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This week, we get songs and stories from the road from the one and only bassist extraordinaire: Mr. Billy Sheehan! We had the opportunity to chat with the icon about his adventurous musical journeys, cats, and deviled ham! Kevin was on the verge of imploding as this conversation completed his goal to have a chat with his holy bass trinity of Geddy, Squire, and Sheehan! Come discover more about some of the bands that Billy's been part of that maybe you aren't as familiar with!Wondering what this show is all about? We exhume obscure Rock n' Punk n' Metal and place them in one of 3 categories: the Lost, the Forgotten, or the Should Have Beens. Kevin and Robert were both excited to have the opportunity to chat with the amazingly talented Billy Sheehan. After having a brief encounter with him involving potted meat a few years ago, we wondered if he would remember us. Check out his reaction and some great stories about his more obscure musical endeavors. Songs this week include:Thrasher – “Burning At The Speed Of Light” from Thrasher (1985)Talas – “High Speed On Ice” from Sink Your Teeth Into That (1982)MIWA – “Hell Is Real” from Hell Is Real (2020)Billy Sheehan – “Analog Kid” from Working Man – A Tribute To Rush (1996)Mari Hamada – “Prism” from SOAR (2023)KUNI – “East Meets West” from Masque (1986)Niacin – “Klunkified” from Deep (2000) Please subscribe everywhere that you listen to podcasts!Visit us: https://inobscuria.com/https://www.facebook.com/InObscuriahttps://x.com/inobscuriahttps://www.instagram.com/inobscuria/Buy cool stuff with our logo on it: InObscuria StoreIf you'd like to check out Kevin's band THE SWEAR, take a listen on all streaming services or pick up a digital copy of their latest release here: https://theswear.bandcamp.com/If you want to hear Robert and Kevin's band from the late 90s – early 00s BIG JACK PNEUMATIC, check it out here: https://bigjackpnuematic.bandcamp.com/Check out Robert's amazing fire sculptures and metal workings here: http://flamewerx.com/
Shownotes :: (show 1044) :: (website) :: (podcast feed) :: (direct download) :: (direct iTunes link) With Nomo no Kuni, recorded live June 8th, 2025. This week we watched an OVA. What did we think? ask us on Discord, even better listen to the show and find out. Community OG Networks OGN Discord OG BlueSky Spotify OG|N Patreon Link(s) and Stuff Show Links (discussed) Feedback channel Join us next week... while we (pop-step) our way to the final public days of this podcast. (o.O)!!!
No vídeo de hoje, Júnior, Robs, Trox e Ygaraki se reúnem para uma conversa nostálgica e analítica sobre um momento marcante na história dos mangás: o dia 9 de setembro de 2009, quando três obras de peso estrearam juntas na então recém-lançada Bessatsu Shounen Magazine. Sim, estamos falando de Shingeki no Kyojin, Aku no Hana e Doubutsu no Kuni — três títulos que trilharam caminhos bem diferentes, mas que dividiram o mesmo ponto de partida.O quarteto discute o impacto de cada obra, como seu primeiro capítulo já demonstrava (ou escondia) o potencial que viria a explodir depois, e o quanto essa trinca insana ajudou a consolidar a revista como um espaço ousado, diferente e aberto a narrativas bem menos convencionais.Um mergulho no passado editorial e criativo de Hajime Isayama, Shuuzou Oshimi e Makoto Raiku!
A LINK TO THE PODCAST 6X17: Entrevista a Samuel García, artista en StarGazers, el estudio detrás de Aureole: Wings of Hope. Ya tienes disponible un nuevo programa. Aquí tienes el último programa antes del lanzamiento de Nintendo Switch 2. Cuando emitamos el próximo capítulo ya lo haremos con la nueva consola de Nintendo en nuestras manos. En nuestra entrevista hablaremos con uno de los responsables de Aureole: Wings of Hope, también conocido como el Sonic bueno. Un título que desafía las físicas y en el que alcanzaremos velocidades de infarto. En nuestra tertulia nos hemos hecho una pregunta: ¿Qué vamos a hacer con nuestras Nintendo Switch (la 1) cuando llegue la nueva consola de Nintendo. Esta cuestión dará pie a multitud de anécdotas. Aparte, y como siempre, no faltarán el resto de secciones (Indies, curiosidades, efemérides, Linkstarter, Linkitron…) Además, vuelve nuestra compañera Marta García Villar con una nueva edición de Player Select. Y si a todo esto le sumas la mejor música de videojuegos y premios a nuestra audiencia, pues la verdad es que se queda un programa de lo más completo. Aquí tienes más de 5 horas de programa que hemos preparado con todo nuestro cariño. No te contamos más, disfruta de este programa y esperamos tus comentarios. SUMARIO: 0:00 – Presentación. 6:15 – Entrevista a Samuel García, artista en TeamStarGazers, estudio creador de Aureole: Wings of Hope. 1:05:16 – Curiosidades 6x17 by Nintendatos. 1:07:59 – Sorteos de códigos para Nintendo Switch y un pack de merchandising de ALTTP. 1:13:35 – Indiespensables: Top Indies Nintendo Switch (del 50 al 25) 2:01:28 – Linkitron: Capítulo 16 2:06:56 – Maneras de apoyar el proyecto ALTTP. 2:13:03 – Tertulia: ¿Qué harás con la Switch 1? Anécdotas y vivencias sobre nuestras consolas. 3:32:49 – Medios de contacto: Participa en el programa. 3:37:14 – Linkstarter: Las mejores campañas de crowdfunding. 4:03:33 – Efemérides Gamer: Top de la segunda quincena de mayo. 4:07:26 – Contenido realizado en el programa. 4:14:17 – Los Juegos de Devuego: Lanzamientos españoles en el mes de mayo de 2025. 4:37:26 – Player Select: Oliver y Drippy (Ni no Kuni) 5:03:50 – Saludos de oyentes: Pedroceuta. 5:05:16 – Despedida. Una nueva etapa para seguir soñando. Gracias por estar ahí siempre. Enlaces LinkStarter 6x17: Tabletop Pinball - https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/bslade/3-4-scale-and-tabletop-digital-pinball-machine-12-games-in-1 | Vengeance Hunters - https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/smfcreativestudio/vengeance-hunters-physical-switch-ps4-5-and-neo-geo | Mighty Shot - https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/1985347448/mighty-shot | Prelude Dark Pain - https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/quickfiregames/prelude-dark-pain/ | Heroes of Might And MAgic Tabletop TRPG - https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/lmpublishing/heroes-of-might-and-magic-ttrpg | Mavericks Baghdad Extraction - https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/desertoftheundead/mavericks-baghdad-extraction SÍGUENOS EN LAS REDES: https://allmylinks.com/alinktothepodcast
"Ima li išta dragocjenije međusobno si darovati, doli dobrotu. To je uvijek stvar izbora, promišljenog odmicanja od nekih poriva koji nam kazuju da je važno da je prvenstveno nama dobro, da se moramo skrbiti prije svega za vlastite ugodnosti, promišljenog odmicanja od sebičnosti. Neka izbor bude dobrota, ma koliko ona koštala. Uvijek se isplati." S. Sunčica Kunić
Yogo and Kuni have a heart to heart, then Yogo and Akira begin searching for faceless. We are a Fantasy Horror podcast that takes place in Rokugan the world of Legend of the Five Rings. Uses Edge Studio's Version. BSKY: @sojpod.bsky.social Email: sojpodrpg@gmail.com Discord: https://discord.gg/bpme5NJ Facebook: https://facebook.com/sojpodrpg
This week on Keepin' It Strong Style, Jeremy Donovan and the "Young Boy" Josh Smith break down a packed week in New Japan Pro Wrestling. They review Wrestling Hizen no Kuni, highlighted by three title matches, before diving into both nights of Wrestling Dontaku. The guys discuss Naito and BUSHI's emotional final appearances as contracted NJPW wrestlers, the chaotic Dog Pound Steel Cage Match, and Hirooki Goto's IWGP World Heavyweight Title defense against Callum Newman. They close the show by previewing Resurgence and the upcoming Best of the Super Jr. 32 tournament.Get Your Official Keepin' It Strong Style Merchandise: https://chopped-tees.com/collections/social-suplex-network/keepin-it-strong-styleJoin our Patreon for ad-free audio, live video streams, and other bonus content: https://www.patreon.com/KIStrongStyleFollow us on YouTube: @SocialSuplexFollow us on X: @SocialSuplex, @KIStrongStyle, @JeremyLDonovanFollow us on Instagram: @SocialSuplexLike us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SocialSuplex/Join our Discord: https://discord.gg/QUaJfaCVisit our website for news, columns, and podcasts: https://socialsuplex.com/Join the Social Suplex community Facebook Group: The Wrestling (Squared) CircleKeepin' It Strong Style is the New Japan Pro Wrestling Podcast of the Social Suplex Podcast Network. Support the Social Podcast Network by leaving a rating and review on Apple Podcasts.#njpw #njdontaku #newjapanprowrestlingSupport this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/social-suplex-podcast-network/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
This week on Keepin' It Strong Style, Jeremy Donovan and the "Young Boy" Josh Smith break down a packed week in New Japan Pro Wrestling. They review Wrestling Hizen no Kuni, highlighted by three title matches, before diving into both nights of Wrestling Dontaku. The guys discuss Naito and BUSHI's emotional final appearances as contracted NJPW wrestlers, the chaotic Dog Pound Steel Cage Match, and Hirooki Goto's IWGP World Heavyweight Title defense against Callum Newman. They close the show by previewing Resurgence and the upcoming Best of the Super Jr. 32 tournament.Get Your Official Keepin' It Strong Style Merchandise: https://chopped-tees.com/collections/social-suplex-network/keepin-it-strong-styleJoin our Patreon for ad-free audio, live video streams, and other bonus content: https://www.patreon.com/KIStrongStyleFollow us on YouTube: @SocialSuplexFollow us on X: @SocialSuplex, @KIStrongStyle, @JeremyLDonovanFollow us on Instagram: @SocialSuplexLike us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SocialSuplex/Join our Discord: https://discord.gg/QUaJfaCVisit our website for news, columns, and podcasts: https://socialsuplex.com/Join the Social Suplex community Facebook Group: The Wrestling (Squared) CircleKeepin' It Strong Style is the New Japan Pro Wrestling Podcast of the Social Suplex Podcast Network. Support the Social Podcast Network by leaving a rating and review on Apple Podcasts.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/keepin-it-strong-style/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
John Pollock and Damian Abraham review WWE Raw with Paul Heyman appearing with Seth Rollins & Bron Breakker after last week's show-closing angle.Also, Rhea Ripley takes on Roxanne Perez, Becky Lynch explains her attack on Lyra Valkyria, and Logan Paul appears.The XL Edition continues at POSTwrestlingCafe.com with News of the Day and Feedback, ad-free. Today's stories:Three more ring boys join lawsuit, amended complaint filedMayu Iwatani is leaving StardomAll-Star Grand Queendom draws 7,500Rey Mysterio undergoes surgeryFriday Night SmackDown ratingsNJPW Hizen no Kuni on TuesdayNXT and AEW Dynamite lineups POST Wrestling Café Schedule:Thursday: Rewind-A-Wai - WrestleMania 32 (2016) Saturday: Collision Course Sunday: NJPW Wrestling DontakuFREE Shows:Tuesday: upNXTWednesday: Pollock & Thurston Wednesday: Rewind-A-Dynamite (XL in the Café)Friday: POST PuroresuFriday: Rewind-A-SmackDown (XL in the Café)Photo Courtesy: WWE Rewind-A-Raw Theme by Colby John: https://soundcloud.com/colbyjohnBluesky: https://bsky.app/profile/postwrestling.comX: http://www.twitter.com/POSTwrestlingInstagram: http://www.instagram.com/POSTwrestlingFacebook: http://www.facebook.com/POSTwrestlingYouTube: http://www.youtube.com/POSTwrestlingSubscribe: https://postwrestling.com/subscribePatreon: http://postwrestlingcafe.comForum: https://forum.postwrestling.comDiscord: https://postwrestling.com/discordMerch: https://Chopped-Tees.com/POSTwrestlingAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
Joel and Damon are back to preview New Japan Pro Wrestling's Road To Dontaku shows including April 28th's Wrestling Hizen no Kuni. The guys also discuss Callum Newman and his world title shot, more reaction to Tetsuya Naito's future, New Japan on the market, and we answer your questions.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/super-j-cast/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
Joel and Damon are back to preview New Japan Pro Wrestling's Road To Dontaku shows including April 28th's Wrestling Hizen no Kuni. The guys also discuss Callum Newman and his world title shot, more reaction to Tetsuya Naito's future, New Japan on the market, and we answer your questions.Advertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! Matraqueo melódico en esta nueva sesión. ¡A por ella! Nuevos: Shiraz Lane, Giant, H.E.A.T, Jimmi Barnes, BT-84, Streetlight, W.E.T Clásicos: Kuni, Jerusalem Slim, Talisman, Mamma's Boys, Wild Rose, Push, Toto La semana que viene, Classic Diamonds 1354Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de AOR Diamonds. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/75094
Shu yilning 2-aprelini Prezident Tramp "Ozodlik kuni" deb e'lon qildi va shu kuni keng ko'lamli tariflarni e'lon qildi. Bu qarorning tarixi, mohiyati, mantig'i va ta'siri haqida gaplashdik. 1930 yillardagi savdo urushini qo'zg'atgan va Buyuk Depressiyani chuqurlashtirgan deb esdan qolgan Smut-Houli paytidan beri mamlakat bunday tariflarni hali boshdan kechirmagan edi. Podkast yozilgan sana: 7 - Aprel 2025 yil. Podkast epizodi hamkori - aksiyadorlik tijorat banki "AloqaBank". http://www.aloqabank.uz/ https://zoomrad.uz/mobile-app.
"Osvrnite se danas na ono što je prošlo, da nanovo otkrijete za što sve možete biti zahvalni, da se vratite u djetinjstvo i zahvalite i za sve vaše prijatelje uz koje ste odrasli i naposlijetku, da zahvalite dragom Bogu za spomene po kojima ste to što jeste… koje žive u Vama…ili možda i u nekom Vašem spomenaru." S. Sunčica Kunić.
Knjige kao putovanja koja nas mijenjaju.
Neste podcast falamos sobre cinco mangás distintos: Estranho conto da Ilha Panorâmica, Houseki no Kuni, Leviathan, Blue Giant e Tetsuwan Girl
Kuidas esimesed Milline Naine videopodcasti salvestused pekki läksid, mis hetkel elus frustreeriv on ning kuidas nüüd on aeg sussutamine lõpetada. Kursus Momentum: aitab sussutamisest, aeg on tegutseda!Kasuta ostul sooduskoodi: millinenaine, mis annab -10€Kuni 19.02 saadaval varajase muska hind 89€, täishind 111€Liitu Patreoni "La Familia" kogukonnaga. KATRIN HINRIKUSInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/katrinhinrikus/Mentorluse ja konsultatsiooni osas kirjuta: katrinhinrikus@gmail.com MILLINE NAINEInstagram: https://www.instagram.com/millinenaine/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/millinenaine/Millised Naised FB grupp: https://www.facebook.com/groups/millisednaised/
Svaki dan, sa svim što jest, dobar jer je Božji neprocjenjiv dar, jer tek u njega stane život, jer je moj i tvoj i jedini izvjestan koji imamo i koji živimo.
Matumizi ya kuni yanaweza kuwa na athari chanya na hasi kwa mazingira, kulingana na jinsi zinavyovunwa, kutumiwa na kusimamiwa. Leo mwandishi Christopher Karenzi kutoka Kigali, Rwanda ameangazia hatua ya kuondokana na matumizi yake lakini changamoto pia raia wanazokumbana nazo.
Was passiert, wenn alles zusammenbricht? Krieg in Europa, Stromausfälle, leere Supermärkte – die Szenarien sind realer, als wir denken. Doch wie vorbereitet sind wir WIRKLICH auf den Ernstfall? In der aktuellen Podcastfolge spreche ich mit **KUNI**, einem ehemaligen SEK-Beamten, der sich mit Extremsituationen besser auskennt als die meisten. Er zeigt auf, was wirklich passieren könnte, wenn das System bricht, und warum wir uns nicht auf unsere vermeintliche Sicherheit verlassen können. Ich wollte wie immer wissen, wie es wirklich ist und habe alles, was ich bisher für selbstverständlich gehalten habe, nochmal überdacht. Die ganze Folge gibt es wie immer ab Mittwoch um 18:00 Uhr auf **YouTube**, **Spotify** und überall, wo es Podcasts gibt. Sponsoren: (WERBUNG) https://linktr.ee/ungeskriptet_werbepartner KAPITEL: (00:00:00) - Intro (00:01:06) - Ist Deutschland gefährlicher geworden? (00:22:10) - Auf was muss ich als normaler Bürger vorbereitet sein? (00:37:37) - Was wäre wenn? Ein Szenario (00:56:24) - Wir bereite ich mich aufs Kämpfen vor? (01:14:03) - Ich habe mir den Podcast anders vorgestellt (01:15:54) - Bringt es etwas, sich selbst zu bewaffnen? (01:37:08) - Es geht uns zu gut (01:45:08) - Was hat damals Spaß gemacht? (02:05:15) - Eine letzte Frage Ben: Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/c/ungeskriptetbyben?sub_confirmation=1 TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@ungeskriptet Instagram: https://instagram.com/ben_ungeskriptet KUNI: Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/kuni.331/?hl=de Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@kuni331 {ungeskriptet} gibt's hier bei YouTube und überall, wo es Podcasts gibt. Alle weiteren Links: https://www.ungeskriptet.com Mein Ziel ist, der beste Podcast Host Deutschlands zu werden. Ich verspreche dir, die spannendsten Gäste an meinen Tisch zu holen. 100% Realtalk. No Bullshit. #besterpodcast. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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.
It was a Jack solo episode this week, and let's just say… it wasn't his favorite. The pick was inspired by Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, but it veered into parody territory, tweaking the original tale to fit the writer's vision. For Jack, though, it just didn't hit the mark. The story felt bland—like it was thrown together without a strong, cohesive narrative. Definitely one he wouldn't revisit. Next Week's Pick: Overlord: The Sacred Kingdom Are you ready for more action and intrigue? We'll be diving into Overlord: The Sacred Kingdom! If you've had the chance to watch Godzilla: The Planet Eater or any of our past selections, we'd love to hear your thoughts. Got a recommendation? Drop us a suggestion here! Deals for You Fuel your anime binge with these exclusive offers: Crunchyroll Affiliate Offers: Get 15% off your first anime merch order here. Stream Your Favorites: Start a free trial and catch all the anime you love with Crunchyroll here. TokyoTreat Special: Save $5 on your first box with code "FEATUREDANIME" when you order through this link. Looking for Anime Merch? We've got you covered! Check out our stores for awesome anime-themed gear: Main Store Alternative Shop Support the Podcast Love what we do? Help us keep the podcast alive and ad-free by supporting us on Patreon! Your support gets you bonus content, exclusive perks, and a direct line to our creative process. Join us on Patreon Stay Connected Don't miss out on our latest episodes, discussions, and updates! Connect with us: Contact Us Anime List: Check out our anime picks on MyAnimeList. Twitch: Join our live streams on Mondays at 10 PM EST on Twitch. Email: Reach out to us at info@featuredanimepodcast.com. Twitter: Follow us at @ThoseAnimeGuys. Facebook: Like us on Featured Anime Podcast. Discord: Join our community on Discord. Anime Info & Ratings This Week's Anime: Producers: Omnibus Studio: Asahi Production Aired: July 2011 Genres: Fantasy, Romance Source: Visual Novel Run Time: 1 hr. 24 min. Our Ratings: Jack's Score: 2/10 What's your take on this week's anime? Excited about next week's pick? Let's hear it in the comments or on social!
O pjesništvu, tom pomalo zanemarenom pulsiranju duša onih koji su razotkrili svoje dubine i darovali ih svijetu. Zašto? Da se i svijet zaustavi, da se u njima prepozna, pronađe, odmori, da ga propitkuju, potresu, umire, obnove nadu.
This week, we're exploring a dark comedy with a unique take on the classic Truck-kun trope. Instead of transporting someone unwillingly, it brings over someone wishing to leave their current life. Our main character actively seeks death in this new world but ends up surviving against all odds at every turn. This twist on the usual formula offers a fresh perspective, but it's important to note that the show deals heavily with themes of suicide, making it a thoughtful yet challenging watch. Important: If you or someone you know is struggling, please seek help. U.S. Hotline: Dial 988 for immediate support. International Help: Visit IASP's website for resources local to you. Next Week's Pick: Heart no Kuni no Alice: Wonderful Wonder World Have you watched Immoral Guild or any of our previous picks? We'd love to hear your thoughts and suggestions for future anime. Submit your recommendations here. Deals for Anime Fans: Crunchyroll Merch Discount: Get 15% off your first order here. Crunchyroll Streaming: Start your free trial now. TokyoTreat Box: Use code FEATUREDANIME for $5 off TokyoTreat. Anime Merch Stores: Looking for more anime-related items? Check out our stores: Main Store Alternative Shop Support the Podcast: Enjoy what we do? Help us keep the podcast going by joining our Patreon community. Get ad-free episodes, bonus content, and more. Stay Connected: Contact Us: Got a question or suggestion? Reach out to us anytime on our Contact Us page. MyAnimeList: Explore all the anime we've reviewed on our MyAnimeList. Twitch: Live Mondays at 10 PM EST on twitch.tv/featuredanimepodcast. Email: info@featuredanimepodcast.com Twitter: @ThoseAnimeGuys Facebook: Featured Anime Podcast Discord: Join the chat. Anime Details and Ratings: Producers: Movic, AT-X, Magic Capsule, BS11, Kadokawa Studio: AtelierPontdarc Aired: July 2024 – September 2024 Genres: Adventure, Comedy, Fantasy, Parody Episodes: 12 Source: Web Manga Ratings: Jack: 8/10 Rick: 6/10 We'd love to hear your thoughts on this week's pick. Let us know!
