This episode we take a quick break from the Chronicles to go over a bit of the history of Izumo, focusing on the archaeology of the region, which we don't really get in the Chronicles.  This episode we'll focus primarily on the geography and then the Jomon through Yayoi period history--right up to the time of Queen Himiko.  Next episode we'll look at the Kofun period.

This means we'll be skipping around, going back to some subjects we've covered and looking a head into the future.  The goal is to get an idea of Izumo's history as we are reading through Yamato's account, so we can keep things in perspective.

For more go to: https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-19

Rough Transcript

Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is episode 9:  Yakumotatsu Izumo, Part 1.

This episode we are going to dive into the land of Izumo—the land where many of these early myths seem to be rooted.  According to some:  The land of the gods themselves.  “Yakumotatsu Izumo”, the poets say, the Rising Clouds of Izumo.  So let’s dig into this a bit.

Oh, but before we go too far, I want to let you know that I’ve put some of the general locations we’ll be talking about up on SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where I’ve even linked to a Google Map so that you can have a better idea of the areas we are talking about.  And there is a lot to keep track of, and I apologize in advance as I’ve tried to make this as digestible as I can.  Still, this episode had me looking up archaeological site reports, and numerous articles, many in Japanese.  They should be linked over on the Podcast blog for those who want to dig into them.

Alright, what is it about Izumo that makes it so special?  There are so many ancient provinces, some of which we’ll likely touch on: Harima, Kii, Houki, Aki, Kibi, Iyo, and so many more, and of course, Yamato itself.  What makes Izumo so special?

Well, we could maybe attribute that to the survival of the Izumo Fudoki—one of the few extant fudoki that has survived the centuries, and it is one of the most complete.  But that was written after the Chronicles, so it can’t be the full story.

The historical “specialness” if Izumo is an even stranger concept from a modern point of view.  Shimane prefecture and the cities of Izumo and Matsue are hardly economic powerhouses, and they are actually quite out of the way for most travelers.  To get there without your own car entails taking a train to Okayama, on the Seto Inland Sea, and then a two and a half hour train ride over the mountains, a trip of about 180 km.  Compare that to the roughly 470 mile trip from Ueno station in Tokyo to Kanazawa, also on the Japan Sea coast, which takes a little under 3 hours via the Hokuriku Shinkansen.  It is little wonder that Shimane, the Japanese prefecture with the second smallest population—only beaten out by neighboring Tottori prefecture—is also one of the least visited as well, at least by international tourists.

That said, Shimane definitely has its attractions.  Matsue, along the shores of Lake Shinji has one of the few remaining Edo period castles—and I mean original structure, not just the stones and a concrete reconstruction.  It was also the home, for a while, of the famous author Lafcadio Hearn, also known in Japan by the name Koizumi Yakumo, a name that clearly alludes to the territory of ancient Izumo. 

Still, I would venture that Izumo hardly pops up into the forefront of most people’s minds when they think of Japan, and this has affected modern attitudes towards the study of this region’s history—a struggle that one could argue goes all the way back to the 8th century.  As we have seen all too often, even in the modern day, it is the victors who write the history books, build the statues, and determine just how and what gets remembered.  And as humans we tend to emphasize what *we* feel is important and sweep under the rug those things make us uncomfortable or don’t fit with our vision of what we think we know about reality.  Too often this means that we use modern conditions to make assumptions about the past, even when, rationally, we know that socio-economic and environmental conditions may have been quite different. 

And so even when many striking archeological discoveries were being made in Izumo, many scholars tended to dismiss them as insignificant up through the early 80s.  They felt that Izumo was only so big in the Imperial myth because of narrative logic and perhaps its location as a “far away land” from the perspective of Yamato, but there was no reason to think that it had ever been much more important than any other part of the island chain.

That view was transformed on July 11, 1984, when a team from the Shimane Prefectural Board of Education discovered unprecedented caches of bronze instruments at the Kanba Kojindani site in modern Izumo City.  This site is 6 kilometers southwest of Lake Shinji, and maybe a day’s walk from Ohonamuchi’s great shrine, Izumo Taisha.  It was discovered by accident during logging work on the hillside.  There, in four uneven groups, they found 358 bronze swords, in relatively mint condition—well, as mint as they could be for being in the ground all this time. 

