The study of history is the best medicine for a sick mind; for in history you have a record of the infinite variety of human experience plainly set out for all to see; and in that record you can find for yourself and your country both examples and warnings; fine things to take as models, base things, rotten through and through, to avoid.
The author writes about why he believes that the Mongol invasions, which were so devastating and so unstoppable at first, stalled and then fell apart.
Bust of Ibn Khaldoun in the entrance of the Kasbah of Bejaia, Algeria. Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.
He cites a famous Islamic historian named Ibn Khaldun (1332 – 1406) who had examined past empires and nations and developed a concept called “Group Solidarity“. The idea is that when a group is united in purpose, they can accomplish a lot, but over generations people in that group gradually develop diverging purposes, and they lose group solidarity. By this point, they compete with one another, or even sabotage or openly fight one another.
In the early decades of the 13th century, when the Mongol hordes expanded to the West, they smashed countless kingdoms and empires carving an empire from China to Eastern Europe. Under Chingis Khan (a.k.a. Genghis Khan), they fought under a single banner, but after his death, the territory began to fracture. The north-western part of the Empire was bequeathed to Batu Khan (one of Genghis’s grandsons) as the new Golden Horde, while the southwestern part of the Empire became the Ilkhanate under Hülegü, another grandson of Genghis, and finally China founded a dynasty, the Yuan Dynasty, under Kublai, yet another grandson of Genghis, and so on.
In time, the Ilkhanate advancee stalled when they lost s small battle to the Egyptian Mamluks, then the Ilkhanate and the Golden Horde gradually started to clash with one another, Even within the Ilkhanate dynastic disputes meant that different factions of the Khanate family (and their noyan allies) fought with each other.
As Ibn Khaldun rightly explains, the Mongol nation had a strong sense of group solidarity in the early generations, but as the sense of solidarity faded, people began to think of their own interests, causing the empire to fracture. Each khan and vassal noyan was fabulously rich, and had plenty of land and wives, but they were not content, and kept looking out for their own interests.
Of course, it’s not hard to find other examples of this in history, both ancient and modern history. It’s a pattern we all know, but Ibn Khaldun gives it a name, and that’s important. It’s not hard to see the powers of today falling apart in when they too lose their group solidarity and each leading figure begins to think of their own self-interest.
Anyhow, I don’t know much about Islamic history, but I think Ibn Khaldun deserves recognition for his analysis of history, and for coining this pattern of human behavior that keeps shooting us in the foot over and over again.
P.S. been on family vacation this week, but I have more fun stuff coming next week and onward.
The Ramen Museum in Yokohama is a great way to spend an afternoon, and I have visited a couple times in recent years. I even bought the manga biography about Ando Momofuku (安藤 百福, 1910 – 2007), the creator of “instant ramen”:1
I’ve had a long fascination with instant ramen, and with Ando Momofuku. As a poor kid with a single mom, we ate a lot of “Top Ramen” when times were tough. To be honest, I loved it. I would cook my ramen with an egg, and some frozen peas. In college, my roommate would cook with spam (salty, but tasty).
The story of Ando Momofuku and of instant ramen is pretty interesting. Momofuku was born in Taiwan, at a time when it was still part of the Empire of Japan (1895 – 1945), and thus while he is Taiwanese Chinese, he was also a Japanese citizen. He was born into a merchant family, and from an early age showed an aptitude for business. He took part in knitted textiles (meriyasu in Japanese, メリヤス), and in time was able to expand his business into Osaka since it all belonged to the same empire. From Osaka, the business grew, but then WWII came and many resources were increasingly rationed. His factory was destroyed in the air raids.
Rice production was carefully rationed as the war turned against Japan, and after the war, food supplies were still very limited. During the postwar period, people ate a lot soba noodles and ramen, since they are not made from rice. Ando Momofuku started a partnership business, but this collapsed due to some sketchy financial schemes, and he was jailed for a couple years due to tax evasion (supposedly helping provide scholarships for local students). Bankrupt, but inspired by the idea of making ramen noodles more accessible, he learned how to make ramen, and how to make it more portable and easier cook.
After considerable trial and error, he determined that flash-frying ramen noodles dries them out in a way that’s easy to rehydrate later with hot water. Thus, by August 25th 1958, the first instant ramen was made. Momofuku’s new company, Nissin Foods (Nisshin Shokuhin in Japanese, 日清食品) quickly sold the instant ramen to great success.
Early examples of “Chicken Ramen” sold in 1958, courtesy of the Cup Ramen Museum in Yokohama. Taken by me in 2023.
The “cup style” ramen came later in the 1970’s after Nissin realized that people outside of Asia didn’t eat ramen the traditional way (ramen bowls, chopsticks, etc). After some research, a styrofoam cup was invented, and carefully engineered to keep the brittle noodles safe from crumbling, and also keep the sauce and seasoning together. This allowed people to simply add water, and eat from a fork.
Examples of both packaged “top ramen” and “cup ramen” from the 1990s. Taken at the Cup Ramen Museum in Yokohama.
One of the things, in my opinion, that makes Ando Momofuku more than just a clever businessman is that as the instant ramen business succeeded, and copycat products flooded the market, Momofuku didn’t punish other companies, but instead started a industry-wide standard for instant ramen, and sold licenses to others companies to ensure consistent quality. For Momofuku, the most important thing was that instant ramen help contribute to food availability, and not just pure profit.
Starting with the Great Hanshin Earthquake in 1995, Nissin was responsible for distributing food aid to many sites around the world, and Momofuku often famously said the phrase 食足世界 (shoku tarite yo wa taira ka) which means something like “if there’s enough food, the world will be at peace”.