Do you hear that sound? Can you feel it? The cool ocean breeze in your hair, the salt on your tongue. It's the smooth crash of KVGM "The Last Wave", with your host, Hammock. A biweekly VGM podcast bringing you the jammiest video game music from all your favorite composers and consoles. Sit back, relax, and get ready to catch...the Last Wave. This week, we hit up Playstations 1 through 4, return to the Super Family Computer for a racing jam, trade some baseball cards on our mobile telephones, and get a little dirt on the personal computer, as per usual. Playlist Enter the Rainbow Gate - Maki Mannami (Gran Turismo Sport, Sony PlayStation 4) Warm Embrace - TrioDesign (Oshioki ~Gakuen Reijou Kousei Keikaku~, PC) My Hero - Naoshi Mizuta (Pro Yakyuu ga Suki Da! 2017, Apply iOS) Practice Dream - Masaru Tajima (Mini-Yonku Let's & Go!! Power WGP 2, Super Famicom) CG Mode - MARI (Clover no Kuni no Alice, Sony PlayStation 2) Olivier - Saori Yoshida (Yakuza 5, Sony PlayStation 3) Encyclopedia - Unknown (Shoukou Shindan Training DS, Nintendo DS) A Glance Without Color - Takehiro Kawabe, Noriyasu Agematsu, Ebi, and Remain (Mizuiro, Sega Dreamcast) love (Erotic Theme 2) - Yasuhisa Watanage (Majokko de'GO♪GO♪ ~Paul to Mira☆Kuru Daisakusen~, PC) Ending - Makoto Asai and Haruya Ooi (Hikaru no Go: Insei Choujou Kessen, Sony PlayStation) Special Request Prize 3rd - Kazumi Totaka (Wave Race 64, Nintendo 64)
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.
Hitting the last of the Taika reforms, including talk about names, ranks, official duties, and new sumptuary laws for officials. For more, check out: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-111 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 111: Names, ranks, and court caps. In the early hours of the morning, the locked gates of the palace were dark against the sky. A few torches provided flickering illumination, as a crowd of officials gathered to the left and right of the doors. As they waited outside, a low murmur could be heard as they made small talk with their co-workers. Stragglers continued to join the crowd as the sky itself began to lighten, and though the sun still rested below the horizon, the stars had already given way. As the light grew, and the torches were extinguished, a few late arrivals rushed up just as sun began to peek over the horizon. At that, the doors were opened from inside, and the officials streamed in, heading to their offices where they would get to work running the country—their main tool in this task being little more than brush and paper, as they worked to bring order to the chaos. Here we are, still in the second year of Taika, aka 646, and still going through the changes being made to the Yamato government. Last episode we went through many of the edicts made in and around the third month of the year. These include proscriptions on the size and content of various tombs, down to how many people they could have work on them and for how long. Other edicts impacted who could actually control the labor of the people. While it is likely that local officials remained in charge, there was at least a nominal understanding that the people's labor—whether in the form of corvee labor or rice and similar products of the agricultural labor of the people working the fields—all that labor belonged to the State and, by extension, the sovereign. There were many other, specific edicts, many having to do with marriage and various instances of harai—not to mention the invention of “escrow”. One of the themes through much of this was at least the nominal extension of the sovereign's direct authority down to the lowest levels of society. This was accomplished by setting up offices down to the village level that would report up the chain all the way to the court. These “officers” were likely pulled from individuals who were already part of the elites, but instead of being paid by income from their own lands, they now had stipends coming directly from the court. That was a theme that continued in the edicts that came out in the 8th month, which is where we're going to start with today's episode. Before we get into that, though, a quick caveat: I am still not convinced that I fully understand what is going on with some of these edicts, especially around names. I'm not even sure the Chroniclers fully comprehended what they had put together and pulled from various sources at times, which occasionally seems like it is contradictory or repetitive. So I'll do my best to explain it as I see it, but if you really want to get into this topic you probably will want to dig into it for yourself. Now I want to start with Aston's translation of part of the edict as recorded in the Nihon Shoki. Following a rather flowery introduction talking about sage kings—a topic we should touch on at some point—they get to the heart of the matter: “Now as to the names of the early Princes: the Omi, Muraji, Tomo no Miyatsuko and Kuni no Miyatsuko have divided their various Be and allotted them severally to their various titles (or surnames). They afterwards took the various Be of the people, and made them reside in the provinces and districts, one mixed up with another. The consequence has been to make father and child to bear different surnames, and brothers to be reckoned of distinct families, while husbands and wives have names different from one another. One family is divided into five or split up into six, and both Court and country are therefore filled with contentious suits. No settlement has been come to, and the mutual confusion grows worse and worse. Let the various Be, therefore, beginning with those of the reigning Sovereign and including those in the possession of the Omi, Muraji, etc., be, without exception, abolished, and let them become subjects of the State. Those who have become Tomo no Miyatsuko by borrowing the names of princes, and those who have become Omi or Muraji on the strength of the names of ancestors, may not fully apprehend our purport, and might think, if they heard this announcement without warning, that the names borrowed by their ancestors would become extinct. We therefore make this announcement beforehand, so that they may understand what are our intentions. The children of rulers succeed one another in the government of the Realm, and it is well known that the names of the actual Sovereign and of his Royal ancestors will not be forgotten by the world. But the names of sovereigns are lightly given to rivers and plains, or common people are called by them. This is a truly fearful state of things. The appellations of sovereigns, like the sun and moon, will float afar: the names of those of the Royal line will last for ever, like unto Heaven and Earth. Such being our opinion, we announce as follows:--'Do ye all, from those of the Royal line down to the Ministers, the Daibu, Omi, Muraji, and Tomo no Miyatsuko, who do Us service, (in short) all persons of whatever Uji [One book has 'royal subjects of whatever name'], give ear to what We say. With regard to the form of your service, We now abolish the former offices and constitute afresh the hundred bureaus. We shall, moreover, grant grades of rank and confer official dignities.” Whew. That is a lot, and I want to try to break it down as best I can. First off, I believe this ties in to the earlier edict, in the third month, that we mentioned last episode. In that edict, the sovereign abolished the “Iribe”—those families made for the princes and ostensibly around to keep certain names alive, though quite probably they were family groups meant to keep previous princes and others rolling in their rice payments. This new edict is continuing that trend – of abolishing the Be – but is coming at it from a different perspective. As a reminder, the “Be” and the various “Uji”, while they were longstanding Yamato tradition by this point, were originally imported traditions from the continent. By all accounts the “Be” were the first to be created, with the “family” system creating a hereditary structure through which people would be born into particular jobs, with a familial “head” that would then organize the various members across the realm. The more aristocratic “uji” formed out of that. Based on this edict, it seems that not only the sovereign of Yamato was using this system. In fact, I suspect that the various local “sovereigns” of other lands had adopted it for their own purposes as well, and it sounds like even the Yamato courtiers had taken to using a version of this system within the lands that they controlled. The Be and Uji system were, by this point, ubiquitous across the archipelago, at all levels, from what we can tell. Family *names*, however, were not a native system in Yamato. Prior to the introduction of the Be and Uji, as best we can tell people were known by where they were from, what they did and the titles they held, and by their given names. A father and son would not necessarily have shared a name, other than those other factors that they held in common by way of ancestry. I further suspect that ancestor worship was not so much a thing, either. Not that people in Yamato didn't revere their parents or remember those that passed on, but there weren't the same ideas about family as among, say, the ethnic Han, for whom ancestor worship was important, and carrying a family name was tied to larger cultural and ritual implications. In early Yamato, names were tied to jobs and position in society. If that changed, then someone could easily create a new family—a new “Be”—and people placed in that group would have both a new name and new responsibilities. If a particular elite uji, like the Abe, the Ohotomo, the Nakatomi, or the Mononobe, needed people to set up a new income stream for a particular person—perhaps a son or daughter—or they wanted to start a new industry in their territory, they might just have easily called up various people and reassigned them from one Be to a newly created one. That would surely explain the breaking up of fathers and sons, such that each had a different name. At the same time, this would have likely been anathema to the Confucian dogma that underlay much of the reasoning behind the reforms. Confucian theory gives much weight to the concept of filial piety, that a son should be loyal to the father. Thus to cause a father and son to be split into different families without good reason was likely at odds with what the elite were telling themselves was the proper way of Heaven. So now we come back to the edict, which treats the entire traditional naming system as though it was in line with Confucian ideals. Moreover it places the authority to regulate these families and family names in the sovereign. This wasn't actually a new thing: the Chronicles previously had mentioned regulating names under the reign of Woasatsuma no Ohokimi, aka Ingyou Tennou, in the 5th century. This was covered back in episode 56, where we talked about the importance of names, how they determined who you were and your position in society. This was changing, as was the concept of family, which was, once again, much more closely tied to Confucian notions of family. So controlling the names of the families was another form of power that further emphasized the position of the sovereign. Through the regulation of these corporate families, their labor, was now being brought under the nominal control of the sovereign and the state. This edict also removed the tradition of naming corporate groups after a person. Previously that traditions seems to have started as a way to create groups that actually supported a given individual with their labor. Those groups would often persist beyond the individual, however, and I suspect that's where they became thought of as a kind of memorial, maintaining the memory of that individual. And I can see the power in that kind of thing, especially prior to having any kind of decent written records. It is interesting to see how the practice had come to be viewed by the 7th century. There is a mention in the edict of something that runs contrary to how we understand things actually happened, and that was in the comment that lakes and rivers and more had been named after sovereigns. The Chroniclers here are referring to the way that placenames, such as Hatsuse, or Hase, as well as Okinaga or Katsuraki, show up in the names of various sovereigns. Aston notes something that seems obvious to me, when you think about it: These places weren't named after the sovereigns, but the other way around. Assuming that many of the names we see in the Chronicles were actually titles, they told you things about the person they were attached to, possibly where they were from. Of course, that interpretation doesn't fit as well into the narrative of the 7th and 8th centuries and the idea that the royal lineage was a largely unbroken line back to the earliest ancestors, instead of a broken lineage of different people from different places.So with all of that, the court abolished the practice of creating all of these different family names. The edict almost makes it sound like they were abolishing those families, as well, though they make a clarifying point about that: there is a note about how some of the tomo no miyatsuko—a general name for those families that served in court—took their position by ‘borrowing the name of a prince', and how the court didn't want those people to be worried about how this change would affect them. The meaning would appear to be that courtly families would be unaffected, and this only affected families going forward or those that were created that were apparently below the level of the Tomo no Miyatsuko. That said, this is where it is good to remember that we are reading a Sinified version of the ancient Japanese as told by biased Chroniclers and trying to interpret it through a modern lens, often going through yet another translation in the process. The second part of the edict mentions abolishing the former offices and constituting afresh the hundred bureaus. This is a bit difficult to parse, but Aston suggests that it refers to abolishing any actual authority attached to the old titles, many of which had become nothing more than names. So when we see things like Wake and Mimi and other such things that appear to be old titles, the court was likely making sure that everyone now understood that those no longer had any actual authority. The kabane or family ranks stayed, at least for now, greater emphasis was placed on the newly established positions that were set up as part of the new state bureaucracy, as well as the rank and stipend that was likewise given out. Aston also suggests that this change means that the rank and the title were not necessarily one and the same, though high rank often did come with a high position. The edict doesn't stop there, however. After talking about names and families, it goes on to talk about governors and the kuni-no-miyatsuko handing out rice land per previous edicts. It is noted that the rice land should be handed out equally to the people, and that those who live on or next to the land should be the ones to get it. I wonder about the actual execution, but at first blush, at least, this seems to make sense—don't make families hike all the way across the village or region to till the field, but try to locate their land near their home. It also notes that alternate taxes—when it is labor or something else in lieu of rice—should only be collected from men, presumably the head of the household. This was likely part of the shaping of patriarchal attitudes that assumed the men were the head of household and the chief laborers. The edict went on to call up corvee labor—one from every fifty houses, as had been previously mentioned—to help survey the various provinces and create maps of the provinces and districts. This is a rather monumental task, and it is unfortunate that no actual map survives from this time as far as I'm aware, but it is one more effort to try to bring the entire realm under the control of the state. In this case you are, in a way, capturing the realm on paper and setting up a basis on which to discuss later things like land ownership and use even though the actual land might be far away from the political and administrative center. Finally, the edict makes note that uniform provision would be made for any canals, embankments, or rice land that needed to be brought into cultivation. This likely varied in each district and province, so there is just a general note that would have required local officers of the court to determine exactly what was needed. And that was it for the 8th month, and for edicts that year. There was more that we will cover in later episodes—rats marching to the east, the last gasps (perhaps) of Nimna as a consideration, and other such things. But no more edicts. At least not that year. The following year, Taika 3, or 647, we see the issue of names comes up again. This time the edict came out in the fourth month, and the claims now seem similar but slightly different from before. The issue in the 4th month appears to be that some family names were derived from the names of kami or even sovereigns. Moreover, people were apparently using that connection to claim that they had certain authorities to continue to make people their slaves or to avail themselves of their labor. In the case of the names related to sovereigns, I suspect that ties in directly with the previous discussions of creating corporate groups to support a given prince or other royal family member. As for the kami, there seems to be some idea that groups that claimed descent from a particular kami would take that kami's name. So those claiming descent from Oho-kuni-nushi, the Lord of the Great Land, used the name “Oho-kuni-nushi” as their family name. We aren't given specific examples, however. There are numerous possible explanations I could see for these, especially given the way that early power structures tied themselves to the ability to appease powerful spirits. The Ohomiwa family name, for example, likely refers to their connection to the religious activities on Mt. Miwa. I also would not be surprised to learn that some of these families were ancient royalty in their own lands—the lands that Yamato now claimed as provinces. There is the possibility, though, that all of this is just people taking names for themselves and putting on airs—trying to be important. After all, in a time before documentation, whos to say when you actually arrived at a particular name and how. This is a phenomenon seen in parts of America, especially in the early days, when many people struck off to make a life, often without the baggage attached to a previous identity. Prior to more rigorous systems of documentation, how would you know if the person you met really was “Mr. Underhill” and not someone entirely different? Most important, to me, is the act of the sovereign, as head of the state, in actively claiming authority over these issues as well as putting a stop to the way that people were using such names to apparently make claims to certain entitlements. The message seems clear: Moving forward, everything has to go through the sovereign and the court. The previous systems of rule and governance will no longer be tolerated. Of course, it isn't exactly clear how this was enforced. Was it purely through the court? Or was there also some threat of force and violence if people didn't conform? Or was it enough to make the edict and then have local governors handle it? Other than the example that was made of several of the governors, which we talked about over the last couple of episodes, I'm not sure that we fully know how it all went down. There were a few other edicts mentioned that year, but apparently the chroniclers didn't know exactly when they had been instituted, and so just claimed that it occurred during that year. It seems that there was a new palace built, replacing the old government offices at Wogohori, in Naniwa, and there were new rules for how the court would operate. That entry is placed between the entries of the 4th and 10th month, suggesting it was instituted around the summer period. Then, after a few more entries, including one for the last day of the year, there was the the institution of a new rank system. As for the new court rules: all courtiers were to show up to work at the Hour of the Tiger—the period of roughly 3 to 5 AM by modern standards—and they were to stand at the gates of the palace until dawn, at which point the doors would be open and people would be allowed in. Once everyone was in, the doors would be shut, and anyone who was late, well, I guess you were calling out for the day. We talked a little bit about this practice back in Episode 95, when we were going over Umayado's 17 article constitution, which exhorted the court officials to arrive early and stay late. This was clearly based on continental models, and as I mentioned back in that episode, it was likely done to make sure that officials had the most daylight possible to complete their tasks. Not that there were so many tasks. The workday ended around noon—the Hour of the Horse, which technically spanned 11 AM to 1 PM. A bell would be rung, letting everyone know that it was time to go home. Realistically this means that you are lining up at 4 AM and going home at noon—roughly an 8 hour day, not including the commute. And if 4 AM seems early, this was not an uncommon time for people to get up and prepare for the day when they didn't have artificial light to keep them going so much later. In Medieval Europe it wasn't uncommon for servants to be up and about by 3 or 4 am to go get food to start cooking. If you consider that it was dark by 6 or 7 pm, and you go to bed around 8 pm, you just might wake up at 4 in the morning—going to bed a little earlier, or just going with a bit less sleep, and you can be up and about by that time. This also gave the court officials time for everything else they would need to do. From noon until sunset would have been time for the social functions; what we might consider “networking” in a modern corporate environment. Today we can shift these considerations to much later due to electricity, but when light meant fire and fire meant the possibility of burning down your entire house, then using the light you had makes sense. In fact, one has to wonder if this is what led to the fire that destroyed Naka no Oe's own mansion—but we'll probably want to save the rest of that story for another episode. The other thing happening this year, and in many ways closely tied with the new court ceremonies, was the implementation of a new rank and cap system. The previous rank system from the time of Umayado was replaced with a system of seven kinds of court caps and 17 grades. It is often assumed that court caps and clothing were instituted for the earlier system, though there isn't a clear mention of uniforms and colors associated with the earlier ranks are largely conjecture. It isn't clear that the court had yet picked up the continental clothing styles. By 647, however, it seems that the court was considering official court clothing. The Tang Dynasty had instituted color regulations for clothing in the the 4th year of Zhen Guan. The style of robe, the panling lanshan, was borrowed from the Xianbei—a robe with a round-necked collar that originally appeared in the Northern dynasties. It had been previously adopted by scholars and officials in the Tang dynasty, and in the edict of 630 the Tang emperor dictated specific colors that could be worn based on the rank of the individual. Coincidentally, 630-632 is when Inugami no Mitasuki was there as an envoy of the Yamato court. He would have seen the style of the imperial Tang court. Uniforms at the Tang court would have been quite the sight, especially if you weren't used to it. People in the same style and cut of robe, not just for fashion purposes, but coordinated, like a modern sports team. You could immediately tell someone's rank, and when they lined up, it would have been particularly striking. It is unclear to me just how similar the Yamato implementation of this system was to the continental version. This may have been more like the “we have a rank system at home” version of courtly outfits. It also must have been quite the task to have all of the proper caps made from different materials for all of the various ranks and individuals. And these weren't caps you wore all the time—only at major court ceremonies, including when official dignitaries were visiting or during various Buddhist ceremonies. What's more, only two years later they would change it again. This time we have the edict pegged to the second month of the year 649, with 19 court cap-ranks initiated. I'll put the ranks themselves up on the podcast blog at sengokudaimyo.com if anyone is interested in the specifics, but a few notes. First, the names of the ranks were based on various things, such as the color of the cloth of the cap itself and whether it was plain or embroidered. Some of the classes are based on things like “Flower”, “Mountain”, or “Tiger”, though they possibly meant “Kingfisher” for that last one. The first three classes are broken up into Greater and Lesser, or Dai and Shou, while the lower classes—ranks 7 to 18—were further broken into Upper and Lower. So you would have Upper Daikwa, Lower Daikwa, Upper Shoukwa, and Lower Shoukwa, as an example. That method of breaking the lower classes of ranks into more was something that would persist into later rank systems. The last rank, “Risshin”, just meant “Advancement” and seems to refer to the lowest grade on the scale. In addition to the ranks, in the 2nd month of 649 Takamuku no Kuromaro and the Buddhist Priest Bin presented their work on the 8 Ministries—or Departments—and the 100 bureaus. This is work they had been tasked with at the beginning, and the eventual structure is definitely based closely on the Tang dynasty's court, but is not necessarily a one for one adoption. At the top of it all are the 8 Ministries, or Shou, which oversaw the various bureaus—the text says one hundred, but they aren't actually enumerated and so I think we can assume that they just meant that there were a lot of them. The actual 8 Ministries are as follows: Nakatsukasa Shou – the Ministry of Central Affairs Shikibu Shou – the Ministry of Civil Office Jibu Shou – the Ministry of Ceremonies Mimbu Shou – the Ministry of Popular Affairs Hyoubu Shou – the Ministry of War Gyoubu Shou – the Ministry of Justice Ohokura Shou – the Ministry of the Treasury Kunai Shou – the Ministry Imperial Household Many of these ministries would last for centuries, even as their power was eclipsed by other government institutions. Still, they would continue to be important, and today the Kunai Shou still exists, though now it is the “Kunai CHO”, often translated as the Imperial Household Agency. These ministries each had officials at their head who reported up to the Ministers of the Left and Right. These 8 ministries would make up the core of what would come to be known as the Daijo-kan, sometimes referred to as the Great Council of State, which operated the secular government, as opposed to the Jingi-kan, which would come to oversee national Shinto, or kami-related, affairs and ritual. And with that, we largely come to the end of what appears to be the Taika reforms. The rest of the reign could be thought of as a “burn in” period, I guess, as we assume that they continued to implement these reforms and build up this new government. It is likely relevant that the following year, in 650, they changed the era name, something that we'll eventually want to talk about. For now, I think we should call it here. Next episode we'll backtrack a bit and go back to some of the other, non-edict related events in this period. It wasn't exactly clean. There was intrigue, murder, and more. Politics at the time were anything but dull. Still, the reforms had brought about a real change in the administration of Yamato, a change that would influence the entire nation for centuries to come. The centralization of power and the adoption of continental models would not stop simply at administrative tasks, but would find their way into many different facets of life. Naka no Oe himself would continue to refine the system, as would those who came after him. The reforms touched just about every facet of life across the archipelago, and in many ways it finally brought the archipelago under the control of the State, with the sovereign at its head. 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 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.
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.
