The Evil Book Redeemed: Alexander Bennett's Translation Of The Hagakure

For years, the Hagakure (along with its spiritual cousin, "Bushido: The Soul of Japan") has been the bane of the Samurai Archives. Often taken by neophytes to the study of Japanese history as the 'official training manual of samurai down through time', it has been the indirect cause of much buffoonery and has left a trail of misconceptions in its wake. Many 'modern sammyrai' claiming to follow its tenets turn out to have never read the book at all, instead quoting heavily from sensationalistic (and often out-of-context) passages reprinted ad nauseam by pop culture books-the most notorious being the mantra "The Way of the Samurai is Found in Death". Recently we were given the opportunity to look at Tuttle Publishing's new translation: "Hagakure, The Secret Wisdom of the Samurai" by Alexander Bennett, a Ph.D currently teaching Japanese history and society as an Associate Professor at Kansai University. Bennett is also a proficient martial artist (among other things, Vice President of the International Naginata Federation and Editor of "Kendo World" magazine). That's an interesting and rarely seen blend of scholarship and practical experience with traditional Japanese martial arts, with perhaps Karl Friday being the only other prominent example-and not coincidentally, Friday highly recommended the book. This recommendation, along with Bennett's background, was enough to convince us that it was finally time to face the Evil Book head-on and see if it deserved the reputation (either good or bad) that it has acquired over the years. 

Before we examine Bennett's translation, it would be helpful to give some background on the authors of the original text. As Bennett explains, Yamamoto Tsunetomo was born in 1659 and was a retainer of the Saga domain in Kyushu ruled by the Nabeshima. While extremely feeble and sickly as a boy, through hard work and determination he managed to overcome his frail constitution. At the age of 14 he was made a page of the Lord at the time (Nabeshima Mitsushige) but was dismissed from service for being complicit in the Lord's son's fixation with poetry. Using this time to educate himself in matters of Buddhism and Confucianism, he was reemployed by the domain at age 24. His 'greatest exploit' came in 1700 when he managed to locate and procure an extremely rare text (the 'Kokin-denju', a commentary on a renowned book of poetry) after an extensive search and raced back to Saga just in time to deliver it to his Lord before his passing. When Mitsushige died, Tsunetomo wished to follow him in death (known as 'junshi') as was sometimes done in previous eras; however, both his domain and the Tokugawa government had passed laws forbidding this. Instead, he took up the tonsure, taking the Buddhist name Jocho and retired to Kurotsuchibaru. It was here that he was sought out by a younger Nabeshima clansman named Tashiro Tsuramoto. Tsuramoto had been relieved of duty in 1709 and in 1710 began to visit Jocho for counsel. In 1716, he compiled the conversations with Jocho into the first copy of the Hagakure. While there have been several different variants of the Hagakure published through the year, Bennett has chosen the Kohaku version as it is generally considered to be the one closest to the lost original. His translation covers the entirety of the the first two books (the first time this has been done in English), the ones that were filled exclusively with Jocho's material. A third chapter covers selections from books 3-11, which contained material Tsuramoto gathered from other sources as well as vignettes possibly from Jocho. Each chapter has extensive footnotes which provide a wealth of cultural and explanatory material. 

By far, the most impressive part of the book for us was Bennett's introductory chapter-"Hagakure in Context". It puts the Hagakure into its proper historical and social setting as well as examining 'bushido' (interestingly, Bennett notes that the term 'bushido' first appeared in the 'Koyo Gunkan', a treatise on Takeda Shingen written by a former retainer) with a critical eye and a look at how Jocho's life experiences and psychology is reflected in the work-and does so elegantly and brilliantly. This translation is well worth picking up just on the strength of this chapter. From the somewhat vague symbolism of the title (is Hagakure-literally 'hidden by leaves'-a reference to a poem by Buddhist scholar Saigyo Hoshi? Perhaps just a simple reference to the hermitage where the meetings between Jocho and Tsuramoto took place? Or a reference to one of the book's recurring themes, serving from behind the scenes?) to the appropriation of the book for various agendas by both 20th century Japanese and Westerners, Bennett examines the book from a variety of angles. Bennett states that the book is vastly misunderstood both inside and outside Japan, and perhaps that is why Jocho encouraged Tsuramoto to burn it upon completion (to prevent it from being read by those who could never understand the spirit in which it was written). 

Bennett shows how Jocho was bitter at the "disintegration of warrior norms over previous decades", "anti-Shogunate sentiment", had a nostalgic longing for the previous regimes and decried how young samurai "talk of money, about profit and loss, their household financial problems, taste in fashion, and idle chatter of sex". At one point in the book, Jocho flatly states that there are "no good men". However, Bennett also shows how Jocho realized that the nature of service had changed in the time of peace and a good retainer had to change as well. This passion for the older days mixed with Jocho's call for a new type of service based on loyalty and dedication to duty rather than martial valor resulted in many apparent contradictions within the book, including some of its most famous passages. Should a vassal rush headlong into danger, or should he seek a more peaceful alternative? Does one persistently correct the Lord and let him know when he is wrong, or does one carry out the letter of his commands unquestioningly? You should always follow out the Lord's commands, except when you don't. While mastering an art is detrimental to the way of the samurai, when can its study actually be beneficial? There are passages that seem to exhort the virtues of each. Bennett demonstrates how many of these can be explained away by Jocho's splitting one's service as a youth and as an adult-as well as how one's position inside the hierarchy of the samurai chain of command affected one's actions. Indeed, it shows how the Hagakure was an excellent microcosm of the identity crisis of Edo period samurai-how to keep the virtues of a warrior society alive in a time where they were no longer used? This is perhaps best shown in Jocho's criticism of the Ako Ronin, a group that itself exemplified how martial values no longer fit into Edo society. 

As interesting as Hagakure's contemporary setting was, Bennett's examination of how it emerged into the world of the 20th century with its first out-of-domain printing in 1906 (contrary to popular belief, it was virtually unknown outside of a select few in Saga domain before then) is even more so. Does Hagakure represent a 'mystical beauty intrinsic to the Japanese aesthetic experience', or is it a 'text that epitomizes all that is abhorrent in terms of mindless sacrifice, as well as a loathsome depreciation of the value of life and blind obedience to authority'? Invented tradition? A window into the complex ethics of the Tokugawa world? Or simply the 'seditious ramblings of a disgruntled curmudgeon'? 

A careful reading of Hagakure will reveal elements of all of these. But at its heart, Bennett believes it can be summed up by four simple oaths Jocho repeats throughout the text (none of which involve finding the way of the samurai in death): 

-Never lag behind others in the Way of the Warrior

-Be ready to be useful to one's Lord 

-Honor one's parents 

And the final one-a point which is noticeably absent from oft-reprinted quotes of the Hagakure, but which fills the book with its spirit: 

-Serve for the benefit of others with a heart of great compassion 

All precepts whose underpinning philosophy is as applicable to today as it was in 1710. 

What does Jocho see as the essence of being a samurai? According to Book 2/7, it to devotion in both body and soul to his Lord, along with the virtues of wisdom, benevolence, and courage. In other sections he outlines that devotion is the only way for a samurai of his times to be recognized since martial valor is no longer an option-an eminently practical attitude. Wisdom comes from listening to others. Benevolence is for the sake of others. And courage goes back to the 'found in death' idea (more on that later). Proper grooming, speech, and handwriting are also important. Again, all very practical concepts for finding success in the Edo period. 

Reading Hagakure reinforces much of the recent scholarship being done on samurai of the Edo period. For example, Luke Roberts's concepts of 'omote' and 'uchi'-basically 'surface' and 'beneath the surface'-is a common theme in Hagakure. Jocho stresses often that it is better to forgive the failings of others, especially social inferiors, even making excuses for them rather than criticize them harshly. In essence, while their failures are recognized ('uchi'), they are politely papered over and ignored ('omote'). This allows that person to retain their pride, forestall resentment, and encourage them to become better for next time. Avoiding conflict is stressed to be every bit as important as ending it swiftly when it does happen. 