Speaking as a poor white kid in the 80’s and 90’s, I am grateful to Ando Momofuku for his innovation, and for his commitment to humanity. 🍜
My designed cup at the Cup Ramen Museum in Yokohama. Reads “thank you Ando Momofuku” with my poor handwriting. Taken in 2023.
1 I am using Asian-style naming convention, so family name then given name. Thus, Ando Momofuku’s family name is Ando, which he adopted from his Japanese wife, and his personal name is Momofuku. This is a Japanese name, not his family birth name. In his native Taiwanese-Chinese (aka Hokkien), his name was Go Pek-Hok (吳百福). Taiwanese Pek-Hok (百福) is read as “Momofuku” in Japanese. I want to do a side-post about Hokkien language sometime because I realize lately that it’s pretty underrated but influential, but research will take time.
Another Roman history nerd moment, if you will indulge me….
By 45 BCE, Gaius Julius Caesar (aka Julius Caesar) had defeated his rival Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus (aka Pompey the Great) in a lengthy civil war and returned to Rome.
From here, Julius Caesar kept pushing the limits of power, with no one pushing back, inching closer and closer to a king. Special thanks to Historia Civilis for these fun, awesome history videos:
His power grab was crass and violated centuries of tradition and laws, yet the Senate was packed with loyalists who just went along with it for personal gain, while opposition was uncoordinated and ineffective (special nod to Tribune of the Plebs, Pontius Aquila, though).
Even after Caesar’s demise, nothing really got better.
Instead, the facade of government was no longer there and lacked any real legitimacy, so men just grabbed power.
In time the Second Triumvirate (aka “rule by three men”) formed under:
Through a combination of purges, rivals were eliminated until eventually the Triumvirate turned on one another with only Octavian left standing.
Contrary to popular belief, the Roman Senate and other functions of state continued to exist. The res publica that is Rome never stopped being the res publica until 1453 CE with the Fall of Constantinople. Octavian didn’t even declare himself Emperor. He adopted the title princeps (“first among many”) as the leader of the Senate.
However, real power rested with Octavian and his descendants, the Julio-Claudian dynasty, and the Senate just kept getting weaker and weaker over the generations until by the time of the Eastern Romans (aka the Byzantines), it was pretty much ceremonial: honorific titles to confer on allied and friends. Even the title princeps kept going until Diocletian in the third century dropped the act and just called himself Emperor.
Speaking of the Eastern Romans, the line of Emperors continuing all the way to Konstatinos (“Constatine”) XI Palailogos in 1453 had its ups and downs. During a time of succession crisis, someone would once again fill the power vacuum and rule with blatant power, rather than legitimate rule. Emperor Konstatinos VII Porphyrogenitus in the 10th century had legitimacy, but he practically did nothing because his father-in-law Romanos Lekapenos held real power, and just propped his son-in-law up for legitimacy. Centuries later, when Constantinople was on the brink, Ioannes (“John VI”) Kantakouzenos in the late 13th launched a civil, and hired tons of Turkish mercenaries to fight for him. Needless say these, these Ottoman Turks didn’t leave, and, the Eastern Romans lasted only another 100 years.
This, by the way, is not limited to Western political history. In fact, centuries before the Roman Republic, if you look the famous Spring and Autumn Period in Chinese history, you see many examples of this too. Local nobility gradually morphed into warlords as the central Zhou (pronounced “Joe”) Dynasty lost its central grip on power. Kǒngzǐ (aka “Confucius”), living generations later when the system has practically collapsed, laments how local warlords perform religious rites that used to be accorded to the Emperor, and not someone of their station. These were gross power grabs, and Confucius criticized their lack of propriety and respect for the traditions and rites of the times.
Why do I mention all this?
It seems there is a pattern in history and politics than when governments are weak, someone with ambition fills the vacuum and just pushes things over. Such strongmen rule with power, not laws. As Frank Herbert wrote in the Dune series:
“All governments suffer a recurring problem: Power attracts pathological personalities. It is not that power corrupts but that it is magnetic to the corruptible.”
Frank Herbert, Chapterhouse: Dune
Going all the way back to Pompey the Great, there is a famous quote attributed to him by Plutarch which in Greek said:1
‘οὐ παύσεσθε,’ εἶπεν, ‘ἡμῖν ὑπεζωσμένοις ξίφη νόμους ἀναγινώσκοντες;’ “…at which Pompey said: “Cease quoting laws to us that have swords girt about us!””
This quote has been on my mind a lot lately, and is what spurred this lengthy diatribe, I suppose.
Laws and rules are only effective when people respect them. When people stop respecting them, they cease to be effective. In such times, political principles and theory hardly matter anymore. Power becomes the only true constant.
And of course, as we all know, power is a fickle thing, and easilylost.
As this weekend approaches, I was looking up some quotes from past writers in antiquity looking for inspiration, and I finally settled on this one.
Sometimes life feels pretty terrible, and hopeless. But I like how this quote from the ancient Taoist text, the Dao De Jing (Tao Te Ching in some spellings), reminds us that even a powerful hurricane doesn’t blowforever.
At difficult times, I like reading this old post. Not to sound vain, but it is my personal favorite.
I’ve been sitting on this post for a little while, trying to decide how best to put things into words. I don’t like delving into contemporary issues, or politics. But it’s hard to ignore the many problems going on right now.
In particular, I keep thinking about the above quote, and the related Ship of Theseus for us Westerners. Even in peaceful times, it’s hard not to look back and see how things have changed, and won’t go back to the way things were before. Even more so in dramatic times.