Ito-koku and Na-koku were the next two countries on the path of the Wei envoys noted in the Gishiwajinden. They likely refer to the areas known today as Itoshima and Fukuoka, so what do we know about these places in the Yayoi period, and how is it that by the 3rd century Yamato seemed to have taken the foremost position on the archipelago and not one of these other countries, where wet paddy rice agriculture and other continental technologies first arrived in the archipelago. For more see our podcast blog post at: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/itoandna Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Gishiwajinden Part Five: Ito-koku and Na-koku This episode we are finishing up our Gishiwajinden Tour, focusing on our journey to Ito-koku and Na-koku, or modern day Itoshima and Fukuoka. We'll talk about what we know from the records of these two areas in the Yayoi and early Kofun periods, and then look at some of the later history, with the development of the Dazaifu, the build up of Hakata and Fukuoka, and more. A key thread through all of this will be our discussion about why it was Yamato, and not these early states, who eventually became paramount. If this is where things like wet paddy rice agriculture started, and they had such close ties to the continent, including sending a mission to the Han dynasty, why did the political center shift over to Yamato, instead? It is certainly something to wonder about, and without anything written down by the elites of Na and Ito we can only really guess based on what we see in the histories and the archaeological record. We ended our tour in Na for a reason: while the Gishiwajinden—the Japanese section of the Wei Chronicles—describes the trip from the continent all the way to Yamatai, the locations beyond Na are largely conjecture. Did ancient travelers continue from Na along the Japan Sea coast up to Izumo and then travel down somewhere between Izumo and Tsuruga to the Nara Basin? Or did they travel the Inland Sea Route, with its calmer waters but greater susceptibility to pirates that could hide amongst the various islands and coves? Or was Yamatai on the island of Kyushu, and perhaps the name just happens to sound similar to the Yamato of Nara? Unfortunately, the Wei Chronicles have more than a few problems with accuracy, including problems with directions, meaning that at most we have some confidence in the locations out to “Na”, but beyond that it gets more complicated. And even “Na” has some questions, but we'll get to that later. Unlike the other points on our journey, we didn't stay overnight at “Ito-koku”, , and we only briefly stayed at Na—modern Fukuoka, but I'll still try to give an account of what was going on in both places, and drawing on some past visits to the area to fill in the gaps for you. Both the Na and Ito sites are believed to be in the modern Fukuoka prefecture, in Itoshima and Fukuoka cities. Fukuoka prefecture itself actually spans all the way up to the Shimonoseki straits and includes the old territory of Tsukushi—Chikuzen and Chikugo—as well as the westernmost part of Buzen, the “closer” part of the old land of “Toyo” on the Seto Inland Sea side of Kyushu. When it comes to locating the country of Ito-koku, we have lots of clues from current place names. The modern Itoshima peninsula, which, in old records, was known as the country of Ito, and was later divided into the districts of Ito and Shima. Shima district, at the end of the peninsula, may have once been an island—or nearly so. It is thought that there was a waterway between the two areas, stretching from Funakoshi bay in the south to Imazu Bay, in the north, in Fukuoka proper. Over time this area was filled in with deposits from the local rivers, making it perfect for the Yayoi style wet rice paddy agriculture that was the hallmark of the growth in that period. And indeed there are certainly plenty of Yayoi and Kofun era ruins in the area, especially in eastern reaches of the modern city of Itoshima, which reside in the valley that backs up to Mt. Raizan. There you can find the Ito-koku History Museum, which tells much of the story of Ito. The Weizhi, or the Wei Chronicles, note that Ito-koku had roughly a thousand households, with various officials under their own Queen, making it one of the few Wa countries that the Chroniclers specifically noted as being a “kingdom”, though still under the nominal hegemony of the queen of Yamatai or Yamateg. If you continue eastward along the coast from Itoshima, you next hit Nishi-ku, the Western Ward, of modern Fukuoka city, which now continues to sprawl around Hakata Bay. Nishi-ku itself used to also be known as “Ito”, though spelled slightly differently, and you can still find Ito Shrine in the area. So was this part of Ito-koku also? It's very possible. Na-koku, or the country of Na, was probably on the eastern edge of modern Fukuoka, perhaps around the area known as Hakata down to modern Kasuga. Much like in Karatsu, this area features some of the earliest rice fields ever found in Japan – in this case, in the Itazuke neighborhood, just south of Fukuoka airport. The land here is mostly flat, alluvial plains, formed by the rivers that empty out into Hakata Bay, another great area for early rice agriculture. Locating the country of Na is interesting for several reasons. For one, unlike all of the other Wei Chronicles sites we've mentioned, there is no clear surviving placename that obviously matches up between “Na” and the local area. It is a short enough name that it may simply be difficult to distinguish which “Na” is meant, though there is a “Naka” district in Kasuga that may show some promise. There certainly is evidence for a sizeable settlement, but that's much more tenuous than the placenames for other areas, which remained largely in use in some form up to the modern day, it would seem. The name “Na” shows up in more than just the Weizhi, and it is also mentiond in the Houhan-shu, or the Record of the Later Han, a work compiled later than the Weizhi, but using older records from the Late Han dynasty period. There it is asserted that the country of Na was one of the 99 some-odd countries of Wa, and they sent an embassy to the Later Han court, where they received a gold seal made out to the “King of Na of Wa”. We talked about this in Episode 10: The Islands of the Immortals: That seal, made of gold, was seemingly found in the Edo period—1784, to be precise. A farmer claimed to have found it on Shika island, in Hakata Bay, which is quite prominent, and connected to the mainland with a periodically-submerged causeway. The description of the find—in a box made up of stones, with a large stone on top that required at least two men to move it—seems like it could have been an old burial of some kind. The island certainly makes sense as an elite burial site, overlooking Hakata Bay, which was likely an important feature of the lifeways of the community. While there have been questions about the authenticity of the seal, if it is a forgery, it is quite well done. It looks similar to other Han era seals, and we don't really have a way to date the gold it is made of. Without the actual context we can't be quite sure. This certainly seems like pretty strong evidence of the country of Na in this area, somewhere – probably not on the island itself, then close by.So unless something else comes along, I think we can say that this is at least the vicinity of the old country of Na. Okay, so now that we've talked in general about where these two places were, let's go back and look at them in more detail. The Ito-koku site is just up the coast from where we stayed for Matsuro-koku, in Karatsu, which all makes sense from the position of the Chronicles in that it says the early envoys traveled overland from one place to the other. Of course it also says they traveled southeast, which is not correct as the route is actually northeast. However, they had traveled southeast from the Korean peninsula to Tsushima and then Iki and Matsuro, so that direction was well established, and this is an easy enough error that could have been made by the actual envoys or by later scribes, as it would be a one character difference. For Ito-koku, as with Matsuro-koku, we have no large, reconstructed sites similar to Harunotsuji on Iki or Yoshinogari, further inland in Saga prefecture, where we have an entire, large, so-called “kingly” settlement. There is evidence of settlements, though, both near the major burial sites as well as around the peninsula. And as for those burial sites, well, Ito has a few, and they aren't merely important because of their size. Size is often an indication of the amount of labor that a leader must have been able to mobilize, and so it can be used to get a general sense of the power that a given leader or system was able to wield, as they could presumably turn that labor to other users as well. However, it is also important to look at other factors, like burial goods. What kind of elite material was the community giving up and placing with the deceased? That is the case with the first site we'll discuss, the Hirabaru burial mound. At first glance it isn't much—a relatively unassuming square mound, about 12 by 14 meters, and less than 2 meters in height. It was discovered in 1965 by a farmer who started digging a trench to plant an orchard and started pulling up broken pieces of a bronze mirror, one of the first clues that this was someone important. They later found various post holes around the site, suggesting that it was more than just an earthen mound, and as they excavated the site they found pottery, beads, mirrors, and more. Let's start with those post-holes. It looks like there was at least one large pillar set up due east of the burial. We don't know how tall it was, but it was likely of some height given the size of the pillar hole—I've seen some estimates that it could have been up to 70 meters tall. A tall pole would have provided visibility, and it may also be significant that it was east, in the direction of the rising sun. We know that the ancient Wa had a particular connection with the sun, and this may be further evidence of that. There are other holes that may be a gate, and possible a storehouse nearby, presumably for various ritual items, etc. Suddenly, even without knowing exactly what was there, we start to see a picture of a large, manmade complex that seems to be centered on this burial and whomever is there. On top of that, there was a mirror in the tomb that was larger than any other ever found in Japan at that time—certainly the largest round mirror of that period. It is not one of the triangular rimmed mirrors that Yamato is known for, but may have been part of another large cache brought over from the mainland. About 40 mirrors in total, many of them very large, were found buried in the tomb, some of which appear to have been broken for some reason. Furthermore, the large mirrors appear to fit within the dimensions given the Great Mirror—the Yata no kagami—housed at the sacred Ise Shrine. There is a document in 804, the “Koutai Jingu Gishiki Chou”, detailing the rituals of Ise shrine, which describes the sacred mirror sitting in a box with an inner diameter of 1 shaku, 6 sun, and 3 bu, or approximately 49.4 centimeters, at least using modern conversions. The same measurements are given in the 10th century Engi Shiki. So we can assume that the mirror in Ise, which nobody is allowed to actually see, let alone measure, is smaller than that, but not by much, as the box would have been made to fit the mirror, specifically. It isn't like you can just grab a box from Mirror Depot. The mirrors found at Hirabaru Mound measure 46.5 centimeters, and have a floral pattern with an eight petaled flower on the back. Could this mirror be from the same mold or the same cache, at least, as the sacred mirror at Ise? At the very least, they would seem to be of comparable value. In addition, there were many beads, jars, etc. Noticeably absent from the burial were swords and weapons. Based on this, some have argued that this was the burial of a queen of Ito-koku. There is evidence that this may be the case, but I don't think the presence of weapons, or the lack thereof, is necessarily a good indicator. After all, we see in the old stories that women were also found wielding swords and leading troops into battle. So it's dangerous to make assumptions about gender based on this aspect alone. I wonder if the Hirabaru tomb assemblage might have more to do with something else we see in Yamato and which was likely applicable elsewhere in the archipelago: a system of co-rulership, where one role might have to do more with administrative and/or ritual practice, regardless of gender. This burial assemblage or mirrors and other non-weapons might reflect this kind of position. The Weizhi often mentions “secondary” or “assistant” positions, which may have truly been subordinate to a primary ruler, or could have just been misunderstood by the Wei envoys, who saw everything through their particular cultural stratification. In a similar fashion, early European explorers would often name people “king”—from the daimyo of Sengoku era Japan to Wahunsenacawh, known popularly as “Powhatan” for the name of his people, on what would become known as North America. That isn't to say that these weren't powerful individuals, but the term “king” comes with a lot of Eurocentric assumptions and ideas about power, stratification, etc. Is there any reason to believe that the Wei envoys and later chroniclers were necessarily better at describing other cultures? And of course we don't have any physical remains of the actual individual buried there, either. However, there is a good reason to suggest that this may have been a female ruler, and that *is* because of something in the Weizhi, which specifically says that the people of Ito lived under the rule of a female king, aka a queen, using a description not unlike what is used for Queen Himiko. In fact, Ito gets some special treatment in the record, even though it isn't the largest of the countries. Let's look at those numbers first: Tsushima is said to have 1,000 households, while Iki is more like 3,000. Matsuro is then counted at 4,000 families, but Ito is only said to have 1,000, similar to Tsushima. Just over the mountains and along the Bay, the country of Na is then counted at a whopping 20,000 households, so 20 times as many. These numbers are probably not entirely accurate, but do give an impression of scale, at least. But what distinguishes Ito-koku in this is that we are told that it had a special place for envoys from the Korean peninsula to rest when they came. It makes you wonder about this little place called Ito. Hirabaru is not the only kingly tomb in the area. Walk about 20 to 30 minutes further into the valley, and you might just find a couple of other burials—in particular Mikumo-Minami Shouji, discovered in 1822, and Iwara-Yarimizo, which includes artifacts discovered in the 1780s in the area between Mikumo and Iwara as they were digging a trench. Based on evidence and descriptions, we know that they pulled out more bronze mirrors and other elite goods indicative of the late Yayoi paramounts. In these areas they have also found a number of post holes suggesting other buildings—enough to perhaps have a relatively large settlement. As noted earlier, we do not have a reconstructed village like in Harunotsuji or Yoshinogari, given that these are private fields, so the shape of the ancient landscape isn't as immediately impressive to people looking at the area, today. The apparent dwellings are largely found in the triangle created between two rivers, which would have been the water source for local rice paddies. The tombs and burials are found mostly on the outskirts, with the exception of the kingly burial of Mikumo-Minami Shouji. This is also interesting when you consider that the later Hirabaru mound was situated some distance away, raising a bunch of questions that we frankly do not have answers for. The area of these ruins is not small. It covers roughly 40.5 hectares, one of the largest Yayoi settlements so far discovered. Of course, traces of other large settlements—like something in the Fukuoka area or back in Yamato—may have been destroyed by later construction, particularly in heavily developed areas. This is interesting, though, when you consider that the Weizhi only claimed some 1,000 households. There are also other graves, such as various dolmens, across Ito and Shima, similar to those found on the peninsula, and plenty of other burials across both ancient districts. And as the Yayoi culture shifted, influence of Yamato can be seen. While Ito-koku clearly had their own burial practices, which were similar to, but not exactly like, those in the rest of the archipelago, we can see them start to adopt the keyhole style tomb mounds popular in Yamato. During the kofun period, the area of Itoshima built at least 60 identified keyhole shaped tombs, with a remarkable number of them from the early kofun period. Among these is Ikisan-Choushizuka Kofun, a large, round keyhole tomb mound with a vertical stone pit burial, estimated to have been built in the latter half of the 4th century. At 103 meters in length, it is the largest round keyhole tomb on the Genkai coast—that is to say the northwest coast of Kyushu. All of these very Yamato-style tombs would appear to indicate a particular connection between Ito and Yamato—though what, exactly, that looked like is still up for debate. According to the various early Chronicles, of course, this would be explained because, from an early period, Yamato is said to have expanded their state to Kyushu and then even on to the Korean peninsula. In particular, the Chronicles talk about “Tsukushi”, which is both used as shorthand for the entirety of Kyushu, while also indicating the area largely encompassing modern Fukuoka prefecture. On the other hand, this may have been a sign of Ito demonstrating its own independence and its own prestige by emulating Yamato and showing that they, too, could build these large keyhole tombs. After all, the round keyhole shape is generally thought to have been reserved, in Yamato, for members of the royal family, and Ito-koku may have been using it similarly for their own royal leaders. It may even be something in between—Ito-koku may have recognized Yamato's influence and leadership, but more in the breach than in actuality. Afterall, until the standup of things like the various Miyake and the Dazai, we aren't aware of a direct outpost of the Yamato government on Kyushu. The Miyake, you may recall, were the ”royal granaries”, which were basically administrative regions overseeing rice land that was directly controlled by Yamato, while the Dazai was the Yamato government outpost in Kyushu for handling continental affairs. On top of a lack of local control in the early Kofun, the Weizhi appears to suggest that the Yamato paramount, Himiko, was the “Queen of the Wa” only through the consensus of other polities, but clearly there were other countries in the archipelago that did not subscribe to her blog, as it were, as they were in open conflict with Yamato. This all leads into something we've talked about in the main podcast at various times, but it still bears discussing: How did Yamato, over in the Nara Basin, become the center of political life in the Japanese archipelago, and why not somewhere in Kyushu, like ancient Na or Ito? While we don't entirely know, it is worth examining what we do and some of the factors that may have been in play. After all, Kyushu was the closest point of the main Japanese islands to the mainland, and we see that the Yayoi culture gets its start there. From there, Yayoi culture spread to the east, and if we were to apply similar assumptions as we do on the spread of the keyhole shaped kofun, we would assume that the culture-givers in the west would have held some level of prestige as groups came to them to learn about this new technology, so why wasn't the capital somewhere in Kyushu? We likewise see other such things—Yayoi pottery styles, fired in kilns, rather than open fired pottery; or even bronze items brought over from the continent. In almost every instance, we see it first in Kyushu, and then it diffuses eastward up to the edge of Tohoku. This pattern seems to hold early on, and it makes sense, as most of this was coming over from the continent. Let's not forget, though, that the Yayoi period wasn't simply a century: by our most conservative estimates it was approximately 600 years—for reference, that would be roughly equivalent to the period from the Mongol invasions up to the end of the Edo period, and twice as long as the period from Mimaki Iribiko to the Naka-no-Oe in 645, assuming that Mimaki Iribiko was ruling in the 3rd century. So think about all that has happened in that time period, mostly focused on a single polity, and then double it. More recent data suggests that the Yayoi period may have been more like an 1100 to 1300 year range, from the earliest start of rice cultivation. That's a long time, and enough time for things in the archipelago to settle and for new patterns of influence to form. And while Kyushu may have been the first region to acquire the new rice growing technology, it was other areas around the archipelago that would begin to truly capitalize on it. We are told that by the time the Wei envoys arrived that the state of Yamato, which we have no reason not to believe was in the Nara Basin, with a focus on the area of modern Sakurai, had approximately 70,000 households. That is huge. It was larger than Na, Ito, and Matsuro, combined, and only rivaled in the Weizhi by Touma-koku, which likely referred to either the area of Izumo, on the Japan Sea coast, or to the area of Kibi, along the Seto Inland Sea, both of which we know were also large polities with significant impact in the chronicles. And here there is something to consider about the Yayoi style agriculture—the land determined the ultimate yield. Areas with more hills and mountains are not as suited to wet rice paddy agriculture. Meanwhile, a flat basin, like that in Yamato, which also has numerous rivers and streams draining from the surrounding mountains into the basin and then out again, provided the possibility for a tremendous population, though no doubt it took time to build. During that time, we definitely see evidence of the power and influence of places like Na and Ito. Na sent an embassy to the Han court—an incredible journey, and an indication of not only their interest in the Han court and continental trade, but also their ability to gather the resources necessary for such a journey, which likely required some amount of assistance from other, nearby polities. Na must have had some sway back then, we would assume. Meanwhile, the burial at Ito shows that they were also quite wealthy, with clear ties to the continent given their access to large bronze mirrors. In the absence of other data, the number and size of bronze mirrors, or similar bronze items, likely only useful for ritual purposes, indicates wealth and status, and they had some of the largest mirrors as well as the largest collection found for that period. Even into the stories in the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki we see how mirrors, swords, and jewels all are used a symbols of kingship. Elite status was apparently tied to material items, specifically to elite trade goods. Assuming Yamato was able to grow its population as much as is indicated in the Weizhi, then by the 3rd century, they likely had the resources to really impress other groups. Besides things like mirrors, we can probably assume that acquisition of other goods was likewise important. Both Ito and Yamato show evidence of pottery shards from across the archipelago, indicating extensive trade networks. But without any other differentiating factors, it is likely that Yamato, by the 3rd century, at least, was a real powerhouse. They had a greater production capacity than the other states listed in the Weizhi, going just off of the recorded human capital. And this may answer a question that has been nagging me for some time, and perhaps others: Why did other states acquiesce to Yamato rule? And the answer I keep coming back to is that it was probably a combination of wealth, power, prestige, ritual, and time. For one thing, wealth: Yamato had it. That meant they could also give it. So, if Yamato was your friend, you got the goods, and you had access to what you need. You supported them, they could help you with what you needed. These transactional alliances are not at all uncommon, and something I think most of us can understand. There is also power—specifically military power. With so many people, Yamato would likely have been a formidable threat should they decide that violence was the answer. That said, while we read of military campaigns, and no doubt they did go out and fight and raid with the best of them, it's expensive to do so. Especially exerting control over areas too far out would have been problematic, especially before writing AND horses. That would be costly, and a drain on Yamato's coffers. So while I do suspect that various military expeditions took place, it seems unlikely that Yamato merely bested everyone in combat. Military success only takes you so far without constant maintenance. And so here is where I think prestige and ritual come into play. We've talked about how Yamato did not exactly “rule” the archipelago—their direct influence was likely confined to the Kinki region for the longest period of time. And yet we see that they influenced people out on the fringes of the Wa cultural sphere: when they started building large, keyhole shaped kofun for their leaders, and burying elites only one to a giant mound, the other areas of Japan appear to have joined in. Perhaps Yamato was not the first to build a kofun for a single person, but they certainly were known for the particular shape that was then copied by so many others. But why? We don't know for certain, but remember that in Yamato—and likely the rest of the Wa cultural sphere—a large part of governance was focused on ritual. The natural and what we would consider the supernatural—the visible and invisible—worked hand in hand. To have a good harvest, it required that workers plant, water, harvest, etc. in the right seasons and in the right way. Likewise, it was considered equally important to have someone to intercede with the kami—to ensure that the rains come at the right time, but not too much, and a host of other natural disasters that could affect the crop. And if you want to evaluate how well ritual works, well, look at them. Are you going to trust the rituals of someone whose crops always fail and who barely has a single bronze mirror? Or are you going to trust the rituals of someone with a thriving population, multiple mirrors, and more? Today, we might refer to this as something like the prosperity gospel, where wealth, good health, and fortune are all seen as stemming from how well one practices their faith, and who's to say that back in the day it wasn't the same? Humans are going to human, after all. So it makes sense that one would give some deference to a powerhouse like Yamato and even invite their ritualists to come and help teach you how it is done. After all, the local elites were still the ones calling the shots. Nothing had really changed. And here is where time comes in. Because over time what started as an alliance of convenience became entrenched in tradition. Yamato's status as primus inter pares, or first among equals, became simply one of primus. It became part of the unspoken social contract. Yamato couldn't push too hard on this relationship, at least not all at once, but over time they could and did demand more and more from other states. I suspect, from the way the Weizhi reads, that Yamato was in the early stages of this state development. The Weizhi makes Queen Himiko feel like something of a consensus candidate—after much bickering, and outright fighting, she was generally accepted as the nominal paramount. There is mention of a male ruler, previously, but we don't know if they were a ruler in Yamato, or somewhere else, nor if it was a local elite or an earlier paramount. But not everyone in the archipelago was on board—Yamato did have rivals, somewhere to the south (or north?); the directions in the Weizhi are definitely problematic, and it may refer to someone like the Kuma or Kumaso people in southern Kyushu or else people that would become known as the Emishi further to the east of Yamato. This lasted as long as Yamato was able to continue to demonstrate why they