certain amount of their power, and their shape and various burial goods have further suggested, at least to scholars like Kishimoto, that there may have been a division of rulership, at least early on. We've talked about the spread of Yamato style round keyhole shaped kofun through the archipelago and how the popularity of that kofun shape demonstrated Yamato's influence but  in the shape of their kofun, but that didn't necessarily accompany a change in  change the actual dynamics of local government, other than demonstrating Yamato's increased influence.  The next thing we see in the record, I would argue, is the change to a familial based system, or the Bemin-sei.  This is what we've talked about periodically in terms of both the uji, familial groups or clans, and the “be” familial or occupational groups, but here I'll give an overview of the whole practice and what its development means in the sense of changing approaches to organizing and governing a complex society. The Bemin system was a means of further dividing and categorizing people in society, .  It is  rooted in continental concepts of a familial group.  Prior to the 5th century, there isn't a clear indication of familial clans in Yamato, though that doesn't mean people didn't know where they were from.  They still remembered who their ancestors were, and that was important, often tracing back to mythical and legendary individuals who are recorded as gods, or kami.  I suspect, however, that in the smaller communities of the Yayoi period, where you were from was as a good an indicator of your relationships as anything else.  Farming is a pretty sedentary lifestyle, and if you know all of your neighbors there isn't as much need to divide each other up into specific familial groups.  It was more important that I'm from this village or region than I'm from this particular family. And so the oldest stories in the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki only refer to individuals by their names or by locatives.  Occasionally we will be told that so-and-so was an ancestor of this or that uji, or clan, but it is telling that they don't use the clan name with that person. Surnames do become important, however, in the Bemin system.  But they are only really important for those in the upper tiers of society.  Amongst the farmers and other commoners—the heimin—you often won't find specific surnames, or people will use pure locatives or something similar to refer to a person.  Surnames were for people a little further up the social food chain. From what we can tell, the uji structure likely started with the “-Be” families, trying to set up groups of individuals who were in charge of certain economic activities beyond just farming the land.  The Imbe, the Mononobe, the Abe, the Kuratsukuribe, and the Kusakabe are all examples of family names ending in “-Be”.  Some, like Kuratsukuribe, Inukaibe, and Umakaibe are all fairly straightforward:  These are groups that were set up around particular industries.  Kuratsukuri literally means “saddle-making”, so the Kuratsukuri-be are the saddlemakers.  Inukai and Umakai refer to the ones who kept or raised the dogs and horses. Setting up a familial or clan unit around a certain profession was one way of organizing society so that you had the things that you needed.  Such jobs were often inherited, anyway, passing from father to son, mother to daughter, etc.  So it makes some sense.  And the clan, or uji, structure meant that there was a person or persons at the head of the familial unit who could be responsible for coordinating efforts across different, sometimes dispersed, groups of people. The thing is, there is no indication that the people in these professions were necessarily related to each other prior to this organization, and in many ways the idea that they were a family with a common ancestor was a created fiction.  There may have been some relationship—for instance, weaver groups were often centered on immigrant groups that came over from the continent with knowledge of specific techniques, so there was likely some pre-existing relationship, but they weren't necessarily what we would consider family, related by blood, to one another. Over time these groups became actual clans—children were born into them and remained, unless they specifically were split off into a different uji for some reason.  Some of them dropped the “-Be” part of their name—in some instances it seems this may have created a distinction between the line at the head of the clan vice the other members, but that distinction isn't entirely clear.  Furthermore, members of these clans were not, ultimately, restricted to the hereditary jobs for which the clan had been created.  There are also clans that appear to be more about location, possibly local rulers or magnates.  For example, there are the Munakata and the Miwa, referring to local chiefs or lords of the Munakata and Miwa areas, both important ritual areas. The clans formed another function as well, as each clan had a kabane, which was an early form of social rank.  Some of these ranks appear to have come from titles or positions.  So, for instance, you have the Omi, the Muraji, the Kimi, and the Atahe.  Early on, Muraji appears to be the more prestigious title, with the Ohomuraji being the head of a Muraji level house that was also a key member of the government.  Omi, meaning minister, eventually came to be seen as more prestigious, however.  Meanwhile, both were more presitiousprestigious than the term “Kimi”, although that may have originated as a term for the rulers of the local countries, which makes sense if you consider that the Yamato sovereign was the Oho-kimi, or the Great Kimi, much as the Oho-omi was in charge of an Omi group and the Ohomuraji was in charge of a Muraji level house.  There are also Omi and Muraji households for whom there is no Oho-omi or Oho-muraji ever mentioned, but only members of the Omi and Muraji ranked families were considered for positions at the top of the court hierarchy.  This All of this clan and rank system began to change in the 6th century during the reign of Toyomike Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno, with the introduction of the 17 article constitution and new rank system.  While both of these developments are of debatable veracity, since the chroniclers likely made this change seem much more structured than it actually was in practice, —there is probably at least something to the idea that the Yamato court y werewas adopting more continental ideas regarding state governance.  The rank system, in particular, was a step towards recognizing individuals above simply their inherited social position.  While kabane rank was applied to an entire uji, the new rank was applied to individuals alone, meaning that an individual could be recognized without necessarily rewarding every other person holding their same surname.  At the same time, more and more books were coming in from the continent.  Some of these were focused on the new Buddhist religion, but there were also other works, based on a variety of subjects and introducing the Yamato court to some of the philosophical ideas of what government should be.  And then there were various envoys sent to the Sui and Tang courts in the early 7th century, where they would have seen how things were working there. Nonetheless, to be clear, we don't know it is unclear just how far Yamato control extended across the archipelago.  We know that in the 5th century there were individuals who considered themselves part of the Yamato court structure from the Kantou to Kyuushuu.  In the Nihon Shoki, we also see the establishment of Miyake up and down the archipelago, from as far out as Kamitsukenu, aka Kozuke, to the western edge of Kyushu, in the early 6th century.  These were areas of rice-land which owed their output to the Yamato court or a particular endeavor.  They would have had officials there tied to the court to oversee the miyake, providing a local court presence, but how much this translated into direct Yamato control is hard to say. Then there is the Dazai , the Yamato outpost in Kyushu,  set up in the area of Tsukushi, modern Fukuoka Prefecture, largely following the Iwai Rebellion, and which we .  We talked about this some in the Gishiwajinden Tour episode about Ito and Na, extending a more directand how the Yamato government extended a more direct, and explicitly military, presence in Kyushu. Still, the individual lands of places like Hi, Toyo, Kibi, Owari, or Musashi were all governed by the Kuni no Miyatsuko, the Yamato court's term for the various chieftains or rulers of the different lands. And that gets us roughly to the situation where we are now, in 645.  Prince Naka no Oe hadand been talking with his good friend Nakatomi no Kamatari about how things should be, ever since the day that Kamatari had helped him out at a kemari game—something akin to group hackey-sack with a volleyball.  As we've discussed in past episodes, a lot of this sense of “how things should be” related to nipping the power of Soga no Iruka and Soga no Emishi in the bud, cutting off what they no doubt saw as a thread to imperial power and the ”right way of doing things”.  But Tthe two had also been taking lessons from the Priest Minabuchi, and, like students everywhere, they thought they had figured this whole government thing out as well.  They'd been reading the classics and would have had access to the reports from various envoys and ambassadors to the Tang court.  The last one had left in 630 and returned in 632.  They would no doubt have seen the workings of the Tang dynasty law code of 624 and the subsequent update in 627.  Naka no Oe and Kamatari may have even heard news of the update in 637. Thise law code, implemented by Tang Taizong, relied on Confucian and Legalist theory.  It wasn't the first law code in East Asia, or even the Yellow River basin , but it is one of the most significant and influential, and the earliest for which we have the actual code itself—though the extant version is from 653, about eight years after the events of 645., butHowever, as we'll see, all of this was well withing the timeframe which the Ritsuryo system was used and updated, itself. So, Naka no Oe and Kamatari have a shiny new document in their hands, promising an organized system of government very different from the status quo in Yamato to date.  However, the Tang law code did have a problem:  It was undeniably centered in the imperial culture of the Yellow River and Yangzi River basins.  These areas had long had the concept of empire, and even in the chaotic period of the Sixteen Kingdoms and the Northern and Southern dynasties, the concept of an empire that ruled “All Under Heaven”, or “Tianxia” was something that people generally accepted.  The Wa polities of the Japanese archipelago, even as they were now consuming media from the continent, still operated under their own cultural imaginaries of how the world was ordered and how government operated.  And so the code couldn't just be adopted wholesale:  It would have to be adapted to the needs and demands of the Wa polity. I should note that this was unlikely the reforms that took place in Yamato were sole effort of Naka no Oe and Kamatari, and much of what is written suggests that this wasn't done simply through autocratic fiat, but included some key politicking.  This started even before the Isshi Incident.  Kamatari already had close ties with Prince Karu before he met with Naka no Oe.  Kamatari and Naka no Oe had also brought Soga no Kurayamada no Ishikawa no Maro into their confidence, a member of the Soga family.  The Fujiwara family history, the Toushi Kaden, compiled by Fujiwara Nakamaro in the 8th century, describes Maro—referenced as Soga no Yamada—as a man of particular and upright character.  He also appears to have had a beef with his cousin , Soga no Iruka, and was ambitious. I'm not sure just how much Naka no Oe and Kamatari were sharing their plans about reforming the State at this point, or if they were simply concentrating efforts on bringing down—that is to say murdering—Soga no Iruka. The Toushi Kaden mentions that others were also brought around to at least the idea that something had to be done about Soga no Iruka, though nobody was quite willing to speak out for fear of Soga no Iruka and his father, Emishi, and what they could do to someone's reputation—or worse.  After all, Soga no Iruka had only   recently killed the Prince Yamashiro no Oe, reportedly as part of a plot to ensure Prince Furubito would be next elevated to the throne.  On the other hand, not much information seems to be given about the reforms until they are enacted. And so after the Isshi Incident, we see our murderous firebrands taking the reins of power.  As we noted back in episode 106, Prince Karu was encouraged to take the throne, while Prince Furubito no Ohoye retired from the world and took orders at a temple in Yoshino.  Naka no Oe had been offered the throne, we are told, but turned it down, as the optics on it would not have been great.  