TsukuBlog A Local Perspective on Life in Tsukuba, Ibaraki, Japan.

25Oct/08Off

Japan’s Traditional Celebrations of Longevity

Traditionally, the Japanese, being within the sphere of Chinese cultural influence, have respected old age and celebrated long life. Back in the Nara Period (710-794), when the Japanese aristocracy was keen on almost anything Chinese, numerous continental beliefs and customs were enthusiastically adopted JUST AS THEY WERE. Among these, were concepts and rituals which have a major impact TO THIS DAY on Japan's annual cycle of events as well as its life-cycle celebrations and ceremonies. It was at this time that Japan's elite began to mark the attainment of OLD AGE beginning at age 40! In those days (and until quite recently in fact) it was said that "a man's life is 50 years" (人生は50年、 Jinsei wa goju-nen), and there were special celebrations held upon entering each new decade of life (these were called yonju-no-ga, 四十の賀, for the 40th year, goju-no-ga, 五十の賀, for the 50th year, etc.). This involved a banquet at which relatives of the person being celebrated gathered for a festive meal and the pounding and distribution of fresh mochi (rice cakes).

As Chinese cultural influence in Japan waned and the Japanese gained more self-confidence over the ensuing centuries, the customs regarding the celebration of longevity, along with almost everything else adopted from China, were eventually given a uniquely Japanese twist. Records show that the still standard series of eight special birthdays celebrated between (and including) the 60th and 100th years had been firmly established among the Japanese ruling warrior class and the aristocracy by the Muromachi Period (1338-1573). Instead of merely following the original Chinese lead of celebrating the start of each new age-decade, the Japanese also selected certain ages from which auspicious (or amusing) meanings could be derived from how the ages were written in Kanji characters. Thus, today we have the following.

The 60th year (kanreki, 還暦), meaning a return to the beginning of the cycle, as it heralds completing the path through the full five cycles of the Sino-Japanese zodiac (jikkan-junishi), and coming back once again to the original combination of signs that you were born with. This event is commonly celebrated throughout East-Asia.

The 70th year (koki, 古希), the name of which derives from a popular verse by the great Chinese poet Tufu (Toho, 杜甫, in Japanese). The poem goes: Jinsei nanaju korai mare nari (人生七十古来稀なり),meaning that (in those days) reaching the age of 70 was a rare occurrence.

The 77th year (kiju, 喜寿), which was celebrated because an archaic form of writing the character ki (good fortune, this form cannot be written out with this computer), can be broken down to the components 七 十 七、 which means 77. Because of this round-about connection, that age is seen as related to GOOD FORTUNE. 

The 80th year (sanju, 傘寿). The character 傘 (umbrella) can be broken down to components which can be rearranged as 八十(eighty).

The 81st year (hanju,半寿). The character 半 (half) can be broken down and rearranged as 八十一, or 81. However, celebrating hanju has become extremely rare these days.

The 88th year (beiju,米寿). The character for rice, 米, which symbolizes wealth, nutrition and other wholesome things can be broken down to its basic components and rearranged as 八十八、or 88.

The 90th year (sotsuju, 卒寿). The character 卒 (graduation) can be rearranged as 九十、or 90.

The 99th year (hakuju,白寿). When the element meaning one (一) is removed from the top of the character 百 (100), you get the character haku (白,white). Thus haku is 100 minus one. In other words 99.

Then, at the 100th year, there is hyakuga (百賀), and after that a celebration every year (hyaku-ichi no ga, etc...).

During the Edo Period (1603-1868), the custom of celebrating these special ages filtered down to the common people, though even for the easy living elite it probably still remained quite rare at that time to celebrate anything beyond Kanreki (the 60th year).

Since Kanareki marked the completion of a full journey through the oriental zodiac and a rebirth, or return to childhood, 60 was traditionally the age at which men would retire. The main feature of the kanreki banquet was the presentation of a red coat (chanchanko) and cap (zukin). This style of garment symbolizes a return to childhood. The red color represented warmth and was also believed to have powers to ward off evil and bad luck. The cushion (zabuton) on which the guest of honor sits, should also be red. A red fan might also be provided. You can find everything you need online.

These days of course, most 60-year-olds in Japan are still working, and most likely feel that their whole life still lies in front of them. They might be embarrassed by the silly chanchanko and cap. Still, if you decide to give a sweater or blanket, shirt or tie, red would be an appropriate (traditionally speaking) color.

For Koki (70) and Kiju (77) celebrations, the color purple is considered appropriate, as it is the mostly highly regarded color in Sino-Japanese divination (omyodo). This color provides protective and curative benefits to those bodies which might just be starting to feel the aches and pains of age.

Though once extremely rare, sanju (80), hanju (81), and especially beiju (88) celebrations are now common events! The color for presents, clothing and cushions should be GOLDEN BROWN (kincha iro 金茶) or yellow. And since 88 years of age is associated with RICE (米,bei) with all its positive associations in Japanese culture, beiju celebrations are popular and feature several special gift items. Golden brown (or yellow) furoshiki or fukusa cloths and zabuton cushions with cranes or the character 米 on them are usual.

The most interesting traditional gift for beiju is a HATO NO TSUE (a walking stick with a pigeon carved on the handle). It seems that giving such a gift was practiced in the ancient Chinese and later Japanese courts. Among the reasons for such a gift being appropriate are that HATO (pigeon) can also be written using the characters 八 and 十, which can also mean 80. It is also said that pigeons do not choke (a serious problem for the elderly in Japan, especially with New Year's O-Mochi). These pigeon-handled walking sticks can be given at any of the  longevity celebrations for someone in their 80s. Have a look at a hato no tsue here.

For sotsuju (90) and hakuju (99) celebrations, the appropriate traditional color is white. Have a look at each age group color.