Now up to that point, archaeologists had only found 300 bronze swords in the rest of the country, so this more than doubled that number.  That’s impressive enough in itself.  But then, the next year, in 1984, they found 6 large bells, or doutaku, along with 16 bronze halberds.  People started to wonder about some kind of Izumo kingship, prior to Yamato’s cultural expansion and dominion.  This was further reinforced in 1994 when 39 more doutaku were found in the mountains at Unnan City.  So something was definitely going on here, but just what was it?

Today, the term Izumo properly refers only to Izumo City, located on the Izumo plain, on the Shimane peninsula, with the Japan Sea to the west and beyond the hilly mountains to the north.  The plain is formed from the Kando and Hii rivers, flowing north from the southern mountains, either west to the Japan Sea or East to Lake Shinji, respectively.

Of course, the ancient 8th century *Province* of Izumo much larger, encompassing districts throughout modern day Shimane prefecture and possibly even further than that —or at least it had influence well beyond its 8th century borders.  Early burial practices and kofun types indicate a Izumo cultural zone that encompassed much of the Japan Sea coast of western Honshu, with particular concentration between Mt. Sanbe all the way to eastern Tottori, spanning some 93 miles as the crow flies.  There are connections to the Oki Islands, some 30~40 miles to the north, and even jumping from Eastern Tottori to the Hokuriku Region, about 100 miles distant, and then covering another 100 miles or so northeast from there, which was known as Koshi in the Chronicles and Fudoki.  This area was never a single polity, or state, but it is perhaps better referred to as the Izumo Cultural Zone, and evidence suggests that in the early days it gave the Kinai region around modern Nara, Osaka, and Kyoto a real run for their money as the dominant Japanese culture in the archipelago.

And let’s take a bit more of a look at the areas that were encompassed in this “Izumo Cultural Zone”.  We’ll have some references at the podcast webpage as well:  sengokudaimyo.com/podcast.

If we start at the far western edge, at least for our purposes, we find Mt. Sanbe, and nearby are two rivers.  Flowing northwards, due east of the mountain is the Kando river, which eventually flows through the Izumo plain and empties out into the Japan Sea on the western edge of the Izumo peninsula.  Just south of Mt. Sanbe, however, is the Gou-no-kawa, or Gou River, which was known in the ancient chronicles as the Ye River—and its name is still written with the same character that can be written as “E” or “Ye” in “Edo” or “Yedo”, the old name for the city we know today as Tokyo.

The Ye River is interesting in that it actually connects the Japan Sea coast with the Seto Inland Sea, on the south side of Honshu.  It has its headwaters in the hills north of Hiroshima, on the Seto Inland Sea side, and while normally one would expect such a river to flow south, instead it winds through the mountainous valleys of western Japan, heading eastward towards Okayama and the ancient area of Kibi before turning north through a break in the mountains and eventually emptying out into the Japan Sea on the northwest coast at a place named Goutsu, or Gou Port.  The entire watershed was not necessarily a part of Izumo itself, of course, but you can see how it could have been an important artery  allowing for trade of goods and ideas over the centuries.

Moving East from Mt. Sanbe we have, as we mentioned, the Kando and Hii Rivers, which both flow north to the Izumo plain.  The Kando river pours out at Ooyashiro Bay, named for the nearby Izumo Ooyashiro, also known as Izumo Taisha.  This is the sight of Inasa Beach and believed to be the location of several of the myths and legends.

As for its compatriot the Hii river, you may recall that that is where the god Susanowo is said to have arrived in Japan and slain the beast Yamata no Orochi, and that river turns east to empty into lake Shinji.  This area, around the Kando and Hii rivers, is what we typically will refer to as Western Izumo.

Moving east, there is the large expanse of Lake Shinji, and then the area between two great lakes - Lake Shinji, and the Nakaumi or “inner sea” which is really more of a lake these days.  In the west of this area is modern day Matsue City, which sits on the Ou Plain between these two great bodies of water, and in the east is Yasugi city, on the Nogi Plain, at the mouth of the Iinashi River, on the southern shore of Naka’umi.  We will generally refer to this area as Eastern Izumo, and in the 8th century this area—specifically the Ou Plain—was actually the center of the provincial administration of Izumo.  That tradition continues as Matsue is the prefectural capital of Shimane, even today.