were at the top of this structure. Theoretically, anyone else could climb up there as well, and there are certainly a few other powerful states that we can identify, some by their mention and some by their almost lack of mention. Izumo and Kibi come to mind almost immediately. The Weizhi makes it clear that Himiko's rule was not absolute, and part of her reaching out to the Wei in the first place may have been the first attempt at something new—external validation by the continent. A large part of international diplomacy is as much about making people believe you have the power to do something as actually having that power. Getting recognition from someone like the Wei court would further legitimize Yamato's place at the top of the heap, making things easier for them in the long run. Unfortunately, it seems like things did not go so smoothly, and after Himiko's death, someone else came to power, but was quickly deposed before a younger queen took over—the 13 year old Toyo. Of course, the Wei and then the Jin had their own problems, so we don't get too many details after that, and from there we lose the thread on what was happening from a contemporary perspective. Instead, we have to rely on the stories in the Nihon Shoki and Kojiki, which are several hundred years after the fact, and clearly designed as a legitimizing narrative, but still present us something of a picture. We don't see many stories of local elites being overthrown, though there do seem to be a fair number of military campaigns. Nonetheless, even if they were propped up by Yamato, local elites likely had a lot of autonomy, at least early on, even as they were coopted into the larger Yamato umbrella. Yamato itself also saw ups and downs as it tried to figure out how to create a stable succession plan from one ruler to the next. At some point they set up a court, where individuals from across the archipelago came and served, and they created alliances with Baekje, on the peninsula, as well as with another polity which we know of as Nimna. Through them, Yamato continued to engage with the continent when the dynastic struggles there allowed for it. The alliance with Baekje likely provided even more legitimacy for Yamato's position in the archipelago, as well as access to continental goods. Meanwhile the court system Yamato set up provided a means for Yamato to, itself, become a legitimizing factor. Hierarchical differences in society were already visible in the Yayoi period, so we can generally assume that the idea of social rank was not a new concept for Yamato or the other Wa polities. This is eventually codified into the kabane system, but it is probably likely that many of the kabane came about, originally, as titles of rank used within the various polities. Yamato's ability to claim to give—or even take away—that kabane title, would have been a new lever of power for Yamato. Theoretically, other polities could just ignore them and keep going on with their daily lives, but if they had already bought into the social structure and worldview that Yamato was promoting, then they likely would have acquiesced, at least in part, to Yamato's control. Little by little, Yamato's influence grew, particularly on those closer to the center. Those closer, and more affected, started to listen to Yamato's rules about kofun size and shape, while those further on the fringes started to adopt Yamato's traditions for themselves, while perhaps maintaining greater independence. An early outlier is the Dazai. It is unclear whether this was forcibly imposed on the old region of Na and nearby Ito, or if it was more diplomatically established. In the end, though, Yamato established an outpost in the region early on, almost before they started their practice of setting up “miyake”, the various royal granaries that appear to have also become local Yamato government offices in the various lands. The Dazai was more than just a conduit to accept taxes in the form of rice from various locals—it was also in charge of missions to the continent. Whether they were coming or going, military or diplomatic, the Dazai was expected to remain prepared. The early iterations were likely in slightly different locations, and perhaps not as large, but still in roughly the area near modern Fukuoka and Dazai. This was a perfect place not only from which to prepare to launch or receive missions from the continent, but also to defend the nearby Shimonoseki straits, which was an important entryway into the Seto Inland Sea, the most direct route to Naniwa and the Yamato court. The first iterations of direct Yamato control in Tsukushi—modern Fukuoka—claim to have been focused largely on being a last point to supply troops heading over to fight on the peninsula, not unlike the role of Nagoya castle on the Higashi-Matsuura peninsula in the 16th century. Over time, though, it grew into much more. The Weizhi, for its part mentions something in the land of Ito, where there were rooms set up for envoys from the continent, but the Dazai was this on steroids. Occasionally we see evidence of pushback against Yamato's expansion of powers. Early on, some states tried to fool the envoys into thinking that they were Yamato, perhaps attempting to garner the trade goods for themselves and to take Yamato's place as the interlocutor between the Wa polities and the continent. We also see outright rebellions—from Iwai in Kyushu, in the 6th century, but also from various Emishi leaders as well. The Iwai rebellion may have been part of the impetus for setting up the Dazai as a way to remotely govern Tsukushi—or at least help keep people in line. For the most part, though, as time goes by, it would seem that Yamato's authority over other polities just became tradition, and each new thing that Yamato introduced appears to have been accepted by the various other polities, over time. This is likely a much more intricate process than even I'm describing here, but I'm not sure that it was necessarily a conscious one; as the concept of Yamato as the “paramount” state grew, others ceded it more and more power, which only fed Yamato's self-image as the paramount state. As the elites came under the Yamato court and rank system, they were more closely tied to it, and so Yamato's increased power was, in a way, passed on to them as well. At least to those who bought in. By the 5th century, we know that there were families sending people to the court from as far away as Hi no Kuni in Kyushu—near modern Kumamoto—and Musashi no Kuni in the east—including modern Saitama. All of that said, while they may have subordinated themselves to Yamato in some ways, the various polities still maintained some independent actions and traditions. For example, whatever their connection to Yamato, the tombs at Itoshima also demonstrate a close connection to the peninsula. The horizontal entry chamber style of tomb—something we saw a lot in Iki, and which seems to have been introduced from the continent—started to become popular in the latter half of the 4th century, at least in the west of the archipelago. This is well before we see anything like it in Yamato or elsewhere, though it was eventually used across the archipelago. Itoshima appears to have been an early adopter of this tomb style, picking it up even before the rest of the archipelago caught on, making them the OG horizontal chambers, at least in Japan. Ultimately, the image we have of Ito-koku is of an apparently small but relatively influential state with some influence on the cross-strait trade, with close ties to Yamato. The history of the region seems a bit murky past the Kofun period. There are earthworks of an old mountain castle on Mt. Raizan that could be from the Asuka period, and in the 8th century the government built Ito castle on the slopes of Mt. Takaso, possibly to provide some protection to the Dazaifu, which was the Yamato outpost in Kyushu, and eventually became the main administrative center for the island. It seems, then, that whatever power the country of Ito may have once had, it was subsumed by the Dazai, which was built a little inland, east of the old Na territory. Furthermore, as ships grew more seaworthy over time, they could make the longer voyages straight to Iki or Tsushima from Hakata. For the most part, the area of the Itoshima peninsula seems to have been merely a set of districts in the larger Tsukushi and then the Chikuzen provinces. The area of Na, meanwhile, which is said to have had 20,000 households in the 3rd century—much larger than nearby Ito—was completely eclipsed by the Dazaifu after the Iwai rebellion. After the fall of Baekje, the Dazaifu took on even greater administrative duties, and eventually took over all diplomatic engagement with the continent. They even set up a facility for hosting diplomatic envoys from the continent. This would come to be known as the Kourokan, and they actually found the ruins of it near the site where Maizuru castle was eventually built in what is now Chuo-ku, or the central ward, of Fukuoka city. From the Heian period onwards, the Harada family eventually came to have some power in the area, largely subordinate to others, but they built another castle on Mt. Takaso, using some of the old Ito Castle earthworks, and participated in the defense of the nation during the Mongol invasions. The Harada family rose briefly towards the end of the Sengoku Period, pushing out the Otomo as Hideyoshi's campaign swept into Kyushu. They weren't quite fast enough to join Hideyoshi's side, though, and became subordinate to Kato Kiyomasa and eventually met their end during the Invasions of Korea. The Ito district at some point after that became part of the So clan's holdings, falling under Tsushima's purview, along with a scattering of districts elsewhere, all likely more about the revenue produced than local governance. In the Edo period, there were some efforts to reclaim land in Imazu bay, further solidifying links with the Itoshima peninsula and the mainland, but that also fits in with the largely agricultural lifestyle of the people in the region. It seems to have remained largely a rural backwater up into modern times, when the Ito and Shima districts were combined into an administrative district known as “Itoshima city”. Meanwhile, the Dazaifu continued to dominate the region of modern Fukuoka. Early on, worried about a Silla-Tang alliance, the Yamato state built massive forts and earthworks were built around the Dazaifu to protect the region from invasion. As the Tang dynasty gave way to the Song and Yuan dynasties, however, and the Heian court itself became more insular, the Dazaifu's role faded, somewhat. The buildings were burned down in the 10th century, during the failed revolt of Fujiwara no Sumitomo. The government never rebuilt, and instead the center of regional government shifted to Hakata, closer to the bay. Appointed officials to the Dazai were known as the Daini and the Shoni. Mutou Sukeyori was appointed as Dazai Shoni, the vice minister of the Dazaifu, in the late 12th century. Though he had supported the Taira in the Genpei wars, he was pardoned and made the guardian of Northern Kyushu, to help keep the region in check for the newly established Kamakura Bakufu. He would effectively turn that into a hereditary position, and his family became known as the “Shoni”, with their position eventually coming to be their family name. They would provide commendable service against the Mongol invasion, and eventually became the Shugo Daimyo over much of western Kyushu and the associated islands, though not without pushback from others in the region. Over time, the power of the Shoni waned and various other daimyo began to rise up. The chaos of the Sengoku period saw the entire area change hands, back and forth, until Hideyoshi's invasion of Kyushu. Hideyoshi divided up control of Kyushu, and Chikuzen, including the areas of Hakata and modern Itoshima, was given to Kobayakawa Takakage. Hideyoshi also began to redevelop the port of Hakata. After the battle of Sekigahara, Kobayakawa Hideaki, Takakage's adopted son and nephew to the late Hideyoshi, was transferred to the fief of Okayama, and the area of modern Fukuoka city was given to Kuroda Nagamasa, creating the Fukuoka Han, also known as the Kuroda Han. Nagamasa would go on to build Maizuru Castle on the other side of the Naka river from the port of Hakata, creating two towns with separate administration, each of which fell under the ultimate authority of the Kuroda. Hakata, on the east side of the river, was a city of merchants while Fukuoka was the castle town, and largely the domain of samurai serving the Kuroda. The Kuroda would remain in control of the Fukuoka domain through the Edo period, and only lost control at the very start of the Meiji, as the domain system in general was dissolved. Over that time, Hakata remained an important port city, and the samurai of Fukuoka were known for maintaining their martial traditions. In the Meiji era, samurai from the Kuroda Han joined with other Kyushu samurai, rising up during Saigo Takamori's rebellion. Later, it would be former samurai and others from Fukuoka who would form the Gen'yosha, an early right wing, nationalist organization that would greatly influence the Japanese government heading into the latter part of the 19th and early 20th century. But that is getting well into more modern territory, and there is so much else we could discuss regarding the history of this area, and with any luck we will get to it all in time. For now, this concludes our Gishiwajinden Tour—we traveled from Kara, to Tsushima and Iki, and then on to Matsuro, Ito, and Na. From here the envoys traveled on to Fumi, Toma, and then Yamato. Fumi and Toma are still elusive locations, with various theories and interpretations as to where they were. For us, this was the end of our journey. Next episode we will be back with the Chronicles and getting into the Taika era, the era of Great Change. There we will really see Yamato starting to flex its administrative muscles as it brings the various polities of the archipelago together into a single state, which will eventually become known as the country of Nihon, aka Japan. Until then, thank you for listening. If you like what we are doing, 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 us at 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.
Moving on with our third part of the Gishiwajinden Tour, we head to the old area of Matsuro, which, for us, means modern Karatsu. Here we have some of the oldest rice paddies in all of Japan, but Karatsu is so much more. It was part of Matsura, where the Matsura family (aka league, factions, or pirates, depending on how you saw it) arose. It is also a short hop from Nagoya, which briefly became the capital of Japan; Nagaoka-kyo gets a mention in the histories, but Nagoya rarely merits it, since it was just the Taiko and every actually important person minus the Tenno. For more photos and others such things, check out: https://www.sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/matsuro-koku/ Rough Transcript: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Gishiwajinden Tour, Part Four: Matsuro-koku So far on this tour through the locations listed in the Weizhi's Wa Record, the Gishiwajinden, following the route to Queen Himiko of Wa, we've hit the area of Gaya, or Gara; Tsushima—or Tuma-koku; Iki, aka Iki-koku; and now we are arriving at Karatsu, thought to be the location of Maturo-koku. Now before we go any further, let's talk about the name. After all, up to this point in the account, the names haven't been too far off. Well, Tsushima was recorded as something like Tuma in the Chinese record, which seems reasonable, and “Iki” was actually recorded as something like “I-dai”, though we are pretty sure that was a transcription error based on other evidence. But Karatsu and Maturo, really don't seem related. Also, didn't we earlier equate Matsuro with Matsuura, Matsura? But if you look for Matsuura on a map it is quite some distance away from Karatsu—in fact, it is in modern Nagasaki prefecture as opposed to Karatsu, which is in modern Saga prefecture. First off, Karatsu is a later name for the city, not the area. It literally means “Tang Port”, and that name seems to appear in the 15th century in the form of Karatsu Jinja, or Karatsu Shrine. So no, the names Karatsu and Matsuro are not related. Prior to being called Karatsu, though, it was part of a larger area called Matsura. It sits at the head of the Matsura River, which spills out into what is now called Karatsu Bay. In ancient times this seems to have been the heart of the area known as Matsura or Matsuro. Over time it was incorporated into the larger area known as Hi no Kuni, and when Hi no Kuni was divided up by the Ritsuryo state into Hizen and Higo, we see the Matsura district, or Matsura-gun, is a part, along the coast. The fact that it is spelled as “Matsu” and “Ura”, meaning “pine beach”, might hint at the original name of the place or could be a false etymology, imposed by the need to record the location in kanji, the Sinitic characters used at the time. Fun fact time: Hizen refers to the area of the land of Hi that was closer to Yamato, while Higo refers to the area of the land of Hi that was further away. If you look at a modern map of where these two ancient provinces were, however, you'll notice that by a slight technicality, Higo is actually closer, as the crow flies. But remember, people are not crows, at least not in this life, and in all likelihood, most of the travel to and from Yamato would have been via sea routes. So Hizen is closer to Yamato from that perspective, as you would have to sail from Higo, around Hizen, or take the long way south around Kagoshima. But where were we? So Matsura district in Hizen started at Matsura-gawa and the area around Karatsu bay, and included modern areas of Hirado all the way out to the Goto islands. That was a pretty large area. It later got further subdivided into East, West, North, and South Matsura subdistricts, with Karatsu in the Eastern subdistrict, and some portion of the west. Eventually, Karatsu city became its own administrative district, in modern Saga prefecture, and so did Hirado city, in what was the old Northern Matsura sub-district, joining Nagasaki prefecture. The western sub-district went to Karatsu or incorporated as Imari, known for their Imari-ware pottery. And that left a small portion of the northern sub-district. The incorporated villages and islands eventually came together as Matsuura city, in Nagasaki prefecture, which is what you'll see, today. And that is why, looking at a modern map, “Matsura” and modern “Matsuura” are not precisely in the same place. That history also helps demonstrate the historical connections between Karatsu, Hirado, Iki, and Tsushima—as well as the Goto islands. This region was where the Matsura clan arose, which controlled at least out to Iki, Hirado, and the Goto archipelago, and it was known for its strong navy, among other things. For our trip, heading to Karatsu was originally borne out of convenience: Our goal was to take the ferry so that we could travel along the ocean routes. We had traveled the route from Izuhara, on Tsushima, to Ashibe port, on Iki island. During that trip it was interesting to watch as Tsushima disappeared and then eventually Iki appeared on the horizon, but it wasn't immediate, and I suspect you would have wanted an experienced crew who knew the route and knew what to look for. Conversely, from Indoji port, on Iki, to Karatsu I felt like we were constantly in sight of one island or another, or at least could see the mountains of Kyushu to get our bearings. There wasn't really a time that felt like we were that far out from land. Even so, it would still have been a treacherous crossing back in the day. Coming in to Karatsu from the ferry, the first thing you will notice is the castle. Karatsu castle, also known as Maizuru Castle, is a reconstructed castle, but it really does provide a clear view of what one would have seen. The original was abandoned in the Meiji period and sold off in 1871. The main keep was later demolished and made into a park. In 1966 they built a new, 5-storey keep on the original base, and from 1989 onward have continued to make improvements to various parts of the castle moats and walls. You can still see the layout of the Ninomaru and honmaru sections of the castle, encompassing the old samurai districts of the jokamachi, or castle town, of Karatsu during the Edo period. Our primary goal in Karatsu, however, was not castle focused. We wanted to go back to an earlier time – the Yayoi period, to be precise - and Karatsu and the Matsuro-kan did not disappoint. While not quite as extensive as the reconstruction at other Yayoi sites like Harunotsuji or Yoshinogari, the site at the Matsuro-kan is still impressive in its own right. What is the Matsuro-kan, you might ask? It is the building and grounds of what is also known as the Nabatake site. In 1980, construction workers were excavating for a road through the Nabatake section of Karatsu when they noticed they were pulling up artifacts. An investigation between 1980 to 1981 determined that the artifacts were from the late Jomon to middle Yayoi period. Further investigation discovered the presence of old rice paddies. In 1983 the site was designated as a national historic site, further excavations were carried out, and the Matsurokan was built to house the artifacts and also provide some reconstructions of what the rice paddies would have looked like. For context these are some of the oldest rice paddies found in Japan, along with the nearby Itazuke rice paddies, in neighboring Fukuoka prefecture, and are key for giving us insights into what we know about early rice field cultivation. Here I should point out that these fields were in use through the middle Yayoi period, while the mission to Yamato—or Yamatai—recorded in the Weizhi would have been in the late Yayoi or early Kofun period, so likely several hundred years later. There are other Yayoi settlement remains found up and around the peninsula, and there are Kofun in the area, especially along the banks of the Matsura river. Given how built up much of the area is, it is possible that any large scale settlement may have been destroyed by subsequent settlements, or is somewhere that there just hasn't been a good reason for a full excavation. Still, who knows what we might eventually find. The Matsurokan appears to stick with the dating of the Yayoi period from about 300 BCE. This is based largely on assumptions regarding the development of different pottery styles. Recent research has suggested that this should be pushed back to about 800 or even 1000 BCE, suggesting a more gradual development. For our purposes, it is enough to note that this site appears to cover from the final Jomon era in Kyushu to the coming of wet rice agriculture with the advancing Yayoi culture. Based on what was found at the site, the wet rice paddies were created in what at least one scholar has suggested as a “primitive” wet rice paddy. The paddies themselves appear to have been placed in a naturally swampy area, irrigated by a natural stream. This would have made flooding the fields relatively simple, without the large ponds or waterworks required to cover a more extensive area. This may have sufficed for a small village, possibly only a handful of families living together and working the land. Besides the impressions of the paddies themselves, various tools, pottery, and more were also found at the site. Stone harvesting knives were plentiful—a semicircular stone knife that was held in the fingers of one hand, allowing a harvester to grasp the stalks and cut them quickly. This was the standard method of harvesting prior to the arrival of the sickle, or kama, and is still in use in some parts of China and Southeast Asia. It is more labor intensive than the sickle, but provides some benefits in the consistency and lack of waste product. The Matsurokan demonstrates how a lot of the Yayoi tools are, in fact, still in use in one form or another in different cultures that also absorbed rice cultivation, showing how widespread it became. In addition, there are artifacts such as shards of pottery showing what looks to be the imprint of a woven fabric, and various equipment for weaving and sewing. We have some beams and posts from buildings, which give us something at least try to guess at how things were put together. There are bones of various animals as well as stone arrowheads. There are also fish and even dugong bones, suggesting they also made a living from the nearby sea. And there are various bits of jewelry, including magatama, and what appears to be a shark's tooth with holes drilled in so it could be worn on a cord. There are also carbonized rice grains found at the site, likely grown there. We don't have any ancient strains of rice that can be proven to come from these fields, but in their reconstruction, outside the museum, they have rebuilt some of the rice fields and grow old rice variants in them. This is used, in part, to teach local schoolchildren about rice cultivation – in fact, local schools are allocated individual paddies each growing season. Besides the rice paddies, the Matsurokan also boasts several reconstructed dwellings. These are similar to ones you might find elsewhere depicting what life was like back in the Yayoi period. As the Yayoi period gave way to the kofun, we do see some mounded tombs in the area, though not quite as many as in others. Matsura appears to be rather rural. Around the Heian period, we see the rise of a local group that comes to be known as the Matsura group, or Matsura-tou, which eventually consolidated into the Matsura family. There are several lineages claiming that the Matsura family descended from the Minamoto or Abe clans or through branch families thereof. Matsura-to itself is sometimes called the 48 factions of Matsura. It wasn't as much a family as an alliance of local warriors, each with their own base of operations. I can't quite tell if the lineage of the later Matsura clan, as they were known, were meant to represent a single lineage or the various lineages that came together. For all we know, they may have married into official families or otherwise concocted lineages to help legitimize them as much as anything else—this far out from the center, in the 11th century, there wasn't necessarily as much oversight. Early in the 11th century they also had a chance to prove themselves with the Toi invasion – that was the Jurchen invasion we mentioned last couple episodes. After the Toi invaders attacked Tsushima and Iki, they set their sites on Hakata Bay, which was the closest landing to the Dazaifu, the Yamato government in Kyushu. They were chased off and headed down the coast. Minamoto Tomo is said to have led the forces that repelled the Toi invaders, who finally departed altogether, striking one more time on Tsushima before heading back to wherever they came from. Minamoto Tomo is said, at least in some stories, to have been the founder of the Matsura clan, or at least the leader of the 48 factions, which then coalesced into the Matsura clan, which eventually would run the Hirado domain. Over two hundred and fifty years after the Toi Invasion would come the Mongols. If the Toi were bad, the Mongols were much worse. The Toi were a band of marauders, who caused a lot of havoc, but do not appear to have had state backing. The Mongols were perhaps more appropriately the Yuan empire, who had already conquered the Yellow river valley and were working on the Song dynasty along the Yangzi. While the Toi had brought with them Goryeo warriors as well—who may or may not have joined up willingly—the Mongols had huge armies from all over that they could throw at a problem. As we talked about in the past two episodes, the Mongols swept through Tsushima and Iki and then headed straight for Hakata, the closest landing zone to the Dazaifu, the government outpost in Kyushu. Even during the height of the Kamakura shogunate, this was still an important administrative center, and would have given the Mongols a huge advantage on holding territory and eventually sweeping up the archipelago. Fortunately, they were stopped. Whether it was the gumption, skill, and downright stubbornness of their samurai foes or the divine wind that swept up from the ocean, the Mongols were turned back, twice. During each of these invasions, the Matsura clan and others rushed to the defense of the nation, but unlike with the Toi invasions, there do not appear to have been any serious battles along the Matsuura coastline—not that I can make out, anyway. After the Mongol