Fourth Annual Samurai Fiction Contest

The Fourth Annual Samurai Fiction Contest has now kicked off. This short story contest has been run annually since 2005, and has produced some gems. Details for entering can be found here.

Here are the past winners:

2005

• Stray Dogs by Nina Boal
• Sakuradamongai no Hen by Joseph Ryan (Honorable Mention)

2006

• Gaki by Jesse Workman
• The Faithful by Nina Boal (Runner Up)
• Massugu by Andy Lowe (Honorable Mention)

2007

• Intruder by Nate Ledbetter (Winner and Best Ending)
  
• magni nominus umbra by Jesse Workman (Second Place and Most Original)
• The Matsudaira Plot by Nina Boal (Third Place and Best Writing)
• The Snow-Light Warrior by Jason Kemp (Best Dialogue)

All of the past entries and winners can be found at this link.

There is no fee to enter the contest, and up to two entries per person are permitted.

Timeline:
Deadline for fiction submission: 7/15/2008
Judging starts: 7/20/2008
Judging ends: 8/01/2008 or until necessary
Winner to be announced after judging.

Timelines are subject to change.

Participants agree to have thier stories diplayed on that Samurai Archives after the contest has finished. Participants will retain all rights to thier work, and will be credited for thier work on the site.

More Turnbull: Japanese Castles AD 250-1540

Well, Stephen Turnbull is nothing if not prolific. Only a week or so after the release of his latest book (The Samurai Swordsman: Master of War), he’s hit the stands with another tome-Japanese Castles AD 250-1540. It’s published by Osprey and despite its brevity (the standard Osprey 64 pages, over half of which are diagrams and illustrations) is an excellent effort by Turnbull. After having read this, I can even forgive him the rather lackluster effort shown by his repackaging of ‘The Lone Samurai and the Martial Arts’ into ‘The Samurai Swordsman: Master of War’.

The book delves into the history of Japanese fortifications before the age of the monster castles in the sixteenth century, a subject which has received little attention in English publications (since, obviously, only ruins and reconstructions remain of them). Despite the book’s title, it examines palaces and defensive works as well as castles. The development of fortifications is traced from early Yayoi period fortified settlements through Korean style fortresses of the Yamato state and the crude early Japanese style forts of the Heian age. Castles from the Kamakura and Muromachi periods are examined, and their development is brought up to the beginning of the ‘castle town’ era of the Sengoku (as embodied in the Asakura’s Ichijodani). Turnbull also examines the day to day life within the structures as well as the roles that some played in history. There’s also a short section on castle sites from these eras that can be visited today. Although Turnbull’s bibliography only contains one Japanese source, the English works he uses are impressive, solid, scholarly efforts by well respected authors. Our pal Obenjo Kusanosuke will no doubt want to check out Matsui Akira’s “Palaeoparasitology in Japan-Discovery of Toilet Features”!

The book is also valuable for its plethora of photos and illustrations. Turnbull has taken many nice photos of buildings and structures from reconstructed fortresses, and the book works well as an informal visual reference to the architecture of the times-well worth the cheap cover price just for this. The color artwork plates have been prepared by illustrator Peter Dennis, and are very well done, crisp renditions of the structures as they would have appeared in their own time. They’re a big upgrade over some of the rather murky representations done in some of Turnbull’s other books by different artists.

Overall, Japanese Castles AD 250-1540 continues the trend Turnbull has displayed the last couple of years-that of better and more detailed research resulting in more original works, yet still suited to a general readership. Combined with his three earlier volumes on Sengoku and Edo period castles (Japanese Castles 1540-1640), Japanese Fortified Temples and Monasteries, and Japanese Castles in Korea 1592-1598, they comprise a low cost set of books that will give their readers a solid overview of pre-modern Japanese fortifications.

But just when you think Turnbull is back on track, it's announced that he is releasing Real Ninja: Over 20 True Stories of Seafaring Sculduggery in September for the kids. Seemingly a combination of ninja and pirates, it looks like REAL ULTIMATE POWER is being served up for the next generation of Japanese historians.

