This particular article came up during the week in the literature section of the Yomiuri Shimbun (J) for Tuesday, the 4th of September. The content was quite interesting, so I thought I`d provide a translation of it below.

"The portraits of three figures (designated as national treasures) held by Jingoji temple in Kyoto have long been thought to depict the founder of the Kamakura Bakufunate, Minamoto no Yoritomo, Taira no Kiyomori`s son Shigemori, and an aristocrat of the late Heian period, Fujiwara no Mitsuyoshi. However, debate about the true identity of the figures in the portraits has continued ever since the art historian Yonekura Michio declared in 1995 that the portrait of Shigemori was in fact the founder of the Muromachi Bakufunate Ashikaga Takauji, that of Yorimoto was Takauji`s younger brother Tadayoshi, while that of Mitsuyoshi was in fact Takauji`s son Yoshiakira. Now a new work by Rissho University Professor Kuroda Hideo (a historic portraiture critic) titled `What are the three portraits of Jingoji?` (国宝神護寺三像とは何か) (Kadokawa Books) has cast a new stone into the debate. It follows the reasoning behind the creation of the portrait reportedly of Yoritomo from the point of view of Tadayoshi.

The portrait of Yoritomo was recently put on public display as part of a special exhibition titled `Yoritomo and Chogen` (which runs until September 17) and sponsored by the Nara National Museum. The portrait itself, which depicts a figure in courtly dress and exudes grandeur, is 1.4m long by 1.1m wide, and dominates a room with its presence.

According to Jingoji temple records, there exists three portraits of three figures created by the master portrait artist of the late Heian-early Kamakura era, Fujiwara no Takanobu. The three portraits held by the temple, which are almost the same size and drawn upon a single frame of silk, are thought to be the portraits referred to in the records. However according to Professor Kuroda`s theory, the three portraits were in fact created in the 14th century, and bases this upon a historical record which says that Tadayoshi donated a portrait of himself and that of his brother Takauji to the temple in 1345. 

To further substantiate this theory, Professor Kuroda points out that upon an examination of the portraits, all three of them use silk the thickness of which was common from the 14th century onwards, and so refutes the original theory that they were works of the Kamakura period.  He also pays particular attention to a record detailing dialogue held between Tadayoshi and the Zen priest Muso Soseki (夢窓疎石) titled `the Muchu Monto Shu` (or Collection of Dialogues within a Dream).

Muso began his dialogues with Tadayoshi in order to instruct him in the canon of Buddhist law as outlined by Prince Shotoku, and spoke of a portrait that depicted both the founder of Shingon Buddhism in Japan, Kukai, together with the protective deity of the Genji clan Hachiman Daibosatsu, which was known as the `Tagai no Miei` (互いの御影) (The Shared Influence) and was housed within Jingoji temple.  Professor Kuroda says that Tadayoshi took this example, and had himself painted as Kukai, the latter manifestation of Prince Shotoku, while he had Takauji depicted as the guardian and war god Hachiman, and then donated the portraits to Jingoji as a offering to ensure the continuation of the dual nature of the Ashikaga dynasty.

As for the portrait reportedly of Mitsuyoshi, the temporary victory afforded to Tadayoshi during his conflict with Takauji during the Kanno War (1350-1352) gave him all the incentive to donate a new portrait of Yoshiakira to the temple in order to replace that of Takauji.  In the early stages of the Muromachi Bakufunate, Takauji was responsible for military matters while Tadayoshi took care of political and administrative matters. On the recommendation of Muso, Tadayoshi had affiliates of Zen temple Ankokuji built throughout the nation. Professor Kuroda theorizes that the portrait of Mitsuyoshi is inferior to the previous two portraits, reflecting the time and circumstances under which it was made.

However Professor Kuroda`s theories have been disputed by those who point out that the only direct proof that he uses to substantiate his claim is a single record. Hence the Yoritomo theory for the portraits remains strong. The exhibition in Nara also displays a portrait of Yoritomo belonging to Seifukuji of Fukuoka. Records clearly state that this portrait is that of Minamoto no Yoritomo, and was donated to Jingoji in 1698. So at the very least, this particular portrait is definitely that of Yoritomo.