invasion, Kyushu was not left out of the troubles that would follow, including the downfall of the Hojo, the rise of the Ashikaga, and the eventual breakdown of the shogunal system into the period known as the Warring States period. Through it all the Matsura continued to ply the seas and encourage the trade from which they and others, like the Sou of Tsushima, came to depend on. They also allied with other entrepreneurial seafarers, known to others as pirates, and they started trading with a group of weird looking people with hairy beards and pale skin, who came to be known as the Nanban, the southern barbarians—known to us, primarily, as the Portuguese. One faction of the Matsura were the Hata—no relation to the Hata that set up in what would become the Kyoto region in the early periods of Yamato state formation. The Hata ruled the area that would become Karatsu, but eventually they were taken over by the Ryuzoji, who were allied with Toyotomi Hideyoshi. Hideyoshi's interest in the Karatsu and Matsura area had to do with its easy access to the continent. And so Hideyoshi began to pay attention to Nagoya, at the end of the peninsula down from Karatsu. And no, not *that* Nagoya. If you hear Nagoya, today, you are probably talking about the bustling metropolis in Aichi, which was where Toyotomi himself got his start, growing up and going to work for the local warlord, named Oda Nobunaga. Due to a quirk of Japanese names and how they read particular characters, this is a different Nagoya. The Kyushu Nagoya had been one of the Matsura trading posts, run by a sub-branch of the Hata family, who had built a castle on the site. Hideyoshi had much grander plans for the area. In 1591 he began work on a massive castle and associated castle town. This castle was to be his new headquarters, and he moved his entire retinue there from Osaka, with an expectation that all of the daimyo would follow him. Sure enough, they showed up with their own vassals, setting up camps around the peninsula and in the new city-to-be. The castle was the base of operations from which Hideyoshi coordinated the invasions of Korea. It was a massive undertaking, and extremely impressive. The city itself sprung up, and although the wood was still new, and the buildings somewhat hastily put together, it was soon a bustling metropolis and briefly became the center of art and culture in the entire archipelago. Hideyoshi himself had a teahouse built within the confines of the castle, where he apparently spent most of his days, even when receiving reports on how things were going across the sea on the archipelago. The city had a Noh theater, as well. It must have been a sight to see. As for the castle itself, based on the remains, it was massive. It appears to use the contours of the hill upon which it sits. It seems there was a previous castle there of some kind, and it is unclear how much this was merely expanded, but Hideyoshi's new castle was truly monumental, with a labyrinth of gates to get in -- similar to Himeji Castle, for anyone who has been there, but with a serious vertical incline as well. Nagoya Castle was second only to Osaka castle, and yet it was erected quickly—only 8 months. I guess that's what you can do when you can mobilize all of the daimyo across Japan. Even today, ruined as it is, the walls tower over you, and you can spend hours wandering the grounds. For all that it was impressive, the good times at Nagoya Castle lasted only for a brief seven years—when Hideyoshi passed away, the council of regents moved back to Osaka, and Nagoya castle was deliberately destroyed, stones removed from the walls such that it could never survive a true siege. This was a sign to the Korean peninsula – the Joseon court - that, with the death of the taiko, Japan had given up any pretext of conquering the peninsula. Today, only the stones and earthworks remain of the briefly thriving city, but on the grounds is a wonderful museum that catalogs this particular slice of Medieval life. The Nagoya Castle Museum of Saga prefecture is off the beaten path—there is no train, so you'll need to take a bus or private car to get there—but it is well worth it. The museum itself is dedicated to Japanese and Korean cross-strait relations, which feels a bit like atonement given that the castle was built with conquest in mind. Of course, the centerpiece of the Museum is the castle, but it also does a good job telling the story of relations between the peninsula and the archipelago. It starts in the ancient times, talking about how, even during the Jomon period, there were commonalities in fishhooks and similar equipment found from Kyushu up through the Korean peninsula. From there, of course, trade continued, as we've seen in our journey through the Chronicles. It talks about some of the shared cultural items found from the Yayoi through the Kofun, and also demonstrates how some of the earliest Buddhist statues have clear similarities to those found in Silla. It goes over the various missions back and forth, and even gives a map of the Toi Invasion that we talked about hitting Tsushima and Iki. The Mongol invasion is also heavily talked about, but not nearly so much as the invasion of Korea. There is another reproduction of the letter of King Sejeong, with the faked seal from the Sou clan in Tsushima. This of course, was the period when they built Nagoya-jo into a castle and city of at least 100,000 people, almost overnight. Even the Nanban were there, trading in the city while supplies from across the country were gathered and shipped off to keep troops fed on the invasion of Korea. There are plenty of images from this time—from a Ming envoy to Nagoya castle to images of the invasion from the Korean perspective, with Koreanized samurai manning the walls of the castles they had taken. They don't exactly lionize the samurai, but they don't accentuate some of the more horrific things, either, like the piles of ears taken from those killed because taking their heads, as was standard practice in older days, was too cumbersome. There is also some discussion of relations afterwards—of the Joseon embassies, though those went through Hakata, Nagoya-jo having long been abandoned at that point. For reasons one can probably understand, it doesn't go into the post-Edo relations, as that is much more modern history. After the destruction of Nagoya castle, the area was largely abandoned, but the city of Karatsu proper really thrived during the Edo period. Karatsu was also a castle town, as we've mentioned, but a bit out of the way. As sailing ships were now more sturdy and able to handle longer sea crossings, it was now often Hakata, in Fukuoka, that received much of the trade, and the Dutch traders who had replaced the Portuguese, were limited to Dejima, in Nagasaki. When Hideyoshi swept through, the Hata were not exactly considered trustworthy, and were placed under the Nabeshima, a branch of their rivals, the Ryuzouji. During the invasion of Korea, the Hata rebelled, and were destroyed for it in 1593. Their territory was given to Terazawa Hirotaka, who had been put in charge of the construction of Nagoya castle and later put in charge of the logistics for the invasion effort from the Kyushu side. As a result, he was granted the lands formerly controlled by the Hata, including Karatsu, and what would become the Karatsu domain. Hirotaka could see which way the wind blew—in more ways than one. After Hideyoshi's death, he supported Tokugawa Ieyasu, allowing him to keep and even expand his fief. He redirected the Matsura river—then known as the Hata river—to its present course, and he built a pine grove along the northern beach that is the third largest such grove in all of Japan. Known as the “Niji no Matsubara”, or the ”Rainbow Pine Forest” for its shape, it was erected as a windbreak to protect the precious farmland just on the other side. It is still there today, still managed, and quite famous. You can drive through the pine trees or stop and walk through them, even out to the beach. And there is even a fantastic burger truck that parks along the main road through the pine grove, so you can enjoy a lovely picnic among the trees. The Terazawa would not remain in place for very long. During the Shimabara rebellion of the early 17th century—a rebellion based on either taxes or Christianity, depending on whom you ask—the Terazawa line was extinguished. Terazawa Katataka, then ruler of the Karatsu domain, was held liable for mismanagement of the domain and loss of a castle to the rebels. He had land confiscated and he felt publicly humiliated, and so he took his own life while he was in Edo. As he had no heir, the Terazawa line died out. Karatsu domain went through a variety of hands after that. Its value fluctuated, but it is generally thought that the real value of the domain, thanks to the ability to trade, was well beyond what it was assessed to produce. As such it was a lucrative position, and also held sway as a check against Nagasaki, watching the trade there with the Dutch merchants. Because of all of this, the lord of Karatsu was also banned from holding certain government positions, so as not to distract from their duties, making the position something of a blessing and a curse. Through the years, Karatsu thrived. They were and are still known for a type of traditional pottery, known as Karatsumono, or Karatsuware, and they maintain elaborate festivals. One of the festivals, the Karatsu Kunchi, is considered a UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage.The Karatsu Kunchi is an annual parade where neighborhood associations carry giant floats through the city from Karatsu Shrine down to the shore. It was inspired, in the early 19th century, by the famous Gion Matsuri of Kyoto—a wealthy merchant saw that and donated the first lion-head float to Karatsu Shrine. Later, others would create their own floats. These floats, known as “Hikiyama” or “pulled mountains” can be five or six meters high and weigh anywhere from two to five tons. There appear to be 14 hikiyama, currently, though there used to be 15—a black lion is currently missing. The floats have gone through a few iterations, but are largely the same, and often have some relationship to the neighborhoods sponsoring them. From Matsura, aka Matsuro-koku, we went north along the coast of Kyushu to Itoshima, thought to the be old country of Ito-koku, and beyond that, the Na-koku of Fukuoka. We'll cover both of those in our next and final installment of our Gishiwajinden tour. If you like what we are doing, 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 us at 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 is Part 3 of our Gishiwajinden Tour--following the route of the Wei embassy through the land of Wa and looking at the various locations along the way. So far we've looked at the old land of Gaya, as represented at Gimhae, the site of the old Geumgwan Gaya, and the island of Tsushima, on the border. This episode we look at the next island: Iki. It might be easy to overlook Iki--it was neither the center nor exactly the periphery. From the point of view of those in the court or those outside it was rather "mid", in a literal sense. However, it was certainly at the center of its own vibrant history, which was certainly important to everyone there, and hosted a thriving community. It is also a great place to visit in the modern day: something of a hidden gem for anyone looking for a slightly more out of the way place to visit, with a slower pace than cities like Tokyo. For more, see our blog page: https://www.sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/iki-koku Rough Translation: Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is Gishiwajinden Tour Part 3: Iki-koku. As regular listeners know, we are currently taking a break from the Chronicles. With the Isshi Incident of 645—see Episode 107—we are about to get into the time known as “Taika” or “Great Change”. Spoiler alert: This is the rise of Naka no Oe, aka Tenji Tennou; Nakatomi Kamako, aka Nakatomi Kamatari, the progenitor of the Fujiwara family; and more. It is the beginning of what is known as the Ritsuryo System, the idea of a state governed by laws and punishments similar to what we see on the continent, based largely on Confucian principles, but mixed with a healthy dose of local tradition. There is a lot there, and I want to do it justice. And so for now I have a little bonus content for you. Earlier this year, Ellen and I took a trip based on the account in the Gishiwajinden, the Wa section of the Weizhi, the section in the Wei Chronicles regarding the trip to visit Queen Himiko of Wa. In Part 1 we talked about our trip to Gimhae, formerly known as Geumgwan Gaya, a part of the old Gaya—or Kara—confederacy, with close ties to the archipelago. Part 2 we talked about our next stop, the island of Tsushima. But we didn't just talk about it in the 3rd century, because if you visit there is so much more to see from an historical perspective. This episode we are talking about the island of Iki, aka Ikijima, though in the Weizhi it is known as its own country: Iki-koku. Relative to Tsushima, Iki island is much smaller—about one fifth the overall landmass. However, it is much flatter as well—the highest point is only 212 meters above sea level, compared to Tsushima, which rises to about 649 meters at Mt. Yatate. This makes Iki an island with a lot of flat land or rolling hills—perfect for the kind of wet rice paddy agriculture that created the population boom in the Yayoi period, which we will talk about here in a minute. However, I will note that even today the population of Iki is similar to that of Tsushima despite having much less space. The flora and fauna of the island is much closer to that of the rest of the archipelago—in fact, it is nearly identical to what you would find in southwest Kyushu. This is not surprising given how close it is. For reference, Hitakatsu, on Tsushima is under 50km from Busan, Korea, and about 147 km to Hakata port in Fukuoka, or 138 km if you depart from Izuhara port instead. Comparatively, it is about 76 km from Hakata to Iki, and even less—just about 42km—from Iki to Karatsu, south of Fukuoka, and these routes are dotted with islands along the way. At its closest point, Iki is probably only 20km from Kyushu, but the ferries only stop at certain ports. Tsushima to Iki, on the other hand, is around 68 km, from Izuhara to Iki. Iki is about as close to Karatsu as Tsushima is to Pusan, and they are both further away from each other than from their respective larger landmasses. That makes this leg – Tsushima to Iki - the longest leg in the trip, realistically. Today, both Iki and Tsushima, along with the Goto islands to the south, are all part of Nagasaki prefecture, despite the fact that they are both closer to Saga and Fukuoka prefectures. This is in part because Iki came under the jurisdiction of the Hirado domain, which also was heavily involved with foreign trade through Nagasaki. Today, Iki is broken up into roughly four areas. This includes Katsumoto, Ashibe, Indoji, and Gonoura, based around the four main port towns on the island. Three of these ports, Ashibe, Indoji, and Gonoura, have ferries that regularly travel to either Tsushima or Kyushu. And all of them have various boats to take people out the islands around Iki, one of the major draws for many people coming to the island being to see the natural beauty of its coastline and surrounding waters. There is also a small airport. Although Iki is small—you can drive from one end to the other in 40 minutes or less—I highly recommend renting a car, much like Tsushima. This will be helpful to get to various sites, although be aware that while the main roads are well cared for, there are plenty of roads where it is better to go on foot rather than get stopped by fallen trees and branches in a less well maintained area. Taxis can be had, but aren't always convenient, and that adds cost and time. A car will give you much more freedom to get around. Iki is a popular tourist destination, with more people coming during the summer months. We were there in the off-season, which was somewhat nice, but also meant that many restaurants and the like were closed. Also, similar to Tsushima, there isn't a konbini—a convenience store—on every street corner. You can certainly find them, but just be aware. That said, we never really had a problem finding what we needed. Iki is known for several things. One, perhaps unsurprisingly, is the squid, and you can see the squid boats in the harbor or out at night. They have arrays of lights set up, to help draw the squid to the surface, a common technique around the world that makes squid fishing quite distinctive. In addition, Iki island is quite proud of its beef, a much more recent addition. The flat land allows them to raise cattle, and the Iki raised wagyu cattle, known as Iki-gyu, is highly prized. You can find several yakiniku restaurants around the island, that particular Japanese style of Korean barbecue where you grill up thinly sliced beef on a hot skillet or even an open grill at your table. An older product is the barley shochu. Iki island is said to be the birthplace of barley shochu, developing it in the 17th century. Back then, taxes from the island had to be paid in rice, and there wasn't enough left to make much alcohol, such as traditional sake. As such, the local farmers started using barley and koji, instead, to make the base alcohol that they then distilled into shochu. Shochu itself goes back to at least the 16th century, as distilling techniques reached southern Japan via either the Ryukyu kingdom or via the Korean peninsula—records are unclear, as these techniques reached both places before Japan, and Kyushu had connections to each. That said, early shochu was made with rice, and later it would be made with cheaper ingredients, such as barley, in the case of Iki, or sweet potato, in Satsuma, modern Kagoshima. These methods spread to other parts of Japan. There are plenty of other food options available on the island as well, and I don't think we had a bad meal anywhere we went. And so we left Izuhara port, on Tsushima, early in the morning and arrived at Ashibe port around lunchtime. We had arranged a car to meet us at the port, and after grabbing a bite at a locally renowned yakinikuya, we decided to start getting our historical bearings on the island. Our main objective on Iki island was to see the Yayoi site of Harunotsuji and the Iki-koku Museum, the museum of the country of Iki. Quick note for anyone looking this up: The “Haru” in “Harunotsuji” is typically pronounced “Hara” outside of Kyushu and Okinawa. This affects a lot of placenames in Kyushu, including Iki, and likely comes from remnants of an old dialect of Japanese spoken in this area. Whatever the reason, if you look up the site in Japanese you may want to type “Hara-no-tsuji” to help find the right kanji. Harunotsuji site is an incredible find in regards to the Yayoi period. It was a large settlement built on flat land in the interior of the island. Today it is surrounded by rice fields, and fortunately nobody else seems to have built up on the raised hills where the settlement once stood, allowing the site to remain for us to find years later. This is one of the better preserved sites from the Yayoi period, and is often touted as the likely center of activity in Iki during that period. Of course, as with other sites, like Yoshinogari, we can only see those sites that were preserved—those that were built upon in later generations may not have left any trace. However, in this case there's clear evidence that there was a thriving community here. And because of that, and the tremendous effort they've put into reconstructing the site, as well as the excellent museum, we wanted to make sure that we gave Iki a visit. There aren't many museums on Iki island, but the Iki-koku museum ranks up there with some of the best we've visited. The building itself is built to blend into the landscape, and from the observation tower you can look out over the Harunotsuji site. The museum provides an automated introduction to the area, with a small film depicting what they believe life was probably like back in the Yayoi period. From there you travel down a hallway that takes you through the history of Iki, but eventually deposits you in a room focused on the Yayoi period. Here they show a reconstructed boat, as well as a large diorama of the Harunotsuji site. One of the major finds at Harunotsuji is what appears to be a dock, reinforced with rocks, similar to what they find on the continent. This dock was at a small stream that was once larger, and was likely used to ferry goods and people from Harunotsuji to a settlement or outpost on the shore. It gives greater insight into what trade and life looked like. Speaking of which, props to the museum for their excellent use of often comical figures in their diorama, which is clearly made to appeal to young and old alike. They help humanize the figures, and each part of the layout that they created of the site tells a story about what was going on. In addition to the diorama of the site, and what it may have looked like, there were also actual Yayoi era pots that were there which you could pick up and handle yourself. I have to admit that I did this with some trepidation, even knowing that these were not particularly special, and that there are many pots and shards that are found at sites like these. Still, it was something to actually handle a pot that was made back in that time—something that was made by an actual person living back then and used for whatever purpose before it was discarded or lost, only to be found centuries later. Besides the room on the site, there is another side to the museum in that it is a working archaeological center. You can see the lab where people are working, and they also have a room where you can see the stacks—the giant shelves with all of the historical and archaeological bits and bobs that weren't on display for one reason or another. That is something that many people don't always appreciate: For many museums, only a portion of their collection is actually on display. It was really great to see all of that out in the open. The museum also has a café and some function rooms, as well as a giant observation tower, from which it feels like you can see the entire island, and beyond. You could definitely look down and see the site, but you could also see some of the more distant islands as well. From the museum we went down to see the actual Harunotsuji site. There is another museum there, which was a little less impressive but still quite informative, and it was where you park and then walk over to the site itself. And here I admit that it was getting late, so we came back to it another day, but it doesn't really take that long to see the site itself. Most of the site sits on a rise of land that sits just a little higher than the surrounding fields, with a gentle slope to it. It is oddly shaped, likely because they used the natural contours of the land rather than explicitly building up a terrace. There is another rise towards one end of the settlement, with what may have been a fence around the area, indicating that the buildings in that area were set aside as special. There are also ditches that appear to have been purposefully dug to separate a part of the rise from the area of the settlement, as buildings were apparently found on one side but not the other. What was found was a small area surrounded by a moat, generally thought to have been used for some kind of ritual. At the site today are reconstructed buildings of multiple kinds, based on the archeological findings. There are pit buildings, buildings sitting flush on the ground, as well as raised buildings, all based likely on the arrangements and size of post-holes and the like. There also appears to have been some kind of gate or barrier structure, also based on postholes, which they have physically reconstructed. It is always tricky to interpret what a building looked like other than guessing at its general shape and size. Extremely large post-holes likely held larger posts, which would make particular sense if they were for a tall structure, like a watchtower, but exact architectural features such as doorways, roof structure, etc. are derived based on other examples as well as Shinto shrine architecture, which seems to originate from some of the early Yayoi buildings. There were also some finds in the surrounding areas, including what appears to have been a stone-lined dock for boats to pull up, some kind of guard post to inspect people entering or leaving the settlement, and moats, which likely surrounded the settlement as well. Harunotsuji is not the only Yayoi site that has been excavated on Iki island, but nothing else is quite so large. Put in context with other archaeological sites from the same time period, Harunotsuji is thought to have been the most powerful, and therefore where the ruler, or the quote-unquote “King”, of Iki would have lived. Here I'd note that the interpretation of Harunotsuji as a kingly capital is quite prevalent in the local literature, but what exactly was a “king” in this sense isn't fully explored. As we talked about two episodes back with Gimhae and the quote-unquote “Kingdom” of Gaya, Iki-koku probably better fits the English term of a large chiefdom, rather than a kingdom. However, that would also likely apply to Queen Himiko, as well—even if her chiefdom dwarfed Iki-koku by comparison. That said, there certainly appears to be a social stratification of some kind going on at the site, especially with a special area clearly set aside at one end of the settlement. Was that where a shaman-king—or queen—similar to Himiko carried out private, arcane rites on behalf of the entire settlement? Perhaps the entire island? Or is it something else? Unfortunately, we can't really know, at least not right now. However, we do know that it was an important part of the trade routes from the continent out to the archipelago. This isn't just because of the Weizhi, or the common sense that this is the clearest route between the two, but also because of artifacts found at the site, which include abundant goods from the continent. In addition we found evidence of dogs, armor, shields, and various pots. One thing I didn't see evidence of was a large funkyubo, like at Yoshinogari, where they buried people in pots on a large, communal cemetery mound. Here the highest elevations appear to have been used for living structures. There were graves discovered, and some of these were the pot-style burials found at Yoshinogari and the continent, and others were rectangular, stone-lined coffins, similar to those used on the Tsushima kofun: they are lined with large, flat slabs that define a rectangle, into which the body is placed, and then flat slabs of stone are used to cover it back up. Harunotsuji shows signs of habitation from the start of the Yayoi period to the beginning of the Kofun period. After that, though, the trail grows a bit cold. We do know, however, that people were still living on Iki through the Kofun period—we assume they didn't just pack up their bags and leave—and that is thanks to the many kofun found across the island. There are some 280 kofun preserved today, and Edo period accounts had that number at more like 340. Indeed, Iki has one of the largest and best preserved collection of kofun of all of Kyushu. Many are smaller kofun, but there are plenty of groups of large kingly kofun. A group of the larger kingly kofun can be found in the border area between Katsumoto-cho and Ashibe-cho, due west of Ashibe port. This includes the large Soroku Kofun, Oni-no-iwaya Kofun, the Sasazuka Kofun, as well as the Kakegi kofun and the Yurihata Kofun-gun. Soroku kofun, a large, keyhole shaped tomb, boasts a length of 91 meters, making it not only the largest on the island, but the largest in all of Nagasaki prefecture. Kofun culture on the island differed slightly from elsewhere. For instance, there is evidence of multiple burials in the same tomb, suggesting that they were viewed more like family mausoleums than simply a single tomb structure. The earliest kofun found on Iki so far can be dated to about the latter half of the 5th century, with most of them being built in the 6th to 7th centuries. Many are stone chambers with a horizontal entryway, which in the case of the Kakegi and Sasazuka kofun, are open to those who want to get in and explore. Be aware, though, as many signs tell you, various local residents have also made these tombs their homes, including bats, centipedes, snakes, and more. Most of them are relatively harmless, but it is