In contemporary Japan there are dozens of reference books available for those wanting to hold, or for those who have been invited to, a special LONGEVITY birthday celebration. They not only recommend appropriate gifts such as travel or restaurant coupons, ceramics or electronic equipment, but also detail the correct way to address the special festive envelopes and recommend appropriate amounts for cash gifts.

One thing that all these books agree on is that the most important point, especially for the older-age celebrations, is to bring family together, create a warm and festive atmosphere, and maybe have an extended family photo portrait taken. Commemorative gifts should also be given to all those who attend. These parties can be held at home, though usually a restaurant is reserved and special celebratory dishes served, for example fish (TAI) or sea bream.

This might all sound quite simple. However, a more detailed explanation of these customs might set your head spinning. For example, individual birthdays were never actually celebrated in Japan (except for a divination ceremony, isho mochi, held on the first birthday). All Japanese grew a year older on New Year's Day. Thus, these celebrations were not actually held on the celebrant's birthday, but on New Year's or another auspicious day. The situation now of course is quite different and the celebration of birthdays has become as popular (for younger people) as it is in the West.

Another complicated point is that until this century the Japanese considered themselves to be 1 year old at birth. If they were born a day before the New Year, they would be considered 2 years old after the New Year, when by contemporary standards they would be just 2 days old. The traditional way of counting ages is called KAZOE-DOSHI. Many older people still use this term when talking about age. In fact, while now the other longevity celebrations are usually based on Western-style age-counting (MAN NENREI), Kanreki (60) is still counted as 61 years in KAZOE DOSHI. If you are confused, you are not alone.

Anyway, with the average age in Japan skyrocketing, the events I've just told you a little about are being held more than ever before, by a huge margin. A celebration of the once extremely rare has  become commonplace.

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21Oct/08Off

Mysterious (and Creepy) Roadside Markers Explained


When wandering the backroads of Tsukuba you might encounter a set of what appear to be SIGNS OF WARNING or NO ENTRY. Three primitive stick figures drawn on wooden boards and mounted on sticks, usually posted on each side of the opening to a small road or path. I have never seen these goose-bump-eliciting road-markers anywhere else in Japan, and have STILL NOT been able to find any references to them in Japanese or foreign language sources. Most Japanese I have asked have told me that they had NO IDEA what these were, and several times Japanese friends joining me for a stroll have said "LETS GET OUT OF HERE QUICKLY! THOSE SIGNS GIVE ME THE CREEPS" after coming upon them on a secluded road. 

Years of asking around eventually led to meeting a few elderly locals who knew what these markers were. Little by little I have been able to clear up the mystery of these mounted stick figures. This EXTREMELY LOCALIZED CUSTOM will now be explained for the first time in English (and maybe Japanese as well).

Simply put, the stick figures represent JIZO, one of the most familiar and beloved figures in Buddhist iconography. Anyone who has travelled around Japan and has been to its famous temples has probably seen these monk-like images (sometimes in great numbers), often dressed up by worshippers in shirt, coat, bib or hat, or maybe with some stones piled on them. Jizo, or more respectfully O-Jizo Sama, is a Bodhisattva (one who delays his own Buddha-hood in order to aid in the salvation of others), and because of that has come to be venerated in Japan starting in the Heian period (794-1185). For MUCH MORE DETAILED INFO on just about everything related to Jizo go to this page.

Jizo is regarded as the protector of children (including those who passed away before having been born) and also as a source of solace for dead souls.

The interesting thing around these parts is that when someone passes away, the neighborhood committee (in charge of helping with funerals) prepares these uniquely rustic Jizo figures (even if there are stone Jizos in the cemetery).

The stick figure Jizo placards are set up at the entrance to roads which lead to the cemetery, as a set of two, each with three Jizo characters. This is because Jizos are often found as a set of six, with that number being of great significance in Buddhism.  The graveyard Jizos represent the SIX REALMS OF EXISTENCE, or SIX PATHS (rokudo). The custom of setting up these signboards began with the intention of helping guide the dead souls to wherever it is they have to go. If you look at the photos I have taken, you can see three nails sticking out of each board. Sometimes there are candles fastened onto them (to guide the dead) and sometimes even chili peppers (which serve as imitation flames).

A more practical purpose served by these Jizo boards is helping to guide the Living to the graveyard, which can often be hard to find out in the country. The jizo placards mark the entrance to the paths or roads leading to the cemetery.

So, next time you come across these strangely primitive markers, don't run away! It's not black magic or voodoo. It's just jizo, helping the spirits on their way.

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Filed under: Culture, Religion, Trivia 1 Comment
1Jul/08Off

A Brief History of Buraku Discrimination in Japan

A Brief History of Buraku Discrimination in Japan
As with any aspect of human culture developing over a long period of time, Buraku discrimination is not something that can be comprehensively described in a short essay. It is a subject that is difficult to explain in terms easily understood by people outside the culture. Nevertheless, I will attempt to give an overview of how this insidious form of discrimination developed in Japanese culture and why it has been so difficult to eradicate. I will be basing most of my observations on a textbook (“Korede Wakatta! Buraku no Rekishi” – “Now I Understand It! Buraku History”) written by Uesugi Satoshi, a lecturer at Kansai University in Ōsaka, Japan, while adding a few points I have gleaned from other sources and from my own observations.

Sense of Defilement: The Underlying Rationale
A key concept in understanding any such form of religiously sanctioned class discrimination is that of “defilement.” What is it that makes something or someone “defiled” and “unclean?” The basic concept is that something is “defiled” when it is out of its “proper” place in society. This is, of course, related to the basic worldview that was common to almost all ancient societies – namely that the natural order of nature and its relation to human society are controlled by events in the realm of the gods and by the whims of the gods. Thus, placating these gods through magical incantations and ceremonies, together with “purifying” whatever is thought to be defiled, was of paramount importance in maintaining a stable society.