So while we are in Eastern Izumo, let’s talk about this lake—what used to be an ancient bay—known as Nakaumi.  Lake Shinji empties out on its eastern shore through the Ohashi river onto the Ou plain, which eventually winds around to the western shore of Nakaumi.  This fortuitous geographical feature made eastern Izumo a great harbor, as the large Nakaumi bay was protected on its eastern edge by a large landmass which has since filled in and been connected to the rest of Honshu except for a small channel, forming the Yumigahama coastline of modern Yonago city, part of Tottori province.  In ancient times, however, it was still an island and acted as a buffer—a giant breakwater against the rest of the Japan Sea.

Today, Nakaumi is more of a brackish lake, but it is still never referred to as “Lake Nakaumi”, or “Nakaumi-ko”, but simply as Nakaumi, the Inner Sea.

And that area of Yumiagahama and the city of Yonago is actually the next part of our journey east along the Japan sea coast.  This is actually the Western Tottori region—the western extent of the modern Tottori prefecture.  Yonago is situated in a plain formed by the Hino River, or Hinokawa.  This should not be confused with the Hi*i*-no-kawa that flows out onto the Izumo Plain.  The Hino river flows out to the east of Yumigahama, into the Japan Sea, and to the southeast the vista is dominated by Mt. Daisen.  This is the ancient area of Houki,  or Hahaki, Province.  It was here that some of the early developments that we think of as distinctly Izumo would actually arrive, first, spreading east and west from this point.

So before we go further east along the coastline, let’s head out to the sea north of Mt. Daisen.  It is here, out in the open ocean, that we find the Oki Islands.

I know we mentioned it before, but these Oki Islands are not the same as the Oki Island, or Okinoshima, off the coast of Kyushu.  Whereas that is a relatively small island in the middle of the Korean straits, these Oki Islands are a group of islands north of Izumo that have been inhabited since Jomon times.  It is these islands that the White Rabbit of Inaba is supposed to have started from when it crossed over to Cape Keta.

And just like that white rabbit, let us return back to the Japan Sea coast of Honshu, and we’ll continue our trek east, past Mt. Daisen to an area we will call Central Tottori, around the Tenjin River and modern Kurayoshi.  Continuing even further east is Tottori city itself, on the Chiyo River, defining the area we’ll call Eastern Tottori, which was part of the ancient province of Inaba.

Much beyond the Chiyo river we actually come to an area that fell more under the sway, it seems, of Yamato and the Kinai culture, which is today part of Hyogo and Kyoto prefectures, but Izumo’s influence can still be found in the areas of modern Fukui, Ishiyama, and Toyama prefectures, known as the Hokuriku region, today.  These regions all have their own special character, today, and have played their own roles in Japanese history.  Fukui is home to Hoshi Ryokan, a traditional onsen in Awazu and one of the oldest businesses in the world, dating back to at least the 8th century.  And Ishikawa prefecture was the site of one of the larger Ikko Ikki in the Warring States period.  You can still see Kanazawa castle, with several reconstructed buildings, across from Kenrokuen, perhaps Japan’s most famous garden.  It is only about 3 hours by Shinkansen from Tokyo on the recent Hokuriku line.  But of course, this is all yet to come in our story, as we are going to be focused on the Yayoi periods, when they showed evidence of their connection to Izumo, in the west.

Now by the time we get written records in the 8th century this Hokuriku region is known as Koshi—an appellation of imprecise geographic identity.  Some suggest that it may actually refer to more than just the Hokuriku region, continuing up and along the Japan Sea Coast of Touhoku, but there is no clear evidence one way or the other.

So all of that that we just talked about is the area we’ll be focusing on, with an emphasis on the areas of Izumo and Western Tottori.  You may notice that most of these areas feature plains and river deltas formed from the alluvial deposits of the various rivers.  In fact these fertile locations were perfect for supporting the rice growing cultures of the Yayoi period, and so it is little wonder that this is where we find most of our evidence for various settlements.  However, many of these individual regions are also separated from one another by mountains, hills, and other features forming natural barriers.  That’s an interesting contrast to the areas of Kibi and Yamato, both of which were established around large, broad plains where one imagines it was much easier for a central authority to keep things in check.  These separated areas throughout the Izumo region no doubt influenced the development of Izumo culture and Society—perhaps even making them more independent minded than elsewhere on the archipelago.

Now of course, this whole region had been populated since Jomon times, though as I mentioned in the earliest episodes, Western Japan was never quite as populous as other areas. 