Not only because he was clearly responsible for the death of Soga no Iruka and his father, and thus his mother's abdication.  However, he could still be made Crown Prince, and keep right on going with his ambitions to change up the way things were done in the Yamato government. Although Naka no Oe and Kamatari get most of the credit, the work required the cooperation—or at least consent—of the newly made sovereign, Prince Karu, also known as Ame Yorozu Toyohi, later styled as Koutoku Tennou.  After all, it would be his edicts that would lay out the new system, and his name that would be attached to it.   One good example is a change that came immediately: Meanwhile, in place of Soga no Iruka as Oho-omi, Karu selected two individuals to take his place, dividing up the position of Oho-omi into ministers of the Left and Right.  The first was Abe no Omi no Uchimaro, as Minister of the Left, and then Soga no Kurayamada no Omi no Ishikawa no Maro, Naka no Oe's recently made father-in-law, was made the Minister of the Right.  These positions, later known as the Sadaijin and Udaijin, would continue to be two of the most powerful civil positions in the Ritsuryo and later Japanese governments.  The Minister of the Left, the Sadaijin, was often considered the senior of the two. By the way, “Daijin” is just a sinified reading applied to the characters used for “Oho-omi”, or great minister.  This means that the Minister of the Left, the Sadaijin, could just as easily be called the Oho-omi of the Left, or something similar.  This actually causes a bit of confusion, especially in translation, but just realize that this is effectively just a rebranding, and not entirely a new name.  What was new was this idea that they were broken into the Left and the Right a distinction that would mean a lot more once more of the bureaucratic offices and functionaries were properly defined. Who were these two new ministers? Abe no Uchimaro has popped up a few times in the narrative.  He was an experienced courtier.  The Abe family had been moving within the halls of power for some time, and had even stood up to the Soga family when Soga no Umako had tried to acquire their lands in Katsuraki, making an ancestral claim.  Uchimaro had also been involved in the discussions regarding Princes Tamura and Yamashiro no Oe after the death of Kashikya Hime, hosting one of the dinners during which the delicate issue of succession was discussed.  He was clearly a politician of the first order.  Of course, Soga no Kurayamada had clearly earned his position through his connections with the conspirators. , bBut what about Nakatomi no Kamatari?  Well, he wasn't exactly left out in the cold.  Nakatomi no Kamatari was made the Naijin, the Minister, or “Omi”, of the Middle or the Minister of the Interior, implying that he had some authority over the royal household itself.  This feels like a created position, possibly to allow him the freedom to help with the primary work of transforming the Yamato government. Although Naka no Oe and Kamatari get most of the credit, the work required the cooperation—or at least consent—of the newly made sovereign, Prince Karu, also known as Ame Yorozu Toyohi, later styled as Koutoku Tennou.  After all, it would be his edicts that would lay out the new system, and his name that would be attached to it. One of the first things that is recorded in the Nihon Shoki was the declaration of a nengo, or era name.  Up to this point, years in Yamato were remembered by the reign of the sovereign—typically based on their palace.  So you would see things like the second year of the reign of the sovereign of Shiki palace, or something like that.  In addition, at least since about the 6th century, if not earlier, years would eventually be given the appropriate sexagesimal year name, combing one of the ten stems and twelve branches.  For example, 2024, when this episode is coming out, is the year of the Wood Dragon, or Kinoe-tatsu.  This is still used for various Japanese traditionspractice still continues today in Japan for various reasons. The Nengo was something newly introduced to Japan, however: .  Aan era name would be chosen by the sovereign, often based on important changes that either had occurred or even as a wish for something new.  So you would we see a new nengo with the ascension of a new sovereign, but it couldan also come because of an auspicious omen or because of a terrible disaster and hope for something new.  The current nengo, which started with the reign of Emperor Naruhito a few years back, is “Reiwa”. This very first nengo, we are told, was “Taika”, meaning, as I said up front, “Great Change”.  It certainly was apropos to the work at hand.  So let's go through the Chronicles and see some of the “great changes” occurring at the Yamato court now that the intention had been made clear.  We already talked about the change from an single Oho-omi to ministers of the Left and Right, but there were many other Some of the first things were to set up various newly created officials and positions.  An example is , such as two doctors, or Hakase – doctors in the sense of learned experts, not medical doctors, although medicine was certainly revered.  One of these new Hakase was the Priest Min, presumably the same one who had brought back astronomical knowledge from the Sui dynasty, possibly the same as the one known as Sho'an.  The other was Takamuko no Fubito no Kuromaro, who had gone to the Sui Dynasty with Min and others and come back with knowledge of how things worked on the continent.  The Takamuko family had immigrant roots as descendants of the Ayabito, and Kuromaro was well traveled, returning from the Sui court by way of Silla.  These two were well positioned to help with the work at hand. Now that the rudiments of a cabinet were in place, Oone of the first problems set before things after setting up their cabinet, as it were, was to askthe their new Ministers of the Right and Left, as well as the various officials, the Daibu and the Tomo no Miyatsuko, was how tohey should  get people to acquiesce to forced, or corvee labor—the idea that for certain government projects villages could be called upon to provide manual labor in the form of a healthy adult—typically male—to help as needed.  This was a thorny problem, and evidently it was thought best to get expertise beyond the purely human.  The following day, tThe Udaijin, Soga no Ishikawa no Maro, suggested that the kami of Heaven and Earth should be worshipped and then affairs of government should be considered.  And so Yamato no Aya no Hirafu was sent to Wohari and Imbe no Obito no Komaro was sent to Mino, both to make offerings to the kami there for their assistance, it would seem, in setting up a good government. This is significant, in part, as it shows the continued importance of local traditions focused on appeasing the kami, rather than the Buddhist rituals that they could have likely turned to, instead. FinallyThree weeks later, on the 5th day of the 8th month—about three weeks later— camecomes the first truly major edict of the Taika era, which and it wasis to appoint new governors, or kokushi, of the eastern provinces.  Note that they specifically mention the Eastern Provinces, presumably meaning those east of Yamato, since they only sent out eight of them.  They also did not send them to usurp control, necessarily, from the Kuni no Miyatsuko of those areas.  The Kuni no Miyatsuko were still nominally in charge, it would seem, but the court was getting ready to make some major changes to the relationship. These governors were expected to go out and take a census of the people—both those free and those in bondage to others.  They were also to take account of all of the land currently under cultivation, likely to figure out how to tax it appropriately.  As for things other than arable land, such as gardens, ponds, rivers, oceans, lakes, mountains, etc., the edict commands the governors to consult with the people—presumably the people of the province—to get a better idea of what should be done. And this doesn't sound so bad.  It is basically just a tally of what is already there.  That said, anyone who has worked in a modern office probably knows about the dread that comes over a workplace when people show up from the Head Office with clipboards in hand.  However, apparently many of the people had not yet heard of a “clipboard” and likely didn't realize that this was only a precursor to greater and more centralized bureaucratic control. Now in addition to taking a zero-baseline review of provincial resources, there was also a list of what these new governors y were to avoid – clear boundaries around the power they were to wield.  For one thing, they were not to hear criminal cases.  They weren't there to be an extension of the Yamato court in such matters or to usurp the duties of the Kuni no Miyatsuko, one supposes.  Furthermore, when they were traveling to the capital, they were only to bring themselves and district officials, but not a huge retinue.  Whether they realized it or not, these kokushi were early bureaucrats in a burgeoning bureaucratic state, and they weren't supposed to be going out there to become minor kings in their own right; their power came from and was limited by the royal edict.  They also did not send them to usurp control, necessarily, from the Kuni no Miyatsuko of those areas.  The Kuni no Miyatsuko were still nominally in charge, it would seem, but the court was getting ready to make some major changes to the relationship. When traveling on official business, the governors could use appropriate government resources, such as the horses and food that they were entitled to.  Remember that post stations were set up, previously, to help better facilitate official travel and communication.  In a later edict it would be clarified that officials would be given a bronze token with bell-like figures on it.  The shape of the token would indicate what kinds of resources the individual was entitled to.  This applied to governors and their assistants.  Those who follow the rules could be rewarded with rank and more, while those who disobeyed would be reduced in rank, and any stipend that came with it.  Furthermore, any government official who was found taking a bribe would be liable to pay twice the amount, as well as being open to criminal punishment. The Chief Governor was allowed nine attendants, while the assistant was allowed seven, and a secretary—for which think more of the head of a branch office or department under the governor—could have five.  Any more, and the governor and followers could be punished for it. While in the provinces, the governors were expected to look into any claims of potentially false inheritance.  This included anyone using a false name or title to claim rights that were not theirs.  Governors were to first investigate what was going on before submitting their findings up to the court. Governors were also to erect arsenals on waste pieces of ground—ground that could not be cultivated for some reason.  In those arsenals they were to gather the various weapons and armor of the provinces and districts, presumably so that soldiers could be called up quickly and everyone could just get their equipment from one place, but it also looks like an attempt to take control of the means of violence.  Whether or not that was their direct intention I cannot say.  There was a provision for those on the frontier, with the Emishi, to allow the owners to keep their weapons, probably because the situation was potentially volatile, and it could turn at any moment. And so that was the first major piece of legislation:  Sending out governors to what are translated as “provinces”—though we are still using the term “kuni”, which equally refers to a state or country—ostensibly for the purposes of assessing the land, its value, the number of people, etc, but also to .  They are centralizeing military assets.   and they are given status as true court representatives.  I do notice that it was explicitly stated that these governors were for the eastern lands, .  presumably meaning those east of Yamato, since they only sent out eight of them These are areas that historically appear to have relied more on Yamato or else been something of a frontier area for the ethnic Wa people.  They may have been more open to Yamato's demands on their sovereignty. There were two more pieces to thise edict that didon't directly apply to the governors.  First off was the institution of a bell and a box to be set up at the court.  The box was basically a place to receive complaints about how things were going in the realm.  They are careful to note that complaints should be vetted by the Tomo no Miyatsuko, one of the hereditary government officials, or at least to the head of one's uji, if possible.  If they couldn't come to a decision, though, the complaints would be collected at dawn and then the government would look into them.  