Big Steve's Latest-The Samurai Swordsman: Master Of War

I just received the newest offering from the prolific Stephen Turnbull-“The Samurai Swordsman: Master of War”. As I speculated in a post a few months ago, the book is an expansion of his previous work “The Lone Samurai and the Martial Arts” (as he details in the introduction). You’ll also see it listed on different Amazon sites under its earlier proposed titles of “Art of the Samurai Swordsman” with Honda Tadakatsu on the cover, or just plain “Samurai”. It’s not an Osprey book (surprise!), but instead was produced by the well respected publisher of historical and cultural Japanese titles, Tuttle (we’ll forgive them for printing up a new edition of “Secrets of the Samurai”).

First, the good. It’s a huge coffee table book with an abundance of full color photos, prints, paintings, and portraits (some taking up two pages). Like most of Turnbull’s books, it’s a visual treat. It’s organized by chapter into several interesting themes and the incidents Turnbull lays out make for entertaining reading. There are rudimentary chapters on general eras of Japanese history (ancient, Kamakura, Sengoku, Edo, and the Bakumatsu) along with several that focus on a specific subject (sword schools and styles, swords in society, vendettas and ronin, and female warriors). Turnbull also displays an excellent writing style, giving life and a dramatic flair to the tales of old. It would be a great book to give someone as an introduction to Japanese history.

However, that’s also its greatest weakness. It’s pretty much a rehash of things Turnbull has written up many times before. While the title of the book is an obvious attempt to cash in on the casual martial arts-sammyrai crowd, a better title would have been “Legends of the Samurai”. Many of the incidents and tales are straight out of Edo period accounts and fiction with little to no basis in fact. A casual first look shows that Tomoe is presented as an historical figure, Asano Naganori is called an ‘upstanding’ ‘well respected and experienced samurai’, and the story of the death of Akechi Mitsuhide’s mother is presented as fact. All of these ideas are no longer accepted by the vast majority of the historical community. What makes it worse is that Turnbull has to know this. At one point, he quotes Varley’s ‘War Tales’ book to mention that Tomoe is one of only two women to be mentioned in the pages of a war tale as taking part in battle (the other being another attendant of Kiso Yoshinaka, Aoi Gozen, who I believe was said to have died at the battle of Kurikara). Turnbull totally ignores the fact that a couple of sentences earlier, Varley had stated that there is no evidence that Tomoe ever existed. While I have no problem with reading fiction and war tales (I love them, in fact) Turnbull could have at least mentioned in the introduction or chapter headings that many of these accounts are fictional, as he does in many of his other books. As is, he’s not doing any favors to someone who picks up the book to see some factual accounts-and posting a ‘legend disclaimer’ wouldn’t detract from a more casual reader’s enjoyment.

I’ve always been an enthusiastic supporter of Turnbull-he has produced some truly excellent and original works the past few years (with “Kakure Kirishitan of Japan”, “Samurai Invasion”, and short works on east Asian piracy, Kawanakajima, the Osaka Campaigns, and Japanese fortifications). His research habits and sources have become more involved, detailed, and diversified as well. However, this is a clear step back for Japanese history’s most popular author in the West. Granted, this book is aimed at a general, non-academic audience, but it is disappointing to see Turnbull revert to the dumbing down and repackaging of works that saw its nadir in the Osprey books “War in Japan” and “Ninja”.

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

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

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

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

Trip to Kyoto

I am currently in Kyoto. I will have to follow up this post with pictures later, since I can't upload them from this hotel computer. I spent some time at Mibu temple, the site of Serizawa Kamo and Hirayama Goro's graves, and a large stone bust of Kondo Isami. Next door is the Yagi residence, where the Shinsengumi lived for a time. I walked through the room that Serizawa and Hirayama were sleeping in when they were attacked, and touched the desk that Serizawa fell over dead on. Didn't notice any blood stains though.

Before that, I had went to Nijo castle and walked the grounds. That was my second or third time there, but it is still interesting. For the first time I went to the grounds of the Kyoto imperial palace. I didn't actually get inside the palace itself, but the grounds are huge. They take up quite a large portion of the city center.

I also went to the Kamo river, to Sanjo bridge, the site of various events such as the Sanjo Seisatsu incident, and the location that Kondo Isami's head was displayed. I also had the misfortune to have a pizza-man (round cake thing with pizza filling) torn from my hands by a hungry hawk by the riverbank - something I was definitely not expecting. I still have a nice cut on my right hand from it. On my way back, I stumbled on the gravesite of Toyotomi Hidetsugu, and 46 of his vassals slain by Hideyoshi in 1595.