During much of the Jomon period, the area of modern day Izumo city was under water, except for elevated areas like Nagahama and the grounds around Izumo Taisha, where we know there were Jomon settlements back in the day.  Still, the most sophisticated settlements appeared to be in the river valleys, south of the plains.  During the construction of the Shitsumi Dam, due east of Mt. Sanbe, deep in the southern reaches of the Kando river, there is evidence of habitation from Jomon times up through the Kofun period and beyond.

During the early Yayoi period, new immigrants moved north from Kyushu along the Japan Sea coast, and they found in the Izumo peninsula an ideal place for primitive wet rice agriculture.  The marshy, boggy land that had been formed as the Kando and Hii rivers deposited silt from the mountains and the ocean waters subsided was perfect for the early farmers, who relied on the natural cycles of flooding to plant and grow rice without complex irrigation systems.

In those early days, Jomon and Yayoi pottery existed side by side in the region, before being replaced entirely by Yayoi pottery.  That said, Jomon customs, such as dental ablation are also found at Yayoi settlements, which in all likelihood indicates that the indigenous people of the region mixed with the newcomers.  Those newcomers were most likely traveling along the sea coast, which has numerous good harbors.  In fact, the ocean would often be what connected Izumo to other regions beyond its borders, and that may explain the numerous gods with connections to the sea, including, in some tellings, Susanowo himself.

Over time, as technology progressed, communities started to move inland, along the rivers, digging drainage canals and developing semi-wet rice paddies, following a not dissimilar pattern to many other areas of Yayoi Japan.

Also, as with other areas of the islands, this agricultural technology required innovations in social organization.  Most settlements were maybe 25~50 people in any given area, and it would not seem feasible for them to have created the paddies and irrigation ditches to the extent such a community would require on their own.  More likely, this was accomplished with the assistance of organized labor from other settlements up and down the river valleys.  This, in turn, would have required coordination, under the leadership and direction of some sort of chieftain, or Shucho.  Based on what we know of Yayoi society from the archaeological record as well as the early Chinese chronicles, the primary functions of these shucho were likely religious and diplomatic.  As time moved on, they would accumulate greater influence over more settlements as areas grew more populous.  Leading to the early states, or “kuni”, described in the early Chinese chronicles.  

Of course, these early communities aren’t exactly “kingdoms”, necessarily.  I’m not even certain that we could say that every community had the same kind of leadership, but there was some form of cooperation in a system where some individuals were seen as “elite” compared to other members of society. Based on references in the Izumo Fudoki, I’ve seen a suggestion of over 60 of these states, or Kuni, within ancient Izumo itself.

Let’s take a look at these developments during the Yayoi period in Izumo proper—that is Western and Eastern Izumo.

There were properly influential people on the Izumo plain since the early Yayoi period.  We know that there were extensive settlements in the Middle Yayoi period, between 400 BCE and the turn of the millennium.  This includes some rather large scale settlements. 

We also find ritual sites.  The site of Izumo Taisha was apparently a ceremonial site in the Yayoi period, with evidence in the form of various tama—carved “jewels” –and various bronze implements. The practices at this site, obscured as they are by the veil of time, may have been the religious tradition that gave birth to the gods of Izumo—or at least some of them—whose stories and worship likely emerged in the Yayoi and Kofun period, spreading throughout the archipelago. 

Of course we don’t know when the first actual shrine building was built on that spot, though they certainly had the technology early on.  In Eastern Izumo there are the paired sites of Tawayama and Tomoda.  Tawayama is at the top of a hill with steep slopes.  The sides were dotted with pit dwellings, and there were moats and weapons found at the site.  At the top of the hill are the remains of a large structure with an elevated floor supported on nine pillars planted directly into the ground.    Though we have no conclusive evidence of what the building looked like above the ground, those pillars are in the same configuration as those found at Izumo Taisha, and similar “Taisha style” shrine buildings in the area.  Of course, whether the building was ceremonial, secular, or both, we will likely never know.  But it certainly shows that the architectural style used by the shrine has roots at least to the first or even second century BCE.

In addition to that, at the Inayoshi Sumida site in Yonagao in Western Tottori, archeologists found a shattered pot from the first century BCE, with various depictions of what life must have been like for the Yayoi inhabitants of the peninsula, including a raised structure that could be a very tall storehouse or some kind of building in the tradition of Izumo Taisha—possibly even a representation of the shrine itself.