Tadayoshi was eventually defeated by his elder brother and killed, yet fundamental questions still remain as to why the figures depicted in such masterworks  would be forgotten.  Professor Kuroda says that he welcomes criticism and alternate theories for the portraits, and expects that the debate will only heat up from here on in.

(Culture Bureau, Hayakawa Yasuo) 

Grave News in the Capital

Historians dealing with the period in question, that of the Muromachi era, would be very familiar with two indispensable resources that detail life at the time; the Kanmon Nikki (看聞日記) and the Mansai Jūgō Nikki (満済准后日記). It goes without saying that without these resources at hand, it would be nigh on impossible to describe what happened next with regard to events on Tsushima. The scene now shifts from Tsushima to the capital of Kyoto. The description of events that took place during the attack on Tsushima were compiled using a Korean source, the “True Record of the Kingdom of Chôsen” (朝鮮王朝実録), however in order to appreciate how news of the clash on Tsushima was received in the capital, we shall now rely on the descriptions provided by the above diaries. (17)

To begin with, we shall take a look at the Mansai Jūgō Nikki. This diary was written by the monk Mansai (満済) of the Sanbōin of Daigoji temple (醍醐寺) (1378 – 1435), located just to the south of the capital. At the time Mansai was 42 years old. He served as a guardian and tutor to three generations of shogun to the Muromachi Bakufu, namely Yoshimitsu, Yoshimochi, and Yoshinori. In his later years he would assume responsibility for resolving matters of state, and would become known as the “Chancellor in Black” (黒衣の宰相). His diary, when compared to the Kanmon Nikki, is more curt and restrained in length and tone, yet without it we would have no way of knowing the type of secret information available to the Bakufu or possess such information in abundance. Hence the historical value of this diary is second to none in contributing to our understanding of the political history of the Muromachi Bakufu. (18)

On the 7th day of the 8th month, roughly one month after the events in Tsushima, a letter arrived at the Bakufu Gosho (御所) addressed to Mansai from Shoni Mitsusada (少弐満貞) of Kyushu detailing the incident. Mansai’s diary contains some rather surprising quotes taken from Mitsusada’s letter, the content of which deserves to be relayed in full; (18)

“A Mongol vanguard fleet of more than 500 ships made their way into the bays of Tsushima island. My vassal on the island, Sō Saemon, together with over 700 mounted warriors, rode out to meet them and engaged them in a number of battles. On the 26th day of the 6th month the fighting continued until sundown, whereupon the foreign soldiers were defeated. It is said that almost all of them were either killed or taken prisoner. Two of the foreign generals were captured, and from them we obtained a range of important information. According to the captured generals, the 500 or so vessels all belonged to the Kingdom of Korei. Some 20,000 or more Chinese vessels were meant to make landfall on Japanese soil on the 6th of the 6th month, but as a result of strong winds that appeared that day, the Chinese vessels were forced to retreat, whereupon they sank into the ocean. It appears that a number of unusual events took place during the conflict. The spirit of Sugawara no Michizane appeared, and I have heard that a number of miracles took place.” (18-19)

It is fairly obvious that by exaggerating the number of vessels sighted off the island, and referring to Saemon as being a “vassal”, Shōni Mitsusada was using this incident as a means to promote his own prowess. Furthermore, the fact that the army of Koreans was merely a vanguard, and that there was an armada of over 20,000 Chinese vessels behind them, all pointed towards this being a plan conceived by the “Mongols” to suppress Japan, despite the complete lack of evidence to reinforce such a view. The fact that the invasion fleet had been defeated by a combination of “strong winds” and the ghost of Sugawara no Michizane was little more than an exaggeration to reinforce the Kamakura era image of these “foreign pirates”. (19)