Took a trip to Higashi and Nishi Honganji, but I wasn't terribly impressed. Both temples look the same, and there isn't a lot to see.

Today I went to Kodai-ji, and visited Kitamandokoro's (One/Nene) gravesite. Also went to the Shishi graveyard nearby, and visited Sakamoto Ryoma and Nakaoka Shintaro's graves, as well as Kido Takayoshi, and four or five dozen slain Choshu and Tosa men, killed during everything from the Sakuradamon no hen to the Ikedaya Incident. The entire area around Kodai-ji has a very Kyoto-ish feel to it, with Jinrikisha men carting around Geisha, Maiko, tourists, and various Kimono-adorned women. There is also a giant fake Buddha statue thing between Kodai-ji and the Shishi graveyard. Not sure what it is, and I didn't really want to pay the money to find out.

What is a samurai?

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

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

Wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Snobbery, Fear and Loathing in the Imjin War

I’ve been leading a small discussion group on the Samurai Archives Citadel forum on the topic of Toyotomi Hideyoshi’s invasions of Korea. We’ve been having a great time and learning a great deal about this conflict. We recently had a discussion about some of the books covering this topic available in English. Never a dull topic, this 1592-1598 conflict has managed to spark debate among Chinese, Korean and Japanese scholars for quite a long time. Now, it seems the scholarly sniping has reached the English speaking world as well.

In the past six years or so, it seems that Hideyoshi’s Korean wars, henceforth called the ‘Imjin War’ have caught the attention of native English-speaking scholars. First on the scene was Stephen Turnbull in 2002 with his ground breaking book, Samurai Invasion, followed by Samuel Hawley with The Imjin War. Kenneth Swope, currently an Assistant Professor of History at Ball State University, came out with some papers and articles on the conflict, most notably “Crouching Tigers, Secret Weapons: Military Technology Employed During the Sino-Japanese-Korean War, 1592–1598” published in The Journal of Military History 69 (January 2005) and then “Beyond Turtleboats: Siege Accounts from Hideyoshi’s Second Invasion of Korea, 1597-1598” published in the Sungkyun Journal of East Asian Studies Vol. 6, No. 2. 2006.

First a few words on Turnbull. Let’s face it. Dr. Turnbull has been a whipping boy in many circles for a variety of reasons ranging from recycling Papinot nearly word for word, sloppy mistakes, and then regurgitating his own works in “new” books at a pace that rivals the output of the slurpee machine at the corner Seven-Eleven. But I’m not here to bury Dr. Turnbull today in heaps of scorn, but to praise him. Faults aside, Turnbull deserves a great deal of credit for bringing the Imjin War to the forefront as his name is a big draw in the samurai history mass media market. In the West, the Imjin War is really the truly ‘forgotten’ Korean war and Turnbull has pulled this topic out of the shadows and into the light in what I feel is probably his best major work. Turnbull gives a very good, agenda-free account of the conflict that left me hungering for more.

Luckily for me, Samuel Hawley came out with the meaty The Imjin War. At over 600 pages, this book is a feast for one looking for a well-rounded narrative of the war. I was hooked as soon as I started reading about the pre-invasion diplomatic posturing and blundering. Well researched and documented, Hawley deserves a big round of applause for this work. While Turnbull is better at focusing on the purely military aspects of the Imjin War, Hawley excels at telling the “story behind the story” in an easy-to-follow format. Hawley and Turnbull’s books nicely complement each other kind of like an appetizer and a main course. But what’s for dessert?

Unfortunately it looks like “sour grapes” are on the menu. As previously mentioned, Swope has written some articles (actually more than two) on the Imjin War, and a book entitled A Dragon’s Head and a Serpent’s Tail: Ming China and the First Greater East Asian War, 1592-1598, is due to be published later this year as part of the University of Oklahoma Press’s “Campaigns & Commanders” series. But even long before the publication of his book, Swope has taken it upon himself to go on the offensive against both Turnbull and Hawley.