As this animistic worldview was the basis for understanding everything within society, before applying its implications to the issue of buraku discrimination, let’s first get a clearer understanding of its operation in ancient Japanese society. As a window to this way of understanding the world, let’s look at two common Japanese words that give us insight into this ancient mindset. “Tenki” (天気), weather, is made up of two characters, “ten” (天), “heavens,” and “ki” (気), “feelings.” Thus, the concept is that the weather is the result of the “feelings” of the “gods.” If the deity or deities involved were angry about something, violent or otherwise unfavorable weather would result, and this had to be dealt with by the religious authorities. Shintō priests are referred to as “kannushi” (神主), literally, the “lord (主) of the gods (神)” – namely, the one who can placate (control) the gods through prescribed rituals and magical incantations. Thus, removing whatever was perceived to be offensive to the gods was given utmost importance in ancient society, and this was the underlying rationale for ostracism and its resultant discrimination.

So, let’s consider what it was in ancient Japanese society that was thought of as “kegare” (defiled). Actually, it was pretty much the same as in essentially all other ancient societies, including that of ancient Israel, as is portrayed in Leviticus and certain other sections of the Old Testament. Things having to do with death and blood were considered “defiled.” Even such a joyous event as the birth of a child fits into this category, since it involved blood, and thus that too had to be “purified.” Interestingly, the Japanese word for a wound, “kega” (怪我), is related to “kegare” (穢れ) (a less pejorative, alternative writing is 汚れ, also read “yogore,” which is “dirty” in a more general sense), and it is written in an entirely different way from what it is in Chinese, from which most such Japanese words are borrowed. (In Chinese, it is written, 受傷, to “receive an injury or mar.”) The implication of this is that this concept predates the introduction of the Chinese writing system into Japan, and so has probably existed from when humans first began populating these islands. (The characters used were simply chosen to match the pronunciation of the already existing word, with little relevance to their actual meaning, which in this case is “strange self.”) As this concept is critical in understanding buraku discrimination, I will return to it later, but first, let’s set the historical stage.

The Vicious Cycle Sets In
While the roots of discrimination date from early human history, the particular form we see in buraku discrimination had its beginnings in Kyōto from around the 10th century AD. Kyōto was the center of power and culture in those days, and as society developed, the gap between those with wealth and power and those without widened. Those who could not pay the high taxes that supported the noble class were ostracized and forced to lived in undesirable areas, such as in river flood plains. It was the fear of such ostracism, then, that encouraged the rest to endure the high taxes. Much like day laborers in modern Japan, those who were marginalized ended up doing the “3-D” jobs (dirty, difficult and dangerous) that society needed done but which nobody wanted to do.

One such job was the disposing of dead bodies — a particularly “defiling” task. (And in the context of that ancient worldview, there was thus a second level of “3-D” — defiling, demeaning and despised!) In 1015, a plague struck Kyōto, forcing its society into a crisis mode. Without the removal of dead bodies, there could be no return to normalcy, and so those who were already viewed as “kegare” were pressed into service as “kiyome” (purifiers). Needless to say, this was a vicious cycle, as these “kiyome” were then viewed as being even more defiled. The undesirable land that was designated for them was thus not taxed and was viewed as simply “outside the system.” This led to a codification of a caste-like system that was the direct antecedent of buraku discrimination.

These marginalized “kiyome” were further categorized into two separate groups that later became known by the very derogatory terms of “hinin” (非人), literally “non-human,” and “eta” (穢多), literally, “defilement abundant.” This distinction, however, was something that developed over a long time period, and as various occupations became more specialized, various groupings within these larger categories also began to appear.

The first basic distinction to be made was that between the disposal of the carcasses of dead animals and the bodies of dead humans, since the latter involved rituals of mourning and dignified burials. “Kiyome” who specialized in the handling of dead humans were the group from which the “hinin” category developed, while those that dealt with dead animals became the “eta.” This latter category was considered the more defiling, and so the “eta” (穢多) category was more associated with “kegare” (穢れ). The “eta” thus had a monopoly on animal skins and the production of leather goods. In fact, as their own separate society developed, some became rather wealthy in their own right. This, however, was not a path to acceptance in the general society, as even a wealthy “eta” was still an “eta.”

The category of “hinin,” however, included those who were ostracized for reasons other than being associated with “defiling” occupations. It was often a form of punishment, and those who became “hinin” for such a reason could return to their original status in regular society if certain conditions were met within a maximum of 10 years. Needless to say, that was not a common pattern, and so once demoted, they were basically stuck there, and their children had no way out at all — unless they were successful at leaving one area and infiltrating into another with a bogus identity. We know that a certain amount of this did take place, as there are references in contemporary records to a few such people being caught. But as the system became increasingly strict and more centrally controlled, such escapes became far more difficult. This was basically the situation from the Edo period onward, as the various medieval fiefdoms that had existed up until that time were unified under the “shogun” warlords.

The long period of warfare that eventually led to the unification of Japan under the Tokugawa Shogunate had the result of making the production of leather products (body armor containing leather, etc.) of critical importance. This “defiling” task, however, was monopolized by the “eta,” and so while they were despised and ostracized, their services were viewed as being of critical importance. Thus, they were tolerated by regular society — provided they kept their proper distance.

Japanese Feudal Society
In his book, Uesugi points out that a typical misconception of medieval societal structure actually comes from the misapplication of the terminology used to describe feudal Chinese society to that of Japan. Put into the diagram form that has typically been used, feudal society was often described as a pyramid with the samurai warrior class on top, with the layers of “farmer,” “artisan” and “merchant” below them. These, then, all rested on the base made up of the “eta/hinin” outcastes. Uesugi points out that just as the term “outcaste” implies, these people were actually entirely outside the “caste” system. He pictures it as two separate pyramids, with the main pyramid being topped by the emperor and other nobility, with the warrior class representing the top level below that “capstone.” Below that, then, were only two basic categories, each put on more or less the same level — that of the “townspeople” (which included artisans and merchants) and the “farmers.” The “eta” and “hinin,” then, formed their own separate hierarchical “pyramid” society totally outside of regular society, with the “eta” above the “hinin” and ruled by an “etagashira” (chief “eta”). This was in spite of the fact that originally the “eta” were considered the more defiled of the two groups. Below each of these pyramids, then, existed a variety of slave-like categories of servants. Even some of the wealthier “eta” owned their own “slaves.”

