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The rousing drum: Ritual, change, and adaptation in a rural mountain community of central Japan

Schnell, Scott Randall, Ph.D.

The Ohio State University, 1993

Copyright ©1993 by Schnell, Scott Randall. All rights reserved.

UMI 300 N. ZeebRd. Ann Arbor, MI 48106

THE ROUSING DRUM:

RITUAL, CHANGE, AND ADAPTATION IN A

RURAL MOUNTAIN COMMUNITY OF CENTRAL JAPAN

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for

the Degree Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate

School of the Ohio State University

By

Scott Randall Schnell, B.S., M.S., M.A., M.A.

*****

The Ohio State University

1993

Dissertation Committee: Approved by

Richard H. Moore

James R. Bartholomew "Advisor Gary L. Ebersole Department of Anthropology Copyright by Scott Randall Schnell 1993 To my mother, who passed away while I was in the field. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Conducting field research was a valuable lesson in humility, as it made me realize how totally dependent I was upon the benevolence of others. Î owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to the people of Furukawa for welcoming me into their lives and putting up with my rather intrusive activities. Most of them had absolutely nothing to gain from helping me with my research and yet gave freely of their time and energy. Any benefit

I may receive as a result of this research is due largely to their kind efforts on my behalf.

There are a few individuals to whom I would like to offer some special words of thanks. Amaki Makoto, head priest of the Ketawakamiya shrine, was very gracious in permitting me to observe the Shinto rituals he conducts there and explaining their background and significance. Tajika Bunzaburo, Kaba Shigetarü, Komura Katsue, and all of the other shrine officers were kind enough to allow me to attend their planning sessions as well as the fellowship meetings which invariably followed. Hashimoto

Tomokazu, head of the Furukawa Education Committee, was always very supportive of my research and provided me with a great deal of help and advice in locating the necessary materials. Tsuzuku Jun’ya, who had studied the social sciences at a national university and returned to Furukawa after graduation, assisted me in my research and provided valuable feedback on some of my theoretical ideas. I would also like to thank

in the young men of the Sogakubu in my home neighborhood of Mukaimachi for allowing me to join their group and participate in their practice sessions and performances.

In piecing together the development of the Furukawa matsuri. I was greatly aided by local historian Ono Masao, a fine scholar and meticulous researcher who has devoted several decades to the study of the Hida region. Sugishita Mikio was also very helpful in explaining local religious beliefs and social conditions. Both men spent many hours patiently answering my questions, and I gained a great deal from their information and advice.

The people of Furukawa were very kind and generous in accommodating the strange foreigner in their midst. I would like to express my gratitude to two households in particular-those of Kamamiya Yoshikatsu and Suzuki Yukihiro. Both have welcomed me into their homes as a member of the family and have consistently gone out of their way to see that I was well taken care of—all this with no other motivation than their own good will. It would be impossible for me to ever repay their kindness, but I hope that they will recognize my sincere appreciation.

The bulk of my fieldwork was funded by a research scholarship generously provided by the Japanese Ministry of Education. I also received a research award from the graduate school of the Ohio State University which allowed me to make a brief return visit to Furukawa the following year.

I would like to thank Professor Nagashima Nobuhiro of Hitotsusbashi University, my academic advisor during the time I spent in Japan as a scholarship recipient.

Professor Nagashima provided me with many useful suggestions on conducting field

IV research and developing my theoretical ideas. 1 would also like to thank Professor

Nakamaki Hirochika of the National Museum of Ethnology and Professor Sonoda Minoru of Kyoto University for all their help and advice. Professor Sonoda did fieldwork in

Furukawa himself several years prior to my own investigation, and I benefitted greatly from his previous research.

I am very grateful to Professor James R. Bartholomew of the Ohio State

University and Professor Gary L. Ebersole of the University of Chicago for serving on my dissertation committee. Both provided me with a wealth of background information as well as many useful suggestions on developing my own specific research project.

Finally, I would especially like to thank Professor Richard H. Moore, my academic advisor, teacher, and friend, who taught me most of what I know about the anthropology of Japan. VITA

June 8, 1954 Born - Wooster, Ohio.

1976 B.S. with distinction in Natural Resources, Ohio State University, June, 1976.

1977-80 Land Resource Capability Analyst, Ohio Department of Natural Resources.

1979 M.S. in Natural Resources, Ohio State University.

1983-84 English Instructor, Nunoike School of Foreign Languages, Nagoya, Japan.

1987 M.A. in Anthropology, Ohio State University.

1989 M.A. in East Asian Languages and Literatures, Ohio State University, August.

1992 - Present Visiting Assistant Professor of Anthropology, College of William and Mary.

FIELDS OF STUDY

Major Field; Anthropology

VI TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... iii

VITA ...... vi

LIST OF TABLES ...... x

LIST OF FIGURES...... xi

CHAPTER PAGE

I. INTRODUCTION ...... 1

Culture as Adaptation ...... 1 The Rousing Drum R itual...... 2 Regional Variation and Significance of the Study Area ...... 5 Tradition and Social Change ...... 8 Structure and Anti-Structure ...... 17 The Japanese Matsuri as a Ritual Event...... 19

II. OBJECTIVES AND METHODOLOGY ...... 24

Objectives ...... 24 Theoretical Context ...... 24 The Ecological Approach ...... 28 The Symbolic Approach...... 32 Ritual and Adaptation ...... 34 Methodology...... 39 Theoretical Considerations...... 46

III. SOCIONATURAL CONTEXT...... 48

Geographical Features ...... 48 Early History ...... 53 Political Administiation ...... 56

vu Traditional Subsistence Technology ...... 62 Folk Beliefs ...... 69 Rise of the Patron Landlords...... 72 Peasant R ebellion...... 77 The Local Elite ...... 82 Transition to a Market Econom y...... 92 Land Concentration...... 97 Land Reform...... 99 Demographics and Local Character ...... 101 Present E con om y...... 107 Religious Events ...... 113

IV. THE MATSURI: ETHNOGRAPHIC PRESENT...... 127

Territorial Divisions ...... 127 Mobilization...... 143 Entertaining the Sacred Presence...... 174 Okoshi Daiko—The Rousing Drum...... 181 The Politics of Participation...... 196 Hongakusai—The Main E vent...... 202 Returning the Sacred P resen ce...... 211 Follow-Up A ctivities...... 212 Yobihiki and Women’s Participation ...... 214 Transition...... 218

V. THE MATSURI: HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT ...... 221

The Matsuri in 1870 ...... 221 Early Development...... 227 Restoration Politics and Religious Sym bolism...... 234 From Harvest Festival to Rite of Spring ...... 242 The Role of the Local E lite ...... 244 Sociopolitical Change and Grass Roots Opposition...... 247 Ritual Resistance ...... 251 Rising M ilitarism...... 264 Into the Realm of Living M em ory...... 278 The Postwar Y e a r s...... 305 Tradition and Tourism...... 310 The Effect of Current Demographic and Employment Patterns...... 319

VI. ANALYSIS AND CONCLUSION...... 323

Change and Adaptation ...... 323 The Matsuri as a Religious Event ...... 326

vni The Matsuri as a Social T em plate...... 331 The Matsuri as a Form of R esistance...... 335 The Matsuri as a Liminal Experience...... 360 An Ideological Environment ...... 367

APPENDICES

A. Charter of the People of Furukawa ...... 371 B. The Folksong "Furukawa Medeta"...... 372 C. Register of Eligible Voters for Electing Members to the House of Representatives (ShUgiin Giin Senkyo Jinmeibol for Furukawa Township, 1889 ...... 374

BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 376

Sources in English ...... 376 Sources in Japanese...... 388

IX LIST OF TABLES

TABLE PAGE

1. Chünai and associated taigumi juxtaposed against political divisions and residential designations ...... 129

2. Okoshi daiko groups shown with component taigumi and their associated chonai divisions ...... 144 LIST OF FIGURES

FIGURE PAGE

1. The okoshi daiko ("rousing drum") ritual at Hida-Furukawa...... 3

2. Central Japan ...... 49

3. The drainage system in the Hida region...... 52

4. Taigumi symbols ...... 130

5. Schematic drawing of the Tonomachi’s Seiryutai from the side ...... 132

6. Schematic drawing of the Tonomachi’s Seiryntai from the fr o n t...... 133

7. Schematic drawing of Mukaimachi’s Kaguradai from the side ...... 139

8. Schematic drawing of Mukaimachi’s Kaguradai from the front...... 140

9. The ancient Chinese directional system...... 143

10. Chain of command for conducting the matsuri ...... 153

11. The assembled drum structure showing top, side, and end view s...... 168

12. Positions assumed by the main guard and drum beaters during the okoshi daiko...... 172

XI CHAPTER I

INTRODUCTION

Culture as Adaptation

The concept of culture as a means of adapting to and utilizing the environment remains one of the major theoretical paradigms in American anthropology. Its adherents generally assume an ecological orientation, drawing human sociocultural phenomena into the realm of the biological sciences. Rappaport (1984:5), for example, has defined culture as "part of the means by which animals of the human species maintain themselves in their environment," thereby assigning primary importance to its adaptive potential.

This has been a popular approach because it offers hope for the establishment of a unifying explanatory framework within a discipline of such broad scope and varied range of interests that it often seems in danger of diversifying itself into oblivion. The ecological approach has been criticized, however, for overemphasizing the importance of technology as a determining factor while virtually ignoring other aspects such as art, religion, and ideology (Flannery 1972:400, Bargatzky 1984). The following analysis seeks to redress this inadequacy by incorprating such aspects as vital elements of an adaptive process. It will explore the manner in which ritual, defined here as the physical 2 expression of ideology through a symbolic medium, changes over time in adapting to the immediate needs of the local community.

The Rousing Drum Ritual

The small town of Furukawa lies in the mountainous Hida region of central Japan.

Each spring life in Furukawa revolves around planning and participating in tiie local matsuri. or Shinto shrine festival, the origins of which date back to the late sixteenth century. By all accounts the matsuri is the single most important event of the year in the lives of the townspeople, far outweighing both the New Year festivities and the mid­

summer Bon observances.

The Furukawa matsuri is similar in many ways to festivals in other communities

throughout the Hida region. Rituals are performed on behalf of the townspeople asking

the local guardian deity to grant them a successfiil growing season and ensure the welfare

and prosperity of the community. The feature which makes Furukawa unique, however,

is an interesting ritual event known as the okoshi daiko. or "rousing drum. " The name

refers to a large, barrel-shaped drum perched atop a turret made of short, overlapping

wooden beams, which is in turn positioned in the center of a huge grid-like rectangular

framework. At night the entire structure is lugged through the narrow streets on the

shoulders of a mass of semi-naked men who have been fortilying themselves against the

cold night air with liberal amounts of sake.

High upon the framework above them two young men sit back to back astride the

drum itself. One facing forward and the other to the rear, they stare intently into space. Figure 1 : The okoshi daiko ("rousing drum") ritual at Hida-Furukawa. (Photograph by Naoi Ryïïji.) 4 seemingly oblivious to the action going on around and below them. Each holds a long wooden stick in vertical position high above his head, periodically striking the drum with a powerful downward motion and alternating beats with his counterpart behind him. Two additional drumbeaters stand down upon the beams of the framework, one at either end of the drum, each timing his strikes with the man atop it on the opposite end. Together they produce in slow, measured cadence a thunderous booming sound which resonates through the night air.

Eight other men position themselves to the front and rear of the drum as if to

guard it from attack. Each holds a lighted paper lantern in one hand while balancing

himself precariously on the beams of the framework as the entire structure twists and

bounces along on the shoulders of the mob.

The young men of Furukawa are organized into teams, each representing its own

neighborhood association. As the large drum moves through different sections of the

town, these teams lie waiting to attack it from behind as it passes by. Each team, is

armed with a "tsuke daiko" (attaching drum), which consists of a stout wooden pole with

a small drum attached at the middle beaiing the insignia of the neighborhood group it

represents. Team members hold the pole horizontally at arm’s length above their heads

as they charge toward their goal, the drum positioned upward to display their group

insignia. The object is to fight their way to the fore and hold the tsuke daiko lengthwise

over the back of the wooden framework as it moves along its course. This is a

formidable task considering that it entails outmaneuvering several other teams having

similar intentions within the confines of a narrow street and driving through the defenses 5 of a gang of burly drum guardians positioned directly behind tlie wooden framework to hold the challengers at bay. The action can become very aggressive, and injuries are not uncommon.

In recent years this rather unusual event has developed into a popular tourist spectacle promoted by town planners as a means of drawing additional income into the community. Prior to the economic boom period of the late 1950s and early 60s, however, there were no tourists to speak of, and the okoshi daiko was staged primarily by and for the townspeople themselves. What factors, then, led to its emergence, and what significance did it have for the local people? These basic questions provide the focus for the following analysis.

Regional Variation and Significance of the Study Area

Brown (1984:119) notes that Western scholars have tended to emphasize broad generalities in describing Japanese culture, and calls for greater attention to regional variations:

Our Japanese colleagues, having greater familiarity with their own culture, have paid more attention to the regional and other variations in Japanese culture. That there are such variations does not deny the possibility that there are common underlying elements and patterns in the culture. However, closer attention must be given to the regional aspects of the culture if we are fully to understand the balance between common features and cultural diversity. Such matters get only cursory attention in the Western literature on Japan.

In this respect, it is significant that while several ethnographies about Japan have been produced by Western anthropologists none has yet focused specifically on the Hida region. 6

Hida comprises the northern portion of Gifu prefecture. It is bounded on the east by a range of lofty peaks popularly known as the Japan Alps, which divide the main island of Honshu roughly into two halves. The landscape is characterized by forested mountains and swiftly flowing streams, with scattered villages and terraced rice paddies squeezed into the narrow valleys. At one point, however, the Miya River valley opens up into an elongated basin enclosed on all sides by steep slopes. Furukawa is located in the center of this basin at the point where the Araki River converges with the Miya. It is surrounded mostly by rice paddies, and beyond them a number of small farm villages tucked in against the slopes at the perimeter of the basin.

Though the basin itself measures only about eight kilometers long and no more than two kilometers across at its widest point, it nevertheless represents the largest single stretch of arable land in the entire Hida region, and therefore its principle rice-producing area as well. Rice is important as the staple grain in the Japanese diet, but also as the main ingredient in brewing sake. Land in this narrow basin, therefore, has historically been in great demand but very limited supply-creating an excellent opportunity for examining how the competition for material resources is symbolically enacted.

Furukawa offers other interesting reseaich possibilities in that it lies at the interface between several different sets of opposing categories. Scholars in various disciplines have tended to divide Japan into two broad cultural regions: the northeast, dominated by Tokyo (formerly Edo), the center of power held by the warrior establishment during Japan’s late medieval period; and the southwest, centering on Kyoto, the former capital and locus of an older, more highly refined aristocratic court tradition. 7

The geographical distribution of divergent cultural phenomena are often perceived in terms of these two broad regional categories. In analyses of patterns of rural social organization, for example, the northeast is supposedly characterized by a rigid hierarchy based on the genealogical relationship between a main household (honke) and its derivative branches fbunkel. while the southwest is thought to exhibit a more egalitarian community structure (Fukutake 1949, Izumi and Gamo 1952, Befu 1963). In cartographic representations of this division, Gifu prefecture (wherein the town of

Furukawa lies) usually appears along the boundary separating the two regions, or in some

nebulous intermediate zone.'