But this year, I feel we’ve definitely crossed some kind of threshold, not just in a nostalgic sense.
Even after the Roman general Sulla retired in 78 BCE as dictator, the Roman Republic didn’t carry on as it did before. Instead, rapid decline continued as other men such as Cicero, Pompey, Caesar, and Augustus seized on the precedent to push their own vision of rulership. If one powerful man can break precedent, then what’s to stop others from doing the same?
Of course, this decline of the Republic1 had other precedents too. Bit by bit, across generations, things changed and the effects weren’t always clear until too late. Sulla opposed the populist, reformist Gracchi brothers, and the Gracchi Brothers in turn were opposed to increased centralization of land-wealth, which in turn had been caused by Rome’s increasing power and influence across the Italian Peninsula, etc, etc. Where one issue begins and another ends is hard to fathom. Instead, bit by bit, like the wooden planks on the Ship of Theseus, small changes gradually add up until something is no longer recognizable.
If we look at other societies, such as the fall of Heian Period aristocracy in 12th century Japan, it is the same thing: small changesbuiltup, followed by a dramatic shift in power, and then the aristocracy was then permanently diminished in power, replaced by military governments. Once the threshold was crossed, it was never the same, and that’s why the author of the Hojoki wrote what he did.
“How did you go bankrupt?” “Two ways. Gradually, then suddenly.”
Ernest Hemingway, The Sun Also Rises
Thus, here I sit, an armchair philosopher watching everything I took for granted in my youth change around me, often abruptly, until it’s no longer recognizable. I don’t know how things will resolve, though somehow they will. Yet, countless changes that will only make sense in hindsight have led to this moment in history that I am forced to live in, and I have to accept that in a sense it’s already over.
1 Technically speaking, the Republic (a.k.a. res publica in Latin, or politeia in Greek) never ended until 1453 with the fall of Constantinople. The way that modern historians define a republic is different than how Romans thought of it. The imperial era from Augustus onward was still seen as the res publica/politeia, it just gradually changed and evolved … like the Ship of Theseus … from one system of administration or another. But Romans never really viewed a “break” between the senatorial style of government and the later imperial one as a change in historical period.
This post is part four of four exploring the Ikko-Ikki Rebellions in 15th and 16th century Japan. You can find part one, part two and part three here.
The Ikko-Ikki Rebellions are remarkable as being the one time in pre-modern Japanese history where a peasant uprising not only succeeded, but successfully carved out a region of Japan that was ruled by the masses, and not by military samurai, nor the old aristocracy from Kyoto. The binding influence of the uprising was a strong affinity to a certain Buddhist sect, the Jodo Shinshu (浄土真宗, “True Pure Land Sect”), but there was more to the ikko-Ikki than a “rebel cult” as some labeled them.
Information in English about the Ikko-Ikki is sparse, and often misinformed. I am happy though to have obtained a copy of Dr Carol Tsang’s excellent book War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (publisher link), covers the Ikko-Ikki, who they were, and their relation to the Jodo Shinshu sect. It’s been a fascinating read even for an old “history nerd” like myself.
This is the final part of this series. I wanted to go into more depth on some parts, but I wanted to keep a good, easy pace, so summarized some parts a little, while focusing on others. The history Ikko-Ikki was far more extensive and complicated than I expected originally, and I didn’t want to turn this into an eight part series. 😙
If you want to know, please Dr Carol Tsang’s good. It’s quite a good read.
Simmering Tensions after 1488
The defeat of Togashi Masachika in 1488 by a coalition of rebellious retainers and ikko-ikki armies of Jodo Shinshu-sect followers was a watershed for the rebellions, but things settled for a time in a tense balance of powers in the province of Kaga. This balance of powers meant that there was no sole ruler of Kaga, and whenever trouble arose, the central Shogunate authorities had to rely on whomever might be able to help settle a dispute locally. Sometimes ikko-ikki were enlisted to help keep the peace, other times, local samurai were tasked with defeating an ikko-ikki army.
As stated in part three the reputation of Rennyo, the 8th Caretaker of the Honganji Mausoleum, suffered even though he was not part of the rebellions, and was not even in the province. By 1489, he resigned as Caretaker (monshu, 門主) and Rennyo spent his final years proselytizing while his son Jitsunyo (実如, 1458 – 1525) carried on as the 9th Caretaker. Rennyo passed away at Yamashina Honganji temple in 1499.
Dr Tsang shows that Jitsunyo was pretty quiet and conservative for his first decade as Caretaker, carefully compiling Rennyo’s notes and letters, maintaining his reforms to liturgy and so on. Primarily ecclesiastical affairs, in other words.
Then 1506 happened.
Uprisings and Crackdowns
Without getting too embroiled in politics at the time, let me summarize. The Ashikaga shogunate by 1506 was getting weaker and weaker after the Onin War, and their deputy shoguns, the Hosokawa and Hatakeyama clans, were increasingly manipulating the succession process for the Ashikaga.1 This led to disputes by other retainers, and a power struggle increasingly spilled over to the provinces.
Jitsunyo, the ninth Caretaker (monshu, 門主) of the Honganji was forcefully approached by deputy-shogun Hosokawa Masamoto who strong-armed Jitsunyo (literally) to lend him ikko-ikki troops to help his cause. Jitsunyo refused saying he was only a peaceful monk, and tried to escape Masamoto, but Masamoto caught up to him and he finally relented.
It’s noteworthy that this was the first time in Jodo Shinshu history that the monshu directly ordered his followers to battle (even if hesitatingly), but it set the pattern for the next few generations.