Memories of the Mongol Invasions

Nearly 150 years had passed since the Mongol Empire had twice attempted to invade Japan. What is more, the Yuan dynasty that had spurred the invasion had disappeared a half century before the events at Tsushima. Nonetheless, the news that arrived at the heart of the Muromachi Bakufu a month after the invasion had referred to it as an attack by the “Mongols”. For Mansai, who had received the news, he appeared to have been inclined to believe it in full. In his diary he recorded his thoughts, which were quite innocent in their praise…”Though much is unknown this cannot be ignored. I have heard that in shrines across the country, various miracles preceded these events. Is this not indeed wonderful?” (20)

It would not have been impossible for someone like Mansai to accept the content of the letter from the Shōni as the truth. At the time, reports were that a number of unusual “sightings” had been made at shrines throughout the capital.  Mansai’s diary notes that on the 6th of the 6th month, “irregularities” had taken place at the Great Shrine at Izumo (出雲大社) and Kamo shrine (賀茂神社) in the capital. “Shaking” had been felt at the Nangū shrine in Mino province, while there had been landslides at Kibune shrine (貴船神社) in Kyoto, among other odd events. On the 2nd day of the 7th month, Mansai himself had prayed for the “defeat of the foreigners” (異国調伏). On the 19th day of the same month, Mansai heard of a young girl at the Atsuda shrine in Owari province becoming an oracle of the gods, all of whom had assembled from Ise and Hachiman shrines in front of Atsuda shrine in order to give notice on how to defend against the “coming of the foreigners”. (20)

Even since the attempted invasion by the Mongols during the Kamakura era, medieval society, when confronted with the possibility of war with foreign powers, restored lands that had previously belonged to shrines and rebuilt shrine buildings in order to encourage the gods to recover their divine power. The shrines at the time would insist on their “divinity” and “irregular occurrences” in order to win further concessions from both the Bakufu and the court, so much so that across the nation suddenly shrines were sending reports of “strange events” that had taken place within their grounds. For shrines, which had access to this information far earlier than any other entity, such events provided an opportunity for them to expand their authority. Hence by the time the letter from the Shōni arrived in Mansai’s hands, the streets of the capital were rife with unsettling news that the religious institutions were doing their best to either exaggerate or encourage. (21)   

The very abruptness of the use of the name “Mongol” may seem somewhat out of place to us, however to the people at the time it was very much a relevant term. Nowadays we can easily refer to a timeline which will tell us that the Mongols attempted two invasions of Japan, one in Bunei 11 (文永十一年,  or 1274) and another in Kōan 4 (弘安四年, or 1281), yet Kublai Khan was believed to have never abandoned plans for a third attempt at conquering Japan. In order to meet this potential threat, the Kamakura Bakufu embarked on a program to strengthen the coastal defences and maintained a strict vigilance with regard to foreign threats, a stance that lasted until the downfall of the Bakufu.   Even after the disappearance of the Bakufu, rumours circulated within Japan from time to time of a Mongol attack on Japan. (21)

The establishment of the Muromachi Bakufu did not put an end to such rumours, for in the 5th month of the 1st year of Ōan (応安元年, or 1368), the Goku Maiki (後愚昧記) records just such a story. In the 3rd month of the 4th year of Bunan (文安四年, or 1447), the Kennai Ki (建内記) confirms yet another rumour of a Mongol attack. Even the Kamakura Kubō, located in the east of the country, feared a return of the Mongols. On the 3rd day of the 3rd month of every year, at Yuigahama in the town of Kamakura, a dog hunting festival was held in order to pray for an expulsion of the Mongols (蒙古退治の御祈禱). What this shows is that even for the people of the Muromachi era, the memory of the Mongols was still fresh. Even without the benefit of a timeline, the image of the Mongols had not vanished, and that there still existed a fear among the Japanese that the Mongols were merely waiting for an opportunity to launch another attack on Japan.  (22)

Even now, the phrase “mukori kokuri – ムコリコクリ, which is derived from the Japanese words for Mongol, ‘Mōko’ (蒙古) and Korean, ‘Kokurei’ (高句麗)” refers to something whose true nature is unknown. This phrase, which originated in western Japan, is now used across the nation. In the novel “Black Rain” written by Ibuse Masuji, the people of Hiroshima, upon seeing the unusual mushroom cloud created by an atomic bomb, refer to it as the “mukori kokuri cloud”. Such was the trauma created by the Mongol invasions during the Kamakura era that its legacy echoed on down the ages in language that reflected such fear. (22)