The Furukawa basin also represents a point of convergence between mountainous

forest and lowland rice agricultural environments, each requiring a distinctive set of

subsistence skills. Of course agriculture comprises only one segment of the local

economy. Furukawa has since its inception functioned as a commercial hub for the

surrounding villages. It is therefore based on a combination of both agricultural and

mercantile activity.

Yet another dimension of opposition is created by the impetus for bolstering the

local economy offset by a desire to maintain native traditions. The degree of isolation

imposed by the mountainous topography has historically kept Hida well out of the

mainstream of national development planning. As a result, it retains a somewhat more

traditional character, having resisted the forces of change that have so dramatically

transformed other parts of Japan. Nevertheless, the region is linked into a rapidly

‘See Nagashima (1984) for examples of this type of cartographic representation. 8 expanding national economy, and the impact of changes induced by technological development and industrial expansion are inevitably experienced even at the local level.

The people of Furukawa are justifiably proud of their traditions as well as the beauty of their natural environment, and have pledged themselves to the maintenance of both.' Yet indications of an ambitious economic development program are readily apparent, and a number of small factory buildings now dot the surrounding landscape which was once devoted exclusively to agriculture. Many of the rice paddies are being filled in to create spacious new housing sites for prosperous merchants, or converted to vegetable gardens in response to a government policy aimed at limiting surplus rice production levels. On the outskirts of town stand a number of gaudy pachinko parlors, which appear somewhat incongruous against the forested mountain background. The recently constructed bypass highway is now being extended in response to a steady increase in automobile traffic through the area. Overall, the prevailing atmosphere is of a community in the throes of rapid change.

The most compelling feature of Fumkawa as a prospective study area, however, is the annual matsuri and the ritual behavior it embodies. It is toward this event and its relationship to other sociocultural processes that the following investigation is directed.

Tradition and Social Change

Structural-functionalists in the mold of Radcliffe-Brown have long addressed the

relationship between religious ideology and social structure. One of the major criticisms

'See Appendix A: "Charter of the People of Furukawa." 9 of this approach has been its synchronic orientation, in which society is considered a more or less static entity. Structural-functionalism, it is claimed, offers little or no opportunity for examining the processes of social change, leading to the impression that religion functions basically as a conservative force for maintaining the social status quo.

Geertz (1957:33) has argued that standard functional theory is incapable of dealing adequately with social change because it fails to recognize a fundamental distinction between culture and social structure:

Culture is the fabric of meaning in terms of which human beings interpret their experience and guide their action; social structure is the form that action takes, the actually existing network of social relations. Culture and social structure are dien but different abstractions from the same phenomena. The one considers social action in respect to its meaning for those who carry it out, the other considers it in terms of its contribution to the functioning of some social system.

Geertz then proposes a more dynamic functionalist approach based on an

acknowledgment of the inherent contradiction between the two abstractions. As an

example he describes a situation drawn from his own field experience in Java involving

a community of immigrants from rural villages now living in an urban area. Their

attempt to conduct a traditional ritual failed miserably in the new urban environment,

which was based on social and political divisions rather than common place of residence.

Culturally the immigrants were still rural, but in terms of social structure they were

urban, and their old cultural behavior patterns were no longer appropriate in the new

social context. Geertz draws the following conclusion (1957:53):

The driving forces in social change can be clearly formulated only by a more dynamic form of functionalist theory, one which takes into account the fact that man’s need to live in a world to which he can attribute some 10

significance, whose essential import he feels he can grasp, often diverges from his concurrent need to maintain a functioning social organism.

Turner (1967) also acknowledged the necessity for addressing the dynamics of social change, recommending that the static social-structural approach be replaced with a dynamic framework which he called "process theory." This was to include a consideration of ecological factors and of the impact ofchange occuiTing outside the

somewhat arbitrary boundaries of the local community (Turner 1967:112-113):

Process-theory involves a "becoming" as well as a "being" vocabulary, admits of plurality, disparity, conflicts of groups, roles, ideals, and ideas, and, since it is concerned with human beings, considers such variables as ‘goal,’ ‘motivation,’ ‘intention,’ ‘rationality,’ and ‘meaning.’ Furthermore, it lays stress on human biology, on the individual life cycle, and on public health and pathology. It takes into theoretic account ecological and economic processes both repetitive and changing. It has to estimate the effects on local subsystems of large-scale political processes in wider systems.

Perhaps the lack of adequate attention to the processes of social change is due in

part to the fact that changes are often concealed within an idiom that implies continuity.

This relates to the concept of "invented tradition, " which Hobsbawm and Ranger (1983:1)

define as:

a set of practices, normally governed by overtly or tacitly accepted rules and of a ritual or symbolic nature, which seek to inculcate certain values and norms of behavior by repetition, which automatically implies continuity with the past.

This alleged continuity witli the past, however, is largely fictitious. In reality, the new

practices are merely being disguised as old traditions to make them more palatable to

those inclined to resist their propagation. 11

Traditions provide people with some degree of certainty in a changing world. The very fact that they have withstood the test of time tends to bestow upon them an aura of immutable truth. Any cultural innovation is likely to meet with resistance from members of the general public simply because it challenges the accepted patterns of behavior to which they have become accustomed. Those who stand to benefit from such innovations can insure a higher probability of success by introducing them in the guise of time- honored traditions, thereby linking an uncertain present with a fondly remembered- perhaps idealized-past. "In short, [invented traditions] are responses to novel situations which take the form of reference to old situations, or which establish their own past by quasi-obligatory repetition" (Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983:2).

The authors suggest that the invention of tradition has been a widespread and

recurring phenomenon throughout the course of human history. They note, however, that

(Hobsbawm and Ranger 1983:4-5):

we should expect it to occur more frequently when a rapid transformation of society weakens or destroys the social patterns for which "old" traditions had been designed, producing new ones to which they were not applicable, or when such old traditions and their institutional carriers and promulgators no longer prove sufficiently adaptable and flexible, or are otherwise eliminated.

This accurately describes the conditions created in Japan by the tremendous economic and

technological development of the modem era. To what degree, then, have the "old

traditions" in Japan been able to adapt? To what extent have "new traditions" been

created to replace the old?

Bestor (1989) has addressed these issues in his ethnographic study of Miyamoto-

cho, a pseudonym for a small residential and commercial neighborhood in Tokyo. 12

Bestor’s work focuses on the concept of traditionalism, which he defines as "the interpretation, creation, or manipulation of contemporary ideas about the past to bestow an aura of venerability on contemporary social relations" (1989:4). He then applies tliis concept to an analysis of community social organization in Miyamoto-chü (1989:11):

I examine ways in which residents invoke tradition to legitimate the present by reference to an idealized, ahistorical past... I argue that these reinterpretations and manipulations of a traditionalistic ethos-these presentations of the cultural present as the (a)historical past-often mask the dynamism and fluidity of Japanese social life.

According to Bestor, the influence of traditionalism has been so powerful that it has even misled Japan specialists within the social sciences, generating a number of

misconceptions about the nature of Japanese society both past and present. In particular

he challenges the idea that contemporary Japanese urban social organization is merely an

extension of the pattern which is believed to have characterized the preindustrial farm

village (1989:49):

Those who argue for underlying structural and cultural continuities between past and present, between rural and urban, often distort the past, the present, and the processes of social and cultural change and continuity that link them. They assume that culture is an ahistorical constant, not an ever-changing construct created in historical moments and altered by historical change at the same time it changes participants’ views of history.

Bestor then describes the creation of new institutions in response to social changes

imposed by forces originating outside the boundaries of the local community. These new

institutions are represented using a sort of traditional village organizational idiom, thereby

lending them a greater sense of legitimacy by implying a continuous link with the

venerated past. This allows residents to maintain a sense of local identity in spite of the 13 tremendous development pressures generated by industrialization and urban growth

(1989:160-161):

Miyamoto-chD’s traditions may not have a long local ancestry, but the neighborhood’s partisans see them as things developed in response to the needs and desires of the community. Even though the customs themselves may not be unique their particular configuration in the neighborhood and tlie perception of even widespread customs as somehow embodying a local tradition foster community spirit and mark-to the resident’s own satisfaction—Miyamoto-cho as a unity distinct from others.

Bestor concludes that (1989:260):

Although idioms of traditionalism and elements of traditional social patterns are invoked in the symbolic creation and maintenance of the neighborhood as a community, this should not blind analysts from examining these ideas for what they are: metaphors for the organization of social life, which may be manipulated either consciously or unconsciously. Observers should not take tliem at face value as evidence of historical continuity or cultural stagnation of the individuals and social groups involved.

Yet despite Bestor’s well-reasoned argument it would be unwise to assume that

the nature and direction of change is entirely independent of the past. Smith (1989:722),

for example, asserts that:

In the study of Japan, we shall ever be confounded unless we see that in eveiy tradition and every item in the cultural inventory of the moment there will be something old and something new ... [T]he truly old is not rendered inauthentic by its association with what is new, nor is the recent innovation tainted by its fusion with what is carried forward from the past. From generation to generation, the transmittal of tradition and culture is characterized by a constant process of subtraction, attenuation, and loss and of addition, supplementation, and gain.

It is this capacity for alteration and adjustment, I would add, which allows culture and

tradition to function so effectively as instruments of adaptation. Smith concludes by

suggesting that (1989:722): 14

we were wrong to think that culture is either immutable or chimerical and that tradition is limited to beliefs and practices of long standing. We were equally wrong to think that contemporary institutions are either legacies from the past or innovative ruptures with it. Rather, they are the current moment through which past is linked to present, and present to future. How they are linked, and by what forces, are the central questions of cultural analysis.

History and culture may perhaps best be seen as mutually interacting entities, each continually redefining the other. This is the position Sahlins (1985 ;vii) adopts in analyzing the cultural response of Hawaiian islaiders to their initial encounter with

Europeans:

History is culturally ordered, differently so in different societies, according to meaningful schemes of things. The converse is also true: cultural schemes are historically ordered, since to a greater or lesser extent the meanings are revalued as they are practically enacted. The synthesis of these contraries unfolds in the creative action of the historic subjects, the people concerned.

Sahlins notes that each society is equipped with its own set of conceptual

categories with which to interpret events (1985:153):

an event is not just a happening in the world; it is a relation between a certain happening and a given symbolic system. And although as a happening an event has its own ‘objective’ properties and reasons stemming from other worlds (systems), it is not these properties as such that give it effect but their significance as projected from some cultural scheme. The event is a happening interpreted—and interpretations vary.

Therefore cultural change induced by contact with the outside will manifest itself in a

variety of local responses.

So far this amounts to little more than recycled historical particularism. Sahlins

also observes, however, that reality does not always conform to preconceived categories.

Therefore every attempt to interpret actual events using established cultural categories 15 places the categorical structure itself in danger of encountering something which it is

unable to explain. In this event, the structure must be altered to accommodate the new

phenomenon or risk being discredited entirely. Thus "cultural categories acquire new

functional values. Burdened with the world, the cultural meanings are thus altered. It

follows that the relationships between categories change: the structure is transformed"

(1985:138).

As a result, "[ejvery implementation of cultural concepts in an actual world

submits the concepts to some determination by the situation" (1985:149). Situations are

historical; cultural categories are structural. The cultural categories are used to interpret

situations, but situations in turn necessitate changes in the categorical structure. History

and structure, in other words, are intimately related (1985:143-144):

there is no phenomenal ground—let alone any heuristic advantage-for considering history and structure as exclusive alternatives. Hawaiian history is throughout grounded in structure, tlie systematic ordering of contingent circumstances, even as the Hawaiian structure proved itself historical.

Sahlins therefore proposes that the historical and structural approaches be integrated into

a "diachronic structuralism, " which recognizes structure itself as a historical phenomenon.

There is a parallel here with evolutionary theory. Change in the environment

produces a structural response in the organism. However, appropriate structural

adaptations do not simply appear spontaneously as the need for them presents itself.

They must develop out of a previously existing structure, and that existing structure

places limits on the range of possible adaptive responses. Thus the future development

of an organism (or by extension culture) is inescapably linked to its evolutionary past. 16

The engineers of Japan’s industrial expansion, then, were able to respond to changing socioeconomic conditions by employing the cultural materials immediately available to them. Confucian ideas relating to social obligations and communal solidarity were reapplied in the modern urban setting, even though the "community" was now based not on place of residence but on place of employment. Returning to Geertz’ idiom as previously described, opportunities were created for expressing traditional cultural patterns in a new social environment. Agaiu, the result was neither merely n holdover from the past nor a purely instrumental response to the present situation but rather a synthesis of old and new.

But what of the rural areas left behind in the push toward urban-industrial development? Kelly (1986) has addressed the problems facing residents of the Shonai region of Yamagata Prefecture in struggling to come to terms with two conflicting national policies: rationalization and nostalgia. His analysis includes an account of how one community has managed to capitalize on both by promoting their local traditions as important cultural properties in order to obtain government funding for community development projects.

The citizens of my own field site, Furukawa, similarly find themselves tom between pressures to innovate as members of the world’s most technologically advanced industrial economy and a desire to preserve the distinctive traditions which are so vital to their own local identity. The present study deals with their attempts to reconcile such competing social forces through ritual behavior. It will demonstrate that while the matsuri is often described as a vehicle for preseiwing their traditions, it also furnishes 17 them with a medium for responding to social, political, and economic change. Most recently it has given them opportunities for bolstering their local economy through the acquisition of government subsidies and tourist income.

Structure and Anti-Structure

Moore and Myerhoff (1977:3) describe social life as the interplay between "the regular and the improvised, the rigid and the flexible, the repetitive and the varying."

This, they maintain:

is implicit in Victor Turner’s phrase, "structure and anti-structure." He sees the two as existing in a perpetual dialectical relationship over time. With such a view of culture and social life in mind, collective ritual can be seen as an especially dramatic attempt to bring some particular part of life firmly and definitely into orderly control. It belongs to the structuring side of the cultural/historical process.

Elsewhere they contend that (1977:17):

Every ceremony is par excellence a dramatic statement against indeterminacy in some field of human affairs. Through order, formality, and repetition it seeks to state that the cosmos and social world, or some particular small part of them, are orderly and explicable and for the moment fixed.

However, Turner actually described ritual as an instrument of both order and chaos—an arena where the interplay between structure and anti-structure is symbolically enacted. This is implicit in his concept of "communitas," a state of being in which participants temporarily escape the structural confines of rank and status and join together as an undifferentiated mass of fellow human beings.

Turner’s concept derives from the liminal phase of van Gennep’s (1960) rites of passage, during which the initiates have been obliged to abandon their former status 18 affiliations but have yet to assume their new identities upon being reincorporated into the existing social structure (1966:96):

What is interesting about liminal phenomena for our present purposes is the blend they offer of lowliness and sacredness, of homogeneity and comradeship. We are presented, in such rites, with a "moment in and out of time, " and in and out of secular social structure, which reveals, however fleetingly, some recognition (in symbol if not always in language) of a generalized social bond that has ceased to be and has simultaneously yet to be fragmented into a multiplicity of structural ties.

Turner suggested that this generalized social bond constituted a separate realm of social interaction in addition to the purely structural (1966:177):

All human societies implicitly or explicitly refer to two contrasting social models ... The first model is of a differentiated, culturally structured, segmented, and often hierarchical system of institutionalized positions. The second presents society as an undifferentiated, homogeneous whole, in which individuals confront one another integrally, and not as ‘segmentalized’ into statuses and roles.

