This episode we are entering an era jam-packed with stories and information, and so this episode we are going to start off with just an overview so that we have somewhere to mentally hang the stories that we are going to go into more depth on.

That said, not a lot in this blog post other than the kaname ishi. Above we have the kaname ishi from Kashima and below is the kaname ishi of Katori shrine. I find these intriguing as the two shrines are linked in a number of ways. Futsunushi is seen together with Takemikazuchi in the ancient stories, and both of them are related to the Nakatomi and Fujiwara families in some way, shape, or form. They are only a relatively short distance from each other as well. Finally, both are considered martial shrines, and the ichi no tachi of Katori Shrine is said to have inspired Iizasa Choisai Ienao to create Tenshin Shoden Katori Shinto Ryu, which in turn is credited with influencing the Shinto Ryu of Kashima as well. We’ll cover much of this in a later episode as we get to looking at the Nakatomi and some of their ancestral deities, but I still find all of the connections intriguing.

The Kaname Ishi of Katori shrine. This one is prominent but didn’t have a noticeable divot.

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan. My name is Joshua and this is episode 93: Time to Shake Things Up.
Before we get started, a couple of shout-outs. First to Anticia, for donating on Ko-Fi.com. Thanks for your kind words and supporting our operations, including our website and this podcast. And then to Lowbrow78 and to Parp for supporting us on Patreon. If you want to join them, we have information on our website as well as at the end of every episode.
Here we are, at the cusp of the 7th century. With the death of Hasebe no Ohokimi, aka Sushun Tennou, we are about to jump into one of the most significant reigns to date: that of Kashikiya Hime, aka Suiko Tennou. I put this right up there with the reign of Waketakiru, aka Yuryaku Tennou, and like that period, we’ll need several episodes to get through everything going on here. In fact, I’ve been thinking about just how to do this, and I think before we get into it we need to cover the broad strokes and talk about a few things, and then I want to delve into some specifics over the coming episodes.
This means we’ll cover a lot this episode at a high level. To start with, we’ll talk about the power players of this period, and just who was really running the show—we have three people to pick from based on various interpretations of this era. And that will have us talking about Shotoku Taishi, and of course Shotoku Taishi’s impact vis-à-vis Buddhism, as well as the growth of Buddhism in general. There is also the general Sinification of the court, which means that we also get to talk about clothing styles and the appearance of a new “17 Article Constitution” as well as the new 12 rank system for court officers. And then there is everything happening on the mainland. In 589 the Sui dynasty came to power, followed in 618 by the Tang. And of course we still have Baekje and Silla going at it, and Yamato just cannot leave well enough alone when it comes to Nimna. All of that will get covered in even more detail, later.
But don’t worry, it isn’t all going to be generalities and vague preparations. We also have a little tidbit for you at the end about earthquakes and the deities that cause them, because *that* is something we can easily cover here.
And one more thing: This is the last reign that we have any documentation for in the Kojiki and the Sendai Kuji Hongi, even though the Kojiki is largely just genealogical information. That means we are getting close to the end of the “Chronicles”. We still have a lot of material to get through, though, including assassinations, coups, military expeditions, and even a full blown civil war. All that to come later, after we get through this period.
So let’s set the stage, shall we? This reign is coming at a very tumultuous time. We’ve been through several sovereigns or would-be sovereigns in a very short span, starting with Tachibana no Toyohi and then Hasebe, aka Yomei Tennou and Sushun Tennou, not to mention the failed attempt to take the throne early by Hasetsukabe Anahobe and Mononobe no Moriya. Even Hasebe was killed by his own Oho-omi, Soga no Umako—or at least at Umako’s order, if not directly by his own hand.
It’s become clear you didn’t want to be crossing Umako, and he was the most powerful minister at court at this point. There wasn’t a cabal of Oho-omi and Oho-muraji, there was simply Umako at the top. However, his rule was not absolute. He still needed the buy-in of the other ministers, the heads of their own families, as well as the nominal approval of the sovereign and the royal family. I’m honestly surprised nobody tried to put a dagger in his back, but then again anyone who might try had so far ended up with their successors caught up in probate, and it didn’t matter how powerful a position they supposedly occupied.