As promised in my last post, I have translated part of Chapter One of Shimizu Katsuyuki's eye-opening book on medieval Japanese attitudes towards the "other" and those mechanisms that were employed to try to cope with natural disaster. At present, I'm only planning to cover the first part of the chapter, which I will divide into two parts (otherwise this will be an extremely long post!).  Incidentally, the numbers in parenthesis refers to page numbers. Enjoy at your leisure.

Chapter One:  The Mongols are coming!

An island on a volatile border

This particular tale occurred one year before the outbreak of the great famine of Ōei. At the time, the island of Tsushima (対馬, now Tsushima City, part of Nagasaki Prefecture) functioned as a sort of ‘gateway to the west’, linking together both northern Kyushu with the Korean peninsula. Its total surface area amounted to 710 square kilometres. When one looks at a map of this large island, which unfolds gradually in both a northerly and southernly direction, one notices that it is fairly broken up in the central section, effectively dividing the island into two.  In the middle of this area, on a peninsula known as Ozaki located in Asō bay, lay a fishing village known as Tsuchiyori (土寄).  On the 20th day of the 6th month of the 26th year of Ōei (or 1419), around 10 or so ships appeared in the waters off the coast located near the village. (12)

Upon seeing the silhouette of the ships on the horizon, the villagers thought that they were friendly vessels returning to port, and so collecting up both sake wine and victuals, took these to the coast and waited for the vessels to arrive. However, it soon became clear that these vessels weren’t those of a friendly neighbour. The ten or so ships that the villagers had first seen soon grew in number, so much so that they eventually constituted an armada of 227 vessels. The vessels were heading straight towards the village, where it was obvious that they planned to make landfall. Yet who on earth did they belong to? In a panic, the villagers threw away the food they had brought with them and their belongings and scattered in the direction of the mountains behind the village. (13-14)

Fifty or so villagers decided to test their mettle and so took to their boats and headed out in the direction of the armada. Their vessels were soon reduced to matchwood by the mysterious armada, which then laid anchor off the coast and despatched smaller vessels. These vessels disgorged troops one after another, who quickly dispersed into the island’s interior. These troops seized 129 vessels belonging to the villagers, and after judging that 20 or so vessels were still suitable for use, burned the remaining boats. They also set fire to 1,939 houses belonging to the villagers, and destroyed their crops.  During the course of their attack, the invading army killed 114 villagers and took 21 hostages, and managed to occupy one section of the island. (14)

The invading army then spent the next few days crossing from Asō bay to attack the village of Kofunakoshi (小船越) which it eventually seized. In a short space of time, the invading army had become an army of occupation, managing to divide both the southern and northern parts of the island with a majority of their strength focused in Asō bay. On the 26th day of the 6th month (or the 27th day of the 7th month according to the Gregorian calendar), the invading army concentrated in troops in the Nii gun region not far from Asō bay. These troops were divided into three separate armies, with the largest heading off in the direction of the north of the island. At the time, the rulers of Tsushima island, the Sō (宗) family, were based in the north at Sakaura (佐賀浦) bay, which functioned as a de facto capital. Quite possibly the largest section of the invading army planned to march north to force Sakaura to capitulate, and consolidate their control over the island. (14)

Yet it was at this point that the native forces on Tsushima island began to resist the army of invasion. The corps of troops that constituted the left wing of the invading army was surprised by an ambush laid by the Tsushima forces, which resulted in around 110 deaths among the invasion force. This initial success has been relayed by islanders to their descendants in florid terms under the title of “the Battle of Nukadake” (糠嶽合戦). This victory became a catalyst for islander resistance to the invading army, who then set about creating a more organised defence from the interior of the island. (15) Meanwhile, the right wing of the invading army also encountered fierce resistance from islanders, so much so that the central part of the army had to forego landing at Nii gun in order to deal with the threat to its right flank. (15)