If anyone thought that there was a problem with how a complaint was being handled—for example, if they thought there was malfeasance involved or even just neglect, with officials not addressing it in a timely fashion, then the plaintiffs could go to the court and ring the bell, officially noting their dissatisfaction with the process. This idea of a bell and complaints seems to be a wide-ranging practice throughout Asia.  During the reign of the Legendary Yao, people were encouraged to nail their complaints to a tree.  Other edicts suggest that bells and drums were hung in royal palaces to allow common people to voice their grievances.  We have examples of the practice showing up in the Sukhothai kingdom of Thailand, during the 13th century reign of King Ramkhamhaeng, and then a 16th century example in what is now Myanmar, aka Burma.  While they differ in specifics, they are all related to the concept of royal justice even for the lowest of the people.  Granted, if you are a farmer in Owari province, I don't know how easy it was going to be to make your way over to the royal palace and ring that bell, but at least there was the idea that people could submit complaints. This was apparently used relatively soon after, as recounted in the second month of the following year, about six months later.  Apparently some person had placed a complaint in the box stating that people who had come to the capital on government business were being put to work and ill-used.  Basically it sounds like they were being rounded up for corvee labor even though they weren't local residents, they were just passing through.  In response, the sovereign, Karu, put a stop to forced labor at various places—presumably where the offending action was taking place, so I guess the complaint system it was working. The last part of this first set of edicts, kicking off the change was about inheritance.  Not all people in Yamato were free, and the law saw a difference between the status of free and unfree persons—that is to say enslaved persons.  And so they made laws that only the child of two free persons would be considered free.  If either parent was in bondage, then the child was also considered in bondage to their parent's house.  If two enslaved persons of different houses had a child, then they would stay with the mother.  Temple serfs, though technically bound to service of the temple, were made a special case, and their children were to be treated as if the temple serf was a free person. Slavery is something that doesn't always get talked about regarding ancient Yamato, and the Chronicles themselves don't tend to mention enslaved peoplethem often, but more because they belonged to a class of society that was largely outside of the scope of the narrative.  In cases where they are discussed, such as in these edicts, the Chronicles are unapologetic of the practice.  These may have been people who were captured in raids, or their descendants, or people who had been enslaved as punishment for some offence, although it isn't quite clear just what would count.  We know that Himiko sent enslaved persons as part of the tribute to the Wei Court, as she was trying to curry favor, and mention of them certainly shows up now and again. It is unclear how many people were enslaved up to this point, but some estimates suggest that it may have been five to ten percent of the population.  As I've mentioned before, this practice continued up until the Sengoku Period, and was only abolished by Toyotomi Hideyoshi in an attempt to stop the Portuguese from buying enslaved Japanese people and transporting them away from Japan.  That didn't meant that other forms of bondage, often economic in nature, didn't happen, however. So that was the content of the first edict—one of many.  The court sent out newly appointed “governors” to the provinces, but these governors were, so far, limited in their scope.  There is even some evidence that these may have been initially seen as temporary positions, and there was mention of “kokushi” in the previous reign.  Still, this was part of a clearly concentrated effort to assume central authority over the archipelago.  There were even officials appointed over the six districts of Yamato province, the core of the Yamato state, who were likewise expected to prepare registers of the population and the cultivated land. Even the idea that the sovereign had the right to make these appointments was something a bit radical, and indicated a change in way that the court, at least, would view the sovereign.  It likewise placed the sovereign in a position to dispense justice, through the vehicle of the court, and it began to define the citizens of the realm as well. That said, this all could have been argued for by using the Sui and Tang as examples of what government should look like and what a true nation should look like. It is also possible that this didn't all happen of a sudden in the 8th month, as the Chronicles describe it.  This is suggested at based on a separate account, mentioned in the Nihon Shoki, that the gathering of weapons, for instance—one of the things that the governors were charged with—actually took place between the 6th and 9th month, so some of this likely started before the date listed for the edict, and that may just have been one part of the whole.  The Chroniclers often do this, finding one particular date and throwing in everything rather than giving things piecemeal—depending on the event.  In addition, on the 19th day of the 9th month, officials were sent out to all of the provinces—not just the eastern provinces—to take a proper census.  At this same time, the sovereign, Karu, issued another edict, which seems related to their work as well as that of the governors, or kokushi, sent to the east.  In it he noted that the powerful families—the Omi, the Muraji, the Tomo no Miyatsuko, and the Kuni no Miyatsuko—would compel their own vassals to work at their pleasure.  They would also appropriate for themselves various pieces of land, so that people could only work it for them.  Not everyone was doing this, though.  Some unnamed persons were accused of hording thousands of acres of rice-land, while others had no more land than you could stick a needle into.  Furthermore, these powerful families were collecting taxes for themselves, first, and then handing a portion over to the government.  They likely compelled their vassals to work on their own tombs, and such.  And so, the sovereign, Karu, forbade anyone from becoming a landlord and forcing people to pay rent.  Presumably he was also dealing with some of the other aspects, though that may have proved more difficult.  After all, from what we've seen, everything that Karu is complaining about—things that no doubt were considered antithetical to good government based on pure Confucian values—were the norm for the elite at the time.  Heck, the Kuni no Miyatsuko had no doubt thought of the land and the people on it as their own, not Yamato's.  However, things were shifting, and once again we see Yamato exerting royal prerogative over the land and people, something that they would do more and more as the system of laws and punishments eventually came together. Now the big question is how did this all pan out?  Well, it took some time, but we get a report on the second day of the third month of the following year, 646, and to be honest, it doesn't sound like things were going too well.  Of the high officials sent out as kokushi to govern the eastern provinces, six listened and did what they were told, but two did not, and then there were numerous other issues.  A more detailed list was given on the 19th of the month, including a clearer idea of punishments. The decree was given to the “Choushuushi”, apparently other government officials sent to check on how things were going, though it was clearly about various officials. The decree starts by reminding officials that they were not to use their position to appropriate public or private property.  Anyone of Assistant governor rank or higher would be punished by being degraded in rank, and presumably their stipend.  Those officials of clerk, or secretary, on down would face flogging.  If anyone was found converting public property (or someone else's) to their own use, they would be fined double the value of the property, just as with bribes.  So the Yamato government was They were really trying to tamp down on people trying to make a profit from their position. Here are a few of the specific things that the Choushuushi reported back: -             Hozumi no Omi no Kuhi taxed individual families for his own use and though he gave some of it back make, it wasn't all.  His two assistants were at fault for not correcting him. -             Kose no Tokune no Omi did something similar, taking away horses from the farmers for his own use.  His assistants not only did not correct him, but actually helped him.  They also took horses from the Kuni no Miyatsuko of the province.  One of the officials tried to remonstrate with him, but he finally gave in to the corruption. -             Ki no Marikida no Omi sent men to Asakura no Kimi and Inoue no Kimi to look at their horses for his own use.  He also had Asakura no Kimi make him swords and provide bow-cloth.  He also took the payments in lieu of weapons offered by the Kuni no Miyatsuko but didn't properly report it.  As a somewhat strange addition to these charges, he apparently was guilty of allowing himself to be robbed of a sword in his own province as well as in Yamato, presumably one that was actually government property.  Apparently being held up at sword point wasn't considered sufficient justification for letting it go.  This was facilitated by his assistants and their subordinates. -             Adzumi no Muraji apparently made the Kuni no Miyatsuko send government property to someone when they were ill, and he took horses belonging to the Yube clan.  His assistant gathered items at his house that were paid in lieu of hay, and he took the horses of the Kuni no Miyatsuko and exchanged them for others.  At least two other brothers were found guilty as well. -             Ohochi no Muraji broke the decree of not personally judging the complaints of the people in the districts under his charge.  He took it on himself to judge the case of the men of Udo and the matter of the enslaved persons of Nakatomi no Toko, who was also considered guilty. -             Kishida no Omi, as with Ki no Marikida, also allowed his sword to be stolen, showing a want of circumspection. -             In one of the strangest put-downs in this list, Womidori no Omi and Tanba no Omi weren't guilty of anything, but were just considered incompetent.  So make of that what you will. -             Imbe no Konomi and Nakatomi no Muraji no Mutsuki also committed offenses, we are told, but the nature is unclear. -             Hada no Omi and Taguchi no Omi, on the other hand, were free and clear.  Apparently they hadn't committed any offenses. -             Finally, Heguri no Omi was guilty of neglecting to investigate the complaints of the men of Mikuni. A big to-do was made about the punishments to be meted out to all of these individuals, as well as to the Kuni no Miyatsuko who may have enabled them.  However, instead of prosecuting them, Karu declared a general amnesty.  This was like a mass pardon of offenses—a do-over if you would.  Not that anything would be forgotten.  On the other hand, six individuals who did as they were told were all commended for their service.  He also took the lent-rice for the maintenance of the late Kibishima, the dowager queen who had passed away in 643, and distributed her official-rice lands amongst the ministers down to the Tomo no Miyatsuko.  He also gave rice-land and hill tracts, which weren't suitable for farming, over to various temples which had previously been omitted from the official registers for some reason. Over all, this seems to be a rather powerful message:  We're not They weren't fooling around with these changes, and people better get on board or get out of the way.  Whereas previously things in the provinces may have operated under a sort of Vegas Rules, that was no longer going to be tolerated.  On the other hand, Karuhe demonstrated mercy, likely realizing that too harsh an approach would bring the wrath of the other powerful nobles.  Nonetheless, he elaborated what each person had done and effectively put them and anyone else harboring thoughts that they could just ignore these edicts on notice.  These reforms weren't going away. So we've talked about where we were and we can see the powers at the Yamato court starting to make changes.  For now, this is probably going to be a good place to take a break for this episode, but there are a lot more of these reforms to get to, not to mention the rest of the intra-palace politicking at the court, as well as the changing situation on the continent and in diplomatic channels.  We are going to keep looking at these changes as we move forward through the period of Great Change, known as the Taika era. Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. 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.