Still, Umako couldn’t take the throne himself. Not even he could get away with that looking like anything more than a power grab. He had already positioned Soga-descended members of the royal family so that they were in the line of succession, something that really looks like it went against tradition—though how old that tradition was is more than a little sus, as we’ve mentioned before. And so, with the death of Hasebe, someone was needed on the throne, but who was available? The political violence had even extended to some of the heirs, like Prince Hikobito, and it is unclear how many princes were even left at this point.
The Chronicles tell us that the ministers therefore turned to Kashikiya Hime, and begged her to take the throne.
As a reminder, Kashikiya Hime was the form queen—wife to Nunakura Futodamashiki, aka Bidatsu Tennou. Beyond that, she was a granddaughter of Soga no Iname, making Soga no Umako her maternal uncle. Her father was Ame Kunioshi Hiraki Hiro Niha, aka Kimmei Tennou. During the period following Ame Kunioshi’s death, she had attempted to put her finger on the scales of the power struggles that occurred, and she seemed to be a person that people listened to and took seriously in her role, though male heirs were at least initially considered before her.
And so, when she was first asked to take the throne after Hasebe, she refused, but eventually the court ministers able to convince her. Upon coming to power she almost immediately made Prince Umayado the Heir Apparent, or Taishi—the Crown Prince. Then we are told that, along with Prince Umayado, aka Shotoku Taishi, she and Soga no Umako, the Oho-omi, ruled the government. And I hope I don’t need to point out how exceedingly strange this wording is. Technically it isn’t unprecedented—in previous reigns we’ve certainly seen the Crown Prince taking an active role in the government, and the Oho-omi and the Oho-muraji, together, were frequently in positions to advise, counsel, and downright run the government, often skipping over the sovereign altogether. So nothing here is so far outside the scope, but it is still odd that it was so blatantly stated, and there is good reason to believe that we don’t have the whole story.
Theories on Kashikiya Hime and her reign vary widely. Michael Como claims that she was likely a consensus candidate—she was put forward because she was not overly objectionable to any of the other parties involved. I suspect she had links to both sides of the dispute, so this make some sense, but I also wonder if it doesn’t remove her own agency.
Speaking of which, there is the possibility that she had very little agency in any of this. There is the possibility that she was no more than a puppet—a relatively docile sovereign that Soga no Umako, or even Prince Umayado, could control, allowing them to work in the background. Indeed, one of the things we’ll see during this period is the increasing ritualization of the role of the sovereign, to the point that the Oho-omi was a powerful intermediary, receiving missives to the throne and relaying them onward, with ample opportunity to affect just how they were heard.
Often the Chroniclers found ways to deny the true agency of women on the throne, noting them less as sovereigns, and more as regents—often merely keeping the seat warm until an appropriate male heir presented himself and came of age. That may have been the case at times, but I have a hard time seeing that in Kashikiya Hime. Maybe when she first married Nunakura that may have been her outlook, but since then she’d seen some things. She knew how the game worked, and we’ve seen her actively mentioned supporting one candidate or another, and not always agreeing with Soga no Umako’s decisions. It is possible that this was added later to support her independence in the Chronicles, but I think that the easier answer is that Kashikiya Hime was her own person, and as ruler she was the authority that held sway.
Still, there are so many questions, and a lot of those revolve around her choice of successor, Prince Umayado, the Prince of the Horse Stable Door, aka Shotoku Taishi.
Shotoku Taishi is one of those legendary figures, somewhere between Yamato Takeru and Abe no Seimei. So many stories have grown up around this sage prince that it is truly hard to pry fact from fiction, and many wonder if he ever existed at all. Others suggest that he’s an amalgamation of several different historical and legendary figures. Even by the time the Chronicles were being written his legends had reached cult like status, with numerous Buddhist temples claiming some connection to this founding sage of Japanese Buddhism, however tenuous. It doesn’t stop there, however. Shotoku Taishi is said to have written one of the earliest national histories, and there are claims that this early history is none other than the Kūjiki, the text that we have in the Sendai Kūji Hongi. Some have speculated that this why that work and the Kojiki both stop here, with the reign of Kashikiya Hime.