There were no further major battles between the native islanders and the invading army, who then settled into a series of small tit for tat skirmishes while moving from one part of the island to another. Eventually the Sō were able to broker a truce with the invasion force, which withdrew from Tsushima at the beginning of the 7th month. (15)

The details of the events above are an overview of an attack carried out against a border island by the vessels belonging to a foreign nation. Those who are particularly knowledgeable about history will have already correctly surmised that the incident referred to here is the “Foreign Piracy of the Ōei Period” (応永の外冦), which is an example of the type of internecine warfare that occurred in the border islands during the medieval era. The “mysterious armada” that attacked the island was no gang of lawless seafarers, but was a legitimate army organised and despatched from the Kingdom of Li on the Korean peninsula. (15)

At the time, the Korean monarchy had suffered no end of strife at the hands of gangs of pirates known as “Wakō” (倭寇) that plied the East China Sea. As such, the Li dynasty had taken it upon itself to launch an attack against what was regarded as the heart of the Wakō territories, the island of Tsushima (in Korea, the incident is known as the “Suppression of the Eastern Barbarians” or 己亥東征). The Korean army that landed on Tsushima did not simply burn down the villages on the island, but also freed 31 Chinese men and women who had been abducted by the villagers.  The viewpoint of the Korean monarchy that regarded Tsushima as a hotbed of piracy was correct, as it is difficult to argue with the fact that a lack of arable land on the island forced the islanders to conduct raids on the continent in order to steal both property and people. The leader of these pirate gangs, who controlled the straits and who was the first to suffer his house being burnt down, was the head of Tsuchiyori village, Sōda Saemon Tarō (早田左衛門太郎). (16)

Sōda, together with other prominent pirate leaders, hid their fleets in the bays and inlets in the centre of the island, and from their base at Tsuchiyori and Kofunakoshi embarked out across the East China Sea, striking terror into the hearts of the inhabitants of the mainland and the Korean peninsula.  One year before the invasion took place, the head of Tsushima island Sō Sadashige (宗貞茂) died of illness, so that at the time of the invasion the head of the island forces was the infant Tsutsu Kumamaru (later Sō Sadamori, or 宗貞盛). Given that the previous lord of Tsushima was dead and his successor not yet ready to rule, Sōda Saemon and other kokujin on the island moved to separate themselves from the control of the Sō family, and so began to engage in piracy on an hereto unforseen level. (16)

Although this invasion saw deaths in battle in the hundreds, fortunately the conflict itself lasted no more than a week, and was predominantly confined to the area around Asō bay.   As such, though it was certainty a problem to those involved, it was no different to the many other forms of regional strife that occurred across the country during the medieval period. However, to those living far away in the capital that got wind of the incident, it certainly couldn’t be treated so lightly. (17)

Mikael Adolphson`s The Teeth and Claws of the Buddha:Monastic Warriors and Sōhei in Japanese History, University of Hawaii Press, Hawaii, 2007.

One of the most interesting points that Adolphson makes in the introductory chapter is to reveal the nature of the debate over the use of the term sōhei. He quotes the work of many Japanese scholars on the subject, and notes that the use of the word sōhei emerged during the Tokugawa era (around 1715), and that before such times the armed members of temple complexes were known by a variety of names but never as sōhei. Despite this, Adolphson also shows that the term sōhei is so deeply ingrained in popular consciousness that it is unwittingly used by specialists in medieval studies without question, despite the fact that such usage is anachronistic (according to Adolphson, the term sōhei came by way of Korea where it was first used to describe temple monks fighting against invasions by the Jurchen).  

Another point that Adolphson illuminates has to do with the actual construction of the idea of monastic warriors. Debate on what constituted a monastic warrior has carried on for over a century, yet there have been few close studies related to searching sources for clear illustrations of armed monks. Some authors have stated that monastic warriors were retainers of aristocrats who entered the temples after taking the tonsure, others have stated that they were drawn from the lower ranks of the temple hierarchy (from the myriad of lay workers that performed various tasks around the temples), to more Marxist interpretations of conflict between the lower and upper ranks of the temple. While all of these theories might have merit, if someone is to be defined as a monk, it implies that they practiced religion. If they didn`t, they should merely be called armed retainers of major temples. Adolphson also outlines what must be something of a problem in passive reading of sources – the acceptance of terms verbatim despite their absence from primary sources, a problem evident in the work of many Japanese scholars.