He then argued that this second dimension, which he labelled ‘communitas,’ had been

largely ignored by anthropologists due to "a propensity to equate the ‘social’ with the

‘social structural’" (1966:121).

Turner described communitas and structure in terms of a dialectic relationship in

which each is defined relative to the other. The relationship, he maintained, is often

reaffirmed symbolically through the ritual medium (1966:203):

There would seem to b e-if one can use such a controversial term-a human ‘need’ to participate in both modalities. Persons starved of one in their functional day-to-day activities seek it in ritual liminality. The structurally inferior aspire to symbolic structural superiority in ritual; the structurally superior aspire to symbolic communitas and undergo penance to achieve it. 19

This alleged human need served as the basis upon which Turner sought to explain a certain type of ritual behavior in which hierarchical social relationships were temporarily reversed (1966:167):

at certain culturally defined points in the seasonal cycle, groups or categories of persons who habitually occupy low status positions in the social structure are positively enjoined to exercise ritual authority over their superiors; and they, in their turn, must accept with good will their ritual degradation.

Anti-structural sentiments are most clearly manifested through so-called "rituals

of rebellion," a term originally coined by Gluckman (1954) in reference to recurring

behavior patterns in which the rules concerning proper respect toward authority are

temporarily abandoned. Dirks (1988) later elaborated upon the concept, noting that such

rituals often occur as annual events allowing one segment of a community a regular

opportunity to express antagonism toward another. He associated their incidence with (1)

the imposition of strict conformity to rigid social norms and (2) seasonal food shortages

or other stress-producing conditions. According to Dirks, the conflict initially took the

form of a mock battle but became increasingly ritualized over time, eventually drifting

away from its originally intended significance to assume new functions.

The Japanese Matsuri as a Ritual Event

Geertz (1973:112-113) acknowledges the central importance of ritual in gaining

an understanding of a people’s religious world view:

In a ritual, the world as lived and the world as imagined, fused under the agency of a single set of symbolic forms, turn out to be the same world ... Whatever role divine intervention may or may not play in the creation 20

of faith ... it is, primarily at least, out of the context of concrete acts of religious observance that religious conviction emerges on the human plane.

He then describes a form of ritual observance which is particularly conducive to analysis through outside observation (1973:113):

though any religious ritual, no matter how apparently automatic or conventional... involves this symbolic fusion of edios and world view, it is mainly certain more elaborate and usually more public ones, ones in which a broad range of moods and motivations on the one hand and of metaphysical conceptions on the other are caught up, which shape the spiritual consciousness of a people. Employing a useful term introduced by Singer, we may call these bill-blown ceremonies "cultural performances" and note that they represent not only the point at which the dispositional and conceptual aspects of religious life converge for the believer, but also the point at which the interaction between them can be most readily examined by the detached observer.

The Japanese matsuri is a prime example of this type of "cultural performance."

The word ‘matsuri’ is roughly equivalent to the English ‘festival,’ though the Japanese term once held a more deeply religious connotation. Havens (1988:148) suggests that

"the theological sense given to matsuri is probably closest to the English terms ‘to worship’ or ‘to show reverence,’" and Shinto priests commonly refer to the religious rituals they perform on behalf of their parishioners as ‘matsuri.’ Recently the word has

been used in referring to various secular celebrations, exhibitions-even promotional sales

events. It is most commonly associated, however, with Shinto shrine festivals—the

seasonal community celebrations dedicated to the local guardian deity and originally

related to the agricultural calendar. It is in this sense that the term matsuri’ is being

employed in the present study.

Bestor (1989:225) notes that the themes which suffuse social life in his Tokyo

neighborhood field site are most clearly revealed in the local Shinto shrine festival. 21

These themes include ranked stratification, communal solidarity and egalitarianism, and neighborhood identity and autonomy. He observes, however, that such themes are not witliout certain inherent contradictions (1988:226):

Themes that stress the solidarity of the community run parallel to sharp distinctions between insiders and outsiders; themes of communal harmony and egalitarianism are juxtaposed against rankings of status and differential prestige within the neighborhood; themes that emphasize the importance of tradition are subtly but firmly underscored even as events are pragmatically and flexibly adapted to changing circumstances.

It is this flexible, adaptive feature with which 1 am most concerned in the present study.

Yanagawa (1988:6-7) demonstrates how Turner’s structure versus anti-structure ideas may be applied to the analysis of the Japanese matsuri. which is viewed as a kind of theatrical performance in an attempt to derive the symbolic world view represented therein:

When viewing the structure of a matsuri in this way, its characteristics appear to involve two radically divergent elements. One is the element of extreme solemnity and formality, while on the other hand there is also what might be called a coarse, or even obscene, aspect, the element of informality. As a result, a matsuri appears to contain both an extremely formally correct, "polite" side together with a side representing impropriety or disruption of order, and the structural methodology thus attempts to find the essence of a matsuri in the contrast between these two sides... A related point of view would indicate the fact that a festival may begin with an extremely solemn ritual, in the midst of which follows an occurrence which introduces a kind of revelry totally at variance with the initial solemn atmosphere. This kind of analysis would note that a matsuri contains an exaggeration of these kinds of polar elements which would be unthinkable in normal everyday life. Or again, such contrasts may be viewed diachronically as part of a process in which formality is emphasized at one point and familiarity at another.

Sonoda (1988) has in fact attempted this very type of structural analysis using the

Furukawa matsuri as an illustrative example. He notes that crowd-inspired chaos is a 22 standard element of festivals in Japan, and that it is far more likely to emerge at night than during the daylight hours. This he relates to ancient religious beliefs in which night was perceived as the realm of the mysterious and supernatural (Sonoda 1988:59):

night in the ancient period was viewed as a world of visions, a time in which the order of day dissolved into darkness and various ancestral and other spirits freely traveled to and from the land of shade. The very act of humans awakening from that night and becoming active was a kind of offense against order, and such activities were thus permitted only during sacred festivals which were aimed at concourse with the divine spirits.

By the same token, in present-day matsuri daytime is characterized by solemn rituals which simultaneously express reverence toward the local deity and reaffirm the existing social order. Night, on the other hand, provides the context for wild revelry and intoxication.

Sonoda (1988:61) uses this as the basis for distinguishing ‘ritual,’ the somber, dignified ceremonies conducted during the day, from ‘festival’ (or ‘anti-ritual’), the atmosphere of drunken revelry which prevails at night. Ritual, he suggests, is characterized by a solemn attitude of reverence toward the deity and a simultaneous reaffirmation of the existing social order. Festival, on the other hand, involves a temporary descent into chaos during which ordinarily tabooed behavior is allowed free expression. It is to this latter tendency that Sonoda applies the label "sacred transgression," suggesting that therein lies an important key to understanding the religious vitality of the Japanese matsuri (1988:69).

Sonoda then attempts to expand this concept into a universal principle of religious behavior—namely, "a process of rebirth through a return of the self to the state of cosmic chaos" (1988:74). Note the obvious parallel here with Turner’s (1967) concept of 23 structure versus anti-structure. To place Sonoda's argument in Turner’s idiom, ‘ritual’ may be described as a manifestation of social structure, while ‘festival’ is an expression of communitas.

No attempt has yet been made, however, to fit the Japanese matsuri into an adaptationist framework. The present study will trace the evolution of the Furukawa

matsuri from its origin to the present day, relating its development to (1) changes in the

relationship between humans and their physical environment, (2) social, economic, and

political conditions, and (3) historical events. The matsuri will be presented as part of

an adaptive mechanism, providing members of the local community with a means of

responding symbolically to changing conditions. At the same time, the matsuri will itself

be seen as comprising part of what might be referred to as an "ideological environment,"

a symbolic structure to which individuals and component groups must themselves adapt

in seeking to defend or further their own interests. CHAPTER II

OBJECTIVES AND METHODOLOGY

Objectives

As alluded to in the preceding chapter, the immediate objectives of this study are:

t . to complete a general ethnographic survey of the Hida region.

2. to trace the historical development of the Furukawa matsuri from its origin to the

present day.

3. to relate the matsuri’s transformation to changing social, economic, and political

conditions.

The study will explore the possibility that while the overall structure of the matsuri has remained relatively unchanged, its ritual components have been transformed or reinterpreted to meet the changing needs of the community. My ultimate aim is to promote a consideration of ideological factors not simply as dependent variables but as vital and interactive elements of an ongoing adaptational process.

Theoretical Context

This study is based on the assumption that the natural environment, together witli the technological, sociological, and ideological means its human inhabitants devise in

24 25 attempting to adapt to and exploit it, together constitute an integrated system in which no single aspect can be properly understood without reference to the others. If one of them changes, the others adjust to maintain the integrity of the system.

The existing literature on Japanese matsuri in general, as well as direct evidence gathered during several brief visits to Furukawa from 1983 to 1988, suggested that the

Furukawa matsuri played a major role in:

1. reinforcing group identity and patterns of social organization within the

community.

2. acknowledging the intimate relationship between humans and their environment

through symbolic interaction with Shinto deities associated with the forces of

nature.

3. passing the local traditions on to succeeding generations.

However, my own assumptions regarding the integration of technology, ideology,

and social organization led me to consider two additional possibilities:

4. the matsuri serves as a medium for expressing attitudes relating to the utilization

of land and water resources, as well as access to those resources.

5. the rituals it contains are subject to change or reinterpretation in adapting to

changing conditions.

An investigation of these additional processes required the adoption of an

ecological approach as well as a historical perspective. The present study has combined

both in tracing the evolution of the Furukawa matsuri from (1) its early origins as an

agricultural ritual, through (2) its development as a symbolic medium for enacting social 26 relationships and expressing rebellious attitudes toward the authorities, to (3) its most recent manifestation as a tourist attraction aligned with the community’s economic development objectives.

The specific procedure I employed began with the construction of two historical time lines, one representing a sequence of events having an impact on the local community and the other tracing the development of the festival itself. I expected that comparing the two time lines would reveal several points of possible correlation. Of particular interest was any apparent relationship between a change in the conduct of religious ritual and corresponding changes in either the social system or its incorporation

of the physical environment. Obviously, two concurrent events do not necessarily

indicate a direct linkage, but this approach allowed me to generate hypotheses which

could then be tested against other historical records and informant accounts.

The pattern that emerged revealed an interplay between ritual behavior on the one

hand and contemporary social, political, and economic conditions on the other which

appeared to correspond closely with Scott’s (1976, 1977, 1985, 1990) work on peasant

rebellion. Scott (1976) argued that Southeast Asian peasants recognized a "moral

economy" in which wealthy landlords were obliged to maintain a paternalistic attitude

toward their less fortunate tenant cultivators, looking after their needs and offering

subsistence support in times of crisis. Failure to fulfill these traditional obligations gave

the impoverished peasants a moral justification to rebel. He noted in a later work (Scott

1985), however, tliat the incidence of outright rebellion was relatively rare-that peasants

were far more prone to express their dissatisfaction with the authoritarian elite through 27

"everyday” forms of resistance such as false compliance, dissimulation, foot-dragging, pilfering, slander, vandalism, and sabotage. These were described as "weapons of the weak" which gave the peasants some leverage in dealing with abuses by their more powerful landlords.

Most recently Scott has warned that in examining the politics of subordination, one must be careful not to place too much faith in the "public transcript," which he describes as (1990:2):

the open interaction between subordinates and those who dominate. The public transcript, where it is not positively misleading, is unlikely to tell the whole story about power relations. It is frequently in the interest of both parties to tacitly conspire in misrepresentation.

Scott maintains that, due to the tenuous nature of their situation, members of subordinate

groups are likely to reveal their true feelings only through a so-called "hidden transcript,"

which generally takes place beyond the direct observation of the dominant elite and

seldom finds its way into the official documents. Most significantly for my own

research, he adds that rebellious sentiments may at times be openly expressed through

some form of concealment (1990:19):

This is a politics of disguise and anonymity that takes place in public view but is designed to have a double meaning or to shield the identity of the actors. Rumor, gossip, folktales, jokes, songs, rituals, codes, and euphemisms—a good part of the folk culture of subordinate groups—fit this description.

The following analysis will combine Scotf s ideas with Turner’s (1967, 1969)

structure versus anti-structure concept and Dirks’ (1988) annual rituals of conflict model

in an analysis of the development of the Furukawa matsuri. In particular it will attempt

to explain the emergence of the okoshi daiko as an annually occurring ritual expression 28 of opposition by the local people toward dramatic social, political, and economic changes

imposed upon them during Japan’s modernization. This phenomenon is presented as a

major phase in the evolutionary development of the Furukawa matsuri. as will be

described in Chapter Five.

The Ecological Approach

The concept of culture as adaptation falls into the realm of what is generally

referred to as cultural ecology, a methodology originally formulated by Julian Steward

(1968:337):

Cultural ecology is the study of the processes by which a society adapts to its environment. Its principal problem is to determine whether these adaptations initiate internal social transformations or evolutionary change. It analyzes these adaptations, however, in conjunction with other processes of change. Its method requires examination of the interaction of societies and social institutions with one another and with die natural environment.

Though Steward borrowed the concept of ecology from the biological sciences,

he nevertheless insisted upon distinguishing his cultural ecology from general ecological

theory. Humans, he maintained, are of an entirely different order from the other animals

because their primary means of adapting to the environment is cultural rather than genetic

(Steward 1955:32):

Human beings do not react to the web of life solely through their genetically-derived organic equipment. Culture, rather than genetic potential for adaptation, accommodation, and survival, explains the nature of human societies.

Steward was a student of Alfred Kroeber and Robert Lowie, who where both

trained by Franz Boas, and though he is widely considered a "neo-evolutionist" he 29 nevertheless maintained a rather particularistic attitude which emphasized the importance of historical factors in the development of a given culture. He refened to his approach as "multilinear evolution," acknowledging that different cultures may follow entirely different developmental pathways in adapting to the peculiarities of their local environments.

Steward’s methodology consisted of three fundamental procedures (1955:40-41):

1. Analyze the relationship between exploitative technology and the environment.

2. Analyze the behavioral patterns involved in the exploitation of a particular area

using a particular technology.

3. Ascertain the extent to which these behavior patterns affect other aspects of

culture.

Note that the third procedure implies a linear causal relationship in which subsistence technology functions as the independent variable. This idea is also implicit in Steward’s concept of the "cultural core," referring to "the constellation of features which are most closely related to subsistence activities and economic arrangements."

Other aspects were relegated to the category of "secondary features," which were

"determined to a greater extent by purely historical factors" (Steward 1955:37).

Vayda and Rappaport (1968:485) were skeptical of Steward’s one-way causal statements, favoring instead a systems approach which recognized the mutual effect of interacting variables:

Even if correlations between the adaptations and certain cultural traits were shown to be significant, the task of demonstrating what is cause and what is effect would remain. As a matter of fact, ecologically-minded social scientists have at times had to regard certain "social" factors (for instance. 30

the organization of labor) as determinants of particular ecological adaptations ... In such cases, there presumably are feedbacks operating between social factors and ecological adaptations, and it would be necessary to look for circular or reticulate causes rather than for simple one-way linear cause-to-effect sequences.