As the ruling class continued to manipulate this highly contrived system for their own benefit, the controls put into place to manage the system became increasingly oppressive. What later developed into the present-day “koseki” registration system was formalized in the early Edo period as a means to maintain social control. It likewise served as an effective means of stamping out the “Kirishitan,” the numerous converts to Christianity that some 50 years of missionary activity by Xavier and his comrades had generated. All persons had to register at the local Buddhist temple and so officially became “Buddhists” — irrespective of actual belief. The net result was that Japanese became at least superficially adherents of both Buddhism as well as the native animistic religion of Shintō. (The relationship between the two is complicated, with the final result being that Buddhism focuses on funerals and memorial services, whereas Shintō takes care of weddings, blessings and most everything else.)

The “Kirishitan” Connection
The relationship between the “Kirishitan” (a term used to refer to Christians) and the “eta” and “hinin” outcastes is a very interesting one. When the Jesuit missionaries arrived in Japan — beginning with Francis Xavier in 1549 — their strategy was, for the most part, to focus on the upper echelons of society in a top-down approach. The one exception to this was in the Nagasaki area, where concerted efforts were also made to reach the “eta.” For the most part, however, few “eta” became “Kirishitan” during this era. Almost all of them were followers of the Jōdō Shinshu sect of Buddhism, as it was the one Buddhist sect that made an effort to be “inclusive” — a relative term, of course, as it was only within the very strict constraints placed on them by the system. As would be expected, given those constraints, they had their own “eta” temples, cemeteries, etc, totally separate from other temples even of the same sect.

When it came to the “hinin,” however, it was a very different story, as a high percentage of them became “Kirishitan.” This was not, however, because the missionaries focused evangelistic efforts on them; it was more of an indirect result of the persecution that arose when the “Bakufu” (Shogunate) rulers decided to close Japan off from the outside world. The perception of these warlords was that the Christianity being propagated by the European missionaries was a prelude to foreign domination and colonization by one of the European powers (which very well might have been the case). From their perspective, stamping out all remains of Christianity was of utmost importance.

During the first few decades of the 1600’s, an estimated 200 to 300 thousand “Kirishitan” were martyred, many of them being beheaded for refusing to renounce their faith by stepping on the “fumie” (踏絵, “stepping picture” — a carved representation of Christ or of Mary and the baby Jesus people were forced to step on to show they were not followers of this foreign — and therefore “defiling” — religion). As to who was pressed into service to do the actual dirty work, it was, naturally, the “eta,” since being an executioner was defiling work indeed.

The general consensus is that there were at least 750,000 Christians at the height of its influence, and some researchers believe it was considerably higher than that. As to what happened to the rest, they basically fall into two groups: those who buckled under the pressure and stepped on the “fumie,” and those who successfully went underground. Known as “Kakure Kirishitan” (Hidden Christians), numerous communities maintained at least basic elements of their faith for over 250 years, until the prohibition was finally lifted (under foreign pressure).

The former Christians (those who stepped on the “fumie”) were still held in suspicion, however, and so it was not as though they were allowed back into regular society with a clean slate. They were still ostracized, and so the net result was that at least a large percentage of them became “hinin.” One contemporary record listed 2000 “hinin” in one section of Ōsaka, and recorded that of those, 920 were “Kirishitan.” Other records indicated similar figures, and thus far more of the “hinin” became Christians than their counterpart “eta.”

Another reason for the large numbers, in addition to persecuted Christians becoming “hinin,” was that one reason many people had been made “hinin” in the first place was because of “defiling” skin diseases and the like. While actual “leprosy” (now known as “Hansen’s Disease”) certainly existed, many other skin disorders were simply lumped together with it. Since these conditions were considered to be curses placed on such people by the gods, even the families of victims were left with no choice but to ostracize them and expel them to the outcaste “hinin” community.

Prior to the onset of the persecution, Christians had built over 20 sanitariums for the care of these unfortunate victims. With the improved hygiene and nutrition they received, many were cured, even seemingly miraculously, and so this obviously had a great evangelistic impact, with many becoming ardent followers of the faith. During the persecutions, then, these followers were instrumental in providing sanctuary for many Kirishitan or “former” Kirishitan who likewise entered the ranks of the outcastes.

This sanctuary, however, was relatively short-lived, as the rulers were intent on completely eliminating Christianity from their midst, and so even these outcaste Christians had to go. While many no doubt at least pretended to become Buddhists, records also show that many were exiled and forced to leave Japan. One record states that one group of over 100 “Kirishitan lepers” was exiled to Luzon (Philippines) so that “swords would not be defiled with blood.” Japanese grammar does not necessitate a pronoun before “swords” to indicate who is being referred to (which is part of the vagueness inherent in the language), but the implication is that it was the swords of the executioners being referred to. But since the executioners would presumably be defiled “eta,” one wonders just how that defilement was actually viewed. Apparently, the authorities believed the expedient thing to do was to simply send these people into exile rather than risk extra defilement on their land by having them killed.

It also appears that there was considerable reluctance on the part of executioners to follow through with their orders, as there are also recorded examples of “eta” executioners preferring to give up their own lives rather than execute these “seijin” (holy persons). Likewise, there were entire “eta” villages that simply refused to participate in the persecution at all, and so the general picture that emerges is one of a gradual plugging of the numerous “holes in the dikes” constructed by the shogun rulers to both eliminate the Christian presence while simultaneously solidifying the strict caste system in order to insure their control over the people.