This also proved to be a huge problems for the Ikko-ikki . Different Jodo Shinshu communities owed allegiance to members of the Hatakeyama, others the Hosokawa. Some refused Jitsunyo, others came flocking to his banner, but in the end, enough Ikko-ikki came to Masamoto’s assistance to turn the tide of battle. This also set a pattern that continued in later generations when Jitsunyo’s grandson Shōnyo (証如, 1516 – 1554)2 became the tenth monshu.
The Tenbun War
Unlike Jitsunyo, Shōnyo was much less hesitant to mobilize Jodo Shinshu followers into fighting forces to accomplish aims. During a civil between temples in Kaga province in 1531, Dai-shō (大小) Ikki War, Shōnyo decisively defeated the rebel temples and their armies, reasserting Honganji control.
The following year, the Tenbun War (天分の乱, 1532-1536) involved yet another generation of Hosokawa clan members fighting for control of Japan, and Shōnyo actively helped Hosokawa Harumoto (Masamoto’s grandson). The Honganji armies carried the day with Ikko-ikki members turning their wrath on Kōfukuji Temple and burning it down, while also looting Kasuga Shrine next door. This really shocked the establishment.
In the constantly switching alliances of the time, Harumoto turned on them and enlisted NichirenIkki for help. Yes, Nichiren Buddhism had it’s own ikki societes, that destroyed Yamashina Honganji in 1532, and briefly administered the capitol of Kyoto for a time. Despite the series of losses, the Honganji’s mobilization efforts meant that they were more firmly in control of Kaga Province and could muster future armies if needed.
Further, in other provinces, Jodo Shinshu temples in the Hongaji hierarchy created by Jitsunyo wielded considerable influence throughout Japan. Starting with Rennyo, many temples organized jinaichō (寺内町, “temple towns”) that were fortified and exempt from taxation to military authorities. Samurai were not even allowed in these towns, a policy called funyū (不入, “no entry”). This was a problem for local warlords who needed revenue, but also had to constantly deal with fortified temple towns in their own province. A young Tokugawa Ieyasu (future Shogun of Japan) had to contend with his local Ikko-ikki garrisons in order to assert dominance over his domain in the early 1560’s.
But finally, the Ikko-Ikki met their match. Sort of.
War with Oda Nobunaga and Downfall
(A screenshot of the classic strategy game Nobunaga’s Ambition (taken from Nintendo Switch). This shows the Kaga province in the hands of the “Honganji”, more correctly the Ikko-Ikki. Western kids like me who grew up playing this game had no idea who “Honganji” was. 😝)
For the last 100 years, the Ikko-Ikki had gradually grown from disparate, rag-tag bands of rebels to mass-armies mobilized by the Honganji (and its lineage of monshu Caretakers) that warlords would court for military favors. However, the Ikko-Ikki finally met their match with Oda Nobunaga (織田 信長, 1534 – 1582). Nobunaga, star of the Nintendo game Nobunaga’s Ambition (screenshot above), would briefly unify Japan by the 1580’s, but he did so through brutal warfare and centralizing power. This meant destroying any opposition: not just the Ikko-Ikki, but other religious powers such as the sohei warrior-monks of the Tendai Sect. There could be only one sun in the sky, and Nobunaga wanted tl be it.
Despite some initial friendly overtures by the 11th monshu Caretaker of the Honganji, Kennyo (顕如, 1543 – 1592), son of Shōnyo, Oda held a low opinion of the Honganji and it soon became clear that war was inevitable. The Honganji authorities rallied the Ikko-Ikki and fortified their position at temple complex of Ishiyama Honganji. According to one tradition, partially debunked by Dr Carol Tsang, the Ikko-Ikki by this era carried a banner that read:3
進者往生極楽 Advance and be reborn in the Pure Land 退者無間地獄 Retreat and be immediately reborn in Hell.
Nobunaga underestimated the Ikko-Ikki and sent a token force that was soon crushed. A similar, second attempt met the same fate. Finally, Nobunaga had enough and sent a much larger force, with his best generals, but the Ikko-Ikki were well-supplied and well-fortified. Thus began the 10-year long Siege of Ishiyama Honganji.
The end result of this massive and complicated siege was that eventually both sides tired, and ended in a truce, but the Honganji was definitely on the losing side of this truce. Nobunaga agreed to not execute its leadership, but the Honganji was totally burned down and later replaced with Osaka Castle. The Honganji also submitted to Nobunaga’s authority, though grudgingly. Some diehards tried to keep fighting but were destroyed.
Final Thoughts
Once Oda Nobunaga gained authority over all of Japan, the Ikko-Ikki as a phenomenon rapidly wound down and never appeared again. But, who were they?
The usual assumption in English was they they were religious fanatics, willing to die at the command of the monshu. And yet, Dr Tsang shows many examples where they disregarded the the monshu, and either didn’t fight, or sometimes they fight without the monshu’s approval. On the other hand, they had elements of millenarianism too: a deep desire not just to get better taxation, but as seen in Kaga province, to transform society.
Further complicating this was the widespread belief at the time that the monshu, in particular Shōnyo and Kennyo, did have the power to grant or deny rebirth in the Pure Land of Amida Buddha, vaguely similar to indulgences in medieval Christianity. Neither monshu promoted this idea, but they didn’t explicitly deny it either.
Thus, they were not just another peasant rebellion either. The shared religious identity that was Jodo Shinshu-sect Buddhism, in particular the Honganji lineage, gave them a sense of community that transcended the usual shifting alliances of the Warring States period. They weren’t just peasants either. Many urban merchants, artisans, rural jizamurai warriors, and others comprised the Ikko-Ikki in large numbers.