Rappaport (1979) later argued that cultural ecology suffered from an inherent conceptual flaw in that it attempted to combine the ecosystem model drawn from general ecology with the anthropological concept of culture as distinct from culture-bearing

organisms and examine the two in interaction. An ecosystem, he maintained, consisted

of a continuing cycle of matter and energy transactions among populations of various

species and their physical environment. A culture, on the other hand, was a set of

phenomena characterized by the use of symbols which distinguished a particular category

of people from others. The two concepts, he concluded, were of different logical type

and could not simply be thrown together as Steward and his followers had done.

Rappaport then proposed an alternative synthesis. Humans are only one of a

multitude of species interacting with each other as well as with their physical

environment. Instead of emphasizing what distinguishes humans from the other species,

he suggested that we acknowledge what they all have in common, noting that "humanity’s

relations with its physical and biotic environments are, like those of other animals,

continuous, indissoluble, and necessary" (Rappaport 1979:61). This allows human

behavior to be placed within the framework of general ecology, and the proper unit of

analysis becomes not the culture but rather the population. Here the term population’

is used in an ecological sense, referring to a group of individuals of the same species 31 engaging in "a set of material exchanges with the populations of other species with which they share their territory" (Rappaport 1984:32).

My own theoretical approach is similar to Rappaport’s in that it places humans within the realm of general ecological theory. However, I disagree with Rappaport’s contention that culture and ecosystem are of different logical type and cannot be integrated as Stewaid attempted to do. Culture structures the environment by breaking it into discrete categories, each with a relative value based on its potential for sustaining human life. Subsistence activity proceeds according to this categorical system, imposing changes on the immediate environment. Culture may thus be considered an integral part of the ecosystem itself, as no objective distinction can be drawn between the so-called

"natural environment" and alterations imposed upon it through human activity. Geertz

(1963:9), for example, observes that:

The Eskimo’s igloo can be seen as a most important cultural weapon in his resourceful struggle against the arctic climate, or it can be seen as a, to him, highly relevant feature of the physical landscape within which he is set and in terms of which he must adapt. A Javanese peasant’s terrace ... is both a product of an extended historical process of cultural development and perhaps the most immediately significant constituent of his "natural" environment.

Geertz then attempts to demonstrate a similar lack of distinction between the so-

called "material" and "non-material" aspects of culture, thereby defending the application

of an ecological approach to the analysis of both (1963:9):

Intimately connected with the igloo are Eskimo settlement patterns, family organization, and sexual division of labor. Javanese rice terraces are closely integrated with modes of work organization, forms of village structure, and processes of social stratification. As one specifies more fully the precise nature of a people’s adaptation from the geographical side, one inescapably specifies, at the same time and to the same degree. 32

their adaptation from the cultural side, and vice versa. One delineates, in short, an ecosystem within which certain selected cultural, biological, and physical variables are determinately interrelated, and which will yield to the same general mode of analysis as ecosystems within which human organisms do not happen to play a role.

Culture, therefore, represents an inextricable aspect of the environment—one to which succeeding generations must subsequently adapt. The entire assemblage of culture, physical environment, and all the biota contained therein (including humans) may thus

be seen as an all-encompassing system—what Bennett (1990:449) has described as a

"socionaiural system "-in which all the various components coevolve through mutual

interaction.

Thus tlie present investigation is "ecological" in that it employs a systemic

approach in examining the processes by which a human community maintains itself in a

changing environment. It differs from the standard ecological approach, however, in that

it is based on a concept of ‘environment’ which includes cultural factors introduced by

the human inhabitants themselves.

The Symbolic Approach

An ecological analysis of sociocultural phenomena generally involves an attempt

to quantify basic subsistence strategies in terms of their energetic efficiency.' Ritual,

however, as a symbolic medium, does not easily lend itself to quantitative analysis. This

perhaps explains why it has largely been neglected by ecological studies in the past. If

the ecological approach is to be extended beyond the mere consideration of material

'See Ellen (1982:130-153) for a summary of this type of quantitive approach. 33 function to explore a ritual’s cognitive significance as well, it must necessarily involve an effort to interpret the symbolic messages the ritual contains, informed, of course, by the native practitioners as well as direct personal experience gained through participant observation.

Turner (1966:14) describes symbols as "the basic building-blocks, the ‘molecules,’ of ritual." Elsewhere (1967:20) he lists three classes of data upon which the interpretation of ritual symbols may be based:

1. external form and observable characteristics.

2. interpretations offered by native informants.

3. contextual analysis involving the antliropologist’s own interpretations.

Adequate explanation of a particular ritual symbol therefore requires an

examination of the symbol within the context of the entire cultural milieu (Turner

1967:46):

It is in comparison with other sectors of the total system, and by reference to tlie dominant articulating principles of the total system, that we often become aware that the overt and ostensible aims and purposes of a given ritual conceal unavowed, and even "unconscious," wishes and goals. We also become aware that a complex relationship exists between the overt and tlie submerged, and the manifest and latent patterns of meaning.

Turner adds that (1967:46-47):

the significant elements of a symbol’s meaning are related to what it does and what is done to it by and for whom. These aspects can only be understood if one takes into account from the beginning, and represents by appropriate theoretical constructs, the total field situation in which the symbol occurs. This situation would include the structure of the group that performs the ritual we observe, its basic organizing principles and perdurable relationships, and, in addition, its extant division into transient alliances and factions on tlie basis of immediate interest and ambitions, for 34

both abiding structure and recurrent forms of conflict and selfish interest are stereotyped in ritual symbolism.

Turner’s ideas imply a kind of cultural "environment" to which the individual actors must adapt themselves if they are to interact effectively with the other components.

Ritual symbolism constitutes part of this environment, but it also offers the individual a means of adaptation through direct participation. Ceitain individuals may attempt to promote their own interests by introducing changes in the ritual structure or manipulating the meanings ascribed to the symbols it contains. In any case, the anthropologist must first understand this cultural environment before attempting to interpret the actions of individual participants.

Ritual and Adaptation

Despite the recognition of mutually interacting variables, proponents of the ecological approach in anthropology have perpetuated Steward’s emphasis on the physical environment and the subsistence technology devised to exploit it. Most have employed an ecosystem concept of the type described by Geertz (1963:3) which:

emphasizes the material interdependencies among the group of organisms which form a community and the relevant physical features of the setting in which they are found, and the scientific task becomes one of investigating the internal dynamics of such systems and the ways in which they develop and change.

This preoccupation with material relations led some theorists to object that ideological aspects were being ignored. Flannery, (1972:400), for example, insisted that:

ecologists must cease to regard art, religion, and ideology as mere "epiphenomena" without causal significance. In an ecosystem approach 35

to the analysis of human societies, everything which transmits information is within the province of ecology.

The present analysis is an attempt to redress this methodological oversight by incorporating ideology into an all-encompassing ecological framework. Specifically, it will focus upon the role of ritual-the physical expression of ideology—acting as an

adaptive mechanism by virtue of its capacity to transmit symbolically encoded

information.

Ritual is widely recognized as a vital aspect in the analysis of sociocultural

systems. Wilson (1954:240) underscores the impoitance of ritual in ethnographic

research:

I hold that rituals reveal values at the deepest level ... Surely men express in ritual what moves them most, and since the form of expression is conventionalized and obligatory, it is the values of the group which are revealed. I see in the study of rituals the key to an understanding of the essential constitution of human societies.

Wallace (1966:102) characterizes ritual as the primary phenomenon of religion-

religion in action. "It is ritual," he maintains, "which accomplishes what religion sets

out to do."

Rappaport suggests that ritual is not simply a means to express sentiments which

might just as easily be expressed in other ways. Certain ideas can be expressed

exclusively through the ritual medium. There are no alternative means (1979:174):

I take ritual to be die basic social act. I will argue, in fact, that social contract, morality, the concept of the sacred, the notion of the divine, and even a paradigm of creation are intrinsic to ritual’s structure.

Ritual is an important element in Rappaport’s concept of adaptation, which he

defines as (1984:413): 36

the processes through which living systems maintain homeostasis in the face of perturbations resulting from both short-term environmental fluctuations and long-term nonreversing environmental changes.

His research, therefore, challenges the prevailing attitude toward the function of ritual in the social sciences, which imputes ritual with certain social and psychological benefits but little material relevance.

In his ecological study of the Tsembaga Maring, Rappaport attempts to demonstrate that by regulating the distribution of material resources ritual helps to maintain tire ecosystem in homeostatic balance. The Tsembaga are a small group of

swidden horticulturalists located in the mountainous tropical forests of interior New

Guinea. They are characterized by a simple technology and a residence pattern which

expands and contracts in a pulsating cycle. Rappaport contends that in the absence of an

authoritative political structure ritual serves to regulate the maintenance and distribution

of material resources (1984:4).

The regulatory mechanism he describes is based on the principle of negative

feedback. In addition to their swidden gardens, the Tsembaga also raise pigs. When the

number of animals reaches a certain critical level, they begin to compete with humans for

available resources and thus become liabilities. This triggers a series of ritual events

collectively referred to as the ‘kaiko.’ which culminate in the Tsembaga going to war

against rival populations. The kaiko includes mass feasting and the slaughter of pigs,

ostensibly as a sacrificial offering to the ancestral spirits. The pork is then distributed

to members of allied tribes to ensure their cooperation during the ensuing hostilities. If 37 they are successful, the Tsembaga move in to occupy the land of their displaced enemies and the ratio of humans to pigs to land area is returned to a more tolerable level.

Vayda and McCay (1975:294) have been critical of this kind of cybernetic model, noting that;

its focus has been upon the discovery and elucidation of self-regulating, homeostatic, or "negative feedback" processes by which some kind of balance between human populations and their environments is maintained and that it has thereby ignored nonhomeostatic changes, system disruptions, and "unbalanced" relations between people and their environments.^

The autliors recommend that the equilibrium-centered view be abandoned in favor of the

concept of resilience, which "might be described as remaining flexible enough to change

in response to whatever hazards or perturbations come along" (1975:299). Thus

ecological systems with the greatest probability of survival are those that have developed

mechanisms for withstanding or absorbing change.

Yet Rappaport has not been oblivious to this condition. He notes (1979:151) that

a trade-off exists between structural change in response to immediate problems and the

maintenance of long-term flexibility, concluding that "structural change in response to

particular stresses is likely to lead to increased specialization, and increased specialization

to earlier loss in the existential game." It is for this reason that religious or spiritual

values, which are supposed to be all-encompassing and immutable, are also necessarily

vague. Vagueness is an adaptive feature in that it permits greater flexibility for

reinterpretation in responding to new social, political, or economic arrangements.

^Note that this argument is reminiscent of objections to standard structural-functional theory, relating to its inability to deal with the processes of social change. 38

The present study is reminiscent of Rappaport’s work in that both adopt an ecological approach in which ritual is assigned an adaptive significance. However, in addition to obvious differences in level of social organization and technological development of the subject populations, some major theoretical and methodological distinctions exist. The Tsembaga kaiko is not performed at regular intervals. It is triggered by a combination of variables rising to a certain critical level, at which point the system adjusts to maintain equilibrium. The Furukawa matsuri. on the other hand,

is a predetermined annual event. It is not triggered by environmental variables, though

it is associated with the seasonal transition from winter to spring. This does not imply

the sort of regulatory function which Rappaport described. In Furukawa other regulatory

mechanisms exist in the form of political institutions and recognized authorities. Thus

there is less need for ritual to serve in any kind of homeostatic capacity.

The present study again differs from Rappaport’s work in adopting a historical

perspective to determine the extent to which ritual behavior in Furukawa has changed

over time in response to the changing needs of the community, regional and national

priorities, and historical events. Rappaport was dealing with a culture having no written

records, and his analysis could reach back no further than the recollections of its oldest

living members. My own research will bring a time dimension to the study of ritual as

adaptation by utilizing historical materials available in my chosen field site. It will

examine ritual not as a regulatory device for maintaining the ecosystem in homeostatic

balance, but as a flexible medium for enacting relationships and ideas, thus providing

members of the local population with opportunities to exploit tlie socionatural 39 environment to their own advantage. Whether this adaptive effort manifests itself as a conservative force or an agent of rapid change depends on the needs, aspirations, and

relative socioeconomic and political positions of the various participants themselves.

Thus ritual will be seen as part of an ongoing evolutionary process of environmental

change and adaptive response.

Methodology

This study is based on five months of preliminary library research conducted at

the Osaka University of Foreign Studies and the Japanese National Museum of Ethnology

from October, 1989 to March, 1990, followed by fourteen months of field research in

Hida Furukawa during my affiliation with Hitotsubashi University from April, 1990

through May, 1991, as well as a brief return to the field for additional follow-up research

from April through June of 1992.

The selection of my field site was not a matter of formulating a basic hypothesis

then searching for an appropriate location to test its validity. Rather, my research project

was constructed specifically around the field site itself. 1 began visiting Furukawa many

years ago while living and working in the city of Nagoya. In fact 1 first went to

Furukawa to witness the okoshi daiko. though 1 had no idea at the time of making it the

subject of an anthropological research project. Like other tourists 1 was attracted by the

drama and excitement surrounding the event, and the fact that it permitted the expression

of unusual and aggressive behavior in a society otherwise known for conformity and

restraint. I made friends with some of the townspeople, and began making return visits 40 every few months when I felt the need to escape the city for a brief respite in the

mountains. I soon realized that the festival was not simply an annual event-that it in fact

represented the defining feature about which the townspeople’s sense of collective identity

had come to revolve.^ 1 began to wonder what it all meant and why it had developed.

Thus formulation of the research project and selection of the field site went hand-in-hand.

I resided for several months in the home of a family located on the periphery of

town. Later 1 moved to a room on the second floor above a clothing shop run by some

friends. The shop was located in a neighborhood called Mukaimachi, which is much

more centrally located both in terms of matsuri activities and the life of the town in

general. My new quarters provided what for me was the ideal combination of privacy

and public access. During the day I could freely interact with the shop people as well

as a steady stream of customers. In the evening, however, everyone went home and I

was left to myself. In fact I was jokingly referred to by the shop owners as their night

watchman.

My field research was distributed approximately equally into thirds among the

following activities:

1. extensive use of local written materials including documents, records, and

historical accounts.

2. personal interviews with native informants.

’This follows an assumption variously expressed by Paden (1988:104), Geertz (1973:113), and Bestor (1989:225) that community values and social relationships are most succinctly represented during this type of cultural performance—indeed, that the whole event is a manifestation of community social relations in microcosm. 41

3. active participation as a local resident in various aspects of community life.

The latter included periodic work at the shop unloading boxes and stacking shelves, helping the local farmers with their rice transplanting in the spring and harvest in the autumn, clearing away the heavy accumulations of snow from roofs and alleyways (a

formidable winter task in Hida), making excursions to tlie mountains in search of wild

vegetables, and participating in the judo program for local elementaiy, middle school, and

high school students. I was also asked to teach a short course in basic English

conversation for adults at the community center. I must confess, however, that the

course was of greatest benefit to myself, as it introduced me to some of my most valuable

informants.

The focus throughout, of course, was on the matsuri itself. My strategy was to

attempt to gain an overall understanding at a scale encompassing tlie entire town, then

focus in on a more intimate level through direct participation as a member of my own

neighborhood. As will be explained later, Mukaimachi assumes a special role in the

matsuri by performing the sacred kagura music and shishi dancing. By virtue of my

residence in the neighborhood I was graciously allowed to join the Sogakubu, or

"musician’s league," a group of young men who do tlie actual performing. I was thus

obliged to learn to play the bamboo flute and take part in all the group’s activities. This

included participation in the okoshi daiko. specifically as a member of Mukaimachi’s

tsuke daiko team.