Tightening the Controls
While ruthlessly efficient in moving towards these two goals, absolute control was never completely within their grasp. The human spirit will not allow totalitarianism to persist indefinitely. By the middle of the Edo Period (18th Century), the sense of defilement that was the basis for discrimination was beginning to loosen up, and so in order to counter this, the rulers decreed new laws making it mandatory to discriminate. Thus, not only was it illegal for “eta-hinin” to resist in any way the indignities forced upon them, but it now became illegal for anyone else to not treat them as the law demanded, under the threat of being made outcastes themselves. Records reveal numerous cases in which townspeople and farmers were punished by relegation to the “eta” status, and, of course, if they were unlucky enough to contract a dreaded skin disease, or were for some other reason ostracized, they would be made “hinin.” Numerous “eta-hunting” campaigns are recorded during this period to find those who had tried to beat the system by pretending to be townspeople or farmers. While many were caught, it is apparent that many were not, and so even prior to US gunboats entering Tōkyō Bay to demand that Japan end its self-imposed isolation, there were considerable signs that the system was beginning to fall apart.

As to what kinds of “indignities” were being forced upon the “eta,” in addition to segregation into isolated communities on undesirable lands and being relegated to “defiling” occupations, they were also forced to wear identifying clothing. Since there was no obvious physical difference between them and other Japanese, it was easy for them to blend in (temporarily) if they dressed like everyone else. Thus, shades of Nazi Germany and the “stars of David” the Jews were forced to wear at all times pinned to their clothes, “eta” likewise had wear leather patches, etc. on their clothing to make them easily identifiable.

At this time, no nation-state had laid claim to the northern territories referred to as “Ezo” (mostly present-day Hokkaidō). It was inhabited by the indigenous Ainu people, who were considered by Japanese to be “barbarians,” and so to prevent the island from being claimed by Russia or any other foreign power, there was considerable discussion in the late Edo period of sending settlers to develop the land and solidify Japan’s claim to it and neighboring islands. Interestingly, one of leading theories of the time regarding the origins of the “eta” was that they were descendants of the Ainu. Other theories had them descending from other “barbarians,” but the common theme was that they were racially different from the Japanese (which, of course, was not the case at all). So, there were proposals to ceremonially “cleanse” willing “eta” and have them “return to their roots” as a vanguard for the Japanese state to lay claim to the northern islands where the Ainu lived.

Outside Pressure and the Beginning of the End
Before such plans could be instituted, however, Commodore Perry and his gunboats arrived in Tōkyō Bay in 1853, and this was the catalyst that began a 15-year period of great instability, as various factions competed for supremacy. One such faction was the Chōshū domain in western Japan that had long sought to bring down the Tokugawa rulers. They were, in fact, instrumental in bringing down the shogunate government, but how they handled the “eta” issue is informative in considering why it is that the system was ended without the discrimination ending.

Numerous documents of the period reveal that the feudal rulers in general held extreme ethnocentric and xenophobic views. Basically, all foreigners were viewed as being inferior “barbarians,” and so in 1863, the Chōshū authorities decided to offer young, healthy “eta” men a chance to earn their way out of their inferior status by serving in a special military wing to “fight off the barbarians.” In 1866, however, when the Tokugawa Shogunate forces attacked the Chōshū forces, it was this regiment of “eta” soldiers that performed brilliantly to defeat the shogunate forces, and this fact was clear to all involved. They were welcomed as heroes, and thus even though they were being “used,” they turned tables and used this opportunity to win grudging respect.

Fast forward some 80 years to another group of people (at least some of who were descendents of these “burakumin”) who were also enduring deprivation of their basic human rights, and one can see the obvious similarities to the 442nd Infantry Regiment, made up of mostly of Japanese-Americans out of the internment camps of World War II America. Their exemplary service in the war effort in Europe was instrumental in winning the respect and acceptance of the larger American society. Unfortunately for those caught up in the turmoil at the end of feudal Japan and the dawning of the modern Japanese state, however, the end results were far different. It is my contention that the difference in basic worldview between the two societies is the main reason. The treatment of the Japanese-Americans by the US government was an aberration of the Judeo-Christian ethic and the basic human rights that naturally flow out of that worldview (where all humans are “created in the image of God”), whereas the continued discrimination faced by the burakumin even after their “emancipation” was consistent with this still prevailing worldview that focused on “kegare” and how such perceived “defilement” could be avoided or at least “cleansed.” (This included a strong sense of maintaining “purity” so that whatever was considered as being “different” was pushed away instead of being accepted.)

The forces that brought down the Tokugawa Shogunate were intent on restoring rule to the emperor (after some 265 years), and once the Tokugawa defeat became obvious, the struggle quickly ended. The net result was that the opportunity for the “eta” to win points by their brave service was quickly lost. Likewise, since the emperor system itself was predicated on the continuance of a hierarchical class system, there was a renewed effort to again strengthen the apartheid-like segregation that had been loosening up. For instance, when the emperor was to proceed from the palace in Kyōto to Ōsaka, an order went out to make sure no “hinin beggars” or “eta” would be within sight. “Eta” villages that were within sight of the route had to be hidden from view and their inhabitants were ordered to stay in their villages.

Ending the Official Discriminatory System
With the fall of the Tokugawa Shogunate and the opening up of Japan to the outside world again, the fledgling Meiji government was faced with numerous challenges in transforming Japan from a feudal state to one more in line with what they saw in the “superior” West (at least from the standpoint of military power and technology). Not only was there the issue of what to do with the former samurai warriors, but also the more difficult issue of what to do with the “eta/hinin.” Some pushed for a type of “affirmative action” plan to give training and then release them gradually into regular society according to their performance. The general consensus was that this shifting of individuals from outcaste status to commoner status should be done gradually, but with the rewriting of a whole host of laws that were interrelated, the authorities basically had to settle for a sudden end to the system.