Were the rebellions a form of pre-modern democratic or Marxist revolution? No, they still submitted to authorities (secular and religious) and never reformed the local government in any way we would recognize as a democracy.
Thus, as Dr Tsang writes, the Ikko-Ikki defy easy explanation, but their impact on Japanese politics for the next few centuries, including how military authorities handled the arrival of Christian Europeans (i.e. zero-tolerance) and how the Edo Period reformed and brought all religious groups to heel, is undeniable.
P.S. posting this as a Friday bonus. Enjoy!
1 A pattern similar to previous eras of Japanese history, such as the Fujiwara manipulating the Imperial family, or the Hojo manipulating the succession of the Minamoto/Kamakura shoguns. Of course, this is not limited to Japanese history either, or even Asian history. Anytime there was a non-optimal family succession, it didn’t take long for retainers and advisors to weigh in…
2 Rennyo’s great-great-grandson, in other words.
3 The ikko-ikki at the Siege of Ishiyama did not carry this banner, but rather the allied Mōri clan in western Honshu, according to Dr Tsang.
Violence in reality is quite different from theory.
Spock, “The Cloud Minders” (s3ep21), stardate 5818.4
The fantastic history podcast, Grey History, had an episode covering a dark period of the French Revolution: the September Massacres of 1792. When I listened to this episode recently, I was struck by how barbaric and senseless the violence was. The people of Paris were gripped with paranoia and fear over the arrival of the Prussian army, and whipped themselves up into a frenzy which then unleashed itself on prisoners of Paris who were all assumed to be part of a counter-revolutionary conspiracy. The eyewitness accounts of the event were horrifying.
What led up to the September Massacres was, from my limited understanding, a kind of death-spiral of paranoia and factional fighting among the Revolutionaries. This paranoia had some basis, in that there were some French counter-revolutionaries, but most of it was just imagined conspiracies of “fifth column” elements in society that got more and more outrageous and dire. As different factions accused one another more and more of conspiracy with the counter-revolution the violent rhetoric ratcheted up until someone decided to take matters in their own hands….
Rhetoric is one thing but once the first blow lands, or the weapon is drawn, a point of no return is crossed and many will needlessly die.
“Trouble can be purchased cheaply, though the refund may be more than you can bear.”
Roger Zelazny, Creatures of Light and Darkness
You speak of courage. Obviously you do not know the difference between courage and foolhardiness. Always it is the brave ones who die, the soldiers.
Kor, the Klingon Commander, “Errand of Mercy”, (s1ep26), stardate 3201.7
In short, small comments can have lasting consequences. That’s why the Buddha taught that right speech should be timely, true, and worthwhile. If not, best to simply keep quiet.
Further, studies have shown that non-violent demonstrations are statistically more effective in bringing about social change.
So, while social justice is a worthy goal, the means of achieving it, and how one expresses dissastisfaction can have lasting effects.
This post is part three of three four exploring the Ikko Ikki. You can find part one and part two here. We have seen in part two Rennyo’s involvement in the rapidly growing Jodo Shinshu community, and how the seeds of conflict first began as a succession dispute between local samurai warlords. In this post we’ll see how things go off the rails…
The Ikko-Ikki rebellions are remarkable as being the one time in pre-modern Japanese history where a peasant uprising not only succeeded, but successfully carved out a region of Japan that was ruled by the masses, and not by military samurai, nor the old aristocracy from Kyoto. The binding influence of the uprising was a strong affinity to a certain Buddhist sect, the Jodo Shinshu (浄土真宗, “True Pure Land Sect”), but there was more to the Ikko-Ikki than a “rebel cult” as some labeled them.
Information in English about the Ikko-Ikki is sparse, and often misinformed. I am happy though to have obtained a copy of Dr Carol Tsang’s excellent book War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (publisher link), covers the Ikko Ikki, who they were, and their relation to the Jodo Shinshu sect. It’s been a fascinating read even for an old “history nerd” like myself.
Now on with the show…
Succession Crises and Retirement
The beginnings of organized conflict by the Ikko-Ikki began when the succession crisis between the Togashi brothers began in part two. As neither side could decisively destroy the other, and began to enlist more and more locals to help.
Masachika, as we saw previously, recruited from the Jodo Shinshu followers (a.k.a. the Honganji sect) of Yoshizaki, while his brother, Kōchiyo, recruited elements of the local rival Takada sect of Jodo Shinshu. Both communities formed ikki societies vowing to fight and help their preferred claimant to succeed.
Needless to say, in 1474 Masachika was ultimately victorious, but as Dr Carol Tsang notes, he did little to reward the Honganji ikko-ikki for their support. This did not go well with the Honganji followers. Dr Tsang shows that documents while somewhat scarce, and confusing, demonstrate how Honganji followers protested the ungrateful military rule, but were then brutally suppressed in 1475. It’s unclear if the uprising had any approval, let alone knowledge, by Rennyo the 8th Caretaker. There is evidence however, that his advisor Rensō had some involvement, and was expelled by the Honganji later. Being expelled or shunned by the sect was a virtual death-sentence for such a person because of the loss of community support.
Rennyo had worked hard to avoid a violent image to the Jodo Shinshu sect, yet the uprising in 1475 cemented the image of the ikko-Ikki as violent religious fanatics. Rennyo for his part left Yoshizaki that same year, reportedly under the cover of night, and travelled to nearby provinces such as the town of Deguchi in Kawachi Province, and then later returning to Ōmi Province of his youth at a place called Yamashina. By 1480 he settled at Yamashina and lodging was built there for him. Soon after a new Honganji temple, called Yamashina Honganji (official homepage here) was built and completed by 1483. It is noteworthy that this temple was designed to be militarily secure, with earthworks, moats and so on. Such where the times they lived in.