One year is often used as the standard minimum time period for conducting an

ethnography. A problem with focusing on annual festivals, even if they contain highly 42 significant sociocultural phenomena, is that the standard one year would permit exposure to only a single occurrence of the event. Thus an entire year spent in the field devoted to such a topic would appear to constitute both an inefficient use of time and an inadequate treatment of the topic itself. However, while it is true that the Furukawa

matsuri occurs only once annually, its influence on the community is far more pervasive.

The neighborhood divisions and chain of command through which it proceeds, for

example, assume a variety of other social functions throughout the year. Also, if the

matsuri may indeed be described as a microcosmic representation of the community in

ritualized form, then the study of everyday life within the community should enhance an

understanding of the matsuri. and vice versa. Thus many of the issues raised above may

be addressed at any time.

In addition, the timing and duration of my field research, including the brief

return visit in 1992, allowed for my participant observation during three consecutive

occurrences of the annual event. This afforded two major benefits. First, since the

matsuri is a large-scale performance which involves the entire town, and many of the

activities occur simulataneously in different locations, it is impossible for an individual

researcher to cover every aspect with only one exposure. Participation in three

consecutive performances (1990, 1991, and 1992) gave me the opportunity to experience

the matsuri from different perspectives, thereby gaining a better understanding of the

whole. Second, participation in subsequent performances allowed me to address specific

questions that emerged only after the initial exposure. 43

I began my data collection with an objective evaluation of the physical environment and human adaptation to this environment through cultural (that is, technological, sociological, and ideological) devices. What resources were available to the local inhabitants and how had they been utilized? What were the basic subsistence strategies employed in doing so? Were two or more strategies operating at the same time? What were the sociocultural patterns of resource distribution and utilization? Did different social groupings compete with one another for the same territory? If so, how were the available resources distributed among them, and on what basis were use rights determined? The results of tliis inquiry are reported in Chapter Three.

Next I focused upon the manner in which patterns of distribution coincided with socioeconomic and political divisions, and how these were expressed through religious ritual. This required participant observation of ritual events, especially those relating to the annual shrine festival. Who was responsible for directing the rituals and who participated in them? How did these rituals relate to social organization and the utilization of resources? Did certain factions employ ritual as a means of maintaining social or political boundaries or limiting access to land and water? Did any of this suggest an underlying ideology? These questions are addressed in Chapter Four-an ethnographic description of the Furukawa matsuri as it is presently performed.

The concept of adaptation, however, implies change in response to changing conditions. It was also necessary, therefore, to adopt a historical perspective, making extensive use of local records, publications, and historical documents as well as oral accounts supplied by my more senior informants. These sources enabled me to eventually 44 piece together an account of the development of the festival over time, which could then be compared against contemporary social, political, and economic conditions and

historical events.

This type of analysis is similar to what Turner (1967:113) has described as the

extended case method, which:

studies the vicissitudes of given social systems over time in a series of case studies, each of which deals with a major crisis in the selected system or in its parts. Data provided by this method enable us to apprehend not only the structural principles of that system but also processes of various kinds, including those of structural change. Such case material must, of course, be analyzed in constant and close association with social ‘structure,’ both in its institutionalized and statistically normative senses. The new ‘facts’ do not oust but complete the old.

I encountered two problems in attempting to reconstruct the evolutionar>'

development of the okoshi daiko using written historical information. The first was that

the okoshi daiko emerged from the ranks of the common people, while most of the

written records were kept by the local elite. There are several old documents and

regulations relating to other aspects of the matsuri. as these served to acknowledge the

elevated social position of elite members. But the okoshi daiko. as will be argued later,

contained an inherent warning to the elite against abusing their authority. It is not

surprising, then, that members of the upper class were not particularly interested in

recording the event for posterity. Secondly, a great fire in 1904 reduced most of

Furukawa to ashes and subsequently destroyed many of its important historical

documents, including those directly related to the conduct of the annual matsuri. As a

result of these two factors, written records of the old okoshi daiko are rather sketchy. 45

In relation to the informant interviews, I was of course limited to what my informants could actually recall from their own personal experience. Memories from early childhood and information passed down from previous generations are somewhat unreliable. However, 1 was greatly aided by informant accounts recorded by local historians Ono Masao and Kuwatani Masamichi. Both had at times conducted informant interviews relating to the development of the Furukawa matsuri as part of their own research (Ono 1973b, 1974a, 1976a; Kuwatani 1965, 1969). These were especially valuable in that they took place twenty to thirty years before the present investigation and employed the most senior residents then living. This allowed me to extend the range of personal recollections a full generation prior to the earliest memories of my own informants.

The informant interviews which 1 myself conducted were designed to record personal experiences and gain an understanding of the significance of the matsuri in the lives of the local people, focusing in particular on the contrast between the prewar matsuri and its postwar manifestation. Structured, formal interviews were regularly employed, especially when attempting to address specific questions, but some of the most interesting and useful information emerged at random through casual conversation. Even during the more formal interviews, however, 1 chose not to employ a questionnaire and tried to make the situation seem as conversational as possible. 1 also tried to keep the questions open-ended, allowing the informant to lead the conversation into his or her own areas of personal experience. 46

I had reservations about employing a tape recorder, as I felt this might cause my informants to be more cautious about revealing sensitive information, especially that involving relations between prewar landlords and their tenants. 1 did, however, record my interviews with older informants, as they tended to speak in a heavy Hida dialect which 1 still find rather difficult to follow. The tape recordings allowed me to listen to their conversations repeatedly and when necessary seek the advice of native speakers.

A certain degree of redundancy is necessary for establishing the reliability of informant accounts. In many instances the same questions consistently produced the same answers. But on some issues the information supplied varied greatly from one informant to another. In such cases either the inconclusive information has been discarded or the fact that inconsistencies exist has been noted in the text. It is important to keep in mind, however, that inconsistencies do not necessarily constitute misinformation and may derive more from differences in socioeconomic position, ideological orientation, or political affiliation than the simple inability to distinguish truth from falsehood. What is "true" is largely defined by one’s group affiliations. In fact, the inconsistencies themselves may be helpful in identifying the various factors which divide the community.

Theoretical Considerations

In addition to providing valuable etiinographic information about a geographical region (Hida) previously neglected by western anthropologists studying Japan, it is hoped that this research will contribute to the development of several important theoretical issues, including: 47

1. the Japanese matsuri as a medium for expressing social relationships, values, and

ideas.

2. the symbolic or cultural response to dramatic social change.

3. the role of ritual as an integral part of an adaptive process.

This represents the first attempt to investigate the Japanese matsuri as an adaptive ideological mechanism. Hopefully it will lead to a reconsideration of religious festivals all over Japan, and cross-culturally as well, to determine whether similar patterns occur in other areas. CHAPTER III

SOCIONATURAL CONTEXT

Geographical Features

The ecological approach adopted here in no way implies the kind environmental determinism which characterized some of the early anthropologists. There is no question, however, that geography and climate are important factors in the cultural development of any particular society, as its people must find means of adapting to local conditions in order to subsist. Bermett (1976:3) has coined the term ‘ecological transition’ in referring to the "progressive incorporation of Nature into human frames of purpose and action." The present chapter will combine a description of natural features with a historical account of sociocultural development in attempting to understand how this incorporative process has manifested itself in the Hida region.

A brief glance at a topographic map of Hida immediately reveals a striking feature—the vast majority of the surface area consists of rugged mountainous terrain. In fact the narrow basin in which Furukawa is situated, along with the slightly smaller

Takayama basin located just upstream to the southwest, stand out conspicuously as the

only substantial areas of level ground in the entire region. Arable land, therefore, has

historically been in great demand but very limited supply.

48 49

Toyama

y - j C Furukawa J

•Takayalmi HIDA J Otfu r ' PREFECTURE",

Gifti

■A. Nagoya

Osaka

Figure 2. Central Japan. 50

In addition to placing limits on cultivated land area, the mountains pose formidable barriers to communication, both by virtue of their physical presence as well

as their influence on the local climate. Weather systems generally move in from the

Japan Sea, dumping their moisture in the form of precipitation as they continue westward

over the Hida Sammyaku-the northern segment of a range of high mountains known in

the vernacular as the "Japan Alps," which divide central Honshu longitudinally. The

Hida region lies on the western slope of this range and thus receives considerable amounts

of precipitation, especially during the wintertime. Until as recently as the mid-1960s

some of the villages located higher up in the mountains were completely snowed in

during the winter months-cut off from virtually all contact with the outside until the

spring thaw.'

One of the major winter chores for local inhabitants is to periodically shovel snow

from the roofs of their buildings to prevent them from caving in under the extra weight.

In Furukawa, the snow is pitched into gutters lining the streets where a flow of water

channeled in from the river melts and flushes it away. Before this municipal irrigation

system was installed, however, the snow was simply thrown into the street to be packed

down by the traffic. The resulting accumulation sometimes reached as high as the eaves

of houses facing the street so that the occupants had to exit from their second story

windows. The huge mass of packed snow took a considerable time to melt away, and

‘Average annual snowfall in Furukawa is 389 centimeters, though during the past few years total accumulation has reached as high as 837 centimeters (Furukawa-cho 1990:4). Snowfall is, of course, much heavier at higher elevations where some of the mountain hamlets are located. 51 some of tlie townspeople recall random patches of ice lingering in the streets until just before the matsuri in mid-April. It is not difficult to understand, then, why the spring matsuri in this region were such joyous occasions, as they marked an end to the isolation imposed by the harsh winter and an opportunity to reestablish contact with relatives and friends in other communities.

The rugged topography and heavy snowfall combined with distance from major cities have kept Hida somewhat isolated from the mainstream of national development until fairly recent times. There were of course roads linking the region to other areas, but they were rough and narrow—generally suitable only for foot traffic. As a result, the people of Hida had to be self-reliant and resourceful, meeting their needs by utilizing the

materials they found immediately at hand.

Self-sufficiency and a sense of isolation from central authority’ have tended to

encourage the development of autonomous sentiments. In the case of Furukawa this

tendency has been further accentuated by the natural drainage pattern.

Hida straddles the divide between two major river systems, one flowing south

toward the Pacific Ocean and the other north toward the Sea of Japan. The Miya River

drains the area lying just north of the divide, eventually flowing into the Jintsu River,

which empties into the Sea of Japan at Toyama City. Settlements along the Miya were

thus historically linked by the drainage pattern witli ura-Nihon. the so-called "backside"

of Japan facing toward the Asian mainland, as opposed to the far more densely populated

and heavily industrialized Pacific coastal region. 52

* Furukawa'

ama

Figure 3. The drainage system in the Hida region. 53

For most of its length the Miya cuts through rugged terrain and is generally confined to a narrow channel. Not far from its source, however, the valley widens into a broad basin area. Therein lies the city of Takayama, Hida’s largest municipality as well as its economic and administrative center.

Just beyond Takayama the river makes a sharp bend to the northwest and the valley opens up again. It is here that the Araki River converges from the west, and the two rivers together form a second, more elongated basin. The town of Furukawa, whose

name means literally "old river, " is located at the center of this second basin at the point

where the two rivers converge.

The town of itself consists of only 6,666 residents. However, the administrative

unit known as Furukawa Township encompasses not only the town and a number of

peripheral villages, but a large tract of the surrounding forested mountain land as well.

The entire area of 98.11 square kilometers contains a total population of 16,369

(Sümuchü TOkeikyoku 1986).

Early History

‘Hida’ is actually the old provincial name for this region. It ceased to function

as a distinct political unit shortly after the Meiji Restoration when its territory was

absorbed into the newly created Gifu Prefecture. Even so, a strong sense of cultural

identity remains ftrmly entrenched among the local people, who persist in associating

themselves with Hida first and Gifu prefecture second. In major cities like Tokyo and 54

Osaka there are regular meetings of Hida-kai-associations of Hida natives who have been obliged to move away to the city in pursuit of other opportunities.

Hida was settled relatively early and a number of Jümon period (10,000-300 BC) archaeological sites have been discovered in the hills surrounding Furukawa. The region is thought to have been brought into the Kofun civilization about a century later than

Mino province to the south.

The first mention of Hida in the historical record is the story of Ryümensukuna which appears in the Nihon shoki (Chronicles of Japan, completed in the year 720 CE).

Ryümensukuna was an unusual individual who had two faces aligned in opposite directions, each face being served by its own set of appendages. With four arms and legs he could move with great agility and was adept at using weapons such as the bow and arrow in suppressing the local people. Emperor Nintoku, during the 65th year of his reign (378 CE), dispatched a military general named Naniwanoneko Takefurukuma to vanquish the creature.

The Ryümensukuna story is thought to represent the subjugation of the Hida region by the imperial Yamato government sometime during the late fourth century, and may derive from an actual clash with a local Hida chieftain (Tokoro 1989:864, Ono

1983:108). The fact that he is described as having two faces indicates extraordinary intelligence-a fairly common symbolic device in the religious traditions of Asia. The

Nihon shoki was of course written from the perspective of the Yamato court and therefore describes Ryümensukuna as an evil personage that needed to be eliminated. The entire 55 episode is thus represented in terms of a civilizing mission, where the benefits of just government are bestowed upon a remote and backward region.

As part of the Taika Reforms instituted in 646, the imperial government initiated a new tax system requiring all provinces under its jurisdiction to provide annual tribute either in the form of rice, other agricultural products, or labor service to the capital. In the ancient imperial government ranking of provinces into four levels-’great’ tdail.

‘high’ (js), ‘middle’ (dm), and ‘low’ (ge)-Hida was jokingly referred to as a ‘ge ge no

ge kuni’—"lowest of the low" (Kuwatani 1971:12). With their rugged terrain and harsh

climate, the people of Hida could scarcely produce enough food satisfy their own

demands, let alone send any surplus to the capital. They could, however, boast an

abundance of high quality timber and a number of woodworkers skilled in its utilization.

The Taiho Code issued in 701 CE thus exempted Hida from the rice tax, requiring

instead the services of carpenters and sawyers. For every fifty households, ten

individuals were to be sent each year to work in the capital.

The Hida craftsmen were assigned to build mansions, gateways, temples, and

shrines. They were obliged to work from 330 to 350 days per year. It seems that many

objected to the harsh labor conditions and tried to run away. A directive issued by the

central government in 796 CE requests their apprehension and return. It notes that Hida

people can be easily recognized by their distinctive language and facial features, and

warns that harboring the fugitives is a crime (Kuwatani 1971:30). In 819 CE the

compulsoiy work period was reduced to between 250 and 300 days, apparently in an

attempt to ebb the flow of runaways. 56

The carpenters from Hida became so highly renowned for their skill that people in the capital began refening to them as the "Hida takumi" (artisans of Hida). A poem from the Man’yoshn compares their unwavering devotion to their craft with the straightness of a carpenter’s chalkline. Though the regulations specified a yearly rotation, many of the Hida takumi stayed on in tlie capital for the rest of their lives, and some were promoted to positions of authority within the construction industry. There is a certain area in Nara where many of the place names are the same as those found in Hida, and this is where the takumi are thought to have lived (Kuwatani 1971:30).

Most of them, however, eventually returned to their native Hida, bringing with them the skills they had acquired during their stay in the capital. The yearly rotation thus became a channel for spreading culture to tlie home province, and many of the important shrine and temple buildings throughout tlie Hida region are attributable to the influence of the Hida takumi. The system of obligatory labor service to the capital ended sometime during the latter part of the Heian period (794-1185), but the tradition of fine wood craftsmanship has survived in Hida to the present day, complementing the prolific timber industry.