The term used to describe this abandonment of the feudal social system is “kaihōrei” (解放令), which is translated into English as “Emancipation Edict” (or “Emancipation Proclamation”). Uesugi points out in his book, however, that the term “kaihō” (freedom) never appears even once in the entire document. The original document didn’t actually have a title as such, but the term used to refer to it was “Senmin Haishirei” (賤民廃止令), “Order to Abolish (System of) Ignoble Peoples.” In other words, it was simply a repealing of the class system as such and was not based in any concept of human rights and justice. Doing away with the feudal system, promoting industrialization and establishing things such as private ownership of property and a universal tax system meant that the old system of enforced class identity (including rules of where people could live) could no longer be maintained. Thus, ending the caste system was simply a matter of expediency. The term “kaihōrei” was first applied to the ending of the feudal caste system during the Taishō Era (1912-1926) as a part of “revisionist history.” The spin being put on it at that time was that the kind of discrimination going on in the Edo period was in reality against the will of the emperor, and so it was out of the great magnanimity of the emperor that these outcastes had been emancipated. Given these facts, one wonders why the term “kaihōrei” is still used to refer to this.

Similar to the continued discrimination faced by freed slaves in the US and elsewhere, the “shinheimin” (“new commoners”) as they called themselves, continued to face the same severe discrimination, and in fact, found themselves in some sense in even worse straits that before, as what few prerogatives they had under the old system were also taken away. Previously, their lands had not been taxed in deference to their existence “outside the system.” That was, of course, a burden they would have gladly borne if they had simply been accepted as equals in the general society. But centuries of being thought of as less than human and undeserving of equal treatment were so deeply ingrained in the public psyche that it was not something that could simply disappear overnight.

Obviously, the more than 130 years that have transpired since then are far more than “overnight,” and so we need to consider why it is that remnants of this discriminatory system still remain. Before proceeding to that subject, however, one other historical note of importance is what happened to the “hinin” as a result of the ending of the caste system. Unlike the “eta,” the “hinin,” for the most part, were quarantined in what were considered public lands, and so in one sense, their treatment was even more unfair. The “new commoners” at least ended up with the newly produced deeds to the plots of land they had lived on, but the “public” land on which the “hinin” had been forced to live was not deeded to them. In the long run, however, this may have worked to their advantage – at least that of their descendants, anyway – since their existence as a separate group, along with the discrimination that went along with it, has for the most part simply faded away.

There are exceptions to this, of course, as can be seen in the treatment of those with Hansen’s disease. Prior to the development of effective treatment of this communicable disease, the need to prevent its spread by taking steps to quarantine victims in colonies is understandable – even though the deplorable violations of human rights still deserve condemnation. However, with the development of effective medications from the 1940’s, any need to quarantine such people disappeared. Nevertheless, it was not until 1996 than Japan finally repealed this system of forced isolation in “leprosaria.” Again, it would seem, basic worldview beliefs are behind this. While perhaps not exactly the same as the “kegarekan” (feeling of defilement) that was the basis for such discrimination in ancient times, the related concept of excluding and marginalizing those who are different has remained strong in Japanese society.

Returning to the situation of the Meiji Era, the former outcaste groups found life very difficult. They now, however, had the freedom (in principle at least) to try to escape the poverty and discrimination they faced. Many of them jumped at the opportunity to leave Japan to work in other countries. Most of these early migrant workers were planning on saving up money they earned abroad and eventually returning to Japan, but many ended up staying, and some planned to emigrate from the beginning to escape the oppression they had endured for so long. In the late 1800’s and into the 1930’s, many thousands of Japanese immigrants settled in countries such as the United States, Brazil and Peru. No records exist that indicate what percentage of these people came from former “eta” and “hinin” backgrounds, but certainly a large percentage did.

On the home front, after the Meiji Restoration, the Meiji government proceeded with the plans to lay claim to the northern islands by encouraging settlement. However, since the caste system had been done away with, the original idea of “cleansing the eta” and sending them up as the forerunners was no longer part of the plan. In fact, the Meiji government decided to discourage large numbers of former “eta” from settling in Hokkaidō, wanting to keep that figure below 10%. So, while official discrimination was supposed to be ended, in reality it continued in numerous unofficial (or in this case, quasi-official) ways.

The Struggle Continues
Much remains to be discussed about the history of buraku discrimination since the ending of the official caste system at the beginning of the Meiji Era. Why hasn’t such overt discrimination based solely on one’s ancient family heritage simply disappeared with the passage of several generations? In ancient times, buraku areas were located away from the main population areas, but as cities and towns expanded, these buraku were often surrounded by newer developments. Prior to government efforts to upgrade the infrastructure of former buraku areas in the 1960’s and 1970’s, these areas were very poor and underdeveloped, and that easily contrasted with the much superior infrastructure in the neighboring non-buraku areas. Likewise, because most people of buraku background were poor and did not have equal education opportunities, their advancement was further retarded.

The national and local governments have made attempts to rectify the situation thru redevelopment projects, affirmative action programs in employment, and anti-discriminatory education in schools, but since many of the officials administrating these programs themselves had deep-seated prejudices against burakumin, the results have been less than satisfying. Not unlike the plight of many blacks in the American context, these programs have even inspired numerous complaints of “reverse discrimination,” merely adding to the common misperception of these people being “different.” Being of buraku descent is still perceived in a very negative light by many Japanese. They may give lip-service to being against discrimination, but when, for instance, it comes to their child wanting to get married to a person of buraku descent, there is a knee-jerk reaction against that. Suddenly, fear of what one’s relatives might think overrides superficial pledges to equality, and great pressure is put on the young person to break off the engagement. Likewise, many private companies still want to avoid hiring people of buraku descent just “to play it safe,” since they’re afraid of potentially negative reactions from customers not wanting to associate with one of “those people.”

