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Methods of Early Japanese State Building and Tactics of Legitimation

By Joseph Nagaeyari Ryan
Reischauer Scholars Program
June, 2006

Stretching from 18th century Japanese nationalists to 20th century misinformed historians on both sides of the Pacific, misconceptions concerning Japan’s first historical documents have tainted the lens through which the Japanese state’s formation is viewed. It is imperative to understand the world in which the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki were written and the reasons behind their inception. Contrary to previously held notions, the Japanese leaders involved in the creation of eighth and ninth century texts had sweeping motives that found expression in the creation of historical chronicles. The writing of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki represents more than ancient examples of historiography. The texts reflect a desire by early Japanese rulers to legitimate their displacement of indigenous peoples within the archipelago, establish and ensure their power, and provide credit to their claim of divine descent.

 

            Japan’s early history contains numerous groups that eventually fractured, compromised, or coalesced to form the Japanese state that brought the country into the Nara period (710-794 A.D.). The hunter-gatherer Jōmon society that began almost 10,000 years ago can hardly be called primitive: compound bows, swords, spears, and canoes were implemented by the pre-agrarian population (Farris, Heavenly 12-13). As Japan entered the Yayoi period—which spanned from approximately 300 B.C. to 300 A.D.—it was influenced greatly via China, through a Korean conduit. Racially different immigrants merged with the native Jōmon people, bringing with them continental agricultural practices such as irrigation, bronze and iron manufacturing, and military technology (Totman 38-39). The disparity of peoples—“a class system of haves and have-nots”—that resulted from the widespread adoption of continental agricultural techniques brought about startling occurrences of warfare (Farris, Heavenly 14). With the spread of warfare, weapons production became more advanced, resulting in a country that no longer needed to rely as heavily on foreign methods or prototypes (Ibid, 14). Farris then notes an unrecorded, mysterious period in Japanese chronology (Farris, Sacred 99). Japan had been mentioned multiple times in Chinese historical texts from the middle of the first century A.D. until the latter half of the third century (Zhenping 16). Up until the end of the fifth century, fragments of Japan were ruled by powerful Kings who built massive kōfun (mounded tombs) across the country (Totman 51).  By the time it was once again discussed in continental texts, Japan was advancing its military capabilities, accepting numerous émigrés from the continent, and exercising an unknown amount of power on the Korean peninsula, specifically in Paekche and Kaya (Farris, Heavenly 18-19). At this point “in the sixth century,” the emperor “was in no sense absolute, nor were his powers precisely defined” (Duus 19). Excluding the ever-growing Yamato polity in central Japan, distant regions were still governed by lesser rulers. It was not until the web of relations between the imperial throne and other rulers spanning the archipelago grew more tiered and established that the Emperor arose as the sole ruler in the country. This process would not be complete until roughly the eighth century, with the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki as evidence of a solid state with unified interests.   

           

Japanese history is unique in that it existed for thousands of years without an established writing system. Equally fascinating is that the Japanese writing system came from abroad—adopted from Korean and Chinese input. Immigrants from Korea and China entered Japan periodically between the fourth and sixth centuries, before their diplomatic journeys became regulated and bilateral (Zhenping). The earliest writing in Japan can be found on inscribed swords, mirrors, and related artifacts. All such discoveries show continental influence, confirming historians’ suspicions on Japan-mainland relations. The sixth century encounter with Buddhism—and the mass of accompanying religious texts—also quickened the desire, ability, and practicality of integrating a system of reading and writing. Within the aristocratic court, those dealing with writing and literary pursuits were descendents of mainland immigrants (Farris, Sacred 98-99). When Japan finally began producing full written works, such as those penned by Shōtoku Taishi, they followed Chinese models (Duus 20). The Cambridge History of Japan gives numerous examples of exaggerations, mythical happenings, and inventive sayings borrowed from older Chinese texts. The manner of textual composition seen in Chinese classics was ideal for Japanese aristocrats wishing to quickly strengthen their documents with the tried and tested strength and dignity seen in mainland works (Piggott 9, 42, 83, 85, 111). During the time in question—the Nara period and before—Japanese works were written in Chinese. An exception is the Kojiki, which is described as an “experiment”—an unequal combination of Japanese and Chinese, with the Chinese characters “phonetically representing” certain aspects of the Japanese spoken language (Cambridge 459). Just as with agricultural and military technology, Japan has always been adept at “counter-response and symmetry”; this term applies just as fittingly to the evolution of writing and literacy within Japan (Farris, Heavenly 13).