Political Administration

In a society which traditionally practiced subsistence agriculture and whose staple food grain was rice, acquisition and control of the limited amount of arable land undoubtedly represented one of the main avenues to greater wealth and power. It is 57 understandable, then, why much of Hida’s political and economic activity has centered around the Takayama and Furukawa basins.

At the beginning of the Muromachi period, the imperial house was split into two rival branches, each claiming itself to be the legitimate heir. One of these branches moved out of Kyoto and founded a new government in the mountains of Yoshino to the south. This became known as the "southern court. " The other remained in Kyoto under the control of the military general Ashikaga Takauji.

Thereafter the southern court dispatched warlord Anegakoji letsuna to establish control over the Hida region. letsuna located himself in the Furukawa basin and built a

castle there called Kojima. The castle is believed to have been located on a hill

overlooking what is now the hamlet of Sugisaki, just upstream from Furukawa.

letsuna is said to have been accompanied by four leading retainer households

named Tajika, Kusakabe, Goto, and Kaba. All four remain well-established and highly

respected family names in Furukawa to this day, their prominence deriving in large part

from their long and venerable lineage.

In 1371, letsuna took some of his troops and headed for Toyama to help counter

Ashikaga’s forces, leaving younger brother Anegakoji Masatsuna to rule in his absence.

Masatsuna was later killed in battle while defending the territory from some of

Ashikaga’s troops who were trying to enter from the northeast. The Anegakoji line then

split into three branches. One of them remained in Kojima, another occupied a second

castle located on a hill on the other side of the Miya river in what is now Nakano hamlet,

and the third built a third castle further downstream at the northern end of the basin in 58 the area of present Nobuka hamlet. In this divided condition the Anegakqjis grew increasingly weak and their territory began to shrink in toward the center.

By the mid-Fifteenth Century, the Hida region was occupied by three separate warrior clans. The Anegakojis retained control of the Furukawa basin; the Ema clan had

moved in from the northwest and now held the Kamioka area; and the southern half of

Hida (consisting of present-day Mashita and Ono counties) was controlled by the Mitsuki

clan—former allies of the Ashikagas. During the next several decades the Mitsukis

became increasingly powerful and began to extend their control to the north. With the

backing of powerful daimyn Oda Nobunaga, they were eventually able to displace both

tlie Anegakoji and Ema clans. In 1582 Mitsuki Yoritsuna assumed control of the entire

Hida region. He established his headquarters at Takayama, which at the time was only

a tiny farm village.

Yoritsuna refused to align with the great general Toyotomi Hideyoshi following

Oda Nobunaga’s death. In 1586, Hideyoshi sent one of his own retainers, Kanamori

Nagachika, to eliminate the Mitsuki resistance. Kanamori defeated the Mitsuki forces in

1586 and in turn was granted Hida province as his own personal domain.

Like the Mitsukis before him, Kanamori Nagachika located his administrative

headquarters at Takayama. He erected a castle there, and the village developed into a

castle town. The location was strategically important in that it lay very close to the

drainage divide separating Hida into its northern and southern halves—in effect Hida’s

geographical center. Takayama, whose name means literally "high mountain," was thus

positioned upstream from practically every other settlement in the province. In this sense 59 geographical position recapitulated the administrative hierarchy, as all the other towns and villages in Hida were politically subordinate to Takayama.

In order to cover his northern flank, Nagachika had a second castle built about fifteen kilometers downstream from Takayama along the Miya River in what is now the

Furukawa Basin, and there installed his son Arishige as its commander. This location, too, was strategically significant. Due to the rugged topography, the Miya River valley was the only route an enemy force approaching Takayama from the north could have seriously considered. Located at the confluence of two rivers, the castle simultaneously controlled access to both. Also, the castle was located in tlie center of the only other major area of flat basin land in Hida outside that of Takayama itself, placing most of the region’s rice production potential under the Kanamoris’ immediate control.

The town of Furukawa developed adjacent to this second castle. The Kanamoris

intended the town to function as an extension of their headquarters in Takayama-the

administrative and economic hub of the northern portion of their domain. Furukawa was

thus politically subordinate to Takayama and from that time to the present day has

occupied a somewhat tributary position relative to the larger town.

The Kanamoris were aficionados of the refined Kyoto court culture, and attempted

to introduce certain aspects of its art and architecture into their provincial domain.

Furukawa thus developed as one of the so-called "little Kyotos" found scattered

throughout central and western Japan. This is reflected in its grid-like street pattern and

residential districts laid out in parallel bands numbered consecutively in order of their

distance from the castle. Tonomachi, originally located just beyond the castle 60 fortifications, was inhabited by warrior retainers employed by the Kanamoris/ The remainder of the town consisted of Ichinomachi, Ninomachi, and Sannomachi,^ all inhabited in varying proportions by merchants, artisans, and peasant farmers. These districts were intersected by a major crossing street known as ‘Oyokocho’ ("Big Side

District"). A small stream called ‘Setogawa’ ran between Tonomachi and the other

precincts, separating the warrior class from the commoner population.

The Kanamoris fought at the Battle of Sekigahara on the side of Tokugawa leyasu,

and were allowed to retain control of their Hida domain after leyasu established his new

regime at Edo (now Tokyo). However, in 1692, Kanamori Yoritoki, a sixth generation

descendent of Nagachika, was transferred to Dewa Province in the northeast, and Hida

was placed under the direct administration of the Tokugawa military government, or

"bakufu."

The reasons for the bakufu assuming direct control of Hida are unclear. They

may have wanted to oust Yoritoki, who proved a rather inept administrator, though the

principle motivation was probably to gain access to Hida’s rich timber and mineral

^‘Tono’ is an honorific title roughly comparable to the English ‘lord,’ and was used in addressing or referring to members of the feudal warrior class. ‘Machi’ in this case indicates a district or section within the town, generally corresponding to the row of houses lining both sides of a major thoroughfare. ‘Tonomachi’ thus meant "lords’ district"—that section of town where the warriors resided.

^‘Ichi.’ ‘ni,’ and ‘sail’ correspond respectively to the numbers ‘one,’ ‘two,’ and ‘three.’ ‘No’ is a particle which generally denotes association or possession, but in this case acts to ordinalize the numbers. ‘Machi.’ as noted above, refers to a district or section of town. The names of these three residential areas thus mean literally "First District," Second District," and "Third District," the number increasing with distance from the castle. 61 resources. Hida timber was used by the bakufu in rebuilding part of Edo castle as well as twice reconstructing the Higashi Hongan temple in Kyoto. Cypress (hinokil was the preferred timber. All cypress wood was therefore reserved by the bakufu. and ordinary

citizens were forbidden to use it.

The bakufu administered Hida Province from its regional headquarters in

Takayama. The castle at Furukawa was eventually converted into a government rice

redistribution facility and temporary housing for visiting dignitaries. The town itself

continued to prosper throughout the Edo period (1600-1868) as a relay station along the

western branch of the old Etchu Highway, which ran north to Toyama on the Japan Sea.

Most of the residents of Furukawa were peasant farmers. However, owing to its

role as a commercial center for the northern portion of Hida Province, a substantial

number of merchant households had established themselves there as well. As a result,

Furukawa combined the characteristics of both farm village and commercial town. The

most prominent townspeople, including the large sake-brewing households, were located

in Ichinomachi. The remainder of the merchants lived in Ninomachi, and the majority

of the commercial shops were concentrated along this street. Sannomachi was

overwhelmingly composed of farming households, as was Tonomachi following the

abandonment of the castle and subsequent transfer of its samurai retainers.

Ichinomachi, Ninomachi, Sannomachi, and Tonomachi were collectively referred

to as ‘Honmachi’ ("Main Town"). A fifth residential district called Mukaimachi

developed later as the population expanded across the Araki River. Indeed, ‘mukai’

means "across" or "beyond," referring to the location of the new settlement just across 62

the river from the castle site. Mukaimachi at that time consisted of only a few

households lining the river, most of them belonging to poor tenant farmers.

Furukawa was surrounded by a number of small agricultural settlements located just up into the foothills lining the perimeter of the basin. This residence pattern

represents an efficient use of resources as it did not require converting any of the precious

basin lowlands into buildings and thoroughfares. It also afforded the inhabitants easy

access to two different environmental zones: the lowland rice paddies and the forested

mountains.

Traditional Subsistence Technology

From tlie time of the Kanamoris up until the period of rapid economic and

industrial development following the Second World War most of Hida’s inhabitants were

engaged in labor-intensive agriculture. Transportation into and out of this remote region

was limited, and the people had to rely upon what they could produce through their own

labor using the resources they found immediately at hand. Though arable land was not

available in great abundance, rice, being the staple grain, was the major agricultural

product.

The importance of rice in Japanese culture is not to be underestimated. In fact

‘toshi.’ the Japanese word for ‘year,’ originally referred to one cycle of the rice growing

season from transplanting to harvest. The word is believed to have derived from the

plu-ase "ta yori yoseru" (approaching from the paddies), which was later abbreviated to

"tayoshi" and finally "toshi. " It was first used as a counter for designating length of time 63 as the number of successive growing seasons that had transpired, but eventually became the general term for ‘year’ (Tajika, et al. 1990:12).

Similarly, the word ‘iflê,’ referring to the rice plant itself, is said to be a contraction of the phrase "inochi no ne. " meaning "the source of life. " To grasp the true significance of the concept, however, it must be noted that the Japanese people at one time were consuming whole grain rice, not the polished white rice which became popular from around the beginning of the Edo period. The whole grain, unpolished version

contained more of the essential nutrients and was considered a complete food in itself.^

It is understandable, then, why rice was considered such an important commodity.

The annual round of agricultural work was divided into two major periods: a busy

time tnohankik roughly equivalent to tlie growing season from planting to harvest, and

a lax time (nokankiJ. which covered the remainder of the year. Prior to the adoption of

the western (Gregorian) calendar, farmers had to rely on natural indicators to help them

schedule their seasonal work activities. It was common in this region, as in other parts

of Japan, for local farmers to use patterns left by the melting snow on nearby mountains

to tell them when to start spring planting. Places hit directly by the sun melted faster

than the shaded spots, leaving recognizable shapes on the mountain faces. Some of the

shapes were revealed in the white of the remaining snow, others in the areas left by the

melted patches. The melting snow followed roughly the same pattern every year, so

when a particular pattern emerged the farmers knew that temperature and moisture

^In addition, the outside hull left on the grain served as an excellent preservative, allowing storage of the grain for periods of up to several years. 64 conditions were suitable for spring planting to begin. On Mt. Kasagatake, for example, the outline of a horse usually appeared in what by the western calendar would have been sometime in early May. This served as a signal for the local people to start plowing-an appropriate image in that horses were used as traction animals to draw the plows (KondD

1990:18).

When the fields had been plowed and harrowed and the dikes running between them repaired, the irrigation channels were opened. Paddy fields were small and irregularly shaped, conforming to the natural contours of the land. Water flowed from one paddy to the next through small openings in the dikes running between them, beginning at the highest elevation and filling each paddy in turn until all of them had been flooded. Later the soil surface was churned and paddled into an even layer of soft mud covered by a few inches of standing water.

Rice seedlings were grown packed together in dense beds called "nawashiro. " then transplanted into the paddy fields in evenly spaced rows to allow their roots to spread and utilize nutrients in sufficient quantities to grow and mature. Transplanting was done by

hand and required the cooperative efforts of a number of economically related

households. A marking tool resembling a large rake was dragged lengthwise through the

paddy so that its prongs left parallel lines in the mud, then taken crosswise to form a grid

pattern with the lines intersecting at intervals of one shaku (about one foot). Next the

assembled work group lined up at one end with baskets of seedlings tied to their waists.

They would then move slowly through the field, placing seedlings at every intersection,

with each member doing several rows simultaneously. The technique involved taking 65 three or four seedlings at a time, held like a pencil between the thumb and first two fingers, inserting them through the shallow water and into the mud, then witlidrawing the hand with a slight sideways flip of the fingers to stick the seedlings more securely into place. This technique required time to master but could eventually be carried out with great dexterity and speed.

The water had to be maintained at a fairly constant level throughout the growing season. The same flow of water fed a great number of paddies, linking many different households into a single irrigation system. Cooperation and good will were thus essential to ensure that the water was equitably distributed.

Several days prior to the harvest the paddies were drained and the soil allowed to

dry. As with transplanting, harvesting the mature grain traditionally called for a

coordinated effort. Members of the assembled work group would move together through

tfie field, grabbing the stalks in handfuls and cutting them off near the surface using a

small sickle with a serrated blade. The stalks were then bound together with rice straw

to form small bundles and hung in the fields to dry. The method of hanging the bundles

varied from region to region. In Hida wooden legs were erected at intervals in a tripod

configuration and bound together near the top so that the ends extended past the point of

intersection. Then long poles were placed horizontally across them—the ends cradled in

the v-shape formed by the intersecting legs. Each bundle was pulled apart at the unbound

end and hung over the horizontal cross poles with the heads of grain pointed down.

The grain was left to dry on the stalk for a week or two, depending on the

weather. The bundles were tlien fed into small threshing machines dragged into the field. 66

The devices were operated by hand using a crank, or by foot from a seated position using

peddles much like a bicycle. Later models were powered by a small gasoline engine.

The grain was bagged and carried away. The stalks were then scattered over the

paddy fields, allowed to partially decompose during the winter, and eventually worked

back into the soil the following spring.

As previously mentioned, rice production was greatly limited by the mountainous terrain. Millet could be grown at higher altitudes without irrigation and was therefore

used to supplement the rice. Beyond this the people of Hida relied heavily upon the

resources availiable to them in the forested mountains.’ Koyama (1981:93) notes that

"the Hida subsistence system was varied and complex, retaining many elements of

foraging. " Survival thus required a diversified subsistence strategy utilizing both lowland

basin and upland mountain resources.

The mountains yielded various species of wild vegetable (sansail. most notably

warabi (brackenroot), zenmai (royal fern), and yomogi (mugwort), all of which emerged

in early to mid-May. The stem-like vegetables were heated in water with ash to leach

out the acid, then dried in the sun and pressed into clumps for later use. Soaking the

dried vegetables in water returned them to somewhat their original form. The object,

then, was to gather as many of the plants as possible while they were in season so that

they could be preserved and eaten all year round.

’Since most of the arable lowlands were devoted to irrigated rice cultivation, the terms ‘forest’ and ‘mountain’ are largely synonomous. 67

Sugina (horsetail) was a medicinal weed which was boiled in hot water to produce

a kind of tea used in the treatment of stomach problems. The broad leaves of the ho plant also served a variety of useful purposes. They had the special property of resisting

mold and mildew, so foods like mochi (glutinous rice cakes) were wrapped in them for

storage, and could be kept for perhaps a few weeks without spoiling. The leaves could

also be placed directly over an open flame and were therefore used as makeshift fry pans,

especially in the preparation of yakimiso (fried bean paste). Take no ko (bamboo sprout)

grew along stream banks and was available in late May or early June.

Nuts were an important source of vegetable protein. Chestnut, buckeye, and

acorn were all available in the forested mountains. Again, these could be gathered in

season, then dried and processed for later use (Matsuyama 1981).