That Jocho has a realistic view of the world is confirmed in Book 2/18: "Current trends cannot be stopped...any desire to return to the 'good old days' of a hundred years ago is futile. Accordingly, it is important to try and improve the ways of the present. It is for this reason that men who hold a nostalgic view of the past are misguided". He goes on to state that the customs and traditions of old should still be kept in mind in order to differentiate between core principles and minor details. While Jocho saw the value in remembering the past, he didn't seem to promote living there. 

Even the oft-quoted 'The Way of the Samurai is found in death' takes on a new meaning when read in its proper context. Bolied down to its core, it says to simply do your best in everything and approach every situation fearlessly as if it is your last day on earth-to not hold back out of a fear of dying or failing. It's not necessarily about rushing head-on alone into a nest of bandits determined to die a glorious death-although it COULD be, and forms the basis for Jocho's criticism of the 47 Ronin (that their calculating manner showed too much concern for their own safety rather than performing the task at hand). 

And aside from the cultural and historical aspects of Jocho's work (and the tales of others in books 3-11), the stories have a good deal of entertainment value-they're often charming and fun to read. You'll learn how a good samurai should always be able to perform at least one action after his head has been cut off-hey, wasn't Nitta Yoshisada able to bury his own body after being decapitated (more realistically, this is simply an exhortation to fight to one's dying breath)? Samurai grew mustaches to ensure a head taken was that of a man and not a woman-no slain samurai would want their head discarded, after all! 18 foot long giant snakes show up. Discussions of how to attack gaijin in Nagasaki harbor (in the wake of an unscheduled 1673 visit by English ships) are laid out in a detailed battle plan. Giving bodyguards progressively larger swords as a training tactic is examined. There's a tale of how a wily woman made herself sexually unattractive to even that horndog of note Toyotomi Hideyoshi. For more womanly hijinks, we read the saga of how a woman marched her man into battle after he had been beaten up by three farmers. Jocho even comments on his own situation, stating that everyone over 60 is senile (although he would have been around 50-55 at the time) and that applies to him. Drunken lords, seppuku, stupid samurai, liars, poseurs, harlots, and even Jocho's thoughts regarding Shudo (male homosexuality, usually between an older samurai and a younger charge-Jocho advocates "secret love", an internal burning love for another that is never revealed, thus allowing one to devote his energies to service) all make for good reading. They're also all short, usually just a paragraph or two, making this a good book to pick up and read passages at random or when you only have a few minutes. Again, the insights given by Jocho and others into what it was to be an Edo period samurai-along with a look at the culture and values of the day-are varied and extensive. 

Also available from Tuttle are recently republished versions of two Thomas Cleary books that likewise examine the thoughts of influential Edo period intellectuals and swordsmen on the changing roles of samurai and the ethics of a time of peace. While Cleary's historical notes for the collections are not as strong as Bennett's (in some cringe-worthy examples, he states Oda Nobunaga converted to Christianity and forced all his vassals to do the same and that Takeda Shingen never lost a battle), the translations he does are excellent. "Soul of the Samurai: Modern Translation of Three Classic Works of Zen & Bushido" collects Monk Takuan's (who we covered in an earlier article on the Shogun-ki) "The Inscrutable Subtlety of Immovable Wisdom" and "Tai-A-Ki: Notes on the Peerless Sword" along with daimyo/swordmaster Yagyu Munenori's "Martial Arts: The Book of Family Traditions". "Samurai Wisdom: Lessons from Japan's Warrior Culture" goes a step further with no less than five translated texts: Confucian scholar Yamaga Soko's "The Way of the Knight (Samurai)", "The Education of Warriors", and the "Primer of Martial Education", his son Takatsune's "Essentials of Military Matters" and Tsugaru Kodo-shi's (a grandson of Soko's) "The Warrior's Rule". These books provide a fascinating glimpse into the psyche of Edo period samurai and their struggles to retain the skills of war while remaining relevant in a time of peace, and they're also easily affordable. 

Now, as to using these books as a blueprint for one's own life in the modern world-while they do embody certain universal values and you can certainly learn from then, you'd be far better served (in our opinion) picking up a work that was written with modern values, culture, and mores than using something written for a centuries old culture. The samurai and monks who wrote these treatises certainly realized that living in the past was no solution and that they needed to adapt to the times-and perhaps that is the most valuable lesson to be learned from these works. 

Until recently we never thought that anything positive could come out of a study of the Hagakure, but Alexander Bennett's translation and historical acumen have changed all that. Put in its proper context, the book is an excellent tool for a look into what being an Edo period retainer was all about-from the high to the low, from the old to the young, and the changing roles assumed as one went through life. And Yamamoto's stories and anecdotes make for delightful reading on their own. The legendary Evil Book has been redeemed, and can now be appreciated for the insight it brings to the world of the warrior during the Edo period. 

The Hagakure is available through the SA Store via Amazon or directly through Tuttle Publishing.

Schooling the Yagyu: Takuan Soho’s “The Unfettered Mind”

Yagyu Munenori was the founder of the Edo branch of the famous Yagyu Shinkage-ryu School of swordsmanship. Munenori was well regarded, being the sword instructor to the Tokugawa and the author of the Heiho Kadensho (a work on swordsmanship and how some of its aspects could be applied to politics and life). However, it appears someone wasn’t impressed. In a letter to Munenori, a Buddhist monk chastised him for taking bribes from provincial lords, for attacking his child’s shortcomings when his own behavior is incorrect, and even for showing off his ability in Noh Theater to his contemporaries. Munenori’s penchant for ranbu dance is described as “a sickness”. The letter concludes with a poem exhorting Munenori to “…not be mindless”. One would never imagine that this monk and Munenori were the best of friends! As shown in Shambhala Publications new book “The Unfettered Mind”, this cheeky monk, Takuan Soho, helped greatly with infusing early Edo period swordsmanship with its distinct spiritual facets.

Takuan Soho (1573-1645) was a Zen Buddhist monk of the Rinzai School. He’s perhaps best known to many Westerners as the cranky cleric appearing in Yoshikawa Eiji’s novel “Musashi”. If you’ve read the book or watched films such as Inagakai Hiroshi’s “Samurai Trilogy” or Toei’s excellent series of Musashi films, he’s the monk who captured a young, headstrong Musashi, hung him from a tree for days to think about the direction his life should take, and then imprisoned him on the top floor of a castle for several years to study, read, and reflect. Maybe you’ve seen Takuan expounding on Japanese culture in the sidebars of Pat Galloway’s ‘Warring Clans, Flashing Blades’. While the incidents with Musashi were fictitious, the historical Takuan was indeed a well-known advisor to many famous figures of the era-as well as a talented calligrapher, painter, poet, and tea master. Counted among his pupils were such notable figures as retired Emperor Go-Mizunoo, Shogun Tokuagwa Iemitsu, Ishida Mitsunari, Kuroda Nagamasa, and the swordsmen Yagyu Munenori, Itto Ittosai, and yes, Musashi. Takuan was not one to be intimidated by high status, as demonstrated when he was exiled by Shogun Tokugawa Hidetada after accusing him of interfering in Buddhist matters. Takuan was active in both the Sengoku and Edo periods and moved freely among all classes, be they nobility, clerics, peasants, or samurai. His writings display an ability to reach every stratum of society effectively. “The Unfettered Mind” concentrates on Takuan’s interaction with the samurai class and applying Zen Buddhism to swordsmanship. Unlike many modern books that use revisionist history in order to play up the role of a specific school of martial arts (or use outright fabrications), Takuan's work is a genuine contemporary piece that provides valuable insights on the development of spiritual training in Japanese swordsmanship.