Thus, while gradually getting less common, these forms of discrimination still persist, and thus the work of the Buraku Liberation Center and other organizations working to end such discrimination will continue to be necessary for the foreseeable future.


Ed's note: Tim Boyle was a founding member of the Alien Times in 1987, which was shortly after his arrival in Tsukuba, and he was managing editor until September 2007, when he moved down to the Osaka area to take up his new position at the "Buraku Liberation Center", an agency of the United Church of Christ in Japan that works on human rights issues, particularly in relation to the continued discrimination against the descendants of the former outcastes of ancient Japanese feudal society.

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Filed under: Culture, People 2 Comments
10Dec/08Off

A Celestial Bridge for the Gods of Mt Tsukuba

The first thing I usually do when I manage to get up in the morning is have a look out of the small window which faces north out of my bedroom. Doing so actually gives me the illusion that there is nothing but NATURE between my house and Mt Tsukuba, as still undeveloped wildlands and woods stretch out for a kilometer or two (obscuring any signs of civilization which lay behind them) with the familiar, semi-crushed M figure of the mountain looming large over the tree-tops. In this way, I can observe and enjoy the subtle changes which unfold EVERY DAY, as certain plants fade away and others take their place.

Yesterday as I pulled back the curtain, I expected to have a further look at Tsukuba's descent into the dried out browns and straw yellows of December. Instead, what I saw had me calling out "Come quick, and look!" Just then the phone rang. It was a friend saying, "Look towards the mountain! It's a rainbow!" After saying thanks (for telling me what I had already known), the phone rang again, with the same news! Surely, few natural phenomena can bring such a thrill!

We savoured the spectacle for the few minutes that it lasted, and I then set out for work with the feeling that this would be a special day. I also couldn't stop thinking about rainbows, or as they are called in Japanese NIJI (虹), and how until modern science came along to finally (and de-mystifyingly) explain their occurrence, they were the true stuff of myth, with the various cultures and religions of the world each offering their own unique answer to the question: Why are there rainbows?

The Japanese traditionally associate rainbows with bridges (now you know why the famous Rainbow Bridge is so named ). In the KOJIKI, Japan's oldest (8th century) surviving text which recounts its creation myths in an archaic Sino-Japanese, we are told of how the Gods brought into existence a divine couple (Izanagi no Mikoto and Izanami no Mikoto) who were called upon to create the LAND. For this they used a special rod called a HOKO (this is what the long poles featured on the floats of the famous festival in Kyoto are called) with which they stirred the sea while standing on a heavenly bridge called AME NO UKI HASHI, thus creating Terra-Firma. This celestial bridge was interpreted as being a rainbow.

Thus the scene of a rainbow over Mt. Tsukuba has special significance, as its twin peaks are where Izanagi and Izanami are enshrined.

I have not found any evidence for this yet, but think about all the old bridges you've seen at shrines around Japan. In fact have a look at any of the bridges shown in old wood-block prints. They are arc shaped, like rainbows.

Rainbows can be seen any time of year, but in Japan are most likely to appear in the summer rainy season.

As you can imagine, there are numerous poems (dating back to the MANYOSHU) which try to capture the WONDER that one senses when seeing these tantalizingly ephemeral colored arches.

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11Jun/09Off

A Climb To The Top Of Tsukuba`s Little Mt. Fuji (23 steps high) Sheds Light On Local Edo Period Dispute Resolution Processes, Folk Beliefs, And The Origin Of The Place Name SENGEN (千現 )

Sengen-Zuka ( 千現塚), Tsukuba`s Little Mt Fuji

Sengen-Zuka ( 千現塚), Tsukuba`s Little Mt Fuji

Tsukuba`s Sengen (千現) District is not only a conveniently located upscale residential neighborhood (within easy reach of both the TX rail and JR Highway Bus Stations), but it is also home to an internationally renowned research institute (NIMS) and a major facility for Japan`s Space Agency, JAXSA ( I should also mention the presence of the tastefully appointed  flower shop- Blomster Anna ). Thus, I guess it could be said that this makes SENGEN one of the more prestigious and sought after addresses in Tsukuba City. The other day, while walking through that part of town, I made a fascinating discovery which revealed how EVEN IN PAST AGES , when the area that is now called SENGEN was  still mostly MARSHLAND,  it had been a coveted piece of real estate  which was vied for, and fought over by local residents, who at that time (The Edo Period 1600-1868) happened to belong to different clans . I got to know this , and plenty of other fascinating things as well, by stumbling upon a wooded mound, which I learned had  been dubbed - Tsukuba`s Mt. Fuji- atop of which stands a large slab upon which its tale has been inscribed.

The Stairs Leading Up The SENGEN-ZUKA (千現塚), Tsukuba`s Mt Fuji

The Stairs Leading Up The SENGEN-ZUKA (千現塚), Tsukuba`s Mt Fuji

 Before telling you the details of the history I found etched into the stone, let me first explain how I stumbled upon it, because some of the scenery I found along the route which brought me there bears great significance ( I realized later) to the tale which I will tell.

On a beautiful early summer day, I was in the Ninomiya neighborhood of Tsukuba, and  had a couple of hours to spare before an appointment a few Kilometers away in Takezono (another of Tsukuba`s neighborhoods). Instead of taking the bus, as I would have done if I had been more pressed for time, I decided to stroll around Doho Park and try to catch a glimpse of  some of the kingfishers ( kawasemi) which can often be seen on the western edge of the park`s pond, and then walk to Takezono.