Of course, in the case of the Kojiki, the real narrative stopped some time ago, with the later reigns containing little more than genealogical lists. The Sendai Kūji Hongi is a little more interesting.
It Is clear that the authors of the Nihon Shoki and the Sendai Kūji Hongi were working from some of the same texts, with possibly one referencing the other, but at the same time there are small differences that suggest different authors with different purposes. The Nihon Shoki certainly has more details on the official histories, while the Sendai Kūji Hongi contains sections on the genealogical information of the Mononobe and Owari families as well as information on various provincial governors.
Personally, I find it highly questionable that the Sendai Kūji Hongi might be written by Shotoku Taishi, but I concede that it, along with the Nihon Shoki, might have both borrowed from an earlier work.
Nonetheless, it does stop, and only the Nihon Shoki covers the next couple centuries, though in even greater detail. We start to see more granular details about many items, though there are still questions.
Given all of the swirl around Shotoku Taishi, however, I’ve had to think about just what tack to take with him, and for now we’ll take a look at what the official narrative has to say, and then perhaps add a bit more context. I’ll frequently be referring to him here as Prince Umayado, and we’ll focus on him primarily as a prince and a political figure.
Given that, there is the question of whether or not Prince Umayado was actually running things. I’m not aware of any tradition that claims he was more than the Crown Prince, and as such a powerful advisor to the throne. Umako seems more likely as a power behind the throne, but there are certainly clues that Umayado was up there—and of course, in later years, Shotoku Taishi’s own shine meant that people were more likely than not to attribute just about anything good from this period to him and his auspices, even if it was just because he suggested it.
But that brings us to the question: Just what happened during this reign that was worth anyone taking credit for? What happened that we are spending our time talking about it?
To start with, the reign was just long. Kashikiya Hime was taking the throne around 593 and she would reign up until her death in 628. That was over thirty years, which is a good run for any sovereign, for reasons we’ve covered before, such as the fact that they are usually coming to the throne when they are older, etc. Remember, she was probably born in the 530s, possibly 538, and so she took the throne in her late 50s or early 60s and held it until she was about 90 years old.
During this period, there was a lot of change going on outside the archipelago as well as inside. In 589, the Sui dynasty had come to power, uniting the Yellow River and Yangtze River basins. Their reign officially ended about 618, though that wasn’t necessarily a given at the time, and they were certainly a powerhouse as they united the northern and southern dynasties. The Sui status fell in 618 only because it was replaced by a new dynasty: The Tang dynasty. This was a dynasty founded by Li Yuan, a cousin of the Sui emperors, with a multi-ethnic background including Han and non-Han parentage, who came from a traditionally Xianbei—or by that time Tuoba—region. Tang dynasty culture would come to influence all of the cultures on the peninsula and the archipelago, truly becoming the “Middle Country” that various states looked to as a cultural touchstone. Tang culture spread throughout East Asia.
The states on the Korean Peninsula had been absorbing the culture of the riverine courts for some time—honestly ever since the time of the Han commanderies. As Buddhism percolated through the elite societies of Baekje, Silla, and now Yamato, it was more than just religious transmission. Sutras had been translated into Sinic characters, and Buddhist learning often went hand-in-hand with texts on a variety of other issues, as there was no formal line drawn between science, philosophy, and religion.
And so, as Yamato embraced Buddhism, there were other avenues of studies that also came over the straits, often attributed to the descendants of the Han dynasty, but largely filtered through a Baekje or even Silla lens. We see this manifest in myriad ways, from the various physical objects left behind in tombs, etc., as well as the clothing, of which we have several indications that the islands were adopting continental practice. However, we also have passages about the adoption of certain knowledge or technology, as well: everything from philosophy and calendar making to geomancy and even magic and the art of invisibility.