As historian/martial artist Professor Karl Friday indicated in an interview with the SA, Edo period sword training had little to do with practical battlefield training and military science (as evidenced by the poor performance some famous swordsmen might display on a battlefield-such as Miyamoto Musashi being put out of action by a peasant with a rock during the Shimabara Rebellion). Rather, it was as much about personal and spiritual development as it was honing one’s sword skills. In Friday’s words, “In the traditional Japanese context, distinguishing between physical and spiritual factors in training is roughly equivalent to making distinctions between internal factors (muscle control, focus, concentration, strength, timing, etc.) and external ones (gravity, wind, etc.) in, say, learning to shoot an arrow. You can separate them for analytical purposes, but they’re really all part of the same big package”. The three documents included in “The Unfettered Mind” (“The Mysterious Record of Immovable Wisdom”, “The Clear Sound of Jewels”, and “Annals of the Sword Taia”) all touch on this spiritual aspect and how it can be applied not only to swordsmanship and day-to-day life. As Professor Friday also pointed out, many of the concepts in spiritual training were couched in the language of the day-often taking on the language of Buddhism, Neo-Confucianism, and Shinto. Interestingly enough, Takuan’s thoughts bear more than a passing resemblance to modern non-religious ideas such as physical memory. While the language used might appear to be outdated to many, the ideas in his writings remain relevant.

The first section of the book is the letter written by Takuan to Yagyu Munenori that we spoke of in the opening paragraph. Called the “Fudohishinmyoroku” (referring to Fudo Myoo, the Japanese deity that manifests the nature of all living beings) or “The Mysterious Record of Immovable Wisdom”, it centers on the concept of the “No-Mind”-the mind that is always moving and never stops or becomes bogged down in a particular location. Takuan explains how the concept of the “No-Mind”/”Right Mind” applies to reaching perfection as a swordsman-how can one operate effectively if your mind is fixated on one particular aspect of a battle? If your mind becomes ‘stuck’ in the sword of your opponent, your own sword, your footwork, the enemy’s stance, or perhaps even in the intention to avoid being struck, it will be taken by that single aspect. When it becomes taken, every other aspect will be ignored. As Takuan puts it, “Considering that the Thousand-Armed Kannon has one thousand arms on its body, if the mind stops at the one holding the bow, the other nine hundred and ninety-nine will be useless. It is because the mind is not detained at one place that all the arms are useful”. In another spot, he describes the Right Mind as being like water, capable of going everywhere, and the Confused Mind as being like ice-stuck in one spot and unable to be used freely. But how to achieve the state of “No-Mind”? Takuan stresses that discipline and meditation is vital for beginners to force their mind to flow freely and not reside in any one spot, but that in the end, this too restricts the mind. At the highest level, the initiate will return to the beginning-not having to actively impose discipline on their thoughts. Proper technique and practice is stressed as well, as both technique and principal are required to master both one’s self and the sword. This may seem a bit hard to understand at first, but Takuan’s explanations give plenty of real life examples-as well on drawing on lessons from the Chinese classics and poetry. Perhaps giving modern readers this example might help explain the concept-for those of you that drive to work every day, what were you thinking of on your way to work? Odds are it wasn’t about the actual mechanics of driving a car-but yet, if the need arose, your body and mind would be capable of making a quick decision to avert an accident. This is the state of No-Mind-not dwelling on something, but letting your mind go freely to wherever it is needed. To Takuan, the man who has mastered this would be perfectly capable of taking on ten enemies at once, letting his mind flow from one to the other as needed. Perhaps things can best be summed up by the poem Takuan ends the letter with:

“It is the very mind itself

That leads the mind astray.

Of the mind,

Do not be mindless.”

“Reiroshu” (“The Clear Sound of Jewels”) comprises the second part of the book. This treatise occupies itself with how to determine what is right and what is mere selfishness-and more importantly for the samurai class, how to know when and where to die. The arching concept here is of right-mindedness (the Japanese concept of ‘gi’)…unimpeachable integrity, virtue, and judgment, not operating out of self-interest or desire. Takuan stresses the need for the samurai class to take the “Way of the Lord” and the “Way of the Retainer” to heart. He stresses the importance of the concept but interestingly states that one should not be fixated on the individual, but rather just the idea. “A retainer should not say he serves Lord Matsui Dewa but simply ‘The Lord’. In this, even if the retainer serves clan after clan, the clan may change, but his mind will not-he was always see his current Lord as the “one and only from beginning to end”. And for the Lord, he should never make distinctions between his retainers-“…all men should be treated with love and sympathy, and each man should be thought of as My retainer’’. When determining what is right, these ways are the determining factor-if either the Lord or Retainer is ‘repaying a favor with a favor’, that is right-mindedness. If they operate out of desire or selfishness, it is not. Takuan also explores the ten essential qualities and how each flows one to the other in a never ending circle, also equating the qualities to the Ten Worlds of Buddhist thought. He stresses that because of this unending cycle, every being has the Buddha-nature in them from birth. The role of ‘amusements’ is explored, and Takuan is realistic enough to realize that even priests need them (one of these being taking 14 or 15 year old youths beneath the blossoms and sharing some cups of sake, a rather common diversion for Buddhist clergy at that time). He stresses that all amusements should have standards and fixed limits so as not to fall into evil-obviously, we saw a case in our opening paragraph where he felt Yagyu Munenori was negligent. Takuan even explains how ghosts come to be and why they can be seen in our world. “Reiroshu” is the centerpiece of the book and an excellent examination of how Buddhism works in the real world.

Finally, “Taiaki” (“Annals of the Sword Taia”) is a short letter that was written to one of the Shogun’s sword instructors (it was unclear whether this was the Yagyu or Itto Schools). It contains Takuan’s detailed breakdown and interpretation of a Chinese story that uses the sword Taia-a sword that can cut through anything-as its central allegory. This letter brings the Zen nature of Takuan’s Buddhism to the fore as it stresses that true wisdom will be learned without a teacher-that in fact it cannot be imparted by a teacher since it resides in everyone’s ‘original face’. The Buddha-nature, or “Sword Taia”, is equipped by everyone and is perfectly entire. All the answers a being needs are found within the self, requiring only introspection and an open mind to unlock. The language is couched in the terms of swordsmanship, in the process implying that Takuan saw mastery of the sword-and one’s self-as not necessarily being centered around death, but rather giving a master swordsman the option to use it ‘to give life’ as well-by dealing with every situation with clear vision and not always responding with violence.

Interestingly, one can find much among Takuan’s writings that point out that many ideas associated with Bushido seem to have been rarely practiced in the real world of the samurai. At one point he bemoans “Is there one person in a thousand who would die like this?...In truth, one hundred right-minded men would be hard to find”. Loyalty (or as Takuan phrases in Neo-Confucian terms, “the Way of the Lord” and “the Way of the Retainer”) is described as something extremely rare, as selfishness and desire tend to guide the actions of both lord and vassal. Takuan describes vendetta killings as “…forgetting oneself in the anger of the moment. It is not right-mindedness in the least. Its proper name is anger and nothing else”. In Takuan’s eyes, virtually no samurai are right-minded-“This is not for the sake of one’s name. Nor for gaining fame, a stipend, and a fief.” As we have discussed many times on the SA, the ideals of Bushido were just that-ideals that were so highly valued because they were so rarely displayed in reality. 

Takuan’s writings have been translated by William Scott Wilson, an award-winning translator who specializes in Edo period warrior literature. Wilson brings home Takuan’s sometimes difficult concepts and the allusions of Buddhism and 17^th century Japan to an English-speaking readership. He does so without losing the subtleties and poetic symmetry of the text, providing a translation that preserves the many layers of the original while remaining accessible to a novice.

“The Unfettered Mind” is valuable not only as a historical piece examining how sword training blended the physical and spiritual, but also as a guide to understanding the basic ideas of Buddhist thought (with an emphasis on the self-discipline of Zen) and applying them to everyday life-whether it’s the 17^th or 21^st century. Takuan explains each abstract concept clearly and in detail, not only giving the symbolism behind each but showing how they operate and are reflected in the real world. On top of that, it’s not every day you read a letter that schooled a master swordsman like Yagyu Munenori! Lucky for Takuan that Munenori was familiar with the “life-giving sword”… 

“The Unfettered Mind” from Shambhala Publications can be found on Amazon through the SA Store.