always good to know what you are getting into. With the earliest kofun on the island dating to about the 5th century, this does pose a slight question yet to be answered by the archaeological record: Where were people living in the century between the end of Harunotsuji and the start of the kofun building period? Heck, where were people living on the island at all? We certainly know where the dead were buried. Looking at a map, one probably assumes that many of the kingly kofun would have been built somewhat near a population center. After all, you don't build giant burial mounds just to hide them—these would have likely been visible to people in some way, shape, or form. I would note that modern roads, likely built on earlier pathways, wind in between the kofun, even today. Personally, I can't help but notice that the Iki Kokubunji temple, the Provincial temple built in the 8th century, was quite close to some of the kingly kofun in Katsumoto. It is said that this temple was originally built as the family temple of the Iki clan. As one might guess from the name, the Iki were the traditional rulers of Iki, officially appointed by Yamato as the “Agata-nushi” or district lord, and later as “Shima no Miyatsuko”—the island equivalent of a “Kuni no Miyatsuko”. Various biographies trace the Iki back to various lineages close to or intertwined with the Nakatomi. However, this is not without some debate, and it is entirely possible that any such ties were fabricated to give the Iki clan greater clout and stature. It is possible, and even likely, that the Iki clan grew out of the ruling elite on Iki island. In addition, we have the old Tsukiyomi Jinja, said to be the oldest on the island, and the Kunikatanushi shrine built right next to the Kokubunji site. The Tsukiyomi shrine is dedicated to the moon god, who is said to be the god of navigation, among other things, and this is the clan shrine of the Iki clan. It is unclear, but seems plausible that the center of the Iki polity may have shifted north, to the modern Kokubun area. If so, and if this continued to be the area of the regional government headquarters through the Nara period and beyond, then it is possible that any earlier settlements would have simply been covered up and even erased by later buildings and structures. I don't think we'll ever truly know, though, unless something significant is uncovered. We do have some historical records of later Iki, quite understandable as it was where many of the envoys and expeditions to and from the mainland would have stopped. In the 11th century, Iki, along with Tsushima, was attacked by pirates from the mainland, thought to be of Jurchen descent, in an event called the Toi Invasion, which caused quite a bit of destruction. After that we see the rise of the Matsura clan. They arose in the Matsura area of Hizen province, just a little ways over from Karatsu. That name may be related to “Matsuro”, but we'll talk more about that when we get to Karatsu. The Matsura largely came to power thanks to their navy—which was a navy to some and pirates to others. They ended up gaining a foothold in Iki island. Whatever plans they had, however, met with a giant setback in 1274. As we discussed last episode, that was when the first Mongol invasion hit Japan, and after steamrolling through Tsushima they began a bloody conquest of Iki. The video game, Ghosts of Tsushima, which we talked about fairly extensively last episode for, well, obvious reasons, actually has an expanded Iki island area for those who want to try fighting off this invasion for themselves. There are numerous reminders across the island of the invasions, both in 1274 and 1281. The death toll was catastrophic, and even today parents will often tell their children that if they don't behave the Mongols will come back and take them away. In 1338, soon afer the Ashikaga shogun came to power, Ashikaga Takauji and his brother, Tadayoshi, directed the erection of temples in all 66 provinces, including Iki, to pray for the repose of those who died in battle during turbulent times, including the Mongol invasions and the later civil war. That temple is still there, just a little ways north from the Harunotsuji site. The temple building itself only dates from the Edo period, as it burned down multiple times, but it is still said that it is the oldest extant temple building on the island. There is a large cedar tree thought to be over a thousand years old, which may have even been there during the Toi and Mongol invasions. There are also signs of Christian activity in some of the artwork, if you know what to look for. When Europeans arrived in Japan in the 16th century, they brought not only guns, but also a new religion: Christianity. Priests were given permission to set up churches and convert people. Some daimyo converted—whether out of true faith or simply to get more lucrative trading deals with Europeans—and they often made their entire fief convert as well. When Christianity was eventually outlawed, many Christian communities went underground, becoming known as “Hidden Christians.” A lot of these communities continued, especially in the Iki and Goto islands, which were a little further away from shogunal authority. They continued despite the lack of priests and Bibles, often using iconography that could be plausibly passed off as Buddhist or Shinto in nature. Many remained in hiding throughout the Edo period, only revealing themselves after the Meiji government came in and issued a law protecting the freedom of religion, including Christianity. Around Iki you will occasionally find little hints of such communities' existence. The 16th century saw more than just European traders and new religions. The Matsura clan retained control over the island from their base in Hirado, even during the tumultuous era of Warring States. Last episode we talked about how Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the new Taiko, came out of that time and declared war on the Joseon court, in Korea. To start with he built Nagoya castle on Kyushu and moved himself and all of his retainers out to it. And before you ask, no, this probably isn't the Nagoya castle you are thinking of. Similar name, but different kanji characters Anyway, from Nagoya on the coast of Kyushu, supply lines were run out to Tsushima, and then across to Busan. To defend against a counterattack by Joseon forces, they built castles along the way as well. In Iki, this meant building several, including Katsumoto-jo, at the northern end of the island, under the command of Matsura Shigenobu. Later, Tokugawa Ieyasu, eager to restore good will with the peninsula, would have the castles intentionally ruined, often by removing key stones so that they could no longer be considered defensible. Today you can climb up to the Katsumoto-jo castle site and see the stones of the main gate and get a tremendous view from the observation platform. Katsumoto Castle isn't the only thing in Katsumoto that still remains from that time. There is a local shrine, the Shomogu Shrine, which has a gate donated by Kato Kiyomasa, one of the generals who led troops on the invasion of Korea. They also hold a cup that he is said to have donated. This shrine is certainly interesting and worth a visit. Traditionally, they say that it was built on the site where Jingu Tennou departed from Iki during her legendary conquest of the Korean peninsula. According to at least one source, at that time she called the place Kazamoto, the place where the wind comes from, and when she returned she changed it to Katsumoto, the place where her victory came from. Of course, as we know, that whole narrative is rather suspect. It is possible that the area was known as Kazamoto and that changed to Katsumoto. It also doesn't help that this is also where the Mongol army came ashore back in the 13th century, and I suspect that not much remained from before. Still, there is a stone that is said to have the print of Jingu's horse's foot as she left, and it was at least connected to the ocean, given its location. There is a contention that this shrine may have once been known as “Nakatsu” shrine, literally “Middle port” shrine, one of the shrines listed in the Engi Shiki. However, there is another Nakatsu shrine that also claims this distinction, also in Katsumoto-cho. The Shomogu shrine theory holds that this was a branch shrine of Shomogu shrine, then known as Nakatsu. This makes some sense as the current Nakatsu shrine is more inland, not exactly lending itself to being the “Middle Port” Shrine. Then again, it would have referred to “Nakatsumiya”, meaning the “middle shrine” or “middle palace”, which puts us back at square one. More important than the actual history of this shrine, at least in the 16th century, is the fact that those generals heading off to conquer the Korean peninsula definitely would have appreciated praying to the spirit of Jingu Tennou before heading off to try it a second time. Shomogu Shrine clearly had a link with her by then. By the way, slight side note, the “Shomo” of “Shomogu” literally means “Holy Mother”. In this case it is referencing the “Holy Mother” Jingu Tenno, who was pregnant when she left Japan and didn't give birth until she came back—not quite a virgin birth. “Shomo” was also the term that Christians, particularly hidden Christians, used to reference the Virgin Mary. While I cannot find any evidence that Shomogu Shrine was connected with Christianity—its existence and worship there predates that religion coming to the archipelago by some time—it is still one of those things that the Hidden Christians could have used to their advantage, hiding their worship of the Virgin Mary and her holy child behind the name for Jingu Tenno. Now the town of Katsumoto, although only briefly a castle town, was still quite important through the Edo period, and the main street certainly recalls a time long past. We stayed in a ryokan there that was over 100 years old, and there is both a sake brewery, and a craft beer brewery inside an old sake brewery, just down the street. It isn't a big town, but it has character. In the Edo period, many of the Joseon envoys stopped in Katsumoto on their way to or from the archipelago. These envoys typically had around 400 to 450 of their own people from Korea, but by the time they reached Iki they were joined by about 800 quote-unquote “guides” from Tsushima who were there to help them with whatever they needed. Technically it was up to the Matsura daimyo, in Hirado, to provide for their needs, but it seems that more often than not that role more immediately fell to the wealthiest family on the island, the Toi family. The Toi family—not to be confused with the Toi invasion—made their money from capturing whales; a lucrative but dangerous enterprise, especially given the state of the boats at the time. The stone wall of their mansion can still be seen in Katsumoto, though it is now wedged in between other buildings, as the mansion itself is otherwise long gone. They may not have been daimyo, but they were apparently the rough equivalent for the people of Iki, and certainly Katsumoto. The envoys ended up calling at Katsumoto about 19 times between 1607 and 1811—11 times on the outbound trip and 8 times going the other direction. For one mission, in the 18th century, we are even provided the amount of food that they required, which included 1500 sweet potatoes, 15,000 eggs, 7 and a half tons of abalone, 3 tons of squid, 7 and a half tons of rice, and 15 koku of sake, equaling about 1500 standard bottles, today. A drawing of the 1748 envoy showed parts of Katsumoto that you can still visit, today, including the old boat launch, the Shomogu shrine and nearby streets, Shigayama, and what is today “Itsukushima Shrine”, related to the worship of Susano'o's three daughters, as are the Munakata shrines and the Itsukushima shrine on Miyajima with the famous torii in the water. Besides the historical sites, Iki island offers a plethora of other activities and attractions. The famous monkey rock, or Saruiwa, is a famed natural feature, as are many others. There are also beaches that people appear to enjoy—though we were there in the winter, so not great—or just getting out in a boat and seeing the natural beauty of the island. There are also many more shrines and temples to visit; Iki has its own 88 temple pilgrimage based on the 88 temple pilgrimage of places like Shikoku. You can also do a pilgrimage of the many Shinto shrines, some of which are mentioned in historical documents like the Engi Shiki and others that are more modern. While many of the buildings are often newer, and things have of course changed over the centuries, these sites often still contain connections to history, and may even have historical treasures in their storehouses or on the grounds. We only had a limited time, so tried to keep our trip focused on more of the Yayoi and Kofun era stuff. We both agreed we would gladly go back again in a heartbeat. Next up, we caught the ferry from Indoji on Iki over to Karatsu port on Kyushu, what is thought to be the site of the old Matsuro kingdom. While others might point to the modern Matsuura city area, this region is may be more likely, and we'll talk about that next episode. In addition, we'll talk about Karatsu, which literally means “Chinese port”, and about the nearby castle ruins of Nagoya castle—an area that was, for about seven brief years, in the late 16th century the de facto capital of Japan. But that will be next time. Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, 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 us at 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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On this episode, Luke and Andy discuss NJPW Wrestling Dontaku Hiroshima and Satsuma no Kuni 2024! Plus NJPW News, Wrestler Diaries, Venue Google Reviews, and more! Follow us on twitter twitter.com/NeverOpenPod Follow Luke @Grumpy2EB Follow Andy @DrewciferTweets Email us at NeverOpenPod@gmail.com Merchandise available here: https://teespring.com/stores/never-open-podcast Please leave us a review wherever you found this, and thank you for listening!
Scott Edwards joins Steven this week to discuss Jon Moxley's IWGP title defense, TJP's big night uniting the Empire and a look ahead to two title matches in Hiroshima and two more at Satsuma no Kuni. They also discussed Jake Lee's surprise attack on Tetsuya Naito, plus looked at the state of STARDOM going into its big show, All-Star Grand Queendom, featuring a dream match between Mayu Iwatani and Sareee, and a potential nightmare match for Natsupoi and Tam Nakano.
On this week's episode, Jeremy Donovan and the "Young Boy" Josh Smith open the show discussing the controversy surrounding Jon Moxley defending the IWGP World Heavyweight title against Powerhouse Hobbs this Wednesday on AEW Dynamite. They also discuss Road to Wrestling Dontaku, Wrestling Satsuma no Kuni, mailbag questions, and all the latest news in the world of NJPW.Follow us on YouTube: @SocialSuplexFollow us on X: @SocialSuplex, @KIStrongStyle, @JeremyLDonovanFollow us on Instagram: @SocialSuplexLike us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SocialSuplex/Join our Discord: https://discord.gg/QUaJfaCVisit our website for news, columns, and podcasts: https://socialsuplex.com/Join the Social Suplex community Facebook Group: The Wrestling (Squared) CircleKeepin' It Strong Style is the New Japan Pro Wrestling Podcast of the Social Suplex Podcast Network. Support the Social Podcast Network by leaving a rating and review on Apple Podcasts.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/social-suplex-podcast-network/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
On this week's episode, Jeremy Donovan and the "Young Boy" Josh Smith open the show discussing the controversy surrounding Jon Moxley defending the IWGP World Heavyweight title against Powerhouse Hobbs this Wednesday on AEW Dynamite. They also discuss Road to Wrestling Dontaku, Wrestling Satsuma no Kuni, mailbag questions, and all the latest news in the world of NJPW.Follow us on YouTube: @SocialSuplexFollow us on X: @SocialSuplex, @KIStrongStyle, @JeremyLDonovanFollow us on Instagram: @SocialSuplexLike us on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SocialSuplex/Join our Discord: https://discord.gg/QUaJfaCVisit our website for news, columns, and podcasts: https://socialsuplex.com/Join the Social Suplex community Facebook Group: The Wrestling (Squared) CircleKeepin' It Strong Style is the New Japan Pro Wrestling Podcast of the Social Suplex Podcast Network. Support the Social Podcast Network by leaving a rating and review on Apple Podcasts.Support this podcast at — https://redcircle.com/keepin-it-strong-style/donationsAdvertising Inquiries: https://redcircle.com/brandsPrivacy & Opt-Out: https://redcircle.com/privacy
Agradece a este podcast tantas horas de entretenimiento y disfruta de episodios exclusivos como éste. ¡Apóyale en iVoox! Nueva sesión con clásicos a Go-Go! Esta semana con Lion, Quiet Riot, Tyketto, Babylon A.D, Kuni, Radioactive, Bonham y un montón más!! 1211Escucha este episodio completo y accede a todo el contenido exclusivo de AOR Diamonds. Descubre antes que nadie los nuevos episodios, y participa en la comunidad exclusiva de oyentes en https://go.ivoox.com/sq/75094
Japan and Italy may sit on different, faraway continents, but Initia's Chef Kunihiro Hagimoto says its easy to catch the similarities between the two cuisines -- and what they are -- during a chat with I-C-R-T 's Hope Ngo.
Ever feel trapped between the soaring costs of college and the desire for a successful future? Stop worrying! This episode features the inspiring Kuni Beasley, who after a decorated military career, now dedicates his life to guiding families through the maze of college education funding without breaking the bank. Kuni's insights challenge the long-held belief that prestigious universities are the only ticket to prosperity, opening your eyes to a world of alternatives that could lead you to the same, if not greater, success.Choosing the right college is a conundrum with so many options and challenges to overcome. But our conversation with Kuni breaks it down for you. He sheds light on the hidden gems of higher education, such as the Web Institute, and debunks the myth that more expensive means better. We dissect the Krueger study's findings and discuss how aligning your educational pursuits with your career goals is not just smart, it's financially astute. This episode is a must-listen for anyone looking to make a wise investment in their or their child's future, without succumbing to the pitfalls of debt.For those high schoolers with ivy-covered dreams, we've got a trove of actionable advice. From continuously getting good grades to acing your standardized tests, we cover it all. In addition, leadership roles, extracurricular activities, and early test prep can make all the difference. Kuni and I navigate you through these pivotal years, emphasizing how to bolster your college applications and stand out in a sea of hopeful students. Tune in to equip yourself with the knowledge to not just dream about college, but to conquer it without the debt trap.Connect with Kuni: Website | Facebookhttps://solomomstalk.mysites.io/podcast-2-copy/secrets-to-graduating-college-without-the-debt-trap-w-kuni-beasley Disclosure: This page contains affiliate links which means if you make a purchase after clicking one of these links, I may earn a promotion. Thanks.This podcast is hosted by Captivate, try it yourself for free. #CollegeFunding #CollegeDebt #KuniBeasley #AvoidCollegeDebt#Scholarships #StudentLoans #FinancialAid #EducationCosts #TuitionAssistance #HigherEducationFinance #meritscholarshipsThis podcast uses the following third-party services for analysis: Podcorn - https://podcorn.com/privacy
Here we are, almost at the end of the reign of Kashikiya Hime, with a couple of items, today. First is the reform going on with Buddhism, and, in particular, the state's involvement in selecting a "Head" of Buddhism to make sure that the religion is accountable to the State. Then there are the dealings with the growing power of Silla, amidst the backdrop of a change on the continent from the Sui to the Tang dynasty. For more, check out our podcast website: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-102 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is episode 102: Temples and Tribute Iwakane and Kuranoshita stood on the deck of their ship, looking out over the waves and back towards their Yamato home. Travel across the sea was always risky, but it was worth it. Locals at the port on the southern tip of the peninsula were loading all sorts of goods into the hold of their ships, and when the two envoys returned home, they could only imagine how they would be greeted as heroes. It had been a long journey, but they'd made it across the strait and upheld the interests of the Yamato court, and now they had a deal that could bring some measure of peace. Not bad for a treacherous trek across the sea. Next they just had to wait for fair winds and they could start the journey back to the archipelago. Looking out at the ocean, hoping to see some signs of the winds turning back from whence they came, it was then that they spied them—small dots that seemed to disappear and reappear on the horizon. First just a handful, and then more and more. As they came more into focus, their hearts no doubt sank. It was an armada, fitted for war, and it was headed their way. ---- As we finish up the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno, I want to deal with several events from about 614 to the year 624. During this decade a lot happened. Last episode we dealt with some of the smaller things, but two major things from this period were the further development of the Buddhist clergy—including bringing the institution under state control—and the reported invasions of Silla. I say “reported”, because only the Japanese sources talk about them, but we'll talk about just why that might be. Meanwhile, there were plenty of changes happening as the Sui dynasty transitioned into the Tang dynasty, and more. We're actually going to start with the changes to the Buddhist clergy. This actually happened some time later than the rest of our narrative, but it makes sense to start here and finish up some of the things happening in Yamato, before expanding our view to the wider world. As we've seen, Buddhism officially arrived in Yamato by 538 according to our earliest record, though possibly it had been around in some form in the immigrant communities before then. By the start of the 7th century, Buddhist temples were being built by some of the noble families of the court, including Soga no Umako, Prince Umayado, and others. Originally, the Buddha was worshipped much as any other kami, but as nuns and monks were sent abroad to learn more about the religion, and as foreign monks were consulted on how things should be, they began to develop their own sangha, their own community, in the archipelago. Those with interest or who took vows to enter the religion studied the sutras and other texts that had been brought over, and with the building of full-scale, continental style temples there would have been little doubt that this was something new and different. The tenets of Buddhism were those of non-materialism. Adherents were supposed to work on loosening the bonds that kept them tethered to this mortal plane, including concepts of the self. Monks were expected to be the ultimate examples of these teachings, especially seeing as how they dedicated themselves to learning the Buddhist Law. Above all, Buddhist monks were expected to rise above base emotions such as anger, hatred, and lust. However, let's remember that these Buddhsit monks were only human, and it is also unclear how many had joined the monkhood entirely of their own volition. For instance, back in 614, when Soga no Umako fell ill, we are told that a thousand persons entered religion for his sake. Now besides the fact that the number of individuals is likely way off base—at most we see maybe 1400 monks and nuns across all of the temples only nine years later—this was not an uncommon thing to see in records of the time. In Baekje, we similarly see large numbers of people taking orders on the behalf of a monarch or other person of importance. The implication is that by having people enter religion—to take orders as a monk or nun—on your behalf would accrue to that person some measure of good karma. This was seen as particularly important for the elite because they, of course, couldn't just become monks themselves—after all, if they did, who would be left to rule the country? And so, they would have people do it for them, kind of like a version of “karma offsets”, where you get to continue to enjoy all the benefits of your worldly position by offsetting it with other people's devotion to religion. But one has to wonder how many people were just waiting around for some special royal or noble person to need some karma before taking orders. After all, if someone was truly interested in taking orders, no doubt they could find a monastery and ask to join. More likely, these were individuals who were impressed -slash- strongly encouraged to take orders on behalf of someone else. This isn't to say that there were no true converts, nor that those who took orders in such a way never came to appreciate the Buddha's teachings. However, it does, perhaps, make it a little more understandable when we learn that in 623 there was a major scandal in the Buddhist sangha when an ordained Buddhist monk apparently took an axe and struck his paternal grandfather. Murder was, of course, generally frowned upon—unless, of course, you were a member of the aristocracy and able to convict the person of something like rebelling against the court. However, it was especially frowned upon by Buddhist monks, as it really didn't go well with the whole vibe that the Buddhist religion was trying to establish in the archipelago. Anyone who entered Buddhism was supposed to be devoting themselves to the Three Treasures, not geriatricide. And we don't know why this monk did it, either. Maybe he just chanted too many sutras and finally snapped, or maybe his paternal grandfather did something heinous and he thought it was his only solution. Either way, this event sparked a major investigation of the Buddhist religion as a whole. The court assembled all of the various monks and nuns and investigated just what had been going on in those temples, anyway. Where they found wrong-doing, the courts decided to issue punishments. And apparently they found quite a bit of wrong-doing. It isn't clear exactly what was going on, but there was enough that the Baekje monk Kanroku, or Gwalleuk in modern Korean, issued a memorial to the throne before the punishments were carried out. In his memorial he detailed the history of Buddhism: how it came from the West to the Han, and then 300 years after that to Baekje, and then how it had been transmitted to Yamato only 100 years after that—less than a century ago, really. He noted how young Buddhism was in Yamato, and how the monks and nuns hadn't fully learned the Teachings of the Buddha. As such, he begged for leniency for all of the monks other than the man who had killed his own grandfather—that was a punishment even Kanroku could not argue against. By the way, if the name Kanroku is familiar, we talked about him back in episode 94. He was said to have been one of the teachers of Shotoku Taishi, and when he first arrived in Yamato we are told that he brought numerous books on various sciences with him, helping to kickstart a number of studies in Yamato. He was clearly well respected by the court. And so the court heard this petition, and Kashikiya Hime granted Kanroku's request for leniency. The monks and nuns were spared, except for the one, but that was not the end of the court's involvement. Ten days later, they issued another ruling. The court set up two official positions: The Soujou and the Soudzu. These two positions were created to oversee the monks and nuns. Kanroku was made Soujou, or High Priest, and Kurabe no Tokuseki was appointed as Soudzu. We are also told of another position, possibly one that already existed, as a member of the Adzumi no Muraji family was appointed as Houzu, the Head of the Law. These positions would help tie the practice of Buddhism to the court. The temples were no longer simply autonomous units that could operate on their own. Neither were they solely bound to the wealthy families that patronized them and helped pay for their upkeep. The court positions provided a means of