The cowls worn by monks during the period in question (900 to 1400) were primarily used as a means to preserve anonymity. If a person wished to listen in on a sermon in secret, they would don a cowl. The same would go for those persons wishing to participate in ceremonies from outside the temple organization. Hence they were not, at first, overwhelmingly associated with armed monks.　Moreover, it was Ryōgen who proscribed the carrying of armaments within the confines of Mt Hiei, despite the fact that he was instrumental in creation the schism between the Ennin and Enshin branches of Tendai, and expanding the authority of Enryakuji over surrounding regions.

The essential premise of Claws of the Buddha is to illustrate that there is no exclusive image of sōhei and their motives. He brings up the subject of dōshu, or commoners employed by temples for the purposes of maintenance and administration. Often these people were from a military background and certainly had familiarity with weapons (as evident in the growing militarization of society during the Kamakura era). As the records of the time speak of `evil monks` (as these records were by and large kept by imperial authorities or else by military families affiliated with the imperial system) in regard to any or all temple affiliates, Adolphson believes that many of such commoners may have acted out their frustrations with the government system at the time by using the protection of a powerful institution like the temples of Enryakuji and Kōfukuji. In this sense they would have been no different from commoners who allied themselves to military families. Therefore the figure of the sōhei may not have been one confined to the priesthood, but may rather have been a lay person acting on behalf of the temple. This idea extends to the image of sōhei in cowls with naginata at their sides – Adolphson believes that this picture is misleading as most dōshu would probably have been indistinguishable from secular warriors.

Adolphson also devotes some time to the figure of jinnin, or shrine servants. These were people who devoted themselves to the affairs of great shrines. By and large they were artisans and craftsman who made their livelihood selling items for the shrine. As they worked for a religious institution, they were exempt from taxation and could remain outside the law, which made jinnin status particularly attractive for those with a grudge against the imperial government. He provides a number of examples of jinnin inspired protests and vandalism to prove his point. Adolphson then concludes by saying that jinnin were not passive traders yet could be ambitious with some standing in society. Affiliation with a shrine could give them prestige which they could use in disputes against their foes. As Adolphson says, the jinnin were a `crucial element in the larger shrines throughout the Kamakura period`. He goes on to say that…”If the jinnin comprised a diverse group ranging from workers and administrators to local warriors, their special privileges and status made them a group with common interests primarily outside the precincts and purposes of the monastery. They not only performed their trades under a shrine`s protection, they also might and did act aggressively, and often violently, on the pretext of patron sanctions”.(from p.78)

Interesting fact in relation to the introduction of Buddhism to Japan was the fact that the Soga family, who were the principal advocates of Buddhist beliefs in Japan in the sixth century, became embroiled in conflict with other families who wanted to continue adherence to the Shintoist gods. Adolphson goes on to state that the Buddhism brought to Japan had been influenced by both Chinese and Korean traditions. As such, it inherited from those nations (particularly the Tang) a set of codes and stipulations, in essence twenty seven articles detailing the behaviour expected of clerics and codified in the Sōni ryō of 718. It forbade monks and nuns from killing, stealing, keeping and reading military manuscripts, forming criminal gangs, or receiving donations of serfs, oxen, horses, or weapons. Adolphson also makes the good point that Buddhism in Japan, like elsewhere, was never separate from the social and political reality that surrounded it. Some references can be drawn from the Nihon shoki of monks using violence against others, however as this is a didactic work its purpose was merely to give examples of persons behaving out of order. However, given the upheavals wrought by reforms during the seventh and eighth centuries, then there probably were monks prepared to act in their own interests. During the eighth century, mandatory military service was expected of all prosperous farming families, which left them in dire straits as all of their able-bodied men would be sequestered. Yet as religions were exempt from this service, many individuals took the tonsure for no other reason that to escape serving their time, which meant that monasteries did have many acolytes within them who weren`t particularly motivated by a desire for religious instruction. Yet scholars mostly admit that the use of arms by monasteries to resolve conflicts did not appear in great numbers until the Heian period. This is not helped by the fact that the evidence is scant – it is hard to say what violence was institutional and what was merely a result of circumstance. Those incidents of violence from the early Heian era are `highly localized, rarely involving more than a few clerics`.(24-25)