Five Films For Five Rings-Animeigo’s ‘Miyamoto Musashi’ Boxed Set

It’s no secret that a lot of us here at the SA don’t think much of Miyamoto Musashi’s popular image as ‘The Ultimate Samurai’, feeling instead he’s the ‘Most Overrated Samurai’. There’s a lot of misinformation in the English language world bandied about concerning Musashi, much of which you can read about in a prior post that dissected the godawful History Channel/Mark Dacascos Musashi love fest, ‘Samurai’. However, this criticism doesn’t extend to films-as works of fiction, we rate them solely on their artistic merit and entertainment value. Since many Japanese films dealing with famous historical figures are based on novels, it’s really the only way to go-one can hardly fault a film that’s based on a work of fiction for being inaccurate. Rather, one can look at them as taking place in a fantasy/different timeline version of Japan-much like the Last Samurai, Shogun, or even Taiga Dramas that play fast and loose with the facts. With that in mind, let’s take a look at Animeigo’s newest boxed DVD set, Toei’s five film Uchida Tomu/Nakamura Kinnosuke ‘Miyamoto Musashi’ series. For those who like their symmetry, there’s a film here for each of the rings in Musashi’s autobiography/sword training manual “The Book of Five Rings”. Animeigo’s set is a sword slash above any other multi film or TV series dealing with Musashi, and only the 2003 film ‘Ganryujima’ keeps it from being the best cinematic treatment of the man (well, unless you count the zombie Musashi in ‘Samurai Resurrection/Makai Tenshou’-jidaigeki doesn’t get any better than that).

The series is based on Yoshikawa Eiji’s novel ‘Musashi’ (which was originally serialized in a Japanese newspaper in the 1930’s). Yoshikawa’s novel is almost wholly responsible for the deification of Musashi and his popularity today and has formed the basis for most films portraying him. One of these that many viewers will already be familiar with is the well known Inagaki ‘Samurai Trilogy’ starring Mifune Toshiro. While the Inagaki series has a good reputation in the west (thanks in no small part to Mifune and its inclusion in the ‘Criterion Collection’), we’ve always found it rather pedestrian and lacking. One might say it’s as overrated as Musashi. Mifune turns in a one note performance as Musashi and the other performances come up flat. The Nakamura series also contains a better sampling of celebrated incidents from the Yoshikawa book, with one notable exception. Musashi’s battle with the kusarigama (sickle and chain) master made it into the Inagaki films but not Uchida’s. Interestingly enough, Uchida and Nakamura reunited years later to produce a film based around this omitted incident. Uchida died before the film was completed but it was eventually released. Some consider this to be a ‘sixth film’ connected to the 1961-65 series, but we don’t. It obviously isn’t part of the original cycle’s concept and overview, and is better considered a separate treatment of the character using the same director and star. In any case, the Uchida/Nakamura ‘Musashi’ series outshines the Inagaki version in acting, presentation, emotional impact, and depth.

The first film in the series, “Miyamoto Musashi (1961)”, follows the early years of Musashi beginning with the aftermath of the battle of Sekigahara. Musashi (here still known as Takezo) and his friend Matahachi find themselves on the run after having joined the losing side. The two end up hiding out at the home of Oko and her daughter Akemi. Matahachi falls for the older woman and when the home is threatened by bandits, Takezo stays to fight while Matahachi leaves with the women. Takezo returns to his hometown to inform Matahachi’s mother Osugi and fiancée Otsu what has happened, but finds himself the object of Osugi’s anger and hunted by pro-Tokugawa samurai. Zen monk Takuan manages to lure him out of hiding without further bloodshed, but the sputtering Takezo finds himself hanging from the branches of a thousand year old tree and left to die. The monk’s ultimate plan plays itself out, but will it be too late for Takezo?

“Duel At Hannya Hill (Hannyazaka No Ketto, 1962)” opens with Takezo studying the ways of the samurai while restricted to the haunted tower of Himeji Castle. Upon ending his three years of isolation, he forgoes an offer of employment from Lord Ikeda, changes his name to Musashi, and embarks on a musha shugyo (a pilgrimage taken by a samurai to gain experience, see the world and hone their sword skills). He also abandons Otsu, who has fallen in love with him and waited three years for his release. Musashi seeks outs challenges from warriors and martial arts schools of all types, from the sword skills of the Yoshioka dojo to the Hozoin monks and their distinctive spear style. Along the way he picks up a child apprentice, is pursued by Osugi (seeking revenge for her son Matahachi, who she believes to be dead) and manages to make enemies of a large group of local ronin. The final showdown at Hannya Hill sees him pitted against the full might of the Hozoin monks and the lawless ronin.

Musashi’s feud with the Yoshioka School comes to a head in “Birth Of The Nito-Ryu Style (Nitoryu Kaigan, 1963)”. Before battling Yoshioka Seijuro in the penultimate duel, Musashi attempts to extort a lesson in swordsmanship from the venerable Yagyu Sekishuusai. This film is also the first in the series to feature an appearance by his ultimate nemesis, Sasaki Kojiro. Kojiro is played by Takakura Ken and presents a more physically intimidating Kojiro than most of the actors who have essayed the part. We also find out more about what has happened to Osugi, Oko, Akemi, and Matahachi as they make their own way through life-but still have fates that are intertwined with Musashi’s.

The Yoshioka School plans their revenge on Musashi in “Duel at Ichijyo-ji Temple (Ichijoji No Ketto, 1964)”. While trying to hide his fears early in the film, Musashi is ridiculed by a famous geisha whose company he has been gifted with. She sees beyond his surface calm to the fears and frailty within him-this after he has just returned from killing the younger of the Yoshioka brothers. After hiding out in the geisha’s teahouse, Musashi emerges and is confronted by the assembled Yoshioka. He agrees to fight one final battle against them-one which uses a child as his ostensible opponent with 73 members of the dojo acting as his seconds. In my opinion, this is the best of the five films, not so much because of the wild duel near the end but because of the moral dilemmas Musashi faces.

Finally, “Duel At Ganryu Island (Ganryu-jima No Ketto, 1965)” has as its centerpiece the famous duel between Musashi and Kojiro. It ties up several loose ends from the earlier films (such as the fate of Akemi and Matahachi, along with the resolution of Osugi’s vendetta against Musashi). Musashi, in an effort to redeem himself for having slaughtered a child, takes up farming with a boy whose father has just died. He is called back to the way of the sword when Kojiro issues a challenge to him-one which Musashi may not survive even if he wins. Takakura Ken is especially effective in this film, as he presents both a Kojiro who is full of confidence-and yet also one with a subliminal realization that he might have taken on more than he can handle.

Unlike most movies dealing with Musashi, the films don’t over glorify his every action-many times he’s portrayed as a shallow and hard headed jackass. Despite the fact that he spends three years locked up in Himeji Castle reading, studying, and supposedly making himself a more worthy person, it becomes apparent throughout the series that Musashi has just acquired a somewhat more civilized veneer-his core remains the same. His actions are continually questioned by other characters throughout the series. Otsu tells him that continued dueling will not result in any self improvement, but just more blood on his hands. Musashi deliberately provokes a fight with Yagyu swordsmen who have invited him to a blossom-viewing party. Buddhist monks eject him from their retreat on Mt. Hiei for the crime of killing a child-a deed which Musashi petulantly denies culpability for, trying to lay the blame on his foes and equating striking down the child with destroying a flag. Musashi angrily reacts to a Buddhist priest who states strategy should be used for the betterment of society and not for one’s own aggrandizement. Even Sasaki Kojiro wryly observes that Musashi is following the ‘Path of the Loser’. Musashi only realizes the truth after he has achieved what should have been his greatest victory-he disgustedly throws down his weapon and cries out to the heavens that following the way of the sword has left him empty inside, spiritually bereft and unfulfilled. It’s a moment unmatched in any other Musashi film.

Nakamura Kinnosuke still manages to make Musashi a sympathetic character with an outstanding performance. Nakamura, who is just beginning to have his films commercially released in the west, shows the emotional range he displayed in another recent Animeigo release (Bushido: The Cruel Code of the Samurai). His Musashi not only presents the fierceness and primitive rage of Takezo, but of a more understanding and educated Musashi later on. Throughout the series he allows the dark side of Takezo to emerge, usually at moments of high stress, to crack the facade of the cool, capable swordsman Musashi wishes to be seen as. Many of the films end with Musashi ranting in denial at a particularly tough lesson he has just learned. Nakamura allows us to see a man who is truly trying to conquer his evil side, taking two steps forward and one step back. This Musashi is allowed to show kindness and consideration for those around him and develop somewhat deeper relations with other characters than one usually sees in Musashi films-certainly moreso than Inagaki’s trilogy, where Mifune is basically in ‘master swordsman’ mode 24/7. This results in the ‘Uchida’ Musashi being a more complex, subtle, and layered character than the simple martial arts superman he’s usually seen as.