Of course, no other such buildings still exist and even the original shrine has lost its lofty heights and been brought down to earth.  Was the height a particular feature of Izumo Taisha, or were other buildings of similar architectural design just as tall?  If it was a pattern, what could it have been for?  While it would be good to have some storehouses raised off the ground, they don’t need to be raised too far—in fact, the higher they are the more troublesome they become when you want to put something in or get something out. One thought is that as a symbol of religious or secular authority, height could be an intimidation factor, meant to impress the people.  Finally, there is also the theory that raised structures may have once dotted Yayoi period coastlines, providing watch towers to look out for and possibly even entice ocean-going vessels, thus facilitating trade.  At the same time, it would provide a good view of most of the plain, allowing someone to keep watch over the plains and river deltas that most of these communities called their homes.

Now we had mentioned that this Middle Yayoi period saw a growth in settlements, particularly in the Izumo region, and we have plenty of examples.  In the early Yayoi, Eastern Izumo appears to have had a larger population than in the west.  And example of an early settlement of Eastern Izumo can be seen in modern Kashima-cho, northwest of Matsue city, where there are burials of multiple men, women, and children from about the 3rd century BCE.  The children were often buried with bits of colorful shell woven into their clothing—whether that was a burial ritual, or part of children’s regular garb is unclear.  Of the adults, 6 of the 14 skeletons with intact skulls showed signs of dental ablation, apparently demonstrating a merger between Yayoi and Jomon people.

Despite a slower start, Western Izumo grew exponentially from about the 1st century BCE, and in 400 years it would go from 3 or 4 settlements to 8 separate communities living along the Kando and Hii rivers.  This would have required extensive collaboration, as noted before, indicating that the plain had really come together.

Meanwhile, relations between neighbors along the Japan Sea coast were not entirely peaceful.  At Tomoda, in Eastern Izumo, there is a mass grave, indicating some kind of violence.  Corpses were interred hastily and had clearly met violent deaths, with numerous arrowheads found around the bodies.  11 of 25 bodies were buried with valuable jewels as well.  Was this part of some of the violence or chaos mentioned in the Chinese chronicles?  Or was it some other ancient atrocity—perhaps one that never made it into any formal history.

We do know that the story of Ohonamuchi describes him defeating his various brothers and thus “creating” Izumo.  Perhaps those stories were driven by memories of these early conflicts?  Who can say for sure.

Now, as we come to the start of the Common Era, I want to turn our gaze to the Southwest.  Remember how I talked about the Ye River, which flows out into the Japan Sea at Goutsu?  Well if you were to travel south, upriver, past Mt. Sanbe, and one until you came to roughly the middle of Honshu, you would be in an area that today is known as Miyoshi city, in modern Hiroshima prefecture.  Here in Miyoshi, where many rivers come together to join the Ye—now Gou—river on its journey north, we find evidence of a practice that might seem innocuous, at first.  Indeed, you might wonder why we would care about it at all.

You see, here in the area of Miyoshi we have found evidence of small burial mounds—no more than a couple of meters long—with a peculiar distinction.  That distinction is that stones were laid at the corners, helping to shore up and define them, and one corner was clearly designated as some sort of step—like a passageway between the world of the living and the world of the dead.  It is a curious tradition and might have remained that way, except that somehow this tradition appears to have spread through parts of the Chugoku region and then transported to the Japan Sea Coast.

Anders Carlqvist notes that similar burial mounds were constructed close to the Japan Sea Coast soon after they showed up in Miyoshi.  Around the same time they also start to appear along the northern edge of Western Izumo, modern Izumo City and in the southern reaches of modern Yonago in Western Tottori.  He posits that this distinctive form of burial was likely transported down along the river to Goutsu, and from there it spread along the Japan Sea Coast.  Alternatively, it may have traveled from Miyoshi up one of the tributaries feeding into the Ye—perhaps traveling up the Saijou river and from there the tradition was transmitted over the mountains.  And down the Hino river, to Western Tottori.  There appear to be even more such mounds built in the east, out to Eastern Tottori, before also showing up, soon after, in Western and Eastern Izumo.  These burial mounds also show up in the Oki Islands and the Hokuriku region.