Ask David Unfairness Worthwhileness Erasing Depression with Lasers TEAM in the UK What's the Most Powerful Technique? We have lots of great questions today. The answers in the show notes were written prior to the podcast, and the answers in the live podcast as we discussed these questions may differ somewhat or amplify the written materials in these show notes. We love your questions. Remember to send them to David@feelinggood.com. Special Announcement Attend the Legendary Summer Intensive Featuring Drs. David Burns and Jill Levitt August 8 - 11. 2024 Learn Advanced TEAM-CBT skills Heal yourself, heal your patients First Intensive in 5 years! It will knock your socks off! Limited Seating--Act Fast Click for registration / more information! Sadly, this workshop is a training program which will be limited to therapists and mental health professionals and graduate students in a mental health field  Apologies, but therapists have complained when non-therapists have attended our continuing education training programs. This is partly because of the intimate nature of the small group exercises and the personal work the therapists may do during the workshop. Certified coaches and counselors are welcome to attend. But there's some good news, too! The Feeling Great App is now available in both app stores (IOS and Android) and is for therapists and the general public, and you can take a ride for free! Check it out! Today's Questions Kiernan asks about “unfairness” and the connection between worthwhileness and achievement. Brittany asks: Can you “erase” feelings of sadness and depression by shining lasers in the patient's eyes? James asks about the use of TEAM methods in the NHS in the UK Brian asks: Is positive reframing the most successful technique you have used with your patients? 1. Kieran asks (slightly edited for clarity): How would you talk back to negative thoughts like this one: “It's not fair that I can't afford quality food when there are millionaires that will have access to better food and a healthier lifestyle which has an effect on overall health and longevity'”? Or what if you feel like it's unfair that you should have to pay a lot of money for an expensive dental treatment that you can't afford? Kieran also asks (slightly edited by david): What if worthwhileness is not based on achievement but there are still things you would like to have and enjoy? They would buy and own things that they happen to like and not to impress others. Hi David and Ronda, and if Matt is on I have been listening to your wonderful podcast for about the last 3 years as I drive to work. It has really opened my eyes about how your thoughts create your interpersonal reality. Loved the podcasts on jealousy addiction, perfectionism, achievement addiction and many more. My questions would be: What about if someone wants to achieve more but it isn't based on worthwhileness? They would buy and own things that they happen to like and not to impress others. Let's say they wanted to be able to afford a nice house, healthier higher quality food and water. As the quality does have an effect on health especially in the US as the regulations are not the greatest. However, the fact that they couldn't afford to buy these upsets them? Thoughts: 'It's not fair that I can't afford quality food but there are millionaires that will have access to better food, lifestyle which has an effect on overall health and longevity' Or if someone has to pay for unexpected expensive dental treatment. Thoughts: 'It's not fair that I have to pay £14,000 for this treatment'. 'It should be more affordable to lower income households, as it is essential to have functional teeth' I hope I have explained this well, I would love to hear your thoughts. Keep doing what you are doing and all the best. Kieran   David's response Sure Kieran, if you like I will make this an Ask David question for a podcast. LMK if that's okay, and if it is okay to use your first name. Great question, and has to do with the theme of acceptance: should I or shouldn't I? Here are the quick versions, but we can discuss in more detail on the live podcast. First, I do not find it useful to base my worthwhileness on my achievements or on my failures. I do work hard and like creating things that are helpful to people, and I enjoy earning money to support my family. I can be motivated to work hard to get things we want or need, but I don't base anyone's worthwhileness on how much money they have, or anything, to be honest. In fact, I could also easily accept wanting to buy something really cool, not just because I like it, but because it might impress others, or because they might find it fascinating, too! I don't try to regulate my life with a lot of shoulds and shouldn'ts, and find that I am happier and more peaceful without lots of shoulds. In the Feeling Great App I have created a class called “Your PhD in Shoulds.” You might enjoy it! Second, you can say that it is unfair that some people have more money and resources than other people if you like. And you have every right to feel angry if that's what you want, as well. Acceptance is more of a decision than a technique. Take the fact that lions kill deer when they are hungry. You can say, “they should not do that. It's unfair!” But that won't stop a hungry lion. You don't have to LIKE seeing a lion kill an innocent deer, but you can accept it. Again, that's a choice. The behavior of a lion is dominated by millions of years of evolution. Humans are no different. One thing that sometimes helps is to make a list all the REALLY GOOD reasons NOT to accept the “unfairness” in the world. I'll bet you could come up with at least ten to fifteen strong reasons. Then you can ask yourself, “Given all those good reason NOT to accept the fact that some people have more and some people have fewer resources, maybe I should just stay good and angry! Why in the world would I want to change?” Also, when you find an injustice, you can use your energy being good and angry, and complain about it, or you can use your energy to do something about it. Or, you can also work to change yourself, instead of complaining about the world. I also have a new class on acceptance. It's called, “Accept this shit? Hell NO!” You might like it as well. I am babbling so will stop. Warmly, david   2. Brittany asks: Can you “erase” feelings of sadness and depression by shining lasers in the patient's eyes? Hi David, My husband's boss was telling him she's going to be doing some laser therapy to “cure” her depression. She had to undergo 9 hours of testing to see if she'd be a candidate. Apparently, they plan to shine lasers in her eyes to “erase” her sadness. Obviously, I assume this is a load of garbage. But have you ever heard of such a thing? Is this just hypnosis? Best, Brittany David's Reply Hi Brittany, Probably. As they say, follow the money! There is a placebo effect if you believe something will help, so tons of garbage gets served up as costly gourmet food. You can read up on this on the internet I suspect. Let me know what you learn! Best, david Brittany responds to David Love your answer! I was looking into it and read they use a cold laser in the eyes which allegedly releases endorphins. I already know from you that just like with exercise and that study about the endorphin blockers, it made no difference. People just feel better because they think they are doing something good for their body by exercising. They also allege that the lasers aid damaged neurological tissue. They claim it has helped many patients but there is no data backing it up that I see. They really lost me when I read that lack of activity, stress, and maternal deprivation cause depression in the first place. Thanks! Brittany David adds As it turns out, I know two laser experts who are regulars on my Sunday hikes. Dr. Alexander Makowski is a brilliant scientist who is involved in the research and development of lasers and their marketing. Here is his email, along with some terrific links to articles about the hype of “low light lasers.” Hope you enjoy the email and links from Alex: Hi David, I'll chime in too! From a different angle. Zak knows some great doctors who are doing real work, but the general field of low-level laser/ light therapy (LLLT) for medical issues has been fraught with charlatans for some years. (David note: Zak is a laser expert at the Stanford Medical School and is currently preparing a blog on the topic of LLLT. I will include a link to her blog when it is published, likely in a couple weeks. She is awesome and also often joins our Sunday hikes!) Dr, Alex Makowsy continues Good work by Tiina Kaaru (https://www.spiedigitallibrary.org/profile/Tiina.Karu-8010) and Juanita Anders (https://www.usuhs.edu/profile/juanita-anders-ms-phd) on mechanisms behind using light to stimulate our mitochondria or deactivate infectious bacteria are well documents However, the good work done by the few was overshadowed and worse, was perverted for many years into crackpot devices using bad stats and poorly designed studies. Or sometimes just straight preying on vulnerable people. It is the great shame of the laser industry. Worse yet, some of these devices were actual lasers that led to people getting hurt. I can't recommend in good conscience that lasers be shone into eyes at any time other than diagnostic devices meant to diagnose the eye itself. It may be that some day soon a good scientific body of evidence changes my stance but not yet... The story starts in the origin of my journey into light and lasers. I got involved in this field in 2005 while taking an elective class on optics and lasers when I got a call from my mom that she was seeking a laser therapy for her fibromyalgia. My mother's desire to get her fibromyalgia treated with a "cold laser" pulled me into this field since I was taking a class with a professor who later became my doctoral mentor. A full semester of my free time disappeared as I tried to source out of print articles and do a deep dive on whether this was real or garbage. A research term paper and a conference visit later I could