The Miya River system was abundant in freshwater fish, including dace, trout,

ayu, and eel (Akimichi 1981:148-149). Hunting of game animals was discouraged by

Buddhist tradition. Nevertheless, deer and wild boar were hunted and consumed, perhaps

because they competed directly with humans for food resources. Bear meat was also

consumed to a limited extent. The Buddhist proscription against killing animals was not

applied as stringently to birds and these were utilized as well, particularly pheasant

(Koyama 1981:100-102).

The mountains yielded several other important resources. The villagers went

regularly to the mountains to cut grass and carry it back to scatter over their rice paddies

as a form of green manure. They also employed a practice known as ‘kyakudo’ (literally

"guest soil") in which nutrient rich soil was hauled down from the mountains and added 68 to the paddy fields—again to raise their fertility. Horses and cattle were kept as traction animals and the forested mountains offered them forage. Trees were cut to provide lumber for housing materials. The smaller pieces of timber were processed into charcoal to be used as fuel for heating and cooking.

Access to the forested mountains was thus vital to the survival of the villagers below. While paddy land was privately owned by individual households, rights to the mountains were held communally through an arrangement known as ‘iriai. The land was parcelled out and each community assigned a particular area reserved exclusively for its own use. The members were thereby ensured access to the forest resources so necessary to their existence. As might be expected, rights of access were jealously guarded, and boundary disputes among the different communities were not uncommon.

Building materials, too, were extracted from the immediate environment. Houses in this area were of the mud-and-wattle variety, consisting of a wooden frame with a bamboo latticework for the walls, to which clay mud was affixed. The clay was mixed with rice straw for greater consistency. Walls facing the outside were then covered with wooden siding to protect them from the elements.

The roofs were originally constructed of thatch, but wooden shingles became increasingly prevalent during the Meiji and Taisho periods. The shingles were generally made of chestnut (kun) wood because it was strong, resistant to water, and readily available in the mountains nearby.

®The word consists of two characters: ‘in ’, meaning to enter into, and ‘ai’, referring to a meeting or association. Thus the two togetlier imply joint access. 69

Traditional carpenters preferred not to use nails, as they tended to make the house rigid and less resistant to earthquake. Instead they relied on joinery and rope bindings, leaving the house flexible enough to expand and contract with the tremors. Likewise the wooden shingles on the roofs were not nailed down. Boards were laid laterally across the shingles and stones placed on the boards to help hold the shingles in place against

strong winds. Otherwise the shingles might be lifted up and blown away, beginning at the eaves and moving upward toward the apex in a sort of domino effect.

The wooden shingle roofs are now becoming increasingly rare as they have to be

replaced every twenty years or so and materials are very expensive. Most home owners

have switched to metal roofing material. The tile roofs common in other parts of Japan

are not practical in Hida due to the heavy snowfall. This is because on sunny winter days

the snow would melt and the water would seep into the cracks between the tiles, then at

night the water would freeze and separate one tile from the next. Metal roofs are not

susceptible to this kind of damage, and the snow slides off them more easily.

Folk Beliefs

By combining agriculture with foraging the people were able to achieve a fairly

secure subsistence base despite the harsh conditions imposed by the environment.

Practical ability alone, however, was not considered sufficient to ensure survival—it was

also necessary to secure the cooperation of supernatural forces by performing the proper

rituals of supplication. 70

The Shinto religion has always been closely associated with rice production, and rice symbolism is abundant in its myths and rituals. In the creation myth, for example,

Japan is referred to as ‘mizuho no kuni’—"the land blessed with rice"—and the knowledge

for cultivating rice is described as having been brought to earth by Ninigi, grandson of

the sun goddess Amaterasu and ancestor to the imperial line. Thus "the Japanese believed

that rice cultivation was a sacred activity granted them from the deities" (United

Association of Shinto Shrines:9).

In pre-industrial societies, natural processes are often conceived in terms of the

supernatural. This may be interpreted as an expression of respect for the local

environment, which provides the resources necessary to support the material existence of

its inhabitants. It is not surprising, then, that mountains hold special significance in botli

the Shinto and Buddhist religions.

According to Shinto tradition, mountains are recognized as the dwelling places of

the kami (spirits, deities), and are thus considered sacred territory. It is still customary

for hunters to make appeasement to the mountain kami after killing an animal, and for

lumberjacks to perform rituals acknowledging the benevolence of the forest kami before

cutting down a tree. Mt. Hakusan, located on Hida’s eastern border, is considered a

sacred mountain, and shrines bearing the name ‘Hakusan’ are scattered all over the

region.

A materialist explanation would perhaps suggest that mountains became objects

of veneration because they provided so many of the basic materials necessary for human

subsistence. Water was channelled down from the mountains to irrigate rice paddies. 71

Housing materials, edible plants and game animals, fodder, fuel, and fertilizer all came from the forested mountains, and could therefore be seen as gifts from the kami dwelling therein. In fact the mountains are collectively referred to by the people of Hida as the

"great mother" (oinaru haha).^

The surrounding mountains were thus vital to life in the communities below. This

relationsliip is symbolically expressed through folk rituals designed to entice the local

mountain deity (yama no kamil to descend to the rice paddies at spring planting time.

It is then believed to remain there as tlie deity of the paddy fields tta no kamil for the

entire growing season, thereby ensuring a bountiful harvest. In the autumn it is sent on

its way back to the mountains, where it remains until the following spring. Seasonal folk

rituals of this type in fact provide the underlying rationale behind community shrine

festivals like the Furukawa matsuri. as wilt later be described.

According to local folk beliefs, human spirits ascend to the mountains after death.

Lofty Mt. Ontake on Hida’s western border, for example, is considered a "spirit

mountain" (reisanV-a place where the spirits of deceased ancestors reside and therefore

a popular pilgrimage destination.

This idea has been placed within a Buddhism idiom in relation to the practice of

ancestor worship. The spirits of the deceased are thought to be dependent upon the living

to ensure their passage into salvation. If not properly venerated by their descendents they

become wandering ghosts, doomed to roam endlessly in search of comfort from the

’The mountain deity (yama no kami) is considered locally to be a female even though the Kojiki describes it as male. This may represent a situation in which a native folk belief has prevailed over the religious ideology imposed upon it by the dominant society. 72 living. The descendents can prevent this from happening by performing a series of

Buddhist memorial services which extend over a period of many years, whereby the recently deceased gradually lose their individual identities, eventually merging into a single undifferentiated category known simply as "the ancesters."

Namihira (1978:224) observes that ancestors for whom the final memorial service has been performed are believed to merge into the yama no kami. which descends in spring to dwell in the paddies as the ta no kami. Thus the people have come to equate the ancestors with the very mountain spirits they evoke to help ensure a successful growing season:

in their beliefs the mountain deity, the field deity, ancestral spirits and Shinto gods are considered to be alternate manifestations of the same being. And in their religious activities ancestor worship, regeneration of the mountain deity and rites for a good harvest constitute a single interdependent complex.

Mountains and lowland rice cultivation, therefore, are intimately connected in the religious symbolism of both the Shinto and Buddhist-inspired folk traditions.

Rise of the Patron Landlords

Social and economic conditions during the period in which Hida was administered

by the bakufu led to the emergence of a privileged stratum of wealthy landowners and

merchants collectively known as the "patron folk" tdanna shnl.° who constituted the

*I am using the term ‘patron’ here in the sense of a wealthy landowner who uses his power and prestige for the benefit or protection of his less prominent fellow residents. The Japanese word ‘danna’ is usually rendered into English as ‘lord’ or ‘master.’ In this instance it is roughly equivalent to the term ‘landlord,’ though danna’ implies a certain level of cultural refinement and a moral obligation to assist the less fortunate members 73 upper level of the rural social hierarchy until the land reforms were instituted at the end of the Second World War. Theirs is a story of shifting fortunes in which one household might rise dramatically to prominence only to tumble into obscurity one or two generations later. A few, however, have managed to survive to the present day and continue to exert considerable influence in community affairs.

Kuwatani (1971:53) notes that true danna households are characterized by the following three features: (1) they possess considerable wealth and property; (2) they are old families which first rose to prominence during the Edo period; (3) they maintain a tradition of bestowing economic favors on the local community. This patron class has been a major factor in the political, economic, and cultural development of the Hida region, and no study of Hida in the modem period would be complete without considering their role.

Patron households can be roughly divided into two categories, the large landholding patrons tjinushi danna) and the wealthy merchant patrons tshübai dannaV

The former were agricultural and were able to prosper not only by their own productive

efforts but also by drawing rent ft'om their tenant cultivators. They were considered to

be of higher status and assumed a rather arrogant attitude toward other members of the

community. The merchant patrons, on the other hand, engaged in a variety of

commercial activities. They recognized that their success depended largely on customer

satisfaction and assumed a somewhat more humble demeanor in interacting with their

fellow residents. There is no clear distinction between the two categories, however, as

of the community. 74 the agricultural landlord pations sometimes invested in commercial enterprises-especially following the Meiji Restoration-and the merchant patrons were able to acquire vast tracts of land as their businesses prospered. The term 'danna shn.’ then, is roughly synonymous with the pre-war landlord class.

Kuwatani (1971:56-57) traces the origin of the merchant danna to the custom of primogeniture among peasant farm households. In most cases the eldest son was designated as the sole heir, leaving his younger brothers with no inheritance, and therefore virtually no status in the community. With little prospect of advancing themselves in their own villages, many of the younger siblings set off for the newly

established castle towns of Takayama and Furukawa in hopes of raising their fortunes by

becoming apprentices and merchants. The vast majority spent their lives in relative

obscurity, but a few managed to become quite successful and eventually established their

own businesses.

After two or three generations their households had acquired substantia! wealth

and began to engage in money lending activities. With interest rates as high as 30-40

percent, many borrowers found themselves unable to repay theii loans and were obliged

to give up whatever they had offered as security-most commonly land, livestock, or their

own labor services. The merchant moneylenders were thus able to acquire land and other

assets and eventually bansform themselves into full-fledged landlords.

At that time rent on rice paddies was paid annually as ‘nengu.’ a portion of the

harvest normally fixed at around 50-60 percent. Several of the new merchant landlords

established breweries and began using the rice they collected as rent from their tenants 75 to produce sake. This proved to be a very lucrative enterprise and raised their fortunes even further.

As the Edo period progressed, the fiscal policies of the Tokugawa bakufu led to the increasing impoverishment of the feudal lords (daimyoT who ruled as their own personal domains the areas not directly under bakufu control. The daimyO were prohibited by the ruling ideology from engaging directly in commercial activities, and their major source of income was the annual tax on the rice harvest. If the hard est was good they might be able to cover all their expenses with a bit left over, but in the event of a crop failure or other disaster, many were left with no alternative but to borrow from wealthy merchants. Some of the members of the Hida darma shii responded to this new demand by lending to daimyO in neighboring domains. Now they were dealing in much larger amounts, and again the interest rates were extremely high. This added considerably to their already substantial wealth.

The danna were not concerned exclusively with turning a profit, however. In the manner of true patrons they were also aware of their responsibilities as members of the community and felt obliged to provide assistance to those less fortunate than themselves.

They often donated funds for public works projects such as bridge and road construction.

They customarily played the role of host at public meetings, since tlieir houses were spacious enough to accommodate large numbers of people. Perhaps most significantly for the present analysis, they also helped sponsor the local matsuri with generous contributions of sake, food, and other materials. 76

Such patronage was not entirely motivated by charitable sentiments, however.

The wealthy danna were understandably objects of envy and derision. After all, they had achieved their special prominence largely through exploiting their less-fortunate neighbors. Contributions by danna households at matsuri time were in part intended to relieve aggressive tensions among the peasantry generated by poverty and a heavy tax burden (Kuwatani 1971:75).

The danna were assisted by a special category of economically attached yet

biologically unrelated subordinates known euphemistically as the deiri shn (going

out/coming in folk). As the name implies, these people did not belong to the main

household, but came and went as the need for their services demanded. The deiri were

essentially wage laborers rather than full-time servants. Nor should they be equated with

the landlord’s tenant farmers. Though there were tenants among them, the group

included small owner-cultivators as well.

The bond between danna and deiri was characterized by the recognition of mutual

loyalties and obligations. The deiri were proud to be associated with their wealthy

patrons, and often participated in ceremonial events at the main household. Some patron

households had special tombs for their deiri members placed next to their own.

Even though they had acquired considerable wealth and influence, the danna

nevertheless had to maintain the appearance of conforming to the existing Edo period

administrative system, and assumed the position of low level retainers. It was necessary

for tliem to present gifts as tribute to the local magistrates, and periodically they were 77 called upon to make rather large contributions. In return they were sometimes granted surnames and samurai status.

Peasant Rebellion

During the Edo period, tenant farmers paid nengu both to the bakufu and to their landlords, so the portion of the rice harvest they were entitled to keep for their own use was very limited. In the event of flood, crop failure, or otlter natural disaster farmers living close to the subsistence margin—as so many of them were—could be placed in extremely dire economic conditions. This gave rise to the term ‘mizunomi hyakusho’

("water-drinking peasant") in referring to peasant farmers who were so poor they could not afford to drink sake.

Despite the rigid social hierarchy and heavy tax burden, incidents of outright rebellion in Hida were rare. This should not, however, lead to the hasty conclusion that the peasants were satisfied with their condition, as other factors undoubtedly had an effect in deterring rebellion. The area was rather sparsely populated and the settlements dispersed. Relative isolation kept them well out of contact with political trends and events in other parts of the country. Such conditions made it extremely difficult to organize any kind of unified opposition toward social inequalities. Also, unlike neighboring territories, Hida was administered directly by the Tokugawa regime, and its peasantry had little hope of resisting the kind of force which the bakufu could bring to

bear. 78

Nevertheless, even a small, isolated population might he induced to rise up in opposition if conditions become intolerable. Two such incidents occurred in Hida: the

Ohara rebellion during the period 1771-1787, and the Umemura disturbance which took place in 1869 shortly after the Meiji restoration.

The Ohara incident is often cited as a classic example of peasant rebellion thyakusho ikkil in Tokugawa Japan. It actually consisted of three separate rebellions directed against a single repressive administration. The bakufu had appointed the Ohara family as regional administrators to the Hida region. The Oharas were thus responsible for enforcing a government policy against the cutting of timber. The bakufu was caught between the need to preserve timber and complaints by the peasants against prohibiting its use. In the end it chose to stick with its policy, thereby inciting the first wave of rebellion.

The second wave of the Ohara rebellion resulted from an increase in the land tax from 40 to 60 percent of the rice harvest. This single new enactment caused similar rebellions all over Japan in territories directly administered by the bakufu.

Finally, the Oharas initiated a new land survey aimed at converting vegetable plots fhatakeJ to rice paddies (ta). This again related to the tax policy as rice land could be taxed in the form of nengu while vegetable gardens could not.

Being located in the center of one of the largest concentrations of arable land in

all of Hida province, Furukawa was naturally drawn into the center of the later

disturbances. In fact two residents of the Furukawa area were eventually executed for

their role as instigators. They were a peasant named Mansuke from Omura—tlie 79 collective label for the three hamlets lying just across from Furukawa on the other side of the Miya River—and another named lemon of Kamikitamura, located in the foothills overlooking the town. The latter had simply been asked to write the petition (gansho't because he was such a skilled calligrapher, but was held responsible because he refused

to reveal the names of the actual authors.®

These two men are referred to as "giseisha." a word that is often translated

‘scapegoat,’ but whose actual meaning indicates sacrifice for the benefit of others,

lemon’s grave is prominently displayed on the grounds of the Shinshu Temple in

Sannomachi. Manzuke’s is located across the Miya River in Shimono Hamlet. Memorial

services are held in their honor to this day.