Over time, and as they spread, these burial mounds evolved in style.  Originally just rectangular burial mounds, or funkyubo, with reinforced corners, they would eventually grow in size and morph into something new and quite distinctive; Specifically a yosumi tosshutsugata funkyūbo, or burial mound of four protruding corners, often just abbreviated as a four cornered burial mound.  Eventually there would be well over 94 of  these types of burial mounds built along the Japan Sea Coast and in the areas such as Kibi, Harima, and Aki.

This kind of phenomenon, spread across a geographic range like this, is often taken to mean that these areas likely shared other cultural traits.  They clearly were in contact with one another—how else would these traditions have propagated?  It is probably going too far to say that these mounds indicate participation in a single political unit, however, as is presumed regarding later kofun tumuli—particularly the keyhole shaped tombs of Yamato—but we’ll get to that in its time.

So we have clusters of these four-cornered tombs found throughout the region, and coincidentally, as Anders points out, these areas tie in quite neatly to the land-pulling myth of Yatsukamizu Omizunu.  As you may recall, in that myth, Yatsukamizu Omizunu is said to have pulled land from different areas to make the Izumo peninsula.  It is said that he pulled land from Silla, from the “Northern Gate”—assumed to be the Oki Islands—and from Koshi—the Hokuriku region.  With the exception of Silla, we’ve found this style of burial mound in both Koshi and the Oki Islands, though Silla does play a big role in providing raw materials such as iron ingots, as well as other trade goods, indicating there was clearly some connection via the overseas trade routes.

And then there are the stories of Ohonamuchi in Inaba, as well as his marriage to Nunakawa Hime, who came from Koshi.  All of this fits with the idea of a unified cultural zone, likely made up of various chiefdoms, each running independently, but sharing ideas, concepts and culture—and likely language, stories, and religious concepts.  This is the proto-Izumo identify.

During this time, we see the growth of various sites around the region.  On the Yonago plain, in the shadow of Mt. Daisen, is the site of Mukibanda.  Mukibanda is one of the longest inhabited and most populated Yayoi settlement discovered on the Japanese archipelago, to date.  It was probably formed from various independent communities coming together to share their political and religious leadership, and reached the height of its power sometime in the latter half of the 2nd century.  The site covers some 170 hectares—almost four times as large as the moated and walled settlement of Yoshinogari, in Kyushu, which many proponents of the Kyushu theory still hold up as their candidate for Himiko’s actual capital of Yamatai.

 As of 2016, some 900 structures had been identified at Mukibanda, including 394 pit dwellings and 491 raise-floor structures—one of which was another 9-pillared structure like that found at Tawayama and Izumo Taisha.  They currently claim that only about a 10th of the site has been excavated. 

In addition, they’ve found over 200 iron implements, a constructed moat—which was, incidentally, filled in shortly after its creation—and some 13 four-cornered burial mounds.

These settlements didn’t operate in a vacuum, of course, and Mukibanda was likely supported in overseas trade by Aoya Kamijichi, another large settlement, where the community apparently subsisted largely on fishing and trade as a focal point of the Japan Sea trade network.  There are numerous buildings with raised floors from the Late Yayoi, as well as Chinese coins from the later Han dynasty as well as many other trade items from around Japan.

In addition to what was going on in Western Tottori, the 2nd century CE saw growing trade, technological specializations, and agricultural wealth within the communities of the Izumo Plain.  There were four major settlements that we know of, and they appear to form the nucleus of what one might rightfully call a “kuni”.  The largest of these settlements was at Yano, nestled between the Kando and Hii Rivers, and the other settlements likely spread out from there.

It is here in the late Yayoi period, that four-cornered burial mounds appear at Nishidani, and the foot of the southern hills, on the shores of the Hii River.  It is here that, based on the size of the burial mounds, location, and burial goods, it has been suggested that successive “kings” were interred.

These royal burial mounds are not simple structures.  Nishidani Number 3 is 4.5 meters tall and 50 meters east to west, and 40 meters north to south.  It is estimated that it took twenty to thirty thousand stones to build, and it is one of the largest burial structures constructed anywhere on the archipelago in the late Yayoi.  This burial mound shows evidence of four pillars around two deep graves in the center, marking them as sacred.  The burial goods included glass from China and an iron sword that seems to have been from the Korean peninsula.  There were also various jewels.  Nishidani burial mound Number Two showed similar care and attention.  