finally see the same trends you saw with medication. I talked her out of the potentially dangerous unproven device usage. [As you may have suspected, In fact my mom was having significant issues in her marriage and life and a very good doctor set her straight. My mom divorced and is now happily remarried, about 95 pounds lighter, no fibromyalgia or serious insomnia. If only we had known you back then she would have recovered in a session or two rather than 3 years] However, in the process, I dug into some of the real research that small doses of light can affect our bodies in ways we don't understand fully due to lack of research. Fast forward several decades and some of the best researchers survived the public scandal of LLLT and found a scientific mechanism (cytochrome c oxidase activation) to explain observed changes in mitochondrial activity. However, the scientists don't claim to cure everything or anything. Then they published this mitochondrial activation and suddenly: This, of course, proves that blogablum does in fact exist and now the truth about the panacea is available for all!! David note: “blogablum” is a fake nonsense word I made up that refers to nothing meaningful. Now continuing with the Alex email: This is a good review of the history and current evidence about it : https://www.mcgill.ca/oss/article/medical-critical-thinking/hype-around-photobiomodulation But if you want the real goods, the hard truth about cold lasers has been out there for over 15 years: Introducing the New Low Level Laser Treatment! youtu.be The following search on YouTube will reveal the secrets of the universe: "cold laser before:2009" Warmly, Alexander J Makowski, Ph.D. Dr. Matt May's reply Hi David, Thank you for forwarding this question to me.  I am very concerned and wonder if this may fall under the category of 'malpractice'. For one, I am unaware of any FDA approved treatment for depression that involves shining lasers into people's eyes to erase their sad memories.  For a list of FDA approved treatments for depression, you could refer to: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK559078/ It's possible that there is new evidence I'm not aware of, but I searched online for studies of light in treatment of depression and was unable to find any placebo-controlled trials.  This is a problem because placebo responses can be so high in the case of depression and anxiety.  There were some studies on light therapy, but nothing fitting the description of 'shining lasers into eyes to erase sad memories'. Other concerns I have relate to the high cost of such an extensive “evaluation”, as well as possible risk of shining lasers into someone's eyes.  In the absence of evidence supporting the treatment, it seems like a high cost, and potential risk, to the patient, hence my concern for malpractice. It's pretty common for people with depression to feel a sense of desperation, especially after many failed efforts to address their symptoms.  This group of individuals are likely to be extremely susceptible to scams and purveyors of 'snake oil' (sham treatments). It's also concerning to me because the theory behind the idea of shining light into people's eyes to erase sadness doesn't make logical sense to me.  It's a potentially-testable hypothesis, but it's such an absurd hypothesis that I don't see it as worth testing or entertaining. If we are defining depression as some combination of worthless, hopeless, ashamed and guilty feelings, then the hypothesis that such feelings could be meaningfully addressed by such a crude instrument as a laser or a pill or an electrical impulse is absurd. This is because our feelings arise from our thoughts/perceptions.  I've never met a single person or patient who was suffering from depression but had healthy positive thoughts about themselves.  I've also never met someone who had patterns of negative thinking, but felt fine, up-beat and positive. The idea that a pill, a laser, a magnetic pulsation or electrical current could selectively alter the specific thoughts that cause depression doesn't make sense with what we know about the brain and thoughts and feelings.  How could a pill, for example, which crosses the blood-brain barrier and impacts every neuron in the brain, selectively target only the neurons that give rise to depressed thinking?  It's like imagining that we could carpet-bomb a city but only kill the murderers and rapists. I'd encourage all potential clients who are receiving treatment for depression or other conditions to ask their providers for literature that documents the effectiveness of the treatment and to get a second opinion if they are unsure. These are my 2-cents on the topic and I could be completely wrong about it all.  Hoping to hear from others what they think. Also, David, I saw several other people included in the invitation to respond to this question but I didn't see them cc'd.  Perhaps they were bcc'd? Wishing you the best, fondly, Matt David's reply to Matt Thanks, yes, I have a fantastic response already in the show notes from Dr. Alex Makowski who does research and development of lasers with valid medical applications. His thrust is similar to yours. Our field is littered with junk “scientism” intended to fool and exploit people, similar to the snake oil salespeople who use to go from town to town in America selling magical “elixirs” that “cured” just about everything! But people are endlessly gullible, and con artists are still in endless abundance these days, it seems! Best, david Will add your kind and thoughtful comment to the show notes!   3. James asks about the use of TEAM methods in the NHS in the UK. Hi Rhonda, I hope you are well. I had a couple of questions for an 'ask David' on the podcast if that's okay. A bit of background.... I am Level 1 Team and have attended David's training in Atlanta. I live in the UK and have recently changed career to work in the NHS delivering CBT interventions for patients because David's work inspired me so much. The NHS uses specific interventions for particular diagnoses and because I am in training I have to try and stick to this. I do use the TEAM materials and approach when I can and have already seen some great results. The NHS uses 'Behavioural Activation' for certain patients with Depression and I just wondered what David thought about the effectiveness of this (perhaps compared to Cognitive Restructuring). I believe Beck introduced this into the CBT model as he thought it was useful. Another question was regarding treatment of GAD and whether dividing worries between hypothetical and practical, and then using a certain time to actually worry rather than letting the worries dominate throughout the day was something he thought was useful or had heard about. Thanks so much for all the great work you are all doing and inspiring people all over the world! Kind Regards James Bibby. David's response Hi James, Thanks for the great questions. In today's recording of an upcoming Ask David podcast, we can address: The history of “Behavioral Activation,” including the pros and cons of this approach. The history and pros and cons of “Worry Breaks.” The idea of matching a “technique” to a “diagnosis,” as opposed to learning to treat the whole patient with TEAM. The results of our latest research with the Feeling Great App, and whether it might have some value for patients struggling with depression and anxiety disorders in the UK. Best, David Matt's Thots: Great question! I'm looking forward to discussing. There are certainly some techniques that are more effective, than others, for addressing specific negative thoughts. Meanwhile there are a number of problems that come up when we are, as clinicians, throwing solutions at diagnoses, rather than treating the human being who is suffering. Studies on the treatment of PTSD at the VA, for example, showed veterans often got worse after this approach, in which their diagnosis was matched with a method, ‘prolonged exposure', without any agenda-setting. This just retraumatized lots of veteran! Similarly, if someone is secretly blaming, and haven't experienced the ‘death of the blaming self', they might be assigned ‘communication skills training', only to see this backfire, because their intent is still to try to change someone, rather than accept them. You might tell a patient with depression that they should go exercise, only to cause them to resist you, ‘you don't understand, I can't even get out of bed!'. In short, most therapy fails or even makes patients worse because it doesn't consider the good reasons to continue to blame, give up, criticize ourselves, etc. 4. Brian asks: Is positive reframing the most successful technique you have used with your patients? I can see how it would cure someone in 2 hours! Feel free to use my question and do and use my name if you wish. I'd be honored. Best, Brian David's reply Hi Brian, Thanks. Great question! It's one of the latest powerful techniques, but Ext of Voices might still be the “champion.” Using them in the T, E, A, M sequence is especially powerful. Positive Reframing often gets them closer, but not quite all the way to enlightenment. Externalization of voices (EOV) often gets them over the finish line, especially if you know how to use it skillfully, incorporating Self-Defense with the Acceptance Paradox and Counter-Attack Technique! In fact, you can incorporate many of my > 100 techniques when using EOV, such as Be Specific, Semantic Technique, Examine the Evidence, and a host of other. Best, david Matt's comments I agree, Positive Reframing and Externalization of Voices are incredibly powerful and it's often what we're doing when we see recoveries. What works for a given individual, however, is quite hard to predict, in advance and there's a ‘process' to therapy, such that we can't really skip steps, except in some unusual circumstances. Some other super-powerful methods include Externalization of Resistance, Double Standard, Flooding, Feared Fantasy, and the Hidden Emotion Technique. I'm probably forgetting some. Thanks for listening today! Matt, Rhonda and David