The second major incidence of rebellion to rock the Hida region occurred

sometime later, not long after the fall of the Tokugawa regime and Japan’s subsequent

entry into the modem era. In 1853, Commodore Perry had sailed into Edo Bay with his

infamous black ships, demanding that Japan end over 200 years of self-imposed isolation

and open its ports to foreign trade. Faced with the military might of the industrializing

West, the Tokugawa bakufu was left with little alternative but to comply. To the rest of

the nation, however, the bakufu had shown itself to be weak in failing to deal forcefully

with the threat from abroad. This added to already widespread discontent with bakufu

administration, and in 1867 the Tokugawa regime was overthrown by a coalition of

®ln those days petitions were signed in the so-called "umbrella" style (kasa jüren banjo! with tiie names written as if radiating out from the center. All the signatures thus together formed a circle with no beginning or end, thereby concealing the identities of the ringleaders. 80 powerful anti-government factions led by leaders from the Satsuma and Chüshïï domains.

This revolution was referred to as the "Meiji Restoration" as it was reputedly intended to restore sovereignty to the Emperor Meiji. Actual power, however, remained in the hands of an oligarchy made up of leaders from the rebellious domains.

The new government embarked upon an ambitious effort to catch up with the west in terms of industrial development and military might, thus propelling Japan into the modem era. The old feudal domains were abolished and a new system of political units created in their place, roughly following the lines of the old provincial boundaries.

In 1868 the Meiji leadership sent twenty-seven year-old Umemura Hayami to serve as governor of the newly established Hida Prefecture, with its capital at Takayama.

Hida had of course been directly administered by the Tokugawa regime. Umemura,

however, was from Mito Province and therefore part of the Satsuma-Chüshïï coalition.

He was thus seen as an outsider and his motives viewed with suspicion from the start.

The young governor was inexperienced but ambitious and immediately embarked

upon a bold new program of social and economic reforms. The local people, however,

had become accustomed to the relative stability afforded by the previous regime and were

somewhat resistant to the new changes being imposed upon them. Of particular concern

was the cancellation of two long-standing rice distribution policies aimed at ensuring

inexpensive rice to people who were unable to produce sufficient quantities themselves.

The first, known as ‘ninbeLsumai.’‘° was directed toward residents of the larger towns

‘"The word consists of three characters; ‘nin,’ referring to people; ‘betsu.’ meaning difference or distinction; and ‘mai,’ meaning rice. The entire compound thus implied that certain people were being treated differentially regarding the availability of rice for 81 such as Takayama and Furukawa who had no access to paddy land of their own. The second, ‘yamagatamai.’" was to assist the inhabitants of remote mountain regions where arable land was in extremely short supply. Such rice was much cheaper than that which could be obtained on the open market. Umemura decided to abolish both policies, generating a great deal of animosity from those who had been benefitting from them.

Umemura also established a prefectural militia. This created enemies among the local fire brigade organizations which had previously been responsible for defending the region.

The new governor was thus extremely unpopular among certain segments of his constituency, and the people rose up against him during the first year of his administration. While he was away in Kyoto mobs of angry peasants began vandalizing and burning public administrative offices as well as homes belonging to Umemura’s local administrators—most of whom were wealthy landlords. Umemura rushed back when he received news of the incident, but the peasants were determined to prevent him from reentering the Hida region and reestablishing control. Members of the Furukawa fire brigade led an angry mob which intercepted him at Hagiwara, before he could penetrate very far into Hida’s interior. The mob surrounded Umemura’s lodgings and his guards opened fire. Three people were killed, including one man from Furukawa. Umemura tried to escape but was wounded in the shoulder by a rifle bullet fired by a member of the rebel faction. He then retreated to neighboring Naegi province, but was later taken

consumption.

“Literally "mountain people rice. " 82 into custody by the Meiji government pending an official investigation to determine whether he had been guilty of abusing his authority. He died of his shoulder wound in a Tokyo prison at the age of twenty-nine, still awaiting his trial.

Umemura was succeeded by Miyahara Minoru, a more experienced and conservative administrator far less bent on instituting reforms. Though Miyahara, too, was an outsider to the region, he adopted a hands-off policy which proved much more agreeable with the local people.

There were no more cases of open rebellion in Hida. As Scott (1985) has observed, however, this does not necessarily indicate a contented peasantry, as rebellious sentiments may be expressed in a variety of more subtle devices. Using Furukawa as a case example, I will argue that opposition toward the authorities continued to be expressed through the ritual medium, symbolically enacting both the oppressive hierarchical power structure and the people’s inclination to rise up against it. This matter will be fully addressed in Chapter Five.

The Local Elite

In the aftermath of the Meiji Restoration, rural society continued to be dominated by the wealthy landlord class. In 1889 the government enacted a constitution which established a parliamentary system of elected public officials, but voting privileges were limited to males of over twenty-five years of age who had been residing in their local areas for at least one year and who paid at least fifteen yen in taxes to the central government. To be eligible to hold office in the national and prefectural assemblies the 83 same qualifications applied, with the exception that the minimum age was set at thirty years. The new parliamentary system was thus in essence dominated by the wealthy

landholding elite.

A register of eligible voters for electing members to the house of representatives

tshïïgiin giin senkyO jinmeibo> compiled that same year lists only fifty-six individuals for

all of Furukawa (see Appendix C). The register designates each individual as either

agricultural (np) or commercial (siffi), and gives the real estate tax in yen paid annually

to the central government. It thus serves as a rough index of the extent of real estate held

by each individual. Not all the people listed in the register were landlords. Some of

them were merely home owners fiemochil or landowner-cultivators (jisakunoT Only the

largest landowners among them may be classified as ‘landlord.’ Even within this latter

group, however, there was a broad range of variation in size of holdings, so treating all

members of the landlord class alike ignores important distinctions in economic behavior

and social prominance.

Local prewar landlords can be divided into three categories based on the nature

of their productive activities as well as the size of their holdings. The largest landowners

were purely agricultural—that is, they subsisted almost entirely on profite from marketing

their share of the rice harvest extracted from their tenant cultivators as rent (nengu). The

largest landlords in the Furukawa area were the Sugishita, Okamura, and Sato

households. Though many of their tenants lived in Furukawa, all three were themselves

located outside of town and a short distance upstream in what is still considered the most

fertile part of the narrow basin. 84

The Sugishitas trace their descent back twenty-four generations. At one time they were the largest landowners in the Hida region, and the third largest in all of Gifu

Prefecture. They rose to prominence during the late Edo period and even though they belonged to the peasant class were awarded a family name sometime prior to tlie Meiji

Restoration. The Sugishitas were particularly prosperous from around the beginning of the Meiji period on through to the end of the Second World War. During this time they amassed huge amounts of land and at their peak were taking in about 4000 hyn (one hyü

= 60 kg.) per year. They held land not only in Furukawa but in several other settlements as well. The main house was located in the village of Utsue, but they maintained secondary residences in both Takayama and Furukawa. One former head of the household served as a national diet member both in the house of councilors (1898-

1902) and the chamber of lords (1907-11).

The Okamuras were located in the village of Hirose. One of their former heads attended Columbia University and was employed by MacArthur during the allied occupation. He was later elected to the national diet as a member of the house of representatives (1947-55) and relocated his family to Tokyo. Their house was eventually dismantled and the contents placed in a Kyoto folk museum.

The Satos were based in the village of Omura, which is contiguous with Furukawa but falls within the precincts of another shrine Their house was burned by irate peasants during the Umemura rebellion, but was rebuilt on the same site. The Satü line includes several prominent individuals, including a former mayor of Furukawa and the man who introduced sericulture into the area. During the 1930s the household found itself without 85 a male heir so arranged for one to many in. This young man became a physician and moved away to Tokyo. His son, the present heir, is a professor at a Tokyo university.

The second category of local prewar landlord consisted of landholding merchant households. In addition to being heavily engaged in commercial activities, they were distinguishable from the large agricultural landlords in that they lived within the town of

Furukawa itself. Their merchant activities allowed them to accumulate wealth, which they then used to acquire paddy land to rent to landless peasants. Their status, however,

remained somewhat lower than that of the large agricultural landlords.

One of the most lucrative commercial activities at that time was brewing sake.

Two features were essential to a successful sake-brewing enterprise—an abundant supply

of rice and an accessible market for the finished product. The Furukawa and Takayama

basins together represented the Hida region’s major concentration of both arable land and

people, and it is not surprising that a number of prominent sake-brewers were located in

these two towns. The abundant supply of clean water provided another advantage. In

addition, the cold climate of the Hida region is supposed to have resulted in better-quality

sake as it tended to slow down the fermentation process.

Sake-brewing and the tenancy system in use at the time together represented a

very profitable combination. The brewer landlords could manufacture their product using

the rice extracted as nengu firom their tenants and thereby avoid buying rice from

suppliers at market prices. They were thus able to produce sake at lower cost, then use

the profits to acquire more land. Much of their sake was undoubtedly sold to their own

tenant cultivators seeking momentary escape from their miserable conditions. 86

The sake brewers in Furukawa tended to be clustered side-by-side in Ichinomachi.

This may have been because the Setogawa, which ran behind the row of buildings, provided them with an ample supply of fresh water.

The Kaba household was the first to locate there. Indeed, the Kabas are one of the oldest families in Furukawa, and trace their descent back thirteen generations to one of the retainers who accompanied Anegakoji when he assumed control of the Hida region in the mid-Fourteenth Century. The Kabas are a refined, scholarly family whose

genealogy includes a number of accomplished literary figures. They first gained wealth

through silk production, but switched to sake brewing during the late Edo period. They

have not been heavily involved in politics, though the father of the present head once

served as mayor of Furukawa.

Just downstream from Kaba and separated by only a narrow side street and one

other building is the Watanabe household-another prominent sake-brewer. The

Watanabes moved to Furukawa in 1735, having originated in a more remote Hida village

where they served as politicians and administrators. They have occupied their present

location in Furukawa for eight generations. With the second generation they began to

engage in money lending and silk production, and in the fifth generation (sometime

during the early Meiji period) started brewing sake. Thereafter they were able to gain

title to extensive paddy fields and before the postwar land reform were taking in about

800 hyS as rent from their tenants.’^

''While this is a considerable amount, note that it in no way compares with the 4000 hyn reported earlier for the Sugishita household-one of the large agricultural landlords. 87

Of the several sake-brewing houses established in Furukawa during the Edo and

Meiji periods only Kaba and Watanabe have managed to survive into the postwar era.

The two have thus been competing with one another in the same market for many generations and remain economic rivals to this day.’’

Furukawa's population consisted mostly of peasant farmers. The commercial establishments tended to be clustered together in Ninomachi, so consequently this is where many of the prominent merchant landlords were located. One of the largest was the Honda household. The Hondas were originally named Tajika, and like the Kabas they trace their ancestry back thirteen generations to one of Anegakoji’s retainers. There were several competing lines of Tajikas in Furukawa, and during the late 1800s Tajika

Rokusaburo, the head of one of these lines, changed his family name to Honda to distinguish his own line from the others. ‘Tajika’ is written with two characters, the first

(ta) meaning "paddy field" and the second tchikaV'* meaning "close" or "near. "

Rokusaburo retained the initial character (ta) but attached as a prefix the character ‘hon’ meaning "main" or "principal" to form the new name ‘Honda,’ thereby representing his own household as the main line and all the other Tajikas as branch households.

During the Edo period the Hondas were engaged in the lumber business and floated logs from the surrounding area to the feudal lords in Toyama via the Miya and

'^Some of the other sake brewers were forced to abandon their operations as part of the enterprise adjustment tkigyn seibii program implemented by the government in 1942.

‘“There is a phonetic change in the initial sound in ‘chika’ from ‘ch’ to ‘j’ when it is combined with the preceding character. 88

Jintsu Rivers. Later they diversified into brewing sake and dying cloth, both of which were lucrative enterprises in those days. Their profits allowed them to acquire vast tracts of land and they eventually became exclusively agricultural, reaching a scale of ownership comparable to that of large landholders like Sato and Okamura. At one time they had around 600 tenants cultivating their land and were assisted by as many as 22 deiri households.

The Hondas were also well-known statesman. Rokusaburo himself served as a

member of the Gifu prefectural assembly from 1895 to 1899 and again from 1904 to

1906. He was also mayor of Furukawa from 1897-98. His prefectural assembly seat was

filled in turn by his son Akinori (1917-35) and grandson Akihiro (1967-87), both of

whom served as assembly chairmen. Thus in the political realm as well the Honda

household appears to have occupied a stature comparable to the large landowners

previously described. It must be noted, however, that as representatives to the prefectural

assembly rather than the national diet, the Hondas’ constituency was limited to a more

immediate area—indeed, it was composed largely of fellow residents of Furukawa. Their

situation thus required them to remain intimately involved in local affairs and did not

draw their focus away to the major cities.

Claiming descent from the same retainer of Anegakoji was another branch of the

Tajika line, this one located in Middle Ninomachi where it intersected with Oyokocho,

just upstream from Honda. The Tajikas were dry goods merchants and were perhaps at

one time wealthier than any of the above. The family later built a department store on 89 the site of the old house. The head of the household just prior to the present generation served as mayor of Furukawa.

Rivalling Honda in extent of land acquisition was the Nakamura household. The

Nakamuras were sake brewers who began engaging in money lending activities, assuming control of the land offered as security when the borrowers found themselves unable to repay. During the early Meiji period the Nakamuras were able to acquire extensive paddy lands in and around the hamlets on the opposite side of the Miya River. One of them served as mayor of Furukawa. The main line eventually died out due to failure to produce an heir, though tliere are relatives still living in nearby Kamihara.

The Kumazaki household, located a bit further upstream, was engaged in sake brewing until around the mid-Meiji period. Like the other merchant landlords they were active in money lending and land acquisition, and eventually became involved in banking services. The present heir recently moved to Nagoya where he is employed as a director of Gifti Prefecture’s largest regional bank.

The Hasegawa household was located with many of the other wealthy merchant landlords in Ninomachi but was primarily agricultural. They later moved farther downstream toward Sakaemachi where they remain to this day. Not far away was the

Fuse household. They too became largely agricultural, though they remained actively involved in manufacturing silk thread and built tlie first mechanized factory in Furukawa.

This by no means exhausts the list of landlord households in Furukawa. There were many other smaller-scale landlords scattered around town, and every neighborhood

had at least two or three residing within it. Together they constituted the third group of 90 local landlords, the shojinushi kaikyil. or small landlord class, which included both landholding merchants and owner-cultivators. Though fairly prosperous, they could not offer the kind of local patronage which the larger landlords provided. Thus while the old term ‘danna shn’ continued to be applied to both large agricultural landlords and prominent landholding merchant households, it was not used in referring to members of this third category of small-scale landlords. They were not, however, without special

status and privileges. While the large merchant landholders aspired to offices such as

prefectural assemblyman or mayor of Furukawa, leadership of component wards (kuchüt

within the town itself tended to rotate among the members of this small-scale landlord

class.

It may be recognized that the political administrative hierarchy tended to follow

along the lines of the three local landlord categories—the large agricultural landlords

assuming legislative positions in the national diet, mid-range town-