 

            To more deeply understand the purposes behind the creation of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, it is imperative to look at the processes of compilation for the two texts. As complete works, the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki represent the oldest examples of writing still intact from Japan—this is excluding the aforementioned writing on artifacts. As the Kojiki was written first (712 A.D.), it is appropriate to look at it before the Nihon Shoki. The Kojiki was based both on earlier written texts and information passed down orally. The Teiki, Kyūji, Honji, Sumera mikoto no hitsugi, and the Saki no yo no furugoto were all used in the process of writing the Kojiki (Cambridge 464, 512). In 681, Emperor Temmu (whose reign lasted from 673-686 A.D.) ordered that certain ancient texts (the Teiki, Kyūji, and Honji) be gathered, examined, and corrected. According to the Kojiki, itself, Emperor Temmu benevolently wished to clear up confusion, irregularities, and mistakes within the texts (Ebersole 7-9). It is important to note that there were ‘historical texts’ and genealogies (the Saki no yo no furugoto and the Sumera mikoto no hitsugi, respectively) in existence before the Kojiki. The two texts specified in the preceding sentence are recorded to have been memorized by the aristocrat Hieda no Are, who subsequently joined with Ō no Yasumaro, another aristocrat, to compile all the texts and produce the final work. In 712 A.D., the Kojiki was finished and given to Empress Gemmei (Cambridge 464-465). If the text’s writing began in Temmu’s rule and finished in Gemmei’s, then thirty years of textual fluidity separated its inception and conclusion; therefore, the misconception that the Kojiki was a stable piece of work must be dispelled (Ebersole 9).

 

            The Nihon Shoki was finished a mere eight years later, in 720 A.D. It relied on many Chinese classics, the Teiki, the Korean Kudara hongi, and various stories passed down orally (Piggott 287-288). The Nihon Shoki was a massive compilation that may have stretched back to Temmu’s 681 decree, similar to the Kojiki (Cambridge 468). Also like the Kojiki, the forty years between its inception and conclusion left the compilers and the text with time of great revision and addition. Ebersole notes that the text’s seeds may have been planted in a 714 command by Empress Gemmei to “carry the chronicle down to (then) modern times” (9). The “chronicle” mentioned here can either refer to a generic textual body or to a desired expansion of the Kojiki, which had existed for two years before the order. By the time the writing of the Nihon Shoki was concluded, and it was given to Empress Genshō (720 A.D.), “the Kojiki was relegated to a subsidiary status and was soon the victim of neglect” (Cambridge 468). Obviously the Nihon Shoki held more weight with circles contemporary to 8th century aristocrats. Ebersole presents an interesting reason why this could be: “Its main compiler seems to have been Prince Toneri (676-735), the fifth son of Emperor Temmu. [Empress Gemmei, Empress Genshō] and Prince Toneri are all directly related to the Tenji-Temmu-Jitō branch of the imperial family” (9). If Emperor Temmu’s 681 command to create a national history was followed by another familial command of similar scope, then historians may look here for motives; what gives this possibility more credibility are the benevolent and wonderful attributes ‘recorded’ of Emperor Tenji, Empress Jitō, and the aforementioned Emperor Temmu. According to the Kojiki, “[Emperor Temmu’s] wisdom was vast as the sea, searching out antiquity; his mind was bright as a mirror, clearly beholding former ages” (Ebersole 7). To understand the background of the compilers truly gives one a picture of 8th century aristocratic control taking shape.

 

Why, then, did Japanese leaders invest significant amounts of time and energy to create a historical text that was not factual and sterile, and truly representative of currents in their own history? While some may dismiss an inquiry such as this as detrimental to traditional Japanese thought (for the two texts in question were held in high regard as a factual account for some time) or a dangerous attempt to impose one’s own notions on the ancient texts, it is nevertheless worth examining; aristocratic products are the best sources for today’s historians to understand seventh and eighth century Yamato growth, expansion, and political unification.

 

Because Japan was heavily broken up into geographically distinct groups before the seventh and eighth century political unification, various ethnic groups—or groups that progressed along distinct lines due to their separation—established pockets throughout Japan. The group that prospered and created the Yamato polity is generally thought to have traveled eastward throughout Japan, until the country was eventually unified—a time period that stretches far beyond the 8th century. Along the Yamato route of expansion, these various ethnic groups were confronted, assimilated, or destroyed. Farris asserts that “official historians undoubtedly wrote biased accounts meant to exaggerate the crudeness of those outside the cultivated sphere of the Court.” Taking this further, he says that “the Court believed its duty was to bring the civilizing influences of the imperial state to these misguided people, and from time to time took its duty seriously. The fertile lands and wealth of the region also played a large part in inspiring civilizing efforts by the Court” (Farris, Heavenly 83-84). Therefore, by degrading the nature of these “outside groups,” the compilers of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki both justified past injustices and prepared the way for acceptance of future subjugation. No aristocrat believed it was his “civic duty” to assimilate the “barbarians” for their own good. However, creating documents claiming such goals gave the leaders one important thing: an air of benevolence.