While there isn’t as much emphasis on the second tier actors as in some Musashi adaptations, they all turn in believable performances. Oka Satomi as Akemi is particularly good-while many actresses have portrayed her as a bitch, Oka gives her a sweet and vulnerable side that makes her a likeable character (having said that, Uchiyama Rina from the NHK Musashi Taiga Drama still ranks as the best Akemi). Irie Wakaba as Otsu also manages to infuse her character with dignity and conscience, making her more than the hysterical obsessed Musashiphile she usually is portrayed as. Naniwa Chieko’s Osugi is the perfect crotchety old Japanese grandmother-she’s way over the top, but it works given her character’s personality. While the actors portraying Musashi’s friend Matahachi (the role changed hands after the first film) and Takuan (Musashi’s spiritual guide) come off a bit flat, overall the supporting cast does an excellent job.

Director Uchida Tomu always keeps his focus on the story and characters-it’s a workmanlike job but effective. There’s not much in the way of obvious ‘art house’ shots, but Uchida subtly stages settings and lighting to underscore the action on the screen without drawing attention to it. And occasionally an ‘art house’ shot does turn up, as when Musashi is seen lying amongst a sea of blood red ferns after having carved his way through the Yoshioka School (scenes which were shot in hues of green and blue). The symbolism is stark and effective-Musashi has immersed himself in bloodshed. There’s also a striking sequence in the first film where Musashi is confronted by the ghosts of his ancestors in Himeji Castle while blood pours forth from the walls and floor.

And as everyone has come to expect, Animeigo’s translation and subtitling are the best in the business. Different levels of subtitling can be selected to match the viewer’s proficiency in spoken/written Japanese. Extras for the set include an audio commentary by film historian Stuart Galbraith IV, trailers for each of the films, program notes, and image galleries. As with many of Animeigo’s boxed sets, the program notes are spread out across five films and seem a bit sparse when compared with their single disc releases. There’s surprisingly little information given on the historical Musashi, with most of the content devoted to cultural issues. Disc one does contain bios for Musashi and Kojiro, but leaves out large chunks of Musashi’s career. The image galleries are well done, and a particularly nice touch is that the film’s posters are reproduced-both in full screen and in individual close up shots of sections of the poster that allow viewers to read the text. The real gem of the extras is Stuart Galbraith IV’s commentary on disc one. Galbraith (who also provided the excellent commentary for Animeigo’s Tora-san set) packs an incredible amount of film history into 110 minutes. Ranging from cultural observations to cast and crew information as well as commenting on the film itself, he keeps his presentation lively and engaging. Particularly interesting is the discussion of how Inagaki’s ‘Samurai Trilogy’ became famous in the west while it was considered inferior to the Uchida version in Japan (it was largely due to a famous Hollywood actor’s response to the popularity of ‘Seven Samurai’ in the USA). Also brought on board is Charles Ziarko (first assistant director from the classic miniseries Shogun) to discuss how Japanese filmmaking differs from Hollywood. Going the extra mile, Galbraith gives an extended overview of the historical Musashi that doesn’t omit the ‘embarrassing’ parts (such as his participation in putting down the Shimabara Rebellion).

So it is that we find ourselves in the unusual position of writing words of praise for Musashi-or at least the Nakamura version in this five film set. The series will be of interest to both fans of Musashi and for those looking for a somewhat different presentation of the man. Depending on your point of view, ‘Miyamoto Musashi’ can be seen as a glorification of martial adeptness-or a condemnation of placing objects and technical skill before one’s soul. Nakamura breathes life into the Musashi legend and gives the character real humanity and depth. You can order the Miyamoto Musashi DVD boxed set directly from Animeigo or from Amazon through the SA Store.

No Bullshido Here-Animeigo's "Bushido: The Cruel Code Of The Samurai"

As evidenced by the recent post covering History Channel's "Samurai" special, one of the most frustrating and constant things we on the SA have to contend with are the misconceptions associated with Bushido. The idea that "All Samurai followed a chivalrous code of ethics known as 'Bushido' that emphasized honor, loyalty, and bravery unto death" has been branded onto the minds of many westerners from the time of Nitobe Inazo's book "Bushido: The Soul of Japan" to the hijinks of Tom Cruise in "The Last Samurai". We usually refer to this as "Bullshido". Therefore, it's a real pleasure to review Animeigo's recent DVD release of 1963's "Bushido: The Cruel Code of the Samurai" (Bushido Zankoku Monogatari). Finally, a film that eschews the glorification of a code that never was and shows the dark side of just what such a system would entail!

And dark it is, in spades. During the course of the film's 123 minutes, the viewer will bear witness to murder, executions, suicide (ranging from oibara/jushi to kamikaze), rape, filicide, castration, homosexual enslavement, insanity, humiliation, corporate espionage, fetishism, and all manner of cruelty-all committed in the name of Bushido. While there's nothing all that graphic in the film (with much of the violence relatively bloodless or implied), it maintains its power from beginning to end. Director Imai Tadashi's film won the 1963 Berlin Film Festival's Golden Bear Award for Best Film along with garnering a Japanese Blue Ribbon Best Actor Award for star Nakamura Kinnosuke.

The film opens with Ikura Susumu rushing to the hospital to be with his fiancee Kyoko, who has overdosed on sleeping pills. Susumu berates himself for his as yet undisclosed indiscretion in the name of loyalty that has led to this. He muses over the family records he recently discovered at a local temple that make this incident only the latest in a long chain of tragedies brought on by a culture of total obedience. While waiting for Kyoko to emerge from her coma, he runs over them in his mind...

The first vignette opens in the Keicho era with Ikura Jirozaemon Hidekiyo, having been made a ronin after Sekigahara, being employed for his skill with the spear by clan minister Hori of the Yazaki of Shinshu (Shinano Province). Hidekiyo pledges his unswaying obedience and loyalty to his lord, even unto death-starting things out with a scene typical of most jidaigeki films. Years later, the clan is taking part in pacifying the 1638 Shimabara Rebellion. When a desperate night attack is launched by the peasants against the camp of the Yazaki, the clan's lack of vigilance results in not only their buildings being destroyed by fire but also the neighboring camp of Lord Kuroda. Although Hidekiyo's spearmanship ended the assault, amends must be made to the Shogun-but what must be done?

Moving to later in the Kanei era, the action picks up with Hidekiyo's son, Sajiemon, who is a page to the old lord. Sajiemon is placed under house arrest when he offends the lord by suggesting the clan doctor be summoned when the old man falls ill. The lord moves closer and closer to death, but shows no sign of forgiving Sajiemon, placing the future of the Ikura clan in jeopardy. The fate of his wife Yasu and son Kyunosuke hangs in the balance. How to prove his loyalty to the clan and ensure that the Ikura are not once again turned out as ronin?

While the first two stories are certainly tragic enough, things begin to get REALLY nasty in the third. Here in the Genroku era, Ikura Kyutaro Tomoyuki has succeeded Sajiemon's son Masanoshin as head of the clan. He's a young student in the clan's Shoheizaka Academy who catches the eye of his lecherous lord Tanba-no-kami when he arrives to present birthday wishes. Kyutaro is ordered to report to the lord and begins to feel a growing sense of dread when one of the Lord's concubines, Lady Hagi, complains that the Lord always sends his 'pretty boys' to her to prepare. In no time at all, Kyutaro has been rudely initiated into the ways of Shudo (here referring to homosexual relations among samurai, usually between an older powerful man and a younger one of less status). While this wasn't an uncommon situation in medieval Japan and was quite acceptable by the standards of the day, it comes across strongly as enslavement and rape here (since Kyutaro isn't what you would call a willing participant, only being cowed when Tanba-no-kami tells him it's just another way to 'show your loyalty'). Things get even sleazier as the Lord 'gifts' Kyutaro with his discarded clothing-ranging from a kimono to a vest and eventually his underwear. Again, this would indeed be considered an honor by the standards of the day, but tends to leave modern audiences a bit sickened. The Lord also seems to enjoy a bit of s & m with his lovemaking, inflicting a painful bite on Kyutaro and warning him to stay away from women. Seemingly resigned to his fate, Kyutaro's world get even worse when the Lord manipulates him into being alone with Lady Hagi with rather predictable results-and the denouement to this episode will leave every male in the audience cringing and grimacing.