The pond at Doho Park , still thick with reeds and other marsh vegetation on its eastern edge, is a remnant of an extensive system of marshes and woods which once existed in the area upon which The Tsukuba Science City was eventually built. These marshlands ran pretty much on a North-South axis, with the Oto-Numa Marsh (which still exists) demarcating its southern limit, and the grounds of what is now KEK (The High Energy Physics Laboratory), which had once been a big marsh,  near the systems northern edge. We can still find reed filled ponds within the precincts of The Space Center, Sanso-Ken ( NIAS), The Meteorological Research Institiute,  Matsumi Park, Tsukuba University, etc., and these are all aligned along the same axis (now sandwiched between Nishi-Odori and Higashi-Odori, major boulevards which run paralel to each other), and they are a testament to what Central Tsukuba was like in past ages.

Remnants Of Tsukuba`s Marshlands

Remnants Of Tsukuba`s Marshlands

I walked around the Doho Park pond and then headed off towards Takezono. I passed through the Sengen neighborhood, dropped in at the flower shop, and then crossed Higashi-Odori (at the interesection near the Chin-Rai Ramen Shop) and entered into the Kurakake section of Tsukuba City, which has until now been relatively free of modern development. After 50 meters or so down the road, just passed a graveyard, there was a little hill, crowned by a big, old cherry tree. If I had been in a car or on bicycle, I probably would have just kept going (as I had, many time before on this road) and not found anything. But as I was on foot, I noticed a staircase, just barely visible from the road, which led up the hill. I then proceeded to skamper up the 23 steps to the top.

The Story Of The SENGEN-ZUKA

The Story Of The SENGEN-ZUKA

There, the land had been flattened out creating a tiny hilltop plateau. Directly in front of me, in the shadow of the big cherry tree, stood two low, squat, stone monuments, one of quite recent make, and the other, so old that it had been severely mis-shapen after years (centuries?) of exposure to the elements. On the newer stone, inscribed with perfect clarity, were the characters reading: FUJISAN (MT. Fuji). A careful examination of the older stone, also revealed, (after finding the angle at which the light hit the stones surface in just the right way), the same characters.

 As I straightened myself up and turned to the right, I found myself face to face with a large gray stone slab , which stood much taller than the average person. At the top it read- SENGEN-ZUKA YURAI (千現塚由来), which means: The Origin of The Sengen Mound. Here ( in summary) is the story the stone tells:

In the year 1690, there was a land dispute between two villages. One was Onozaki, part of the Yatabe Clan`s holdings (lying to the west of the marshlands) and the other was Kurakake, then part of the the Tsuchiura Clan`s Territory. Each village claimed the marshland as its own. At that time the resources of the marshes, reeds, thatch and other grasses were of great value for the villagers  for use as roofing, and animal fodder, and also for making various objects for everyday life. The two villages took the dispute to court. In an effort to ensure victory in the suit, certain Kurakake villagers travelled to the foot of Mt Fuji, to the Sengen Shrine (浅間神社) to appeal for intervention. 

A New Stone Reading- Mt Fuji, Beside A Much Older Stone With The Same Inscription

A New Stone Reading- Mt Fuji, Beside A Much Older Stone With The Same Inscription

In 1697 the Shogunate`s officials made a decision in favor of Kurakake. In thanks to the God for helping to make the vilagers prayers come true, a mound was constructed which offered a view of Mt. Fuji, and the Goddess of the Sengen Jinja was enshrined there. Thereafter it become a focus of worship for the people. Erected 1979.

Now this story is interesting at many levels. First, The Japanese now pride themselves on having a society with very few lawyers, and in which LITIGATION is unusual. It is surprising to find that more than 300 years ago, traditional hamlets in this area resorted to lengthy( 7 years), and probably very expensive legal maneuvering (just think of the cost in bribes alone!).

Then there is the matter of  Mt. Fuji Worship, a religious sect (FUJI-SHINKO) which actually came into being  in Nagasaki (quite a distance from the mountain itself !) between the years 1532 and 1553) . This sect focused on pilgrimages to Mt Fuji and asceticisms in the caves and lava tubes around the mountain. During the Edo Period (1600-1868), the popularity of this sect spread among the people (especially in and around the capital, Edo). To this day when climbing mt Fuji, you might come across devotees of the sect, clad in wera pilgrim-wear , while walking keep up a continuous chant of ROKKON SHOJO ROKKON SHOJO. The little Fuji Mound in Tsukuba, was a  place where people could not actually make it to the REAL MOUNTAIN could make a SYMBOLIC visit. It also intersting to note that there is a big cherry tree on the Fuji Mound. This is not the work of chance. You see, the Goddess of  Mt Fuji,  KONOHANA SAKKUYA HIME. is also the Goddess of Cherry Blossoms in Full Bloom ( and by extension, the Goddess of Mortality, as cherry blossoms quickly fade away after blooming).

This Goddess is also appealed to for families who want children, and for pregnant women`s easy delivery. The reason for this is that according  to japanese mythology, KONOHANA SAKKUYA HIME was inpregnated after spending just one night with her huband, NINIGI NO MIKOTO, who became extemely suspicious. Thinking that the child must be from another man (or God, should I say), NINIGI set fire to the hut is which his wife was giving birth. Miraculously, mother and child were unscathed. This naturally makes theisGoddess an obvious choice as a  deity to appeal to for conception or easy delivery.

Then we have the matter of the place name SENGEN. It was only natural for the villagers, as a way of expressing their appreciation, to name the piece of land that they had won in the suit after the God which had give them that little extra edge. Now the characters used for this neighborhood have changed to 千現, so unless one knows the obscure bit of history inscribed on the slab, it would not be possible to guess at the origin of the place name. Also, the characters for the SENGEN SHRINE ( 浅間神社), are often misread even by Japanese, as ASAMA JINJA. Thus, few people who read the slab would make the connection between the story of the mound and the name of the neighborhood which lies just across the road.

Well now you know!

And if you are thinking about climbing the real Mt Fuji this summer, but are PUT OFF by all the effort and SUFFERING that this would involve, you might want to consider conquering Tsukuba`s little Mt Fuji instead. You can do it in just 23 easy steps!

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