 What do the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki actually say about the displaced groups? In these texts, the other ethic groups are listed as being horrendously savage, and the assimilating mission of the Yamato being glorious:

 

The eastern country is not secure, and numerous rebellious chieftains have sprung up. In the case of the Emishi, the revolt is total, and they frequently steal from our loyal subjects. Whom can I send to suppress this rebellion?’...Yamatotakeru-no-Mikoto manly proclaimed. ‘It has not been many years since I subdued the Kumaso. Now the Emishi in the east are rebelling against us. If we allow it to continue, there can be no universal peace. (Nihon Shoki, qtd. in Lu 15)

 

The Nihon Shoki’s descriptions of Emperor Jimmu’s travels take on a similar feeling. After mentioning his status as a “descendant of the Sun-Goddess,” he outlines his plan to defeat these troublesome people:

 

…sacrificing to the Gods of Heaven and Earth, and bringing on our backs the might of the Sun-Goddess, let us follow her rays and trample them down. If we do so, the enemy will assuredly be routed of themselves, and we shall not stain our swords with blood. (113)

 

The last example of note is the most interesting. Again, it is related to Emperor Jimmu and his eastward journey across the Japanese archipelago, as told in the Nihon Shoki. What makes these passages so intriguing is that they were both intended as factual accounts of the establishment of the Japanese nation, and were actually accepted as so. After a monologue by the Emperor, himself, on how the kami gave the lands of Japan to his ancestors, he laments, “the remote regions do not yet enjoy the blessings of Imperial rule” (110). Furthermore, the writers of the Nihon Shoki were extremely intricate in their legitimation attempts:

 

In that year, in winter, on the Kanototori day (the 5th) of the 10th month, the new moon of which was on the day Hinoto Mi, the Emperor in person led the Imperial Princes and a naval force on an expedition against the East. (110)

 

David J. Lu notes the nature of this “Kanototori day.” He says that such a tradition was imported from China, and

 

…is supposed to bring forth great changes, and the most significant change is to occur every twenty-first time kanototori takes place (each calendar operated on a sixty-year cycle, thus the twenty-first time makes it every 1,260 years). The year 601 A.D. was a kanototori, and was a year of great innovation and reform under Empress Suiko and Prince Shōtoku. Having this in mind the writers of the Nihon Shoki probably decided to push back the legendary beginning of Japan 1,260 years, or to 660 B.C. (Lu 9)

 

How convenient that the Nihon Shoki relays the following for the date 660 B.C.:

 

Year Kanoto Tori, Spring, 1st month, 1st day. The Emperor assumed the Imperial Dignity…This year is reckoned the first year of his reign…Therefore there is an ancient saying in praise of this, as follows: …The name of the Emperor was thus began to rule the Empire was [Jimmu]. (132-133)

 

The compilers of the Nihon Shoki connected both the mythological establishment of the Japanese nation and the conquest of “eastern barbarians” to this prophetic kanototori day.  To list the mentions in the Kojiki would be redundant, and thus only the more widely known Nihon Shoki has been consulted.

 