And then we see another important development this reign: The first constitution in Japan. Known as the 17-Article Constitution, it is attributed to none other than Shotoku Taishi himself, making him, in a way, the father of the country. Granted, the constitution was light on actual details, and more like a collection of moral maxims. This included things like anti-corruption tenets, suggesting that maybe you shouldn’t do things in government just because someone paid or flattered you. Still, these were not necessarily formative statements. After all, the Yamato state had customs and traditions, and so these were seen as more guiding principles than the kind of generative formulae that you might find in something like the US Constitution, where they were attempting to deliberately define the legal framework for a brand new nation.
Nonetheless, it is seen as the start of a new era for Yamato. This law may have been loosely worded, but it was, eventually, written down. It also was quickly followed by a new ranking system. The kabane system of ranking didn’t go away—not even the traditional individual honorifics, like Sukune, although that would have a bit of gap in the record. The Kabane system remained in use to rank the various families, but then a twelve cap system was instituted to rank individual courtiers.
This was a first. While certain courtiers certainly had privileges—for example, the heads of certain families—the ranking system, which came to be used, in one form or another, throughout east Asia, was a distinctly continental tradition. On the face of it, this was about setting up a meritocracy. Those who were most deserving would stand at the top, overseeing those below them. Of course in Yamato, “most deserving” usually meant those who came from the right families, so we’ll see how that evolves over time.
We also see some changes in the way that Yamato was coming to view itself as the center versus the periphery. Lands that were once sovereign units unto themselves, had gone from simply acknowledging the nominal hegemony of Yamato to finding their subservient position being written into the law. We see an idea that individual governors—the lords of those regions now part of the larger Yamato state—should not levy their own taxes, but that there should be a single tax on the people. This is a critical concept, and it would be interesting to see just how well it was obeyed; certainly in later periods it was often the prerogative of local governors to adjust the taxes to take into account their, ahem, overhead. Nominally this was to cover the costs of local administration, but in many periods it was assessed by those in charge, locally, to help cover their personal costs, and was often set based on what the local administrators thought that they could get away with, as all of the excess went to line their own pockets. This would make provincial governorships rather lucrative, though being that far from the capital and the seat of power would have its drawbacks. This is a not uncommon model for tax collecting in different societies, where tax collectors paid themselves out of the taxes they collected.
At this point in time, however, the central government was clearly trying to get a handle on this practice, and it makes sense as they were trying to assert more direct sovereignty over the land and the people. So it would not do to have the people paying taxes to two lords, since there could be only one ultimate sovereign, and they were seated on the throne in Yamato. This goes along with a continual thread of centralization of state control, another concept that they were likely pulling from the way that continental states were organized.
And all of this came along with a healthy dose of Buddhism. This reign we see the completion of Asukadera, one of the key temples to be set up in this time. We also get indications of the start of Shitennouji, in modern Ohosaka, the ancient temple of Houryuji, which even today still boasts the oldest wooden building in the world, and the temple of Koryuji, in the Uzumasa district of modern Kyoto. In addition to this we are told that the elites went on something of a temple-building craze.
This temple building craze—and particularly the building of state sponsored temples—would be a new sign of elite status, but it would also pull resources away from previous traditional efforts. Most notably, the labor going to build, staff, and maintain Buddhist temples would pull people away from the building and maintaining of monumental tombs. This doesn’t mean that they would go away, but the tombs certainly changed, and we would see them become smaller, less prominent, and, ultimately, they would be just about phased out altogether, except for a few particularly prominent examples.
In addition to the growing influence of the Buddhist religion, relations with the mainland were also notable. There are several mentions of different types of “tribute” from Baekje, Silla, Goguryeo, and even various parts of the archipelago.
Of course, once more we kick off the regular attempts to “free” Nimna from Silla rule. However, it should be noted that there isn’t a lot of corroborating evidence for any of Yamato’s peninsular activities. Perhaps this is due to the fact that they were successful, and that hardly appealed to those compiling works like the Samguk Sagi, who were, after all, writing to help prop up the Silla kingdom and their royal family just as the Japanese Chroniclers were doing for theirs. There is also the possibility that this was something that didn’t happen. Or at least not as it is described. It is quite possible that the impact of any attempts to chastise Silla were overblown, or even anachronistic. Long story short, we don’t see any lasting gains by Yamato this period, with many of the attempted military excursions being halted or called off for a number of reasons.