Another poignant note made by Adolphson is to show that Mid-Heian Japan was a society that was undergoing a transition to recognition of military forms of power both locally and centrally. Local violence made it harder for the central authorities to control the provinces, which led them to issue a continuous series of edicts and promulgations to try to co-opt the warriors of the countryside in their service, and thus keep the warriors within the system rather than casting them outside it. A relaxation of central rule came about through necessity – the court could not risk aggravating provincial strongmen lest they come to challenge the rule of the elites in Kyoto. In the centre, factionalism began to play a greater part in both the political and social spectrum, particularly seeing that the bureaucratic framework was ceasing to be as effective. Thus adjustments were made for direct and effective ties between local powers and noble houses, however this led to an upsurge in violence.

In this way, nobles and temples began to rely more on their own networks of resources and supporters among a much more diversified political and social landscape in central Japan. No real opposition was made to having armed monasteries, indeed some may have indeed favoured it. A main ideological concept of the court from the tenth century held that Imperial Law and Buddhism were intertwined, that they were mutually dependent – the idea of ōbō buppō sōi. It justified the usage of violence by religion on the grounds that Buddhism was the defender of the imperial state. By the end of the tenth and eleventh centuries, the `idea of Buddhism`s decline (mappō, the end of the law) had spread among the noble elites, thus leading to the upsurge in monastic violence`. The common feeling was that it was something that could not be helped, or was the last line of defence against a more complete collapse.(29)

Establishment of the Ashikaga Bakufu – signaled the rise of the warrior class, and the most important event of the entire fourteenth century. Continued war between the Southern and Northern Courts meant that the bakufu could not ensure stability until near the end of the century. However, it was clear by the 1350s that the warriors and not the imperial court were in control of government. This new shift in power seen in Ashikaga Takauji`s removal of Prince Moriyoshi as shōgun, and the emperor`s visit to the villa of Ashikaga Yoshimitsu (1358-1408) for the coming-of-age ceremony of Yoshimitsu`s son in 1394. Bakufu took control of economic jurisdiction that allowed Kyoto elites to collect considerable income, although estate revenues were in decline.

In the late fourteen century, the Ashikaga start taxing guilds, which had been off-limits until then under protection of temples and shrines, and severely cut back the number of toll gates in the capital (these were mostly under the control of various temples).

In religion, the Ashikaga moved away from traditional religions and turned towards newer faiths like Zen, whilst populist ideas spread, challenging the authority of the traditional faiths. Temples such as Enryakuji, Onjōji, and Kōfukuji find themselves on the defensive in the second half of the fourteenth century, still staging demonstrations as they always had, but they found these had virtually no effect on the warriors. When Kōfukuji clergy carried their mikoshi and other artifacts to the capital in the twelfth month of 1371 in relation to a land dispute, no one expected that these artifacts would remain in Kyoto for three years before a resolution was reached.(52)

The fourteenth century signifies the era of gekokujō – an era in which military might came to replace social status as a means to power. Use of arms becomes more widespread from the fourteenth century onwards as people of various classes, farmers, merchants, and `evil bands` (akutō) made up of rogue warriors took to violence as a means to resolve their disputes and expand influence. Established monasteries still had armies, but these were not tied to monasteries as tightly as before, and leaders became known as daimyo, who had no religious training or administrative responsibilities in monasteries. Number of figures took part in military conflict on behalf of Enryakuji in the early fourteenth century, from customary burning of Onjōji to wars of the 1330s. Names of some of these monks were those of Jōrinbō Sagami Gōyō (1310s), Dōjōbō no suke Yūkaku and Myōkan`in Inaba Zenson (1330s), all identified as `members of the warrior class for generations` (daidai buke gokenin no yoshi).(52-53)

As shown by Thomas Conlan, domestic wars of the Nambokuchō era (1336-1392) had a significant impact on society in general, where social status now dependent on military proficiency rather than title or pedigree.(53)

Thoughts discerned from Karl Friday, The First Samurai:The life and legend of the warrior rebel Taira Masakado, John Wiley & Sons Inc, 2008.