state accountability and oversight concerning the activities of Buddhism in the country. After all, Buddhism, at this time, was largely seen as serving the state and the state elites. While Buddhist doctrine might encourage the salvation of all sentient beings, to many of those sponsoring and setting up these temples, it was still a very transactional relationship. The power of Buddhism was not simply in the siren's call of possibly throwing off the shackles of the material world, but also in the belief that Buddhist gods and Boddhisatvas could actively provide protection—both tangible and intangible—to the state and to the members of the court. It is unlikely that farmers, living in their pit houses and working in the rice paddies, were thinking so much about going to the temple and what the Buddhist Law meant for them. The nature of religion at the time was still one where the elites controlled the mysteries, and thus used that to justify their rarified positions. The idea of the position of High Priest may have been transmitted from the Buddhist traditions of the Yangzi river region and the southern courts. Originally, in Yamato, it seems to have been intended as the chief priest of the country, as there was only one official sect of Buddhism. This would change in later years as the position—and the Buddhist temples' relationship with the government—changed over time. Kanroku's time in this position seems to have been limited. Less than a year later, in the first month of 624, a new priest arrived from Goguryeo, named Ekan, or Hyegwan in modern Korean, and he was made Sojo, or high priest. Does this mean that Kanroku retired from the position? Or perhaps he passed away. Unfortunately, we aren't quite sure. Tradition holds that both Kanroku and his successor, Ekan, both were installed at Houkouji, aka Gangouji or Asukadera, the temple of Soga no Umako, demonstrating the power and influence that Soga no Umako's temple had at the time. Ekan is also said to have been the founding patriarch of the Japanese Sanron school of Buddhism. The Sanron sect comes from the Sanlun school of the mainland, also known as East Asian Madhyamaka, and was based on three texts—the “Sanron”—said to have been translated by Kumarajiva in the 4th and early 5th centuries. That both of these High Priests were installed at Houkouji definitely says something at the time. It is possible that their dominion was simply over Houkouji, but an earlier entry suggests that was not the case, as in the ninth month of 623, some five months after the whole axe-monk incident, the Court ordered an inspection of temples of monks and nuns. We are told that they made an accurate record of the circumstances of the building of the temples, and also the circumstances under which the various ordained individuals had embraced—forcefully or otherwise—the Buddhist religion. They recorded information down to the year, month, and day that they took orders. Based on that record we are told that there were forty-six temples in 623, and 815 monks and 569 nuns, for a total of one thousand three hundred and eighty five persons altogether. That doesn't count the individuals working the rice land and otherwise helping provide for the upkeep of the temples themselves. As far as I'm aware, we don't have this actual record of the temple inspection, other than its summary here in the Nihon Shoki, but assuming it is true, it tells us some rather incredible things. First, if we assume that Asukadera and Shitennouji were really the first two permanent temples to be built in Yamato, then all of this- the building of 46 temples, and the ordination of so many people- happened in the span of about thirty years. That's an average of three temples being built every two years, and it probably wasn't that steady a pace. It is entirely possible, of course, that many of the temples mentioned were still under construction. After all, we saw how long it took to build Houkouji temple, or Asukadera, which we discussed back in episode 97. Regardless, it goes back to what we mentioned about the temple building boom that took off, which also removed much of the labor force that would have otherwise been put to work building things like massive kofun. Also, assuming an even distribution, we are looking at an average of thirty monks or nuns per temple. It was likely not quite so even, and with temples like Asukadera, or even Toyouradera, having many more monks and nuns given their importance. Furthermore, when Soga no Umako grew ill and supposedly had a thousand persons enter religion—which, as we've mentioned, likely wasn't quite that many—I suspect that many of those would have gone to Soga temples, such as Houkouji. By the way, on that one thousand people: I would note that it is possible that some people only entered Buddhist orders temporarily, for a time, and that is why the numbers aren't larger. Still, I think that Occam's razor suggests the simpler answer is that the numbers were simply exaggerated for effect by the Chroniclers, assuming that it even happened in the first place. So that was the story of Yamato expanding its state administration over the spiritual realm. However, there was plenty of expansion they were doing in the physical realm as well. They had expanded control to the island of Tsukushi, modern Kyushu, and were even dealing with the inhabitants of Yakushima, but they knew there was a much larger world out there. And so we see that in 613, two new ambassadors were sent to the Sui court. They were Inugami no Kimi no Mitasuki and Yatabe no Miyatsuko. We don't know much about the embassy that went though we know that they came back through Baekje the following year, bringing a Baekje envoy with them, because why not? Baekje records talk about the Wa—that is the people of the Japanese archipelago—traversing their country on their way to the Sui court at various times, so this is all within the realm of what has been pretty standard, so far. The following year, we see that Silla sent a Buddha image to the Yamato court. As per usual, our ever so faithful Chroniclers note that this is an item of “tribute” from Silla, as though they were some kind of vassal state of Yamato. Which brings me to a point I've made before and I'll probably make again: All history is political. The writing of history is an inherently political act, in that it attempts to capture some form of truth as the authors of history believe it to be. What they choose to include—and what they choose to ignore—is all a choice. This should not be confused with facts: what actually happened and was observed. But even the facts of the past are all experienced through human senses and interpreted by human brains. We can often only see them through what others have written or created, and what physical evidence remains, today, whether that is archaeological evidence, or even things like DNA or linguistic clues, passed down through the generations. Keep this in mind the next time you hear someone talk about “historical revisionism”. The stories we tell ourselves change as we better understand the world and the past from which we came. To get upset about people providing a new vision of that past assumes that our previous understanding was somehow complete. We might not agree with someone's take on it, but as long as we can agree on the facts, it isn't as if they are changing what actually happened, just providing a different understanding. This of course gets much more difficult and convoluted when we realize that what we think of as facts might instead be suppositions, inferred from how we believe the world works. I mention this because looking across our various records we can see just how incomplete our understanding is of this time in Silla-Yamato relations. We have to “pick sides” as it were, if we want to tell a story, or we could just throw our hands up in the air and say “who knows?”So let's talk about just what is missing from both the Nihon Shoki and the Samguk Sagi, two of our better historical sources from this time. Clearly the Nihon Shoki has a pro-Yamato and pro-royal lineage bias, such that it is going to elevate the status of Yamato and the sovereign, almost completely ignoring any other powerful polities that may have once existed in the archipelago and placing Yamato on equal footing with the Sui dynasty, and above the countries of Silla and their ally, Baekje. It is not exactly nuanced in its depiction. On the other side we have the Samguk Sagi. Here we have a huge period in the 6th and 7th centuries with little to no mention of Wa or the Japanese archipelago. This is especially true in the Silla annals, which only mention their interactions with Baekje, for the most part, and leave talk of Wa to the earlier years, before Silla grew into one of the three most powerful kingdoms on the peninsula. Where we do find mention is in the Baekje annals, but even that is often sparse. This is likely for several reasons. First off is the fact that the Samguk Sagi was written in the 12th century, over four hundred years after the Nihon Shoki was published. This was the Goryeo period on the Korean peninsula, and so one might expect to see a greater focus on the former Goryeo, known to us as Goguryeo. However, its author was Kim Busik, and the Kim family traced their roots to the royal lineage of Silla. So he likely was plenty incentivized to prop up the Silla kingdom. Furthermore, it seems that the Samguk Sagi was pulled together from a variety of sources, often with second or thirdhand accounts. For instance, they writers appear to have used Sui and Tang records to reconstruct what happened at various periods, especially in Baekje. The “Record of Baekje” that the Nihon Shoki often cites appears to have no longer been extant for Kim Busik to peruse. And so it is hard to tell what was left out for political reasons and what simply wasn't mentioned at all. However, there is a note in the late 7th century, where the Silla kingdom complains about the constant raids and invasions by the Wa—raids and invasions that are otherwise not mentioned—that makes me think that perhaps there is something more to the records of Yamato and Baekje then might first appear. It would be easy, perhaps, to dismiss what we see in the Nihon Shoki, but we are now only a century from when it was compiled. So while the Chroniclers may have been biased in the way they recorded things, there is likely something there, even if they give themselves a larger role in the production. Alright, so enough caveats: What does the Nihon Shoki have to say about all of this? We previously talked about the relationship between Yamato and the continent in Episodes 94 and 96, including prior attempts by Yamato to re-establish Nimna, which had been controlled by Silla since at least the 6th century, and Yamato's early contact with the Sui court. And as mentioned above Inugami no Mitasuki and Yatabe were sent back from the Sui, returning with an envoy from Baekje in 615. Then, in 616, a year after that, Silla sent a Buddha image as tribute. In typical pro-Buddhist fashion, it is said that the image sent out rays of light and worked miracles. Aston claims this was the gold image eventually installed at Houkouji—aka Asukadera. There is a bit of a respite in the record, like a show that took a season off during the pandemic. We don't really have much mention of Silla or Baekje for about four to five years, just as it looked like we were starting to get regular communication. That isn't to say the record is entirely blank, we just don't have records of regular contact with Silla and Baekje. There is one record, which Aston dates to 618, though that may be a year off based on other sources, where a Goguryeo envoy arrives with gifts: flutes, cross-bows, and even catapults, we are told, 10 in all. They also brought a camel, which must have been quite the sight, though I wonder how well it was doing after that voyage. Finally, they brought some local products and two captives that had been taken during fighting with the Sui. This mention of Goguryeo fighting the Sui dynasty is rather significant, and it is part of the reason that many believe the Sui dynasty would fall in or around that same year. Besides spending money on all sorts of public works projects—things like the Grand Canal, that would definitely be a wonder, but was also insanely expensive—the Sui dynasty was also fighting campaigns on their northern and southern borders, as well as facing raids by the Tujue, a group of eastern Turkic people. The Sui had been pushing against Goguryeo, with whom they shared a border, and for the most part, Goguryeo had been pushing back. At the same time, Goguryeo had some ambitious neighbors of their own on the peninsula—their sometime ally Silla being chief among them—so they had to also ensure that they weren't attacked from the rear as they were marshaling troops against the Sui. Fortunately for them, the Sui dynasty would eventually collapse, being replaced by the Tang. Unfortunately, the Tang dynasty was not necessarily going to give up the push that the Sui had started. We'll probably need to do an entire episode on the Tang dynasty and Tang culture, as it would have a huge impact on all of East Asian culture, but for now, that can wait. The death of the last Sui emperor set up a power struggle on the continent. Li Yuan, Duke of Tang, took advantage of this and had himself proclaimed as the new Tang emperor, but he wasn't the only one contending for power. Though he ruled from the capital at Chang'an, modern Xi'an, there were plenty of others trying to set themselves up as warlords and emperors in their own right, and Li Yuan would spend the entirety of his reign trying to quell these various threats and re-unify the empire under his rule. Needless to say, there was a lot going on over there. As that was happening, around 621, Silla sent an ambassador to Yamato named, at least in Aston's translation, Imime, with the rank of “Nama”—a rank in the lower half of the Silla system. Imime brought a diplomatic gift—that is to say “tribute” in the words of the Nihon Shoki—and a memorial for the Yamato court. Apparently they hadn't brought memorials before, and this was the first time. Memorials here are formal letters, typically referring to the type of letter from a subordinate to a superior. I doubt that Silla was actually making themselves out to be a vassal to Yamato any more than Baekje, who is recorded as submitting numerous memorials, did the same. However, the way diplomacy works, it would be understandable if the letter to a foreign ruler was presented in a flattering light. Also, let's not forget that it was entirely possible that there was a bit of interpretation going on from one language, into the diplomatic language of Sinitic characters, and then into the native language of the court. So I think we can say that this is when Silla and Yamato started formal, written diplomatic correspondence. These exchanges continued the following year. Silla sent more envoys, and this time they brought a golden Buddha image, a golden pagoda, relics, and a large Buddhist baptismal flag, along with twelve smaller ones. This was the Buddha image placed in the Hata temple at Kadono—which is to say, Hachiwoka Temple, known today as Kouryuuji, in modern Kyouto. Other relics went to Shitennouji. In addition, they brought the monks Esai and Ekou, as well as the physicians Ejitsu and Fukuin, bringing continental or “Tang” learning. AT the same time, the envoys suggested that Yamato should send for the students that they had sent abroad to the Sui court, previously, as they had finished their studies. They then launched into praise for the Tang court. And here we can say it would have likely been the Tang court. As we discussed, the Sui dynasty had collapsed and a new dynasty, the Tang, had stood up in its place. One wonders, then, about the students who had lived through those tumultuous times, and there may have been other reasons to reach out to the Tang court and restart their relationship. It is also interesting that Silla appears to have close ties to the Tang—something that they would certainly work to strengthen in later years. Silla's location on the other side of Goguryeo made them an ideal strategic ally to help put pressure on Goguryeo and force them to protect multiple fronts at the same time. Besides the advice on bringing back students from the Sui—now Tang—court, I'd also like to take a moment and point out the gifts and the temples that were mentioned. Shitennouji and Kouryuuji are both temples associated with Shotoku Taishi, but are also thought to have been closely related to individuals of Silla ethnicity in Yamato. That they received the tribute coming from Silla is interesting. It looks like things were going well, but then, later in that same year, things took a turn. We are told that Silla invaded Nimna, making Nimna fully a dependency of Silla. As we had discussed, before, Silla had long since taken Nimna and the other small polities around it. It may be that they had retained some notional independence, as many of the kingdoms of this time were not necessarily fully established as we might think of a state, today. However, any “invasion” was likely seen by Silla as simply quelling an internal dispute, assuming it happened at all. What actually happened wasn't as important to us, however, as was Yamato's response. We are told that Kashikiya Hime considered an invasion, but Tanaka no Omi suggested caution, suggesting that someone be sent to the peninsula to figure out just what was going on. Nakatomi no Muraji no Kuni, on the other hand, pressed for war. He continued to beat that old drum claiming that Nimna originally belonged to Yamato, and that Silla shouldn't be allowed to have it. Tanaka no Omi countered that it was better that Silla have it than Baekje, claiming that Baekje, Yamato's on-again off-again ally on the peninsula, could not be trusted to hold it—something of a strange stance. Ultimately, Kashikiya Hime listened to Tanaka no Omi's advice, and she sent Kishi no Iwakane to Silla and Kishi no Kuranoshita to Nimna to see how things were going. When they arrived at the peninsula, they were greeted by a single, brightly decorated ship. When they asked whose ship it was, they were told it belonged to Silla, at which point they called into question why there wasn't a ship from Nimna. And so the Silla sailors sent someone to bring out another ship, claiming that was the ship from Nimna. The Nihon Shoki claims that this tradition of Silla greeting Yamato envoys with two boats dates from this time. To say I'm a bit skeptical is an understatement. It sounds like Silla was just trying to appease the Yamato envoys so that they would deliver their message and go back home. Perhaps they were putting on a show of Nimna's independence—who knows. The Lord of Silla—an interesting flex by the Chroniclers, who have otherwise referred to the ruler of Silla as a “king”—sent eight high ministers, or Daibu, to provide Iwakane and Kuranoshita an update on the status of Nimna. In response, the Yamato envoys apparently insisted that Nimna belonged to them and, at least according to the Nihon Shoki, Silla agreed. Here I think we have to take the Chronicles with a bit of salt, and I really wish that we had better records for Silla, but unfortunately the sources we have from that side are silent about any interaction. Iwakane and Kuranoshita then began to plan the return trip with envoys from Silla along with more diplomatic gifts from Silla and Nimna. With their work completed, they began the trek back to the islands. Even if Silla was simply putting on a show for the ambassadors, they must have felt pretty good about themselves. They had apparently settled the matter and were now on their way back to seal the deal. All they had to do now was wait for a favorable wind so they could cross. And so they were probably taken aback when they looked out across the waters and saw boatloads of Yamato troops heading their way. The Silla envoys saw this and immediately noped back to the capital at Gyeongju and left a lower level flunky to handle the diplomatic gifts, which Yamato probably already had loaded on board the ship. Iwakane and Kuranoshita resigned themselves to the fact that the agreement they had brokered was now in tatters—they had just talked about peace and suddenly an invading army shows up. So they shoved off and headed back to the archipelago. Apparently, while Iwakane and Kuranoshita were away, the hawkish faction of the Yamato Court had swayed Soga no Umako to their side, and he had pushed for the invasion. Specifically, the Chronicles blamed the houses of Sakahibe no Omi and Adzumi no Muraji. Apparently these two families remembered getting quite a pay out from Silla last time, when they took armies across the strait to help re-establish Nimna, but got basically paid to leave, and so they were hoping to do the same thing again. And so Sakahibe no Omi no Womaro and Nakatomi no Muraji no Kuni were made generals of a force that included a host of names of some of the prominent families as assistant generals. Given all of the generals and assistant generals, it must have been a sizeable force, and the Chronicles say that it was ten thousand strong, though I don't know that we can trust any of the numbers, exactly. They made landfall and headed to Nimna, to prepare their attack and when the King of Silla heard they were there, Silla tendered their submission, and the generals sent back a memorial to Kashikiya Hime to proclaim their victory. We aren't told whether or not Sakahibe no Omi or Adzumi no Muraji made any money on this venture, but they seem to have made out alright for themselves. Now, as I mentioned earlier, there isn't any really good corroborating evidence for all of this. There is a note in 623 that Baekje sent an army to raid Silla's Neungno District, and there is the later 7th century note where Silla complains about the constant raids by the Wa, mostly referring to Yamato and the archipelago. There is one other thing about this period, however: many scholars believe that this is the period where many of the stories of Okinaga no Tarashi Hime really became popular, and took the form that we mostly know them as, today. As you may recall, Okinaga no Tarashi Hime is more commonly known as Jinguu Kougou or even Jinguu Tennou. She was the wife to the sovereign known as Chuai Tennou and the mother to Homuda Wake, aka Oujin Tennou, someone who features prominently in the lineage of the current dynasty of Yamato sovereigns. We talked about Tarashi Hime and her much hyped “conquest” of the Korean peninsula back in Episode 40. Many scholars treat Tarashi Hime as a fictional, legendary figure, possibly created specifically to mirror the reign of Kashikiya Hime, in the 7th century. There are some who believe her story is actually based on raids and invasions by Yamato in the 7th century, especially given the scale and apparent control that she displays over the archipelago. It is possible that in her day, assuming she did exist, that there was a much larger concern with subduing the Kumaso, which was probably more of an ethnic conflict between different cultures, with Wa forces eventually prevailing. There was certainly commerce with the peninsula, so raids weren't out of the question. But the scale of those raids may not have been quite as depicted. Again, though, it is hard to say. The peninsular records are largely silent. The Wa are depicted as almost more of a minor nuisance and they are more likely to give pride of place to Baekje forces in any allied assault, so it is really difficult to determine just what happened, when. Regardless, we aren't finished with the peninsula. There is still a lot more conflict yet to be seen. But, we are finished with this episode—and almost finished with this reign. Next episode we'll cover the end of Kashikiya Hime's reign, when some of the cutthroat politics of the Yamato court will come to the fore. The end of one reign and the beginning of another has always been a bumpy ride—has the enforcement of more continental style governance changed that at all? We'll see. Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, 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. Thank you, also, to Ellen for her 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 will finish up with many of the smaller episodes in the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tenno. Most of these are mentions of various public works projects, omens, expansion of the realm, and a couple of other stories, some more believable than others. As usual, more information can be found at https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-101 Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua, and this is Episode 101: Ponds, Peaches, and Thunder-gods. First off, a big thanks to Red and Ryan for helping to support the site and our show. If you would like to join them, we'll have more information at the end of the episode, or check out our website at sengokudaimyo.com. When we last left off, we were going through some of the more random events that happened in the reign of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou. and we're going to continue with that this episode, touching on some of the things that happened in the latter part of her reign, starting in about 613 and going from there—and some of this is more exciting than others. I'll try to hit the high points, but some of this will be familiar if you've been listening along. For example, one of the THRILLING things we'll start with (at least if you are a frog) is the building of ponds. In the winter of 613, we are told that the ponds of Waki no Kami, Unebi, and Wani were constructed. We've seen the construction of ponds since at least the time of Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tennou, the purported “first” sovereign, from around the probable time of Queen Himiko. The exact nature of these ponds doesn't seem to be known, but one theory is that they are for irrigation of rice paddies in places where the water wasn't consistently sufficient for everyone's needs—a pond would allow for water to be gathered up throughout the year and then released when it was needed for the rice paddies. More ponds may have indicated the opening of more fields, indicating continued growth.Ponds also had other uses, however, including breeding fish, and they were a habitat for birds, so this would also help encourage hunting and fishing. Finally, the ponds were public utilities, and part of the way the Court flexed their power as they raised levies for the ponds' construction. We might also say something about the way they indicated a certain amount of control over the land – but of course, most of these ponds are in the Nara basin and Kawachi regions, and so it doesn't tell us a whole lot more than what we already know about the centralized control there. They were important enough, however, that by the 8th century the creation of these ponds was still being tracked and attributed to specific rulers. If you're wondering what it might have been like to travel around in this period of Japan, you might be more interested in the fact that in the same line about the ponds, we are also told that a Highway was built from Asuka to Naniwa. This is believed to be the path of the ancient Takeuchi Kaidou in Kawachi, which some of the literature claims is the “oldest official road” in Japan. This road connects to the Yoko-ohoji in Nara, which links the modern city of Sakai, near Ohosaka, with the city of Katsuraki, and presumably it then connected with other paths down to Asuka. I suspect that the “official” qualifier is in there is because we have evidence of when it was made, whereas other roads and highways, such as the old highway along the foot of the mountains on the eastern edge of the Nara Basin, are perhaps even more ancient, but are simply mentioned, without evidence of how or when they were created—they may have been more organic footpaths that came to be heavily traveled, or just created with no record of who and when. This new highway was notable for connecting the port at Naniwa to the current capital and to the newly built temples in the Asuka area, as well. These temples were new institutions, but they were also fairly permanent structures, unlike even the palace buildings, which were still expected to be rebuilt each reign. Of course, they could be moved—and were, in later periods—but it was going to take some doing. That said, there were other permanent structures and religious sites—heck, many of the kami were associated with mountains, and you couldn't exactly move those, though they did have the ability