While this happened Rennyo chose his firstborn son by his second wife, Jitsunyo (実如, 1458-1525), as the next Caretaker of the mausoleum after his firstborn son (Junnyo) by his first wife had died that year. We will meet Jitsunyo again in a later post.
Overthrow
Meanwhile, after 1475 the ikko-ikki of Kaga Province not only rebelled and refused to send tax revenues, other neighboring communities started doing the same. In Etchū and Hida Provinces next door, refugees from the 1475 uprising had setup communities, and several uprisings are recorded at this time, though documents are pretty thin on what happened. The Honganji followers were able to resist crackdowns by samurai overlords because the local ikko-ikki groups formed powerful alliances that assisted one another in times of need. The sense of shared religious identity, plus religious belief they were only doing what was right, set them apart from other mundane peasant uprisings.
As the ikko-ikki groups took over and divided up territory amongst themselves, they took on increasing administrative responsibility, often county (gun 群) by county. Until the year 1530, these ikko-ikki groups did not answer to the Honganji, and acted semi-autonomously. One of these ikko-ikki might seize land from the landowners in Kyoto, another neighboring ikko-ikki might settle tax disputes between its landowner and local peasants. It was all over the map. The military establishment would sometimes lean on the Honganji leadership (i.e. Rennyo then later Caretakers) to exert pressure on these groups if needed, but otherwise the local ikko-ikki groups ruled as they pleased, independent of one another, sometimes they even threatened the Honganji for interfering. There was essentially no functional central authority in Kaga Province.
In any case, the conflict in Kaga came to a head by 1488, Togashi Masachika had burned enough bridges with supporters that they rose up and overthrew him. This included members of the Jodo Shinshu Honganji sect (ikko-ikki), but also his samurai retainers and other non-religious ikki groups. He was widely unpopular, and people had enough. Masachika had been away for a time helping the Ashikaga shoguns on a campaign (i.e. currying favor with the central authorities), when a full-blown rebellion erupted. Masachika, hurried home, but was besieged at Takao (高尾城, takōjō) Castle.1 Try as he might, Masachika was unable break the siege, and within days, Masachika’s remaining forces were overwhelmed and destroyed. Masachika was no more.
Once the dust settled, Masachika’s uncle, Togashi Yasutaka, was installed as the governor.
Dr Tsang explains that there are two noteworthy things about the downfall of Togashi Masachika:
The rebel army wasn’t comprised of peasants, but large section of the province’s population, from lowly social outcast communities (tanners and such), to Masachika’s own family and retainers. It wasn’t a “peasant rebellion”, but a broad coalition.
During the wars in 1473 and in 1488, the Ikko-Ikki played a major influence in deciding who would govern the province. This kind of popular sovereignty (or at least popular influence on sovereignty) had never really existed in Japan before. In the classical period (aka the Heian Period) it was a bureaucratic aristocracy. Under military rule of the Shoguns, it was a feudal system based on grants and titles. Now, for the first time lower class people in the province were actively weighing in on who should govern.
However, this was only the first phase of the Ikko-Ikki. As we’ll see in part four (yes, series keeps growing…), the ragtag groups would grow even stronger in later generations.
Aftermath
Something to note here is that Rennyo had very little to do with these uprisings in Kaga province. Although his proselytizing efforts greatly increased the popularity of Jodo Shinshu-sect Buddhism in the countryside, and in so doing, helped forge a common identity that allowed the ikko-ikki to form such large communities, he was never involved in these uprisings, and would find out about it later since he was in a different province. Further, when chastised by Rennyo, the ikko-ikki paid little heed. They were fed up, and going to rebel anyway. The genie was out of the bottle, in other words, and Rennyo couldn’t put it back.
Nevertheless, the central authorities in Kyoto didn’t see it that way. Rennyo took a lot of blame for his “unruly followers” and was pressured to write a letter castigating them for their actions. The letter did little to change the situation, and by 1489, Rennyo retired as the Caretaker of the Honganji mausoleum, allowing his son Jitsunyo to take over. It was an ignominious ending for someone who had otherwise made huge contributions to Jodo Shinshu Buddhism and Japanese Buddhism as a whole.
P.S. I couldn’t find any cool historical photos from this particular era. Historical documents and evidence seem to be pretty thin based on Dr Carol Tsang’s book, so there isn’t much media or art. There would be plenty of artwork depicting the Ikko-Ikki in later generations.
1 The castle is no more, but you can see photos of the park here. I am also a bit confused by the name as it should be read as Takao (高尾), but the pronunciation, as listed in Japanese sources is Takō. Call it a quirk of Japanese language, I guess.
Lately, I’ve been enjoying a fantastic history podcast called Grey History, covering the French Revolution in detail. While enjoying this show I started thinking about a famous peasant uprising in medieval Japanese history called the Ikko-Ikki rebellions of the 16th century.
The Ikko-Ikki rebellions are remarkable as being the one time in pre-modern Japanese history where a peasant uprising not only succeeded, but successfully carved out a region of Japan that was ruled by the masses, not by military samurai, nor the old aristocracy from Kyoto. The binding influence of the uprising was a strong affinity to a certain Buddhist sect, the Jodo Shinshu (浄土真宗, “True Pure Land Sect”), but there was more to the Ikko-Ikki than a “rebel cult” as some labeled them.
Information in English about the Ikko-Ikki is sparse, and often misinformed. I am happy though to have obtained a copy of Dr Carol Tsang’s excellent book War and Faith: Ikko Ikki in Late Muromachi Japan (publisher link), covers the Ikko Ikki, who they were, and their relation to the Jodo Shinshu sect. It’s been a fascinating read even for an old “history nerd” like myself.