Hare Krishna Melbourne SB 7.15.60 - 61 - Karuṇānidhi Kṛṣṇa Dāsa - 2 May 2024 by Hare Krishna Melbourne

Tänases saates uurime, miks järjekordne AI-vidin testijatelt hävitava hinnangu sai. Üks kellaga maksmise teenus lõpetab töö, aga seekord tuleb asemele parem alternatiiv. Euroopa liit kulutas ka iPadi pääsuvalitsejaks ja meie proovime selgitada, mida see kummaline sõna üleüldse tähendab. Pikemalt räägime muusikast ja striimingteenustest. Meil on taas külas ajakirja Digi meelelahutuse rubriigi toimetaja Victoria Maripuu, kes selgitab, miks fännid Taylor Swifti jäägitult armastavad ning aitab avada ka muusika striimimise teenuste segast maailma. Saate lõpus räägib Glen, kuidas tal õnnestus kõigest mõne õhtuga teha peaaegu sama mahukas plaat kui Taylor Swifti topelt-album. Saate teemad: • 00:56 Fitbit Pay kaob ära ja asemele tuleb Google Wallet. • 04:58 Rabbit R1 on järjekordne Ai-vidin, mis kuhugi ei kõlba. • 11:57 Euroopa Liit ja Apple kitkuvad kana iPadOS'i üle. • 18:20 Milles seisneb Taylor Swifti fenomen? • 29:42 Millist muusika striimimise teenust võiks eelistada? • 42:53 Kas vinüülimuusika on tõesti parem kui striimingutes olev? • 48:20 Glen võttis AI appi ja tegi 30 lugu Kati karust erinevates muusikastiilides. Kas need võiks juba täna pakkuda konkurentsi inimloomingule, saab kuulata siit.  Kui sul on meile küsimusi või tahad jagada oma kogemusi tehnikamaailmas, siis kirjuta meile: digisaade@geenius.ee. Saadet teevad Hans Lõugas, Glen Pilvre ja Meelis Väljamäe. Tunnusmuusika: Glen Pilvre, Paul Oja.