            The Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki were further used to establish and ensure Imperial rule throughout Japan, as they were used to bring about political and social change. Because Japan was broken up into regional groups for hundreds of years, getting those groups that were not already assimilated to compromise and bow to Yamato control took great efforts. The two ancient texts in question were thus a tool to bring about such a capitulation. However, they were also used as a means, not to bring about a capitulation, but to degrade and lessen an opposing regional group. This is most obvious in the case of Izumo. Izumo was a large region located in northwestern Honshū, by the Sea of Japan that thrived at the same time that the Yamato polity was growing in stature. Until the seventh and eighth centuries, Yamato had to contend with many other regional groups that had not yet been assimilated into the Yamato political web, leaving Izumo untouched. Because Izumo was some distance away from Yamato, it was able to grow quite strong and independent and actually traded with the continent (Piggott 53-54). Like Amaterasu’s elevated status in the Yamato belief system, Ōkuni Nushi was the main deity worshipped in the Izumo region. Many historians believe that the myths contained in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki were actually true representations of what really occurred in Japan. Mirroring the eventual subjugation of the Izumo region, the Kojiki relays that “when Amaterasu [sent] down her grandson to take possession of earth, the land [had] to be ceded by Ōkuni Nushi and his progeny…The way [was] then cleared for the sun lineage to extend its rule over Japan…” However, in return, the Izumo kami was allowed veneration “at the Grand Shrine of Izumo, second in prestige only to that of the Sun Goddess [Amaterasu] herself at Ise” (Cambridge 466). Therefore, historians can take this to mean that the Yamato state used compromise—along with aggression—to strengthen their rule. This is further supported by the fact that the Nihon Shoki—produced eight years after the Kojiki—does not contain “the heroic and amorous exploits of Ōkuni Nushi…evidence perhaps of a further downgrading of the Izumo cult” (Cambridge 468). Because of this discrepancy, historians can view the compilers of these texts as still politically maneuvering in the eighth century. One cannot be certain, but the sudden textual disappearance of a once-venerated kami gives the picture of subjugation and downplaying of past rivals.

 

An example that may bear more meaning with those unfamiliar with early Japanese mythology relates to Himiko, the third century female leader of Yamatai. Himiko is mentioned in the Wei Chih, a third century Chinese text, but not in either the Kojiki or the Nihon Shoki. Given the reliability of continental texts for this period, it is surprising that neither text contains any mention of her. Anthony J. Bryant, in his Early Samurai, proposes the first of two possible reasons for this. The first is that the regional group involved in the seventh and eighth century Yamato state formation conquered or assimilated Himiko’s Yamatai. Like Izumo, Yamatai could have suffered the fate of being dismissed to the background—a method that paints a picture of a Yamato line that seems to have existed, relatively unchallenged, since the beginning of time (4). The second possibility is that the compilers wished to “equate Himiko with [Empress] Jingū and Yamatai with Yamato in the Kinai to reinforce the imperial family’s claim to rule from antiquity” (Farris, Sacred 15). In both texts, Empress Jingū’s dates correspond with those presented in the Chinese text for Himiko. Also, the Wei Chih record of Himiko’s relations with the continent is adapted in the Nihon Shoki to apply to Jingū, herself. In the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki, Empress Jingū’s Yamato is said to have “dominated southern Korean” (Farris, Sacred 106). Continental records do not agree with the ancient Japanese claim, which faults both texts as attempting to glorify the state beyond means. Using adopted Chinese rhetorical strategies and mindsets, the texts’ authors “maintained that Japan (Nihon) was the ‘Middle Kingdom’ (chūka) of its East Asian world; [China] was simply ‘the country next door’ (rinkoku)” (Farris, Sacred 106). Farris continues by asserting that, “It is doubtful that Yamato ever controlled any territory in southern Korea; the only basis for such an opinion is the inventive Chronicles” (122). Therefore, it can be seen that the authors of the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki attempted to cleverly align rulers and dates to fit a purpose.

 

The Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki were engineered to trace the imperial rulers’ line back to kami. In Japan Unbound, John Nathan quotes the author Kenzaburo Oe’s recollection of when Emperor Hirohito renounced his status as kami: “How could we believe that an august presence of such an awful power had become an ordinary human being on a designated summer day?” (Nathan 13). It is obvious that the ideology present in the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki was effective throughout Japan’s history—even until the 20th century.  Therefore, it can be seen that the ancient texts had a very prominent hold on Japanese minds for centuries.

 

It has already been briefly mentioned that early Japanese mythology and the claim of divine descent go hand in hand. The Nihon Shoki makes the claim that “the date when [the] Heavenly ancestor descended [to earth] until [Emperor Jimmu’s time]…is over 1,792,470 years.” W.G. Aston, the translator, makes a note that this is a direct emulation of Chinese historical writing (110). Being that the two texts record the “first Emperor” as Jimmu—and Jimmu is recorded as being directly related to Amaterasu—then the claim made by the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki is that the “unbroken line” of Emperors is divine. In his A History of Japan to 1334, George Sansom claims that “the history of the Age of the Gods as it is related in the native chronicles, does not merely assign divinity to the ruler, but starts from the assumption that he possesses it” (45). Combining this fact with the aforementioned “disappearances” of historical rivals within the texts, there is no doubt that the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki are biased historical documents.