This post is part two of three exploring the Ikko Ikki, of which part one is here. We can’t talk about the Ikko-Ikki until we cover the life of the 8th-generation Caretaker (monshu, 門主) of the Honganji mausoleum: Rennyo.
I originally intended to do only two posts, but as I wrote this one I realized there was too much interesting detail, and now it has split into three.
Enter Rennyo
As we saw in part one, Jodo Shinshu had somewhat unorthodox origins as a fully lay-oriented sect of Buddhism, through the work of Shinran in the 12th century. Shinran like many disciples of Honen, had been exiled and defrocked. Shinran took this in stride, married, and continued to spread the Pure Land Buddhist teachings he had learned from Honen to provincial people until we returned from exile and died in Kyoto.
His mausoleum (later called the Honganji temple) was managed by his descendants for generations. Like other families in medieval Japan (and other medieval societies), marriages by Shinran’s descendants were arranged to help benefit the family political, economically, etc. These descendants managed the mausoleum, while also building powerful alliances with samurai clans, or influential disciple families in the provinces. Some even married into the aristocracy in Kyoto. Shinran’s various disciples in the provinces went on to found various sects of Jodo Shinshu, while the Honganji remained significant, but not very influential.
By the time of the disastrous Onin War in the 15th century, Rennyo (蓮如, 1415–1499) had been born to the 7th generation caretaker Zonnyō (存如, 1396–1457).1 His mother was of unknown origin, but it is thought that she was a maidservant of Zonnyō, and thus politically risky. She was sent away, and Zonnyō married a woman named Nyoen from an influential family. Rennyo and his step mother did not get along well, and suffice to say, there was a succession struggle between him and Nyoen’s son, but Rennyo won out in the end thanks to the powerful Hino clan (the same clan that married into the reigning Ashikaga Shoguns). Rennyo had also, as per tradition in the family, spent time training at Kofukuji temple in Nara, and could claim some tenuous connections to the prestigious Fujiwara clan through the Kujō cadet branch.
As Jodo Shinshu grew in influence, problems between the community in his native province of Ōmi, near Kyoto, and the powerful Tendai sect arose. Ostensibly, this was due to perceived heresies by the Jodo Shinshu sect, but there’s plenty of evidence that the Tendai sect viewed the growth of Jodo Shinshu as an impact to their fiefdom revenue. Before long, armed conflict with the Tendai sects warrior-monks arose, and the Jodo Shinshu community suffered greatly. The community attempted to fight back, organizing defenses (a forerunner to later Ikko-Ikki armies), bribing the Tendai sect to back off, etc, but the Tendai persisted.
Ministry At Yoshizaki
Bronze statue of Rennyo at the remains of Yoshizaki Gobō temple. Photo by 藤谷良秀, courtesy of Wikipedia.
Rennyo decided it was safer for everyone involved for him to leave, and eventually he retreated to a remote village named Yoshizaki (吉崎) in the province of Echizen in the year 1471. Yoshizaki had a number of advantages, including a large, existent community of Jodo Shinshu followers, distance from Tendai-sect centers of power, and political remoteness, and yet it was on a coastal trade route so it was prosperous too. Soon a temple, now known as Yoshizaki Gobō (吉崎御坊) was founded the same year. The official website (Japanese only) for Yoshizaki Gobō has some neat photos and illustrations, though bear in mind that the original temple was destroyed 1506, and reconstructed centuries later.
It was here that Rennyo and his proselytizing work really took off.
For context, Shinran the founder (and Rennyo’s ancestor) had lived in exile in the eastern provinces and spent much time there teaching the Pure Land am faith as he understood it. Even after he was pardoned and returned to Kyoto in his final years, the communities out in the principles (i.e. his disciples) continued for generations, each in isolated pockets. These communities grew and diverged gradually, but were always more numerous and influential than the Honganji branch under Rennyo’s ancestors.
Thus, when Rennyo showed up, things were a little tense. A major regional sect was the Takada sect (shinshū takadaha, 真宗高田派) which still exists today. I spent a weekend trying to figure out how the Takada sect’s version of Jodo Shinshu differed from the Honganji sect, but couldn’t really find any “ah ha” moments. They both revere Shinran, both recite the nembutsu, both revere Amida Buddha, etc., so the differences feel like they are mostly administrative and liturgical. Jodo Shinshu without the Honganji, in other words. The question, it seems, was basically who had the final say on doctrinal matters.
Rennyo’s Letters
Rennyo was a very active letter writer and these letters (ofumi, 御文) were instrumental in helping to strengthen and clarify the message and build relationships with local communities. I’ve talked about the most famous letter, the Letter on White Ashes, before, but I can say with personal experience that Rennyo’s letters overall are quite good and helpful in clarifying Jodo Shinshu teachings. You can find a collection of them here. I highly recommend reading the letter On Pilgrimage in the Snow (number 6 in the link above).
Side note: these letters (formally called the gobunsho 御文書), were compiled by later generations and are now an important part of Jodo Shinshu liturgy. When my mother-in-law passed away, and we attended her first year memorial in Japan, our local priest (a family friend) recited the Letter on White Ashes, after we recited Shinran’s hymn, the Shoshinge. That’s how important they are. You can see an excellent example of this here on Youtube:2
Within years, Yoshizaki grew to a much larger community, and Rennyo clashed with other existing Jodo Shinshu sects, while also reforming liturgy and standardizing aspects of the faith. Much of these power struggles at the time had as much to do with politics as they did doctrine.