There were also some 300 items of pottery placed around these burial sites, with some of it produced locally, but some of the pottery was from Kibi and some was made in Izumo but modeled after pottery found in Hokuriku as well as Tango Province—part of modern day Kyoto prefecture.  While not necessarily the “haniwa” of the Kofun period, this certainly would seem to be foreshadowing that practice.

These burial mounds are seen as proof that Izumo had developed an increasingly complex, ranked society with extensive contacts beyond the local area.  It is unclear to what extent these Izumo-based “kings” had influence beyond their local area, but they were clearly part of something larger than themselves.

By the third century, Izumo appears to be thriving.  It has relatively clear shipping lanes to the mainland, and a wide network of affiliated chiefdoms and settlements.  This is the land of Izumo during the time of Himiko, and it is one of the reasons that many people assume that the land that the Wei Chronicles describe as Touma, or Zuma, is, in fact, Izumo.  It is, after all, the second most populous area, only edged out by Yamato itself.

Of course, this brings up more than a few questions about the relationship between Izumo and Yamato at this time.  In the Weizhi, the impression is given that Himiko rules the islands through a unified consensus which came after an intense period of fighting and chaos.  So during that time had the regions of Izumo submitted to the power of Yamato, as Ohokuninushi submitted to the Imperial Grandson?

Well, it is hard to tell.  Certainly there is evidence of fighting in the region.  We mentioned the mass graves at Tomoda, and there are also similar mass graves found at Aoya Kamijichi, where, again, many of the wounds appear to have been inflicted through some kind of violence.  In the case of Aoya Kamijichi, the wounds appear to be made from bladed weapons, indicating they were likely attacked by some other advanced technological iron culture—perhaps a culture like Yamato?

Possibly, but probably not.  Perhaps it was an attack or incursion, but there is no great shift in the culture of the area that would align with Yamato cultural influence, and do we really think that Yamato would have come in and simply left?  In all likelihood I suspect this was a conflict much closer to home—though it could certainly be linked to the larger narrative of conflict across the archipelago.

J. Edward Kidder, Jr. in his book “Himiko and Japan’s Elusive Chiefdom of Yamatai” tries to put the relationship between Izumo and Yamato in perspective through the Yayoi period, and he pays particular attention to the caches of bronze items such as those found at Kojindani, which I mentioned at the head of the episode.

Now we’ve talked some about bronze items and their importance to the Yayoi culture.  Trade in bronze was representative of the ability to get other forms of goods and wealth, and so the status of the elites was intertwined with their ability to protect the trade routes with the mainland.  We’ve even seen how, when those trade routes were disrupted, there was turmoil within the islands themselves.  So what do those Yayoi finds at Kojindani and similar places—the swords, bells, and spears—tell us about what was going on in Izumo?  How do we add it into the mix?

Well, first of all, it should be noted that even though they were all buried together, the various bronze items are not thought to have been produced at the same time, being made anytime between 300 BCE and 100 CE.  Many of them can be traced to other parts of Japan, describing the extensive trade networks, but some are believed to have been made locally—particularly the swords, which have not been found as frequently outside of Izumo.

What’s particularly interesting is that these bronzes were clearly meant for ceremonial use, as indicated by several key features.  First, there is an “X” carved into many of them, marking them for some special purpose.  This was done after the casting, on items made in different parts of the archipelago, so that would indicate it was done in Izumo proper, for whatever reasons they may have had.

Second, many of the items were made to be non-functional.  The swords were not just dull, but they showed no signs of ever having been sharpened in the first place.  Many of the bells had no clappers to actually make a noise.  And so we assume that these were simply ceremonial, used in functions by the elites residing in the area of Izumo Taisha.

But why were they buried, let alone buried together?

Well, one curious thing about their burial is that it was clearly done with purpose.  They weren’t just tossed into a ditch somewhere and left: Inside the pits they were carefully laid out and stacked.  Some of the blades were wrapped in some sort of cloth.  Post holes around the pits indicate that there may have even been some kind of lean-to shelter above them.

All of this suggests that they were deliberately deposited.  Maybe they were part of annual rituals and were simply stored this way in between rites.  Or maybe they were buried as some kind of ceremonial sacrifice.  A key feature of all of this:  Why weren’t they dug back up at a later point in time?  Were they simply forgotten, or was it deliberate?

Well let me follow in the footsteps of Kidder and bring up a couple of stories about Sujin Tennou, and Yamato’s relationship with Izumo.  Now I know we haven’t quite gotten there in our narrative, but just stay with me on this. 