Now comes the most twisted and disturbing story of all-that of Shuzo, head of the Ikura family in the Tenmei era. Shuzo is the clan's most skilled swordsman and master of the "great sword of darkness", a technique that allows him to strike effectively while blindfolded. He has a seemingly wonderful life with his son Jujiro, daughter Sato, wife Maki, and friend and future son-in-law Kazuma. Although he saves his lord's life by striking down a peasant that attempts to assassinate him, Shuzo is subjected to a mind-numbing litany of injustice and humiliation at the hands of an intensely sadistic, warped, and sexually charged daimyo. This is the film's dramatic high point, and Imai pulls out all the stops. Having lost several members of his family to the lord's depravity, Shuzo is given a chance to have his 'crime' of finally getting the courage to remonstrate the lord forgiven. All he has to do is use the 'great sword of darkness' to execute two criminals. What follows is one of the most disturbing tableaus in samurai cinema, with Shuzo becoming an utterly pathetic and broken man.

Following this is an incident in the Meiji era where Ikura Shingo, a rickshaw driver and student studying for the Japanese bar, takes into his household the dispossessed, feeble minded final lord of the clan. Shingo hopes that if the lord recovers, the Emperor will make the lord part of the aristocracy, increasing the prospects for Shingo's career. However, it looks like the only thing the lord seems interested in is Shingo's fiancee Fuji. How Shingo reacts to this is possibly the most troubling scene in the film.

The sixth story is a short one, showing Susumu's older brother Osamu, a pilot in the 3rd Mitate Squad in World War II. Time is running out for Japanese forces as the Americans close in on the home islands-and it doesn't take a crystal ball to see what this will mean for Osamu.

Finally, the film comes full circle and returns to Susumu. We learn that under pressure from his boss, he has asked his fiancee Kyoko (a typist at a competing firm) to steal a budget estimate for a major construction project. Despite having misgivings (her boss is a longtime friend of her family and has treated her well), she does so and for her efforts is asked by Susumu to delay their marriage. After all, it might raise questions about how his company beat out hers for the bid. Feeling used and abandoned, she attempts suicide. Will Susumu be the Ikura that breaks the cycle of blind obedience to an uncaring 'overlord', or will he continue to be the steadfast company man?

This is a film that carries the stamp of Director Imai from start to finish. Imai was a confirmed Marxist (except for a period during WWII where the government forced him to make propaganda films), and the 'class struggle' of Marxism is reflected not only in the virtual enslavement of the Ikura but also in the hardships and punishments handed out to farmers (being sentenced to death by bamboo saw for the crime of appealing to a minister). Imai infuses each episode with a healthy dose of melodrama, concocting scenarios so extreme that they sometimes seem more like a nightmare than something that was really happening. Imai's skills in telling the story makes it all seem natural and believable. Taking this approach clearly spells out the abuses that would have flourished under a system run under the auspices of Bushido. This is symbolically shown when the body of a character who has been backed into committing suicide is 'honored' by having a flag bearing the mon of the Tokugawa Shogun draped over his body. When loyalty is expected to be absolute, there are no recourses for those at the bottom. Any action, however innocent, can be deemed a crime by those in power. In the early 60's, this would have found an audience ready for the film's message. Japanese film in general and jidaigeki in particular were beginning to embrace fare that questioned traditional values, leading to heroes who fought the injustices of a rigid class-structured society (such as Nemuri Kyoshiro or Zatoichi). About the only complaint we had with the film is that the high point comes too early-after the episode involving Shuzo, everything else seems somewhat anti-climatic, albeit effective.

It would also seem Imai is something of a feminist. The female characters in the film are almost to a fault stronger than the men, refusing to kowtow to the whims of a warped lord and embodying the true spirit of honor. At one juncture Fuji seemingly points this out, asking Shingo 'What kind of a man are you?'. As a group, they function as the film's spiritual center and grounding, acting as a foil to the actions of the men. Even the seemingly weak and suicidal Kyoko succeeds in driving home her point to Susumu.

Star Kinnosuke, who turned in dozens of excellent samurai roles, is often overshadowed by the better known stars such as Mifune, Nakadai, Katsu, or Ichikawa, but has the role of a lifetime here. He plays all seven scions of the Ikura shown in the film, and one role even has a 'middle aged' and 'old' version. He's completely believable in every role and each character is differentiated. Hidekiyo is a grizzled war vet who takes a practical approach to everything. Kyutaro is a young 'pretty boy' who, after being defiled, croons to his lord in a high pitched falsetto. Shuzo does a 'Nakadai'-moving from brutally efficient middle-aged swordsman to a wasted shell of a man, aged well beyond his years. Shingo could be the know-it-all college kid next door. Many actors are praised for their range, but few have over the course of their career managed to show convincingly the range that Kinnosuke shows in just this one film. He deserves more attention among jidaigeki fans, and looks like he'll be getting it in Animeigo's upcoming "Musashi' boxed set.

Interestingly enough, the film comes across at times as being part of the Japanese horror tradition. This is reflected in Mayuzumi Toshiro's score, early on using a harpsichord to produce a jarring and unnerving mood. Other parts of the score sound much like the music used for other contemporary kaidan rather than that used for jidaigeki. The lighting and cinematography also tend to give characters that 'horror movie', shadowed look. A scene where a character makes an impossible request of his lover is foreshadowed by his extinguishing of a light, plunging the scene into darkness. An attractive young woman is boxed up and presented to a corrupt samurai as a 'Kyoto Doll', considered nothing more than a toy for his amusement. The sound of a simple jangling handbell associates itself with evil. Crazy skewed camera angles are used in several scenes to emphasize the horror of the moment. While there's nothing supernatural going on, approaching the film in this way helped to underscore the abuses being put on display.

Animeigo has delivered a good looking print and upholds its reputation for producing a detailed and accurate translation, complete with on screen cultural notes. They even translate the ENTIRE cast list, something rarely done in the west (but appreciated by those of us who like to 'actor spot'). The care put into this release is on display from the opening menu. Here black and white photos of the 'seven generations' emerge from the top and bottom of the screen to close like a set of jagged teeth, and the photos are slowly filled in with sickly looking colors that set the stage for the horrors to come. The extras will be of particular interest to readers of the Samurai Archives. The Samurai Archives Samurai Wiki was used as a source for many of the cultural notes (which give abundant background on all the eras the film covers). In addition, an essay on the history behind Bushido by film historian and Samurai Archives staffer Randy Schadel is included that amply illustrates how samurai behavior usually fell far short of the idealized version of Bushido. Rounding out the extras are trailers (two different ones for this film plus ones for Shinsengumi, Kon Ichikawa's 47 Ronin, Shogun Assassin, and Samurai Assassin), an image gallery, bios for Imai, Nakamura, and Mita Yoshiko (who played Kyoko and who is still active in Japanese filmmaking-she was in Battle Royale 2), and a short essay that gives the traditional view of Bushido. The extras do a solid job of complementing the film's content as well as expanding on some of the issues it brings up. Short of some of Criterion's more elaborate releases, no one does extras for jidaigeki films better than Animeigo.

In our opinion, this film should be required viewing for anyone with an interest in jidaigeki films, if only to balance the surfeit of 'noble ronin' and 'glorious samurai' films out there. It'll give even the worst 'modern sammyrai' pause to consider if following the tenets of Bushido is such a good idea after all! There's no 'bullshido' here-just excellent performances, a compelling well-told story, and a first rate package of supplements. You can order 'Bushido: The Cruel Code of the Samurai' directly from Animeigo or at Amazon through the SA store.