(Rebellion of Taira Masakado – took place in the eastern provinces of Hitachi, Kosuke, Shimotsuna, and Musashino. Attempt to establish a rival government to the court).

The first point about this book which makes it particularly worthwhile is the fact that it outlines the lordship system and system of land distribution as practiced during the Heian era. What it particularly emphasizes is that in Heian Japan, the transfer of property occurred exclusively within the family concerned, and that familial ties counted for very little. For example, siblings might remain loyal to one another while their father was alive, but upon his death the property would be divided up among the children, with both sons and daughters entitled to their share. Each son would then form his own branch of the family apart from that of his siblings, and would in fact compete with them for posts etc. Thus the ties between brothers (and sisters) were tentative at best, and those between cousins even thinner. Essentially blood relations played a very small role in the political decision making process of most estate owners – their main motivation was what would it do for their own household. Thus the concept of Taira and Minamoto `clans` is mostly a convenient historical tool, for in reality these two entities did not exist – they were a conglomerate of different houses, each with their own agenda.

Another good point brought up by Friday is the removal of the illusion that warfare as practiced in the Heian era was anything but as civilized as the war tales of the time, particularly the Heike Monogatari, might suggest. The classic description of battle at the time states that after a mostly desultory exchange of arrows, each side would have a champion that would ride out, announce his lineage and title, and challenge another on the other side to combat. Each would then duel, with mercy declared for the loser if requested, and care taken for onlookers so that they might not get in harm`s way. The reality, derived from records of the time, paints a completely different picture. The object of battle in the Heian era was to resolve the problem as straight-forwardly as possible, which meant no exchange of lineage and rather more emphasis on the use of arrows. Each side would then attack the other, with scant attention paid to whoever might inadvertently get in the way. The Heian era also saw the introduction of new forms of armor giving the horseback rider much greater movement in the shoulders, and the more widespread use of what became the classic samurai sword, or the tachi (straighter swords were still in use at the time as well). Another point emphasized by Friday is that the use of violence could only occur within a certain context, for ultimately it was the court that could decide if war should be announced or punitive measures taken. The provincial warriors knew this as well, as thus acted within the confines of the law as far as possible, however they did exceed their authority on occasion which could bring retribution from the court. It was his plea to the court that allowed Masakado to be elevated in status after his feuds with his cousins, for without it they would not have recognized the legitimacy of the actions that he took against Taira Yoshitake, Yoshimasa and so forth.

Friday also shows in good detail what constituted the Japanese warhorse. It was mostly a breed derived from Mongolian steppe horses and other Chinese bred horses that had existed in Asia for millennia. These horses were shorter than their Arabian or European cousins, much stockier, hairier, with shorter noses, and much less stamina. A Japanese horse could only carry a mounted warrior at full speed for a very short distance, afterwards it would slow to a trot (about 9 kilometers an hour), compared to a European horse that would travel at 16 kilometers an hour without a rider (and thus slower if carrying a load). Such horses could be exhausted if forced to carry a 50 kilogram rider with 45 kilograms of armor for more than 10 kilometers at a quick pace (which probably brings back the argument about the use of arrows and archers in medieval Japanese armies, armies which, at the most, might consist of 400 men. It would be much easier to stand off at a distance and shoot arrows at an opponent then attempt to ride him down on a horse that couldn`t maintain much pace for very long. Or the samurai could use the horse mainly for transport to the battlefield, although once he dismounted he would effectively be forced to fight on foot for the rest of the conflict, as his horse would wander off – there were no servants attending the samurai in the Heian era).