Ajahn Dhammasiha responds to the question how Karuṇā (Compassion) differs from Mettā (Loving Kindness). Compassion is the wish for all beings to be free from pain and suffering in any form. Loving Kindness is the wish for all beings to be happy and well. Though both belong to the 4 'Divine Abidings' (4 Brahmaviharas), and are closely related, in actual experience they feel quite distinct when developing them: Developing compassion retains a stronger awareness of suffering. It can be easier to 'switch' from developing compassion (which is a form of samatha/calmness meditation) to developing insight/vipassana, for example by contemplating the 4 noble truths It may be subjectively easier to generate compassion than mettā in cases when we encounter abject suffering, like someone dying in pain without proper care or similar. It's easier with mettā to get a bit too 'dewy-eyed', thinking everything is fine and everyone will be a darling if only we radiate loving kindness. We then may be shocked when 'bad' things still happen. With compassion one is less prone to fall into the delusion of 'it's all good', 'we're all fine', 'nothing to worry'. By the way, we've got playlists of our Visiting Teachers, Chanting, Guided Meditations and Sutta Explorations available on our Spotify Profile here: https://open.spotify.com/user/8z4dmrysnbbnjtz9f0wzjgcre Our Podcast is also available on our own Dhammagiri Website, no need for any special app, just listen in any browser: https://www.dhammagiri.net/podcast More about Dhammagiri Forest Hermitage: https://www.dhammagiri.net/news Our Youtube Channel: https://www.youtube.com/@dhammatalksatdhammagiri8724 Our email Newsletter: https://www.dhammagiri.net/newsletter .