Here is what Swope had to say about Turnbull’s Samurai Invasion in his “Crouching Tiger” article:
“Stephen Turnbull published the first popular account, which, although it provides a solid general narrative of the war, has a number of shortcomings. First of all, Turnbull relies entirely on Japanese- and English-language secondary materials, augmented by a few translations of primary sources. He uses virtually nothing written from the Chinese perspective, not even widely available English-language reference works or monographs. He also leaves out much important Japanese scholarship, most notably the works of Kitajima Manji, who has published extensively on the subject. As a result the work is one-sided and presents a rather flawed interpretation of the war. Turnbull repeats the conventional view that Hideyoshi’s death in 1598 was the primary factor in Japan’s defeat in Korea. He also seems to adopt a pro-Japanese slant throughout, such as glossing over Japanese atrocities by blaming them on “lesser soldiers not in the first rank of samurai heroes.” Nevertheless, Turnbull does deserve credit for making a larger audience aware of this war and its historical importance...erroneously refers to the Battle of Pyŏkchegwan as the largest or most important conflict of the entire Korean campaign.”

It doesn’t seem all that professional to attack another author like this in an article such as “Crouching Tigers”. Turnbull’s book may have some flaws and is by no means perfect, but I cannot agree completely with Swope’s criticism of Turnbull. Was “Crouching Tigers” meant to be an op-ed or review of other works or a vehicle for Swope to put forth his theory that technology was the single most important variable in determining the outcome of the war?

Turnbull has trooped on with his Imjin research and has published additional titles for Osprey that touch upon the Imjin War, most notably Fighting Ships of the Far East 2 and the newly released Japanese Castles in Korea 1592-98. I think it is safe to say that Turnbull’s level of scholarship is improving, but again, his previous works have brought himself a lot of criticism in the past, some of it deserved. People may have a negative thing or two to say about Turnbull, but one thing you cannot deny is that he has been a gentleman in the face of Swope’s criticism. In the bibliographical section of Japanese Castles in Korea, Turnbull praises Swope as being a ‘particularly fine contributor’ to the study of the Imjin War and singles out “Crouching Tigers” as one of these outstanding articles. I thought this was classy, especially after what Swope wrote about Turnbull’s book in that article.

In the case of Hawley’s book, Swope goes to work on him in perhaps one of the most public of places in the world-- Amazon.com. In a scathing swipe at Hawley in a review on the book’s website, Swope writes:

“While this book has the trappings of an academic monograph, it is in fact little more than a basic narrative cobbled together from translated sources. The author provides little real analysis and has only a limited grasp of the actual historical source base, instead working through the translations of others. The result is a well-intentioned, but ultimately unsatisfying work full of both minor and major mistakes of fact and interpretation. It is perhaps slightly better than what might be available in English (in one volume) at this point, but those seeking a serious and nuanced understanding of this conflict, should best look elsewhere.”

Oh, the snobbery drips from Swope’s review like snot from a bratty kid’s runny nose! Hawley’s book was a six-year labor of love in the making, and the painstaking research he did to weave this book into a coherent and excellent overview of the Imjin War deserves to be commended. For an academic aspiring for Imjin ‘greatness’, a blatant attack of this nature is despicable.

What is Swope looking for? Absolute perfection? In a topic such as the Imjin War where the truth lies somewhere between what is written in the contemporary primary sources of the Japanese, Koreans and Chinese, it is going to be hard to find perfection—let alone write a book that satisfies people who have ulterior agendas aimed at defending or glorifying the actions of any one of the combatants in this multinational conflict.

I don’t know what Turnbull and Hawley have done to deserve such public attacks by Swope. Perhaps they didn’t heap enough praise on the Ming nor pay the proper level of respect to the Middle Kingdom’s role in pushing the Japanese ‘robber dwarfs’ off the continent. Whatever the case, I certainly hope that this isn’t Swope’s way of doing pre-publication self-promotion. Swope’s swipes at both Turnbull and Hawley sorely detract from the merit of his own research and writing—and that is too bad, because I think Swope has a lot of interesting things to say, whether one agrees with everything he writes or not. Instead, Swope has taken us on a snobbish detour into his personal fear and loathing of his peers. Perhaps it is just a case of Imjin envy?

In any event, Swope’s criticisms, like an old fashioned Chinese fo-lang-chi firearm, lack any decisive battlefield punch and could make him look like a true paper tiger. Swope himself will have to run the gauntlet of peer reviews when his new book, A Dragon’s Head and a Serpent’s Tail is published. Swope’s attacks on Turnbull and Hawley could actually blow up in his face like a poorly made Ming copy of a Portuguese arquebus if his book misses the mark. All we can do is wait and see.