We also see Yamato racing farther afield. Although they call them the Great Tang, based on the timing it seems that Yamato made direct contact with the Sui dynasty some time after the latter had one again unified the area of eastern China. This contact was significant in a time when the Court, in general, was turning to more Sinified continental practices. It is also significant that Yamato approached these contacts with a certain pride, assuming an equal status in their communications. This is borne out in the Chinese histories as well.
All in all, there is a lot going on here, so we are going to deep dive into many of these topics.
That said, there is one thing that I’ll cover in this episode as I’m not sure it really fits well into anything else, but it is a fun diversion. It happened in the summer of 599, about six years into Kashikiya Hime’s reign. Specifically it was the 27th day of the 4th lunar month when the peace of the realm was disturbed by a tremendous earthquake that we are told “destroyed all the houses”.
Now Japan is no stranger to earthquakes. They sit on the Pacific Rim’s “Ring of Fire”, and volcanic and geologic activity is largely responsible for the islands’ shape and mountainous terrain. Not only that, but many of the volcanos across the island are still active, even today. One stat I read suggested that 10% of the world’s active volcanoes are in Japan. We talked about two eruptions that we know about from the early 6th century back in Episode XXX, but still, those are rare enough. There has been roughly only one significant eruption every hundred years or so, that we know of. Meanwhile, Japan experiences about 1500 earthquakes each year. Most of them are probably not even noticed by anyone not looking at a seismograph, of course. Over the past decade there has been more than one earthquake each year at magnitude 7 or higher, but these are often in particular places.
Quick digression here—but if you hear about an earthquake in Japan, the numbers that they use to calculate the size are often different from what you might find in the US or other countries. In the US we usually talk about the Richter scale, developed in 1935 by Charles Richter. It measures the magnitude in a logarithmic scale, meaning that a category 7.0 earthquake is actually 10 times as powerful as a category 6.0. Likewise a category 8.0 is ten times that of a 7.0, and one hundred times more powerful than a 6.0. However, this only really provides the local magnitude, and it doesn’t tell you other things, such as the type of force—a sharp crack versus rolling waves, for example—or even the duration. In Japan, there are a few different ways that the Japanese Meterological Agency classifies earthquakes, and one of those is the Seismic Intensity scale, also known as the Shindo scale.
The Shindo scale is more concerned with the effects of the earthquake than simply the magnitude, and while there are 10 different classifications, it only goes up to 7, as levels 5 and 6 are broken up into “Weak” and “Strong” intensities. This can lead to some misunderstanding when looking at a report regarding Japanese earthquakes, as 7 is the highest they go, but they aren’t measuring things the same way.
However you measure it, there have been significant earthquakes, with a magnitude of 7.0 or higher, or with loss of life and property, over once a year, on average. The damage and effects are often somewhat localized, but with modern media it is easy to learn about these earthquakes, which can certainly make it seem like they are happening all the time. On the other hand, back in ancient times, news would take time to travel. Still, it is remarkable to me that we really haven’t seen anything in the Chronicles on major earthquakes up to this point, similar to how it is strange that we haven’t really heard about any major volcanos. There was an earthquake back in the reign of Woasatsuma no Wakugo, aka Ingyou Tennou, and we mentioned it in Episode 56. It damaged the temporary burial of the previous sovereign, which is why it was considered of note, but otherwise it was largely just a passing mention to a natural phenomenon. It is possible that we didn’t hear about them because the Nara Basin just didn’t experience anything that sizeable, or if there was, it just didn’t make it into the records. Meanwhile, the smaller quakes may have been no less common than heavy rains, and equally predictible.
Compare that to later in the Nihon Shoki, where the 7th century would see at least 19 of 22 mentions of the word “earthquake”. While it is possible that was just a particularly active century, I tend to suspect that it meant that from this point on we probably are getting better records, and thus we will get details that might not have otherwise survived if we were just relying on the historical highlights.