 

Beyond being biased, they are far from being realistic chronicles. The chapters within the two texts that deal with the Emperors’ lives are filled with obvious impossibilities and supernatural happenings. Magical omens that reinforce a ruler’s claim to divine descent or benevolent, just rulership are found even as modern as in the reign of Emperor Kōtoku (who was glorified by the appearance of white pheasants), who ruled from 597-654 A.D. (Nihon Shoki 237). In this Emperor’s life and many others, there is an obvious effort to balance the earthly and divine aspects created by the two texts. The fifth century Emperor Yūryaku “functioned both as a warrior king and as a law king, a king terrestrial and a king celestial” (A.M. Hocart, qtd. in Piggott 46). Even though the “king terrestrial” aspect was easy to represent—except for those sovereigns that the texts’ compilers completely created—the “king celestial” took great effort. Some of this effort has already been shown above. The ancient texts make it seem as if the divine kami so important in the “history” of the Imperial line were worshipped throughout Japan. On the contrary,

 

According to the thesis proposed by the literary historian Tsuda Sōkichi, the myths were consciously manipulated by Yamato court nobles of the sixth and seventh centuries. The principal kami—the Sun Goddess, Susa no O no Mikoto, the creator kami couple (Izanagi and Izanami), and the kami of Izumo (Ōnamuchi)—were not venerated among ordinary people. Rather, myths about these kami, according to Tsuda, were products of a conscious effort to construct a political ideology for the Yamato court. (Cambridge 323)

 

This is only one of many historians’ claims that the “all-important” kami of the ancient texts were only placed in such high regard by the texts’ compilers. This stands contrary to the past idea that the ancient texts were a sweeping representation of nation-wide religious sentiment. “The Kojiki, in particular, takes hitherto unrelated myths and weaves them into a narrative tale that moves directly from the creation of the universe to the creation of the imperial house. This neat sequential arrangement suggests manipulation for political purposes” (Cambridge 322). It can therefore be seen that the claims of divine descent were the result of a conscious decision on the compilers’ part to assure continued rule and veneration.

 

The evidence in the preceding paragraphs should not dissuade any serious researcher of ancient Japanese history from using either the Kojiki or the Nihon Shoki. George Sansom’s work is again of great value, in that he wonderfully characterizes the grave errors of either accepting the ancient texts as fact or completely disregarding the information therein:

 

[The texts] include a great deal of invention [and] manipulation…so that on a cursory reading they seem to be of little value. But it would be a mistake to dismiss them as unreliable, for the ingredients of which they are composed include much genuine tradition…The two works together are therefore a valuable mine of evidence about the nature of Japanese society and the development of Japanese thought before the county was exposed to the full force of the high civilization of China—let us say approximately before the year 500 (29).

 

Therefore, the legitimation schemes used to assure obedience, justify state expansion, and give “evidence” to the ancient claim that the Imperial line’s ancestors descended directly from heaven should not be used to assert that the early Japanese state was weak or pathetic. Rather, the Kojiki and the Nihon Shoki—in spite of all of their shortcomings and inconsistencies—should be viewed with a careful lens in order to truly understand ancient Japan. These texts are all that today’s historians can use to open the cryptic doors of ancient Japanese society. It is imperative to not let the texts’ shortcomings cause one to discontinue study of early Japan; instead, let the challenge enable growth of a more critical and illuminating mindset to understand an age when conscious political, social, and textual manipulation were cleverly used by early Japanese rulers.

 

 

 

 

 

Works Cited

Bryant, Anthony J. Early Samurai: A.D. 200-1500. Oxford: Osprey Publishing Ltd., 2001.

Duus, Peter. Feudalism in Japan. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, Inc., 1969.

Ebersole, Gary L. Ritual Poetry and the Politics of Death in Early Japan. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1989.

Farris, William Wayne. Heavenly Warriors: The Evolution of Japan’s Military, 500-1300. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1995.

Farris, William Wayne. Sacred Texts and Buried Treasures: Issues in the Historical Archaeology of Ancient Japan. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1998.

Hall, John Whitney, Jansen, Marius B., Kanai, Madoka, and Twitchett, Denis, eds. The Cambridge History of Japan Volume One: Ancient Japan. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993.

Lu, David J. Japan: A Documentary History. New York: M.E. Sharpe, Inc., 1997.

Nathan, John. Japan Unbound. New York: Houghton Mifflin Company, 2004.

Nihon Shoki. Trans. Aston, W.G. Tokyo: Charles E. Tuttle Co., Inc., 1972.

Piggott, Joan R.The Emergence of Japanese Kingship. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997.

Sansom, George. A History of Japan to 1334. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1958.

Totman, Conrad. A History of Japan. Massachusetts: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2000.

Zhenping, Wang. Ambassadors from the Islands of Immortals. Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 2005.