Early in Sujin Tennou’s reign, a great pestilence was in the land, and no matter what rituals they performed, it wouldn’t go away.  I’m not sure that they knew about social distancing back then.  Anyway, it was his aunt, Yamato Totohi Momoso Hime, who is said to have been possessed by the god Ohomononushi, who demanded to be venerated, and ordered that Ohotataneko be sought out as a head priest.  This is believed to be when Ohomononushi came to be venerated at Mt. Miwa.

Of course, as you may recall, Ohomononushi is one of the alternate names for Ohonamuchi, the god enshrined at Izumo Taisha.  In the Chronicles we actually, then, have two stories of how Ohomononushi came to Mt. Miwa—one in the Age of Gods and then this one in the time of Sujin.

In addition, there is a story of Sujin Tennou requesting the sacred treasures of Izumo Taisha. Why was he doing this?  To be honest, I’m not sure.  Maybe he just liked them, or maybe it was connected with the movement of Ohomononushi to Mt. Miwa.  Maybe it was meant to show submission to Yamato.  Whatever the reasonIzumo Furune, who was responsible for the treasures, initially refused Sujin’s request, but when he was off on a journey to Tsukushi, his younger brother handed them over to other family members, who in turn handed them over to the Yamato officials.  At this, Izumo Furune was furious.  He admonished his brother and later would get revenge in a rigged sword duel, where he killed him.

Of course, we don’t know if any of this happened at all, let alone as it is written, but it does add to the collected evidence of what was going on.  Assuming Sujin was an actual person—and that, itself, is debated—these events probably happened around some time in the 1st century CE, based on corrected dating within the chronicles.    Kidder suggests that in this period, as Izumo was growing, so, too, was the influence of Yamato, Kibi, and other members of their regional zone.  For the most part, though, there was little these other regions could do to Izumo to force them to capitulate: from the Japan Sea Coast, Izumo had almost unobstructed access to Tsukushi, and thence to the Korean Peninsula and the mainland.  Izumo Furune, or someone in his position, may indeed have traveled down to Tsukushi to propose an anti-Yamato alliance to ensure that the Inland Sea polities could not block their access to the continent.  Perhaps this is tied in to other stories of Susanowo and Ohonamuchi, and their connections with the shrines of Munakata.

Kidder goes on to suggest that the ceremonial objects may have been buried in advance of a Yamato emissary arriving, to avoid having Yamato steal their treasures.  If that is the case, though, why didn’t they dig them back up again?  There’s much here that remains a mystery.

To me the key takeaway is that whatever purpose they had served, it was clear that they were no longer needed.  There was some shift in the ceremonies or the region.  What caused this cultural shift?  Was it the eventual dominance of the Yamato polity which limited their access?  Was it their own voluntary acceptance of different cultural ideas?  Or did it have something to do with that period of unrest mentioned in the Chronicles?  I really couldn’t say.

So what do we know?

Well, “Izumo” province in the 8th century may have been focused on the Izumo and Ou plains, as well as points south, but it clearly was tied to a larger cultural area that spread from Mt. Sanbe to the Tenjin River, with links to the Hokuriku region and the Oki Islands. There are also cultural links to areas in modern Hiroshima Prefecture and even ancient Kibi.

We know that the region was made up of a series of fertile alluvial plains, each of which seem to have given rise to their own settlements, with their own elites.  Though control was being centralized within the settlements on any given plain, there is no clear evidence for a centralized authority across the entire cultural region.

We do know that there are some large ceremonies taking place in the area of Izumo Taisha, and that it is architecturally similar to buildings elsewhere in the cultural zone.  Whether or not any other ritual site was as large is difficult to say, but we certainly haven’t found any clear archaeological evidence at this time.

Furthermore, the Yayoi period is likely when many of the stories of the gods and spirits started to coalesce and be transmitted to others.  Whether these were truly fantastical stories or based on some kernel of truth, many things can be found to be amazingly familiar between the stories and the region.

And finally, we see the four-cornered burial mounds at the very end of the Yayoi period showing up across the cultural region.  Those mounds will eventually morph into true mounded tumuli, as we enter into the Kofun Period.  But we’ll save that for the next episode.

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That’s all for now.  Thank you again, and I’ll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo’s Chronicles of Japan.