In this case, it sounds as if the earthquake was particularly destructive, perhaps a level 6 or higher on the Shindo intensity scale. And, of course, it impacted the Yamato elites. We aren’t told of any deaths, but it was still a traumatic event and the court took immediate action. No, they didn’t issue emergency relief funds, and they didn’t provide labor to rebuild all the houses—or at least not that is mentioned. No, the Court had something more important it needed to do: and so orders were given to sacrifice to the “god of earthquakes.”
This does make some sense. After all, a large part of the sovereign’s portfolio was in regards to the spiritual realm. Sure, there was the administration of the state, but just about anyone could provide funding or even people to help with physical tasks. The role of the sovereign, however, was often as the intermediary between Heaven and Earth; between the kami and human beings. And so it was completely within Kashikiya Hime’s responsibilities to try and placate the spirits that had caused this disaster and to prevent future earthquakes.
Now the name of the god of earthquakes is not exactly given. It is sometimes read as “Nawi” or “Nai” no kami, but even then it is just referencing the shaking land, or “Na”. There are traditions that connect this kami to one that we’ve heard about before, Takemikazuchi.
Takemikazuchi’s name lets us know that he is a thunder deity, and it is not difficult to make a connection between the rolling thunder in the sky and the rolling waves of an earthquake. Takemikazuchi’s previous appearance in the Nihon Shoki was back in the Age of the Gods, when Takemikazuchi and Futsunushi came down to help pacify the land, and particularly the land of Izumo. Today, Takemikazuchi is worshipped at Kashima Jingu, in the old land of Hitachi, and he is, in fact connected with earthquakes.
There is an old belief that earthquakes were actually caused by giant catfish, or Namazu—and once again there is that “Na” component possibly making an appearance. These old stories said that when the Namazu thrashed about, underground, the land would shake. When this happened, Takemikazuchi found the kaname ishi, a stone at the top of the catfish’s head that poked out above ground. He struck this stone so hard that there is a divot in the rock even up to this day. That stone sits on the grounds of Kashima shrine. It may not look like much, but according to the shrine they tried to dig it out and found that it wasn’t just a rock, but it was part of a much larger stone that continued deep into the earth. Today this stone is a focus for worship to help prevent earthquakes.
Now the kaname ishi is not only found in Kashima—there is another one a short distance away at the famous Katori shrine as well, where they worship the spirit of Futsunushi. There are also Kaname Ishi found in Ohomura Shrine, in Iga, as well as another Kashima shrine in modern Miyagi prefecture. These are all central to eastern Honshu, possibly indicating a common thread amongst all of them.
I would note that I don’t know when the tradition of the kaname ishi stone, or that story about Takemikazuchi, first came about, or if that is even the original telling of the story. We do have an entry in the Shoku Nihongi, the successor history to the Nihon Shoki, where there were shrines to the—or an—“earthquake god” in all seven of the home provinces. I suspect that local deities were often consulted, and different local traditions may have held some shrines, kami, and rituals as more effective than others.
Regardless, I hope it has been an interesting diversion. I know it was something I enjoyed, having recently visited Kashima and Katori shrines and seen their Kaname Ishi in person—I’ll have photos up on the website. Do you know of other earthquake related rituals or shrines? Please hit me up online, either on Twitter—or whatever the platform is calling itself today---Facebook, or via email, at the.sengokudaimyo@gmail.com. I’d love to hear if you know of more shrines that specialize in subduing earthquakes.
Next time we’ll want to start some of our deep dives. By then I hope to have done a bit more research on some of the various topics so that we can really tie this all together.
Until then, thank you for listening and for all of your support. If you like what we are doing, tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts. If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website, SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode.
Also, feel free to Tweet at us at @SengokuPodcast, or reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page. You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.
And that’s all for now. Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.

References

Como, Michael (2008). Shōtoku: Ethnicity, Ritual, and Violence in the Japanese Buddhist Tradition, ISBN 978-0-19-518861-5
Bentley, John. (2006). The Authenticity of Sendai Kuji Hongi: a New Examination of Texts, with a Translation and Commentary. ISBN-90-04-152253.
Aston, W. G. (1972). Nihongi, chronicles of Japan from the earliest times to A.D. 697. London: Allen & Unwin. ISBN0-80480984-4

Rough Transcript

References