to build sacred spaces elsewhere and bring the kami to them, so you weren't exactly tied to the physical geography. And there were the giant kofun, but I'm not sure how often people were going to the kofun to worship the ancient kings and other elites, other than perhaps family members paying their respects. The building of a highway to the capital alone would probably be an interesting flex, since the next sovereign could move somewhere else entirely. But the temples were intended to be relatively permanent institutions, as far as I can tell, so even if the capital did move, the fact that there was a road there was probably going to be a big boon to the area. Of course it probably didn't hurt that this area was also a Soga stronghold, and so at least the Soga family would continue to benefit, which may have gone into *some* of the political calculus, there. It was also going to help with envoys to and from the continent. And that leads us along to the next item of note about Kashikiya-hime's reign: sure enough, in the sixth month of the following year, Inugami no Kimi no Mitasuki and Yatabe no Miyatsuko were sent on a new embassy to the Sui court. By the way, quick note on these two. Inugami no Mitatsuki is given the kabane of “kimi”. If you recall, the sovereign is “Oho-kimi”, or “Great Kimi”, and so “Kimi” is thought to be an important title, possibly referring to a high-ranking family that held sway outside of the immediate lands of Yamato, and Yatabe is given to us as “Miyatsuko”, also generally referring to one of the higher ranks of nobility under the kabane system—though not necessarily the inner court families of the Omi and the Muraji. It is unclear whether those kabane were in use at the time, but it does indicate that the families were important. An ancestor of the Inugami first shows up in the reign of Okinaga Tarashi Hime, aka Jingu Kougou, which is interesting as there are some who claim that the stories of that reign really solidified around the time of Kashikiya Hime, which is to say the current reign. We'll get more into that in a future episode, but for now we can note that the Inugami family doesn't really seem to show up after that until this reign, and from here on out we see them as one of the regular interlocutors with the continent, whether the Sui, Tang, or on the Korean peninsula. The Yatabe are much more enigmatic. Other than this entry, we don't have a lot. There is an ancestor, Takemorosumi, mentioned in the reign of Mimaki Iribiko, aka Sujin Tennou, and there is some reasonable thought that they may have been set up for the maintenance of Princess Yata, the wife of Ohosazaki no Mikoto, aka Nintoku Tennou, but I don't see any clear indication one way or the other. They aren't really mentioned again except as a family during the late 7th century. These two, Inugami no Mitatsuki and the unnamed envoy of the Yatabe family, would return a year later, bringing with them an envoy from Baekje. Later in the year they would throw the envoy an elaborate feast. We aren't given much else, but seems like relations were good. Shortly after the feast for the Baekje envoy, however, the monk Hyeja—or Eiji, in the Japanese reading—returned to his home in Goguryeo. Hyeja had been one of the teachers of none other than Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi himself, and the two are said to have shared a special bond. Shotoku Taishi eventually became Hyeja's equal, and it is said that they both discussed Buddhist teachings and philosophy together, with Hyeja appreciating Shotoku Taishi's unique insights. When Prince Umayado eventually passed at an all too early age, the news reached Hyeja on the peninsula and he held a special feast in his student-turned-peer's honor. They say that he then predicted his own death, one year later, on the anniversary of Shotoku Taishi's own passing. But that was still to come. For now, you could say that everything was peachy—and so they did… sort of, in the next item of note. What they actually said was that in the first month of 616, at the beginning of Spring, the Peach and Plum trees bore fruit, which may seem an odd thing to comment on. However, Peach and Plum tress flowering or fruiting would be something that the Chroniclers commented on for at least the next two reigns, as well as in the reign of Oho-ama, aka Temmu Tennou, in the 7th century. It is possible that they were commenting on how they were fruiting out of season—the peach, or momo, in Japanese, blossoms between late March and mid-April. This is around the same time as the plum, in this case the Sumomo, rather than the “ume” plum, sometimes called a Japanese apricot. Momo and Sumomo would blossom towards the start of spring, and so it might be possible for them to blossom around the first month of the New Year, especially if that was a little later than it might be today, but highly unlikely that they would be fruiting. Assuming they were talking about the blossoms—and some later accounts explicitly call out the flowers instead—it may have indicated a particularly warm winter or early spring season that year. It is also possible that the Chroniclers were off on the dates at times, and so may have made some mistakes. It is also possible that they were recounting an odd event—having the peach trees and plum trees fruit or blossom at the obviously wrong time would likely have generated some concern, and thus be worthy of noting down as an omen. It is also possible that this is part of a stock phrase that was used to indicate something else, like the start of Spring or a good or bad omen. Peaches were thought to keep away evil spirits and it was said that they were the fruit of immortality in the western paradise of the Queen Mother of the West. Peaches are often common decorations on Buddhist temples, as well—going back to the same stories about warding off evil and longevity. Whatever the reason, the blooming and fruiting of peach and plum trees was particularly important to the Chroniclers for this period—for whatever reason. Beyond the talk of peaches, in 616 there was something else, something fairly simple, but apparently important: Men from the island of Yaku arrived as immigrants. This is the first mention of Yaku Island, and if you haven't heard of it I wouldn't blame you. It is an island south of modern Kagoshima, off the southern tip of Kyuushuu, and just west of another famous island, that of Tanegashima. Yakushima, today, is known for its status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site—so classified for its incredible natural beauty. It is the home to some truly ancient cedars, with some thought to date back as far as 2300 years ago, well into the Yayoi era. It is mentioned in the Nihon Shoki as well as Sui dynasty records, and in numerous other travel accounts since. We have evidence of human activity going back at least 17,000 years ago, so before even the Jomon era, though the earliest evidence of habitation on the island is more like 6,000 years ago—about 500 to a thousand years after the famous Akahoya eruption, which devastated Kyushu and which we discussed back in episode 4. Yakushima would also have been devastated, situated as it is just south of the Kikai caldera, and it was likely devastated by pyroclastic flows along with its neighboring islands. Since then, it was populated by people that were now, in the 7th century, making contact with the people of Yamato—perhaps indicating that Yamato had even further expanded its reach. Over the course of the year 616 the Chronicles note several groups of immigrants from Yaku Shima. First was a group of three men who came as immigrants in the third month. Then seven more arrived two months later. Two months after that, you had a group of twenty show up. They were all settled together in a place called Eno'i. It isn't exactly clear where this is. Some sources suggest that they came to the Dazaifu in Kyushuu, and so were settled somewhere on Kyuushuu, possibly in the south of the island. There is also a connection with the name “Enoi” coming out of Mino, in the form of the Enoi family, which the Sendai Kuji Hongi says was an offshoot of the Mononobe family. Wherever they ended up, they stayed there for the rest of their lives. We aren't done with Yaku Island, though. Four years later, we are told that two men of Yaku were “cast away”—which I suspect means banished—to the island of Izu, Izu-no-shima. Once again, we are left wondering exactly where that is, though it may refer not to an island, at least not entirely, but to Izu no Kuni, the land of Izu, on the Izu Peninsula. Aston suggests that perhaps at this time “shima” didn't mean just an island, but any place that was mostly surrounded by water, including a peninsula like Izu. It could also mean one of the nearby islands, such as Ooshima, the largest of the islands to the east of the Izu peninsula. Nine years later, in the reign of the succeeding sovereign, Yamato sent an envoy, Tanabe no Muraji, to the island of Yaku. I suspect that this was part of making the island an official part of the country. Records of the island fall off for a bit, but it does get mentioned, along with neighboring Tanegashima, in the reign of Temmu Tennou, in the latter part of the 7th century. To be fair, the Nihon Shoki only continues until 696, but we continue to see them in the Shoku Nihongi, the continuation of the court historical records. Sure, Yakushima was probably never going to be a huge story from a political perspective, but it does give us some insight into just how far Yamato's influence reached at this point. Going back to the record, we have another fruit related account. This time it is about an enormous gourd coming out of Izumo—one as big as a, well… we aren't exactly sure. The character they use is read “kan”, and today often refers to aluminum cans and the like, but that is a relatively recent meaning, if you'd believe it. In the 7th and 8th century it was probably something more like “pou” and may have meant an earthenware pot for storing alcohol, like the Greek amphorae, or it may have been in reference to a kind of musical instrument. Either way, we are talking a pretty good sized gourd. Not sure if it would take a ribbon in some of today's largest pumpkin contests, but still, impressive for the time. Moving beyond the State Fair category of entries, we come to one of my favorite events. It takes place, we are told, in 618, when Kawabe no Omi was sent to the land of Aki to build ships. He went with his crews up into the mountains to fell timber when he met with something extraordinary, which was still being depicted in paintings centuries later, although most people probably haven't heard the story. Now the name Kawabe first shows up as the location of one of the Miyake, or royal granaries and administrative centers set up in the land of Ki, south of Yamato on the peninsula, in 535. The first record of a person by the name, however, is less than auspicious: It was the assistant general Kawabe no Nihi, who is panned by the Chroniclers for his actions during the reign of Amekunioshi. As we discussed in Episode 82, Kawabe snatched defeat from the jaws of victory due to his lack of military expertise. This next mention of a Kawabe family member is coming a good many years later, but the family does seem to have recovered somewhat. Kawabe no Omi no Nezu would be appointed a general several years later—and that could be the same Kawabe no Omi from this story, as there was only about seven or so years between events. Furthermore, members of the family would find themselves in the middle of some of the most impactful events of the court, indicating their high status. Multiple family members would be remembered and memorialized in the histories over the rest of the century, whether for better or for ill. Which makes it a little interesting to me that the story of this Kawabe family ship builder does not give us a personal name of any kind. Now, later interpretations of this particular story would say that this Kawabe no Omi was out building ships on the orders of Prince Shotoku Taishi himself, though the Nihon Shoki would seem to indicate that he was out there, instead, at the behest of the sovereign herself, Kashikiya Hime. Of course, given what the Nihon Shoki has to say about Shotoku Taishi's contributions to running the government, it could be either one. Regardless, he had a job to do. He searched through the forest and he found suitable trees for the timber he needed: in all likelihood he was looking for large, straight trees, which would have a good grain and not so many knots to cause problems. I suspect that older trees were likely preferable for the task. Having found what he was looking for he marked it and they began to chop down the marked trees. Suddenly a man appeared—a stranger, or perhaps just a local coming to see what all the fuss was about. He warned Kawabe no Omi and his men that the tree they had marked was a “thunder tree” and it shouldn't be cut. To this Kawabe no Omi asked: “Shall even the thunder-god disobey the royal commands?” However, he didn't just barrel on with the task. Instead, he and his men started by offering mitegura, offerings of cloth. This was likely done to appease any spirits before the crew got started, and I wonder if this was something exceptional, or perhaps something that people regularly did, especially when you were taking large, older trees. It isn't clear, but an 8th century crowd no doubt understood the significance. Once they had finished providing recompense to the kami, they went about their task. Suddenly, out of nowhere, it began to rain. As the water poured down from the sky, thunder and lightning came crashing down. Apparently the offering had *not* been accepted, and the kami was now quite angry. While his men sought shelter, Kawabe no Omi drew out his iron sword and held it aloft, crying out to the angry kami: “O Kami of Thunder, do not harm these men! I am the one that you want!” So saying, sword held aloft in the midst of this unexpected thunderstorm, he stood there, watching the roiling clouds, and waiting. Ten times the lightning flashed and crashed around them, the thunder rolling each time. One can only imagine the sight as Kawabe no Omi stood there, wind whipping his hair and clothes as he challenged the storm. And yet, try as it might, the thunderous lightning did not strike Kawabe no Omi. Finally, the lightning stopped, and Kawabe no Omi was still unharmed. As the men came out of hiding, they noticed a disturbance. Above them, there was movement, and the men saw the strangest thing: Up in the branches of the tree was a small fish. Near as anyone could reckon, the god had turned visible, taking the form of a fish, and so Kawabe no Omi caught the fish and burnt it. After that, they were able to safely harvest the rest of the timber and build the ships. While we may have some doubts as to the veracity of the story, or may even wonder if a particularly violent storm hadn't picked up fish from a nearby water source, an event that has been known to happen, it still holds some clues about how the people of the time thought and how they believed the world worked. Even today, older trees and even rocks are thought to house spirits. In some cases, shrines are built up, and people will worship the spirit of a particular tree or rock, so it isn't so far fetched to think that they were harvesting ancient trees that were believed by locals to contain some kind of spirit, which, if aroused, could bring serious harm to Kawabe no Omi and his men. This is probably why they made their offering in the first place, hoping that would be enough to placate the spirit. At the same time, we see them drawing on the power of the sovereign, who isn't even present. Kawabe no Omi's protection is in that he is following the sovereign's commands, and that alone is his shield. Heck, he even goes so far as to raise up his sword. I know we are still an eon from Ben Franklin and his kite, but I'm pretty sure that people had figured out certain things about lightning, beyond just “don't be out in it”, namely “don't wave around pointy metal things in the middle of a storm”. As for the symbolism of the kami turning into a fish, well, who knows just how kami think about these things? They don't always do things that make sense. For instance, there is one story where a man prayed for a boat, and the kami gave him one, but put it on top of a nearby mountain. Maybe they just weren't that accurate, or maybe they didn't quite get how the visible world works, sometimes. It is also possible that the kami turned itself into a helpless fish on purpose, as a sign that it was giving up, since it clearly had not been able to best Kawabe no Omi, and the burning of the fish may have also had some significance. Whatever the reason, the boats were built and not even the kami could defy the will of the sovereign. Now there were a few other things that happened the following year—more strange and bizarre happenstances. The first was the on the fourth day of the fourth month, when there came a report of a creature shaped like a man in the Kamo river in Afumi. Who knows what it was? Perhaps it was some kind of kappa or other river spirit. Or perhaps it was some stranger skinny-dipping and he just really put everyone off. Or it was just a weird log viewed from the wrong angle. Whatever the reason, the people were put off, and Aston notes that this was probably considered an inauspicious omen. Then, in the 7th month, a fisherman from the land of Settsu caught something in one of the manmade canals, or horie, in the area of modern Osaka. The creature he caught was part fish and part man—perhaps that same creature that had been seen three months earlier further upriver, like some kind of ancient Yamato mermaid. What exactly did it mean, though? Certainly it seems a strange occurrence, but was it considered a good or bad omen? Or was it just weird and strange? The following year, there was a shape in the sky. The Chroniclers say it was red, shaped like a rooster tail, and over a rod—about ten feet or so—in length. Perhaps this was a rogue cloud, being kissed by the red light of the rising or setting sun. Or perhaps it was something else entirely. These were the kinds of things that were likely seen as omens, though whether a good or bad omen, who could say? A fishman in the rivers? A red glowing light in the sky? Often it wouldn't be until later that such things would be pieced together. In this case, the omens were likely pretty dire, as in that same year we are told that none other than Prince Umayado—Shotoku Taishi himself—grew ill, and passed away. The whole of the realm mourned their collective loss. The Crown Prince of the Upper Palace, heir to the throne of Yamato, was dead. So yeah, I would say those were some pretty bad omens. Umayado's death would leave a real void. Where there had once been certainty of succession, the land was back in the chaos of wondering what would happen when Kashikiya Hime finally passed away. Would they be returned to a state of civil war for the throne? Who could say? And there was more. The continent was also in a state of uncertainty, as only recently, the Sui dynasty had been overthrown, and now the new Tang was in its place. In addition, a resurgent Silla on the Korean peninsula was getting ever more bold and sure of its own power. There were many things to be concerned about. But let's not leave it on such a note. We can cover all of that in future episodes—we really don't have time to go over all of it here. But there is one other story I'd like to leave you with this episode. You see, a little earlier that year—the same year that Umayado passed away—the Yamato court had finished covering the tomb of Hinokuma with pebbles. Although the kofun, today, are often overgrown, and seem as much like wooded hills as anything else, back in the day there would have been no mistaking their manmade origins. The ground was cleared and tamped down into place. The sides rose in distinct terraces, and the surface was covered in stones. Around it would be the clay and wood haniwa. Families were employed to keep the kofun, and likely refreshed them from time to time. In the case of Hinokuma, recall that earlier in the reign Kitashi Hime, Kashikiya Hime's mother, had been re-interred with her husband. This was likely further ceremonies for her, perhaps the culmination of years of work on the tomb. We are also told that earth was piled up onto a hill, and each family erected a wooden pillar. One official, Yamato no Aya no Sakanoue no Atahe, decided to go all out. Maybe he didn't get the memo. Or maybe he thought he would make a name for himself. Either way, brought in the largest pillar—larger than any other of the family heads that were present. And, well, he did make a name for himself, though perhaps not the name he wanted. That name was Ohohashira no Atahe, or the Atahe of the Giant Pillar. Probably not exactly what he was going for, but there you have it. By the way, if you recognize that name, Sakanoue, then you may have noticed that yes, this is likely an ancestor of the famous Sakanoue no Tamuramaro, a famous warrior of the late Nara and early Heian period, and the second person ever to carry the title of Sei-i Taishogun—but that is still over a century and a half away. For now, in the coming episodes, we'll finish up the reign of Kashikiya Hime, perhaps touch briefly on what was happening on the continent, and continue on as we make our way through the latter part of the seventh century. Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, 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. Thank you, also, to Ellen for her 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.
On this edition of CFO at Home, Vince wraps up the last of 3 consecutive episodes on preparing financially for college with a discussion with Kuni Beasley, founder of Beasley College Prep, on some of the top strategies that he and his team have used since 2011 to help students earn over $300 million in scholarships and grants, while being admitted to some of the top institutions in the country; including Ivy League schools, Service Academies, and Top Tier colleges such as MIT, Stanford and Duke. You can learn more about Kuni and Beasley College Prep by visiting beasleycollegeprep.com Key Discussion Points: (00:50) Determining if college is the right direction for your kids (07:23) The Importance of good test scores (13:29) The four elements that Kuni's team works with dealing with admissions and scholarships (17:16) There is no statistical difference in income success between Harvard and non-Harvard students (28:13) Deprograming students so they can see a path forward (30:31) The military offers a full scholarship with stipend monthly payments for medical school Ways to contact/follow: Beasleycollegeprep.com info@beasleycollegeprep.com Beasleycollegeprep - Facebook Beasleycollegeprep - Instagram Contact the Host - vince@thecfoathome.com
[School of Movies 2023] A strange period for Ghibli brings us to the end of our current run, still with the closing triumph of Spirited Away (2000) to cap this body of work off, as well as this year's The Boy and the Heron paving the way for a future tenth instalment. What we are looking at is the last film from Isao Takahata (who died only five years later) the visually resplendent as well as distinctive Princess Kaguya, which is my favourite of his works, but still has one glaring bad decision inherent to the edit. Then there's the most astonishing surprise from this entire project, which is quite how I unexpectedly adored When Marnie was There (from Hiromasa Yonebayashi, the director of Arrietty). The most delicate, Gothic tale in their back catalogue. After that, yet another film that deliberately defies the established Ghibli aesthetic, the first collaboration with a non-Japanese director Michael Dudok de Wit and the wordless caveman-accessible tale of a red turtle (who is secretly a woman, or vice versa). And then for maximum shame, the definite WORST Ghibli film ever made, or that ever will be made; Earwig and the Witch, directed by Goro Miyazaki. A film so awful it dragged his father out of retirement yet again. But to end on a pleasant note, we talk about both the RPG video game Ni no Kuni and the freshly established "Studio Ponoc" and their debut "Mary and the Witch's Flower". Truly the child of Ghibli, and a team we hope will continue making beautiful films far beyond our lifespans. 2013: The Tale of the Princess Kaguya (0m 35s) 2014: When Marnie Was There (16m 50s) 2016: The Red Turtle (29m 30s) 2020: Earwig and the Witch (45m 35s) 2017: Mary and the Witch's Flower (1h 4m 20s)
Dr. Kuni Beasley: Making College Affordable - Helping Kids Reach Their College Goals. This is episode 614 of Teaching Learning Leading K12, an audio podcast. For over 40 years, DR. KUNI BEASLEY has been helping students reach their college goals. Since 2011, Dr. Beasley and his team have helped students earn over $300 million in scholarships and grants, with students admitted to the top institutions in the country to include the Ivy League (Harvard, Cornell, etc.), Service Academies (West Point, Annapolis, etc.), and Top Tier colleges (MIT, Stanford, Duke, etc.). His SAT/ ACT Prep program has been used in public and private schools in over 20 states. Dr. Beasley was the Dean of the New College Preparatory Academy with 22 sites across the country from Springfield, MA, to Hot Springs, AR, to Palm Springs, CA. Dr. Beasley has a BS from Texas Christian University (Go Frogs), an MBA from Oklahoma City University, a Doctor of Ministry from Tyndale Seminary, and Ph.D. from the University of Texas at Arlington. He went to college for 22 years and paid for only one semester. Today we are talking about paying for college. Awesome talk! So much to learn! Before you go... Could you do me a favor? Please go to my website at https://www.stevenmiletto.com/reviews/ or open the podcast app that you are listening to me on, and would you rate and review the podcast? That would be so cool. Thanks! If you are listening on Apple Podcasts on your phone, go to the logo - click so that you are on the main page with a listing of the episodes for my podcast and scroll to the bottom. There you will see a place to rate and review. Could you review me? That would be so cool. Thank you! Hey, I've got another favor...could you share the podcast with one of your friends, colleagues, and family members? Hmmm? What do you think? Thank you! Thanks for sharing! Thanks for listening! Connect & Learn More: Website: http://beasleycollegeprep.com/ LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/docbeasley/ Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BeasleyCollegePrep/ The expert guest was booked via The Expert Bookers, www.expertbookers.com. Length - 45:16
For over 40 years, DR. KUNI BEASLEY has been helping students reach their college goals. Since 2011,Dr. Beasley and his team have helped students earn over $300 million in scholarships and grants, with students admitted to the top institutions in the country to include the Ivy League (Harvard, Cornell, etc.), Service Academies (West Point, Annapolis, etc.), and Top Tier colleges (MIT, Stanford, Duke, etc.). His SAT/ACT Prep program has been used in public and private schools in over 20 states. Dr. Beasley was the Dean of the New College Preparatory Academy with 22 sites across the country from Springfield, MA, to Hot Springs, AR, to Palm Springs, CA. Dr. Beasley has a BS from Texas Christian University (Go Frogs), an MBA from Oklahoma City University, a Doctor of Ministry from Tyndale Seminary, and Ph.D. from the University of Texas at Arlington. He went to college 22 years and paid for only one semester.
Kerry Lutz interviewed Dr. Kuni Beasley about the value of college education and how it has changed over the years. They discussed the rising cost of college and strategies for taking the pinch out of the cost of college, including finding scholarships and grants. They also talked about the importance of choosing the right school and degree program, and how college may not be necessary for everyone, especially for those who are entrepreneurial. Additionally, they discussed the role of test scores in college admissions and the importance of proper test preparation and the use of test-taking techniques and strategies to beat standardized tests. Finally, they emphasized that learning is a lifelong process and that college only provides the foundation for further learning in the job market. Visit Dr. Beasley at https://www.beasleycollegeprep.com/ Visit us at https://FinancialSurvivalNetwork.com
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