Hare Krishna Melbourne SB 7.15.25 - Karuṇānidhi Kṛṣṇa Dāsa - 1 April 2024 by Hare Krishna Melbourne

Dr. Karu Sankaralingam is a Professor at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, an entrepeneur, inventor, as well as a Principal Research Scientist at NVIDIA.  His work has been featured in industry forums of Mentor and Synopsys, and has been covered by the New York Times, Wired, and IEEE Spectrum. He founded the hardware startup SimpleMachines in 2017 which developed chip designs applying dataflow computing to push the limits of AI generality in hardware and built the Mozart chip. In his career, he has led three chip projects: Mozart (16nm, HBM2 based design), MIAOW open source GPU on FPGA, and the TRIPS chip as a student during his PhD. In his research he has pioneered the principles of dataflow computing, focusing on the role of architecture, microarchitecture and the compiler. He has published over 100 research papers, has graduated 9 PhD students, is an inventor on 21 patents, and 9 award papers. He is a Fellow of IEEE.

Hare Krisna Melbourne SB 7.15.4 - Karuṇānidhi Kṛṣṇa Dāsa - 18 March 2024 by Hare Krishna Melbourne

As we conclude the maamar with the study of the ninth and final chapter, we delve even more deeply into the true nature of Hashem's relationship with the Jewish people. Even at the loftiest levels where there is no compelling reason for Hashem to choose one way or another, the Jewish people are essential to Him. For our part, we mirror Hashem's choice by devoting ourselves to Hashem in ways that transcend logic.

Hare Krishna Melbourne SB 7.14.29 - Karuṇānidhi Kṛṣṇa Dāsa - 4 March 2024 by Hare Krishna Melbourne

The last picture that Karu has of her father alive is on the day of her graduation. She has this big smile that by the placing of her dimples makes it obvious that she is his daughter. He stands next to her holding her waist in the space between his biceps and his lower arm. And her mother who is half an inch shorter than her stands on her left side. | © 2024 by Shingai Njeri Kagunda. Narrated by Janina Edwards. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Based on what we have learned so far, we understand that the randomness of a lottery allows for the possibility of Haman's wicked plot succeeding. We now explain why it didn't actually work by introducing a new way of understanding G-d's "choice" in choosing the Jewish people. Chapter 8 of the discourse.

Having left off with the question of why Haman's evil plot was unsuccessful, the maamar now turns its focus to King Achashverosh. We learn that the level of divinity symbolized by Achashverosh refers to a transcendent plane where the categories of ends and beginnings lack any practical distinction. Consequently, the rule of Achashverosh was characterized by a time of seeming divine indifference, where evil appeared to have been allowed to prevail without incurring G-d's immediate judgment. Why then did Haman still feel the need to cast a lottery to carry out his plan? Chapters 6 and 7 of the maamar.

The idea of a lottery represents a level of reality that transcends not only intellect but even will. This is the level of G-dliness known as "Ba'al HaRatzon" which means the master of the will. On that level, atonement for violation of G-d's will is possible. After understanding this, however, we are left with the question why Haman would have attempted to invoke such a concept that facilitates atonement for the Jewish people. The answer is that within the system of creation, Haman knew that he could not defeat the Jews. However, if he could access the level of randomness, there was at least a possibility that his plan would succeed. Chapters 3-5 of the discourse.

Daudzi vecāki piekritīs, cik labs mūsdienu pasaules “izgudrojums” ir tāda iestāde kā bērnudārzs. Bet paradums mazus bērnus atstāt bērnudārza audzinātāju uzraudzībā, kamēr vecāki dodas darba gaitās, radies tikai 20. gadsimtā. Taču ne tikai pieskatīšana vecāku prombūtnē bija priekšnoteikums pirmsskolas izglītības iestāžu radīšanai - arī vajadzība celt bērnu izglītības līmeni. Kāda ir bērnudārzu vēsture Latvijā? Par pirmsskolas izglītības vēsturi saruna raidījumā Zināmais nezināmajā, stāsta Rīgas 49. pirmsskolas izglītības iestādes vadītāja un arī pirmsskolas izglītības vēstures pētniece Vineta Jonīte. No bāriņu namiem līdz daudzveidīgām pedagoģijas metodēm, mācot bērniem latviskumu, dažādas prasmes un izrādot dziļas rūpes par katru audzēkni – tāds ir laika lēciens bērnudārzu attīstības vēsturē no 1600. gadiem līdz 20. gadsimtam, kad kā spilgta personība bērnudārzu veidošanā parādās Marta Rinka. Viņu varam godināt kā “Latvju bērnu dārzu māti”, un grāmatu ar tieši šādu nosaukumu izdevusi pirmsskolas izglītības vēstures pētniece Vineta Jonīte. Sodi skolās “Skolēni nedrīkst apmeklēt jaunatnei nepiemērotus izrīkojumus, jaunatnei neatļautas kinoizrādes, masku balles, dejas un izpriecu lokālus.” Šādi Latvijas Republikas skolu kārtības noteikumi tika izdoti 1936. gadā. Kādi bija skolēnu nedarbi un kādus sodus par tiem piemēroja, stāsta pedagoģijas vēsturniece Alīda Zigmunde, kura ir pētījusi skolēnu disciplīnas pārkāpumus un sodus Latvijas skolās starpkaru periodā. „Viļa Plūdoņa darbs bija autoritārs. Plūdons necieta pretimrunāšanu. Mazākais sods (tāpat kā par jebkuru citu pārkāpumu) bija kaktā stāvēšana. Dažreiz abos priekšējos  klases kaktos stāvēja pa divi trīs puikām. Nākamais soda mērs bija ieraksts dienasgrāmatā un visbargākais sods bija vecāku izsaukšana uz skolu.” Tādas jurista, žurnālista un valodnieka Konstantīna Karuļa atmiņas par dzejnieka un Rīgas 1.gimnāzijas pedagoga Plūdoņa darba metodēm savā pētījumā par  pārkāpumiem un sodiem Latvijas skolās 20. gadsimta 20.-30. gados ir fiksējusi RTU profesore, Rīgas Skolu muzeja muzejpedagoģe pedagoģijas vēsturniece Alīde Zigmunde. Runājot par vispārējiem soda mēriem tolaik Latvijas skolās Alīda Zigmunde min, ka tas augstākais sods bija izslēgšana no skolas, un tos pielietoja arī pat par grāmatu un burtnīcu bojāšanu. Bet kādi tolaik bija skolēnu pārkāpumi? Alīdas Zigmundes rakstā ir dramaturga Pētera Pētersona atmiņas par mācībām Franču licejā, kur viņš raksta, ka 20. gs. 30. gados pīpēšana kāda posmā skolā bija sasniegusi nepieļaujamu  pakāpi. Citās skolas bija novērojama tendence bojāt skolas inventāru - izsist logus, salauzt ūdens krānus, skolēni arī zaguši, kāvušies, viltojuši  skolas atestātus. Un vēl kāds citāts no Alīdas Zigmundes pētījuma par nedarbiem un sodiem skolās par skolnieču uzvedību  Rīgas 3. ģimnāzijā. "Tur klusumu klasē nav spējis panākt ticības mācības skolotājs mācītājs Jānis  Tēriņš, kurš reiz trokšņošanu nav varējis izturēt, pielecis kājās un  teicis, ka  klasi atstāt nāksies vai nu visām skolniecēm, vai arī viņam vienam. Uz ko klases vecākā  atbildējusi, ka  viņas ir daudzas, bet skolotājs tik viens. Un tā meitenes palikušas klasē, bet skolotājs  izgājis no telpas."

The name Purim refers to the "pur" or the lottery cast by Haman to choose the month in which to carry out his evil plan. Why is the name of the holiday connected with attempted tool of destruction? We begin to explain that the idea of a lottery, which features both on Purim as well as Yom Kippur, refers to a level beyond the normal framework. Chapters 1-2 of the discourse.

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan

Tere Darshan Karu Guruji : Shri Sureshanandji Bhajan