For example, the aforementioned Takada-sect was allied with one Togashi Kōchiyo warlord who was in a bitter feud with his brother Togashi Masachika. The battles for rulership of Echizen and Kaga provinces spilled over into Yoshizaki when the defeated Masachika showed up to recruit members and rebuild his forces. Thus a local ikkō-ikki was formed to assist him.
As we’ll see, this was only the beginning …
P.S. I posted this too early on accident. Please enjoy, and apologies for any typos.
1 random and useless factoid – Rennyo was alive during the final days of the Eastern Roman Empire, and roughly contemporary with its final ruler, Emperor Constantine XI Palaiologos. Of course, Japan and Constantinople didn’t really know of one another. Still, it’s weird to think how both historical events were going on roughly at the same time.
2 The language of the gobunsho letters feels archaic now to a native Japanese speaker (or a language nerd like me), but at the time, this was how people spoke, and thus it was very accessible compared to more formal texts that monks in monasteries wrote.
I wrote about visiting a couple major Zen temples in Kyoto last summer: Tenryuji and Kenninji, but I realized that I totally forgot to post photos from Kenninji Temple. Of the two, we liked Kenninji more, and I am excited to share some of the history and art of this temple.
Both temples belonged to the Five Mountains temple network of the Muromachi Period of Japanese history, so they were very elite temples of the Rinzai Zen sect. However, Kenninji, like many famous Buddhist temples, has burned down a number of time over the centuries, including the disastrous Onin War, and reconstructed again. Many of the structures today are relatively new, or were granted from nearby temples to help consolidate.
While Tenryuji is on the western outskirts of Kyoto, near the iconic Arashiyama district, Kenninji is in eastern Higashiyama district of Kyoto. The official website of Kenninji is here, but I don’t think there is an English version. There is a nice overhead visual tour of the temple from the official tourism channel here (close captioning does work):
Another aerial tour here:
In terms of size, Kennin-ji feels smaller than Tenryuji which had a large park around it. Kennin-ji is firmly inside a busy neighborhood in Kyoto, and thus tends to feel a bit more cramped at first. There is a soba shop next to Kenninji I highly recommend by the way, to the right of the abbot’s quarters near the back exit.
If you go through the main entrance, you’ll see this gate, which is normally closed, so you are supposed to walk around it toward the main building.
The same gate, but as seen from its left as you walk around…
The pathway takes you to a scenic building called the Hojo Teien (方丈庭園, “10-foot garden”?) which is apparently the former Abbot’s quarters,1 but now includes many scenic sites. The website includes a nice gallery of the different rooms, including some I forgot to photograph here.
Within the abbot’s quarters are a series of rooms where you can find galleries of famous works stored at Kennin-ji. One of the most famous of all are the Raijin and Fujin screens shown below (gold screens on the left) painted by the famous Tawaraya Sōtatsu (c. 1570 – c. 1640):
As well as various ink paintings called shōheki-ga (障壁画):
I know I’ve seen these paintings before in college, when I was taking a course on Japanese art, but unfortunately, I don’t have any information about them now. From what I can figure out, this painting was called the Chikurin-shichiken-zu (竹林七賢図), or the “Seven Sages of the Bamboo Forest“. It was painted by Kaiho Yusho (海北友松, 1533–1615) in his 60’s. The painting depicts seven sages famous of the Western Jin Dynasty of China, who retreated to a bamboo forest and engaged in a mixture of refined conversation, heavy drinking, and lively music. These bohemian Seven Sages are apparently subjects of other works of art at the time.
Also, as I was writing this, I also realized that the calligraphy in the back (second image) is a another work of art: it’s a highly stylized calligraphy of the words 風神 (fūjin, the wind god), and 雷神 (raijin, the thunder god) by Kanazawa Shoko (金澤翔子, 1985 – present) an artist with Down’s Syndrome. Pretty amazing.
Facing out from the abbot’s quarters, you can see a nice sand garden called the Dai-on-en (大雄苑):
The abbot’s quarters also surrounds another sculpted garden called the Cho-on-tei (潮音庭):
We also saw lotus paintings like these:
Finally, the quarters connects to an altar room which contains a gorgeous ceiling mural of two dragons overlooking an altar:
The mural was painted in 2002 to commemorate the 800th anniversary of the temple, by one Koizumi Junsaku (1924–2012), and the altar itself (shown at the bottom) depicts Shakyamuni Buddha, the historical founder of Buddhism, flanked by his disciples.
We picked up a lot of goods at Kenninji: my son liked the twin dragons, and got a pilgrimage book with that image on the cover, and my wife got an incense holder with the image of Raijin and Fujin (based on the gold screen above). I picked up a miniature copy of the Kannon Sutra which I think was meant as an omamori charm.2
As temples go, Kenninji was something we knew nothing about, but it was quite a treat to visit. Foreigners who visit famous temples in Japan often remark that Buddhism feels like a museum piece, and while it is true that the Five Mountains temple system in Japan (including Kenninji and Tenryuji) is somewhat defunct now, it was clear that people really still cared about these temples, but it’s not always in ways obvious to Westerners.2 That said, Kenninji looks like a well-loved temple, and a credit to the Rinzai Zen tradition and it’s flowering culture of the era.
1 Apparently, 方丈庭園 was a common, poetic term used for major temples that had a scenic abbot’s quarters like the one showed above. Chion-in was another such example.
2 Language barrier is a big part of this, plus various unrealistic expectations that Western Buddhists have of what they expect temples to be like in Asia, compared to how people who grew up Buddhist practice. But that’s a story for another rant…
Gleanings in Buddha-Fields 
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