Maeda Keiji, Stephen Hayes, and The Last Samurai: Pop Culture’s Impact On Historical Studies

One of the best features of the Samurai Archives Citadel is that it’s designed to be inclusive. Virtually anyone with an interest in pre-20th century Japanese history can fit in comfortably there. There are a lot of sites that take up positions at either end of the spectrum-ranging from hardcore academic lists such as PMJS (Pre-Modern Japanese Studies) to historically bereft video game, martial arts, and movie boards. The Citadel can accommodate the members of both. This lets the members with a greater degree of historical knowledge have a place to enjoy themselves with off-the-wall topics, while allowing ‘entry level historians’ a venue to get a firm grounding in ‘real’ history. The dual nature of the Citadel is reflected by the Samurai Wiki (an online source which is recommended to students by many University professors and high school teachers) and the 10 Common Samurai Misconceptions, a section which all new members are encouraged to read. As might be imagined, occasionally the newer members put forth arguments and positions that they support with baggage from their initial interests-be it video games, manga, anime, chambara, martial arts, or half-baked philosophy books. Usually, these musings fall into one of several pop culture categories:

1. The Modern Sammyrai-would be modern day followers of Bushido and the tenets of the Hagakure, pledging to live their lives by the way of the sword in an honorable manner.
2. Ninjer-see above, but substitute ‘ninja’ for ‘samurai’. These people believe the outrageous claims and false histories given by such ‘masters’ as Ashida Kim and Stephen Hayes.
3. Christian Sammyrai-those who place an inordinately large focus on Christian Samurai, and greatly overestimate the impact they had on Sengoku Japan.
4. Gamers-whether tabletop or video, gamers sometimes display an obsessive need to have everything neatly categorized, and show blind faith in the historical accuracy of their favorite pastimes. This can be seen most readily in the person of Maeda Keiji, a very minor samurai whose major claim to fame was being related to Maeda Toshiie-but a character that is regarded by many gamers as being one of the most significant figures of the age due to being portrayed as such in the ‘Sengoku Musou’ video game series.
5. Manga, Anime, and Other Fiction-much like video gamers, they can get too caught up in fictional worlds and believe that these works truly present things the way they were. The Shinsengumi (a group which is fascinating on its own merits) is a favorite topic for wild enhancement and crazy speculation.
6. Jidai-geki programming-a particularly virulent strain of misinformation-situations, objects, and personages glimpsed in chambara films and period dramas are quoted as facts when discussing historical events. The television miniseries ‘James Clavell’s Shogun’ and the film ‘The Last Samurai’ are likely the most notorious examples of this.

Of course, this doesn’t mean just because a person reads manga, watches samurai movies, practices Japanese martial arts, or plays video games that they can’t also have a solid base in historical knowledge-many of the most well versed Citadel members have a major interest in these fields. However, when some nonsensical thread shows up authored by a person who will defend their position to the death, it usually sprouts from one of the pop culture influences listed above-usually leaving the regular members wondering if having an inclusive site is a such a great idea after all. This begs the question-does pop culture have a valid role in aiding the study of history? Specifically, does popular entertainment bring any value to the field of pre-20th century Japanese history?
There’s a strong precedent of pop culture coloring the world of Japanese history. Many would be surprised to learn that much of what we accept as Japanese history in the West is actually pop culture. Edo period playwrights, novelists, musicians, and artists all produced fanciful works that over time became accepted as the truth. Early Western historians drew heavily on these sources and presented them as fact. Perhaps the best example of this is the story of The 47 Ronin, where virtually everything one can read on the subject in the West is based on a puppet play, kabuki drama, or novel. Only in the last five years or so have Western scholars taken a serious look at the event, disregarding secondary sources and attempting to reconstruct the event with contemporary accounts. The state of modern scholarship in the West is excellent-with copying machines, faxes, and the internet all aiding in making primary sources and rare documents readily available to scholars all over the world. However, general histories and surveys still rely primarily on decades old work. The majority of popular samurai author Stephen Turnbull’s works have been based on secondary Edo period manuscripts that discuss Sengoku and earlier events (to his credit, Turnbull’s research has become increasingly involved as better sources have become more accessible). Even in Japan, works produced for the general public such as the Rekishi Gunzou series rely heavily on Edo and Meiji period works for their information-and that information can be as misleading and false as anything found in the mythical war tales of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Here, it becomes obvious that pop culture was ingrained into Japanese history long before Western historians took an interest in it.
Moving along to modern pop culture, there are rare examples of it that actually do interject a learning element into their presentations. In the yearly NHK Taiga dramas, there are short segments at the beginning and end of the presentations giving historical background to the goings-on. A popular subgenre of video gaming that is beginning to show up in Japan involves historical quiz programs that are presented in the form of a game (there are current efforts touching on the Sengoku and Edo eras and beyond, with an emphasis on the arts, politics, and personalities). Video game publisher Koei (Sengoku Musou, Nobunaga No Yabou, Kessen, etc) is known for including extensive historical dictionaries, factual biographies, period artwork, and other features that are designed to show gamers the historical truth behind the fantasy. The video game Yoshitsune Eiyuden Shura has a huge historical section that would easily be the equal of any introductory college text. Many movie releases on DVD have extras on the discs that delve into the events or time period that the film covers (although many times these are also sensationalized and somewhat inaccurate accounts, such as the extras on The Last Samurai DVD). Animeigo’s Samurai Cinema label included historical liner notes with VHS releases, which now are included on the DVD itself. Some manga and anime releases follow these examples as well. Tabletop gaming (or computer simulations) is perhaps the most serious source of historical information among popular entertainment. Some releases are more along the lines of simulations than actual games. They feature meticulously researched maps, unit counters, and rules that cover practically every facet of period warfare. I t could be argued that playing one of these efforts would teach more about the nature of samurai warfare on a tactical level (including the importance and difficulties of command and supply) than would a book covering the same subject. Note that we’re not talking efforts such as Samurai Swords (Milton Bradley) or Shogun: Total War (Electronic Arts), both of which feature healthy doses of fantasy to make for a more exciting gameplay experience. Rather, we’re talking more about products like GMT’s RAN game, the Takeda series of PC games, and any number of Japanese tabletop simulations such as those published in Game Journal and Command Magazine Japan. One interesting facet of this historical element embedded in pop culture is that many Japanese products that are translated into English ‘lose’ this element. Koei games released in the United States routinely do not include the historical dictionaries. Taiga dramas many times drop the ending historical bumpers. This may be because it is believed that the users of these products overseas are only interested in the entertainment value and will have no real interest in Japanese history, or as a cost cutting/revenue producing measure (not having to pay for someone to translate the dictionary, or using the time gained from cutting the bumpers for extra commercials).
So it seems that there is a minimal learning value imbedded in many sources of ‘samurai pop culture’. However, I believe their real value lies in instilling a desire to learn more about Japanese history and culture. For all the misconceptions, falsehoods, and brutal misuse of the Japanese language in James Clavell’s Shogun (either the novel or miniseries), it has probably been more influential in turning Westerners towards a serious study of Japanese history than any other work. The Last Samurai, an excellent action film which is rife with historical inaccuracies, has had a similar effect. Martial arts, anime, manga, video games-at some point, most every user of these will become curious and want to learn more about the truths that lie behind them. While many don’t like the answers they find and prefer to remain with their dearly held illusions (usually martial artists that can’t believe their dojo doesn’t really have a 1000 year old history, or that the ninja techniques they use have all been invented in the last 20 years), others go on to develop a solid grounding in many areas of Japanese history-be it political, military, cultural, or economic. Films, games, and other works of fiction are also excellent jumping off points, introducing new avenues to explore and questions to be answered. The planned ‘Samurai 101’ forum on the Samurai Archives hopes to help many of the curiosity seekers and newbie historians along as they make the transition from fantasy to serious study.
There is a place for pop culture in the world of academia. Used correctly, these fonts of entertainment can not only impart rudimentary facts and information but also help guide their users to more involved and appropriate sources. Rather than incurring scorn and ridicule, they should be seen as a tool in stimulating an interest in Japanese history. Judging from the fact that there are far, far more people involved in the study of Chinese history than Japanese, this can only serve to bring some much needed fresh blood into the field. While it can be frustrating for long-time forum members to see neophytes extol the virtues of Bushido, haggle over who would win in a fight (samurai vs. ninja/knight/professional wrestler/etc), or claim to be harboring centuries old ninja secrets, just remember: we all had to start somewhere, and it was probably at a point just as ridiculous. Now you’ll have to excuse me-I’m going for Izumo Okuni’s 5th weapon in Sengoku Musou, and that fringed parasol is proving to be tough to get…

What is a samurai?

We talk a lot about samurai at the Samurai Archives, needless to say. I think most of us take for granted what a samurai was, however. I've never been truly confident in my own off-hand definition of the term. So without further ado, what was a samurai? Whole books have been written on the nature and evolution of the samurai (see Farris and Friday, specifically), so one post will definitely not be sufficient to address this problem. These are my impressions after reading several sources (specifically Friday's Hired Swords, Farris' Heavenly Warriors, and Varley's Warriors of Japan), so specific page numbers won't be mentioned. I'm not pleased with the brainstorming laid out in this post, but it's a start towards better understanding the samurai class. If you disagree or have more to add, please discuss it in the comments section!

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A samurai was just a warrior: an armored man who rode a horse, had two deadly, curved swords, battled ninja for honor, and followed Bushido.

Wrong.

If a samurai was just a warrior, then anyone who practiced violence and destruction for a living would be called a samurai. If so, then where is their Bushido code of ethics? First off, the Bushido code of ethics is waiting to be invented in the 17th--early 20th century. Secondly, there are historical documents that list the number of samurai in different periods of Japanese history. The numbers are very small: remember that the samurai only numbered less than 10% of the whole population of Japan. Therefore, something distinguished this small group of people known as "samurai" from other warriors. I won't delve into the following very deep, but the samurai fought with bow and arrow much longer than he did with his iconic katana, ninja was simply the term for a samurai on a secret mission (once over, he would return to his normal position of counting rice in the castle storehouse), and Bushido...well, I'm not going to even touch Bushido in this post.

The etymology of the noun "samurai" 侍 derives from the classical Japanese verb, "saburau", which means "to serve" or "to attend." By that token, the noun form means, "a servant" or "an attendant."

There were 9 court ranks in the ancient system. The 5th rank signaled entry into the aristocratic class. The samurai were typically of the 6th rank, which means that they would serve or attend (in both the bureaucratic and military sense) to those individuals who held higher court ranks (5th-1st). Therefore, the Western misconception that samurai were definitively male warriors can be dispelled. The samurai held a certain rank and ranged from assassins to wet nurses to paper-pushers.

The samurai in battle was lightly armored, rode a small horse, and shot a bow and arrow, carrying a sword at his or her side.

The samurai needed a source of income. Living in an agrarian society (where one can't eat aristocratic or military titles), their best bet was to deal directly with the land. They became "on-site landlords" (a term Dr. William Wayne Farris uses often) who 1) made sure the peasants farmed and 2) collected taxes.

If we define the samurai as simply a mounted archer, we can see their origins very early. We would also be forced to call a shipwrecked Chinese merchant who rode a rose and carried a bow a "samurai" as well. I believe we need to dig deeper.

The Kiso horse is indigenous to the Japanese archipelago. Decreasing greatly in number in the Yayoi period, horses didn't come back onto the scene until c. 450 AD when they were brought over (with equestrian gear such as horse armor, stirrups, etc...) from Korea. These Korean horses were used for riding and military purposes. The bow and arrow (even composite versions) are found in archaeological sites as early as the Jomon Period (c. 10,000-300 BC), in roughly the same form as that used by the warriors of the late Heian Period (12th century). Therefore, by viewing the samurai as mounted archers, we see a very early (after c. 450) development. This line of reasoning would suggest that (1) kofun held samurai remains; (2) samurai were involved in the excursions to the Korean Peninsula; (3) samurai were intricately involved in the Ritsuryo State and the Taiho military; and (4) simply evolved into the samurai of the medieval period.

The district magistrates, who came from locally notable families, were institutionalized into around 550 officials throughout the archipelago in the Ritsuryo State/Taiho system of the late 7th/early 8th century. These locally notable people were individuals skilled in the martial arts (the way of the bow and horse; kyuuba no michi). If ancient military aristocrats became the 8th century district magistrates, then the former horseriding warrior elite evolved into the later district magistrates and both were therefore samurai. If horseriding archers weren't samurai originally, then the district magistrates were the ones to evolve eventually into samurai .

As far as a local notable goes, there were approximately 9 district magistrates per province (66 total), yielding a national total of around 550. They were the network or apparatus through which the Chinese-style bureaucratic system controlled the peasants. It seems only natural that district magistrates, who brought together and led the local armies, for the court, could be called "samurai" in the 8th century.

The district magistrates were given large tracts of land. In light of this, the local notables were also landowners. They were landlords as well, who charged exorbitant interest to the peasants. They controlled local matters and regulated/administered the raising of horses.

Many of the poems in the Man'youshuu anthology were written by the district magistrates, which projects forward to the image of the later, learned warrior aristocrats of the Heian period.

Or were samurai none of the above, but simply military aristocrats? These military aristocrats were people like Fujiwara no Nakamaro, Fujiwara no Sumitomo, and Taira no Masakado (incidentally all rebels). These men may be termed military aristocrats or servants of the court. Perhaps the 8th century Nakamaro and Hirotsugu are too early to be called "military aristocrats" for they weren't of military families, but were nobles who revolted. Yes, they had military retinues in the capital, but they are best termed aristocratic "servants of the court." Not only are all servants of the court not of the 6th or 5th court rank, but they don't belong to military houses. This factor of lineage (also important in premodern Shinto and Buddhist transmission) is important because samurai, as a basic prerequisite, placed great value on lineage. Therefore, military aristocrats will be defined as houses given to the profession of warfare, like the Sakanoue, Outomo, and the Mononobe. However, all of these families were before the institutionalization of the warrior households (and the allowance to carry weapons and practice violence) after the rebellions of Masakado and Sumitomo in the 10th century. These houses like the Kawachi Minamoto and the Ise Taira obeyed Imperial orders making them "servants of the court." They fought as mounted archers, and they were influential on the local scene as provincial governors and district magistrates. These 10th century "tsuwamono no ie" therefore play an important part in our definition. However, even as early as the 9th century, "houses that specialized in military affairs emerged" such as the Sakanoue.

The development of the aforementioned "on-site landlords" on Shouen (estates) around 1050 and after, improved the economy after difficult times of drought, famine, and epidemics. It also brought the peasant cultivators back onto the fields. These on-site landlords were like district magistrates, in that they dealt with the lowest levels of the populace who produced the agricultural products and were also "servants of the court." However, the district magistrates' profession was not guaranteed: they did not have the surety of their position like the military lineages of the late 10th century/early 11th century. Yet, the Minamoto fell out of favor after Yoshii's late 11th century Later Three Years' War. Therefore, surety of position shouldn't be counted as a prerequisite for being a samurai.

If we call samurai an "agrarian landlord," military aristocrats in the capital wouldn't be "samurai," even though they are the head of the warrior lineage, itself. Therefore, samurai are local notables (or from once-local lineages, like the Sakanoue) who served the court and were predominantly mounted archers. This definition obviously evolved in later periods of Japanese history. Strata of the samurai *did* have very strong ties to the land through jobs such as landlords, but that definition is too specific and discriminatory towards those members at court.

As mentioned, a "mounted archer" would allow the definition to go back to the 5th century. An "agrarian landlord" would allow the definition to apply to district magistrates and their unofficial successors, the on-site landlords under the shouen system, a span from the 8th to the 11th century, and exclude those at court. The multiple factors must therefore be present.

Therefore, when did the samurai emerge? I believe they emerged in the 11th century when "on-site landlords" (Farris' term), the shouen system, the Minamoto and Taira emerged, and the court greatly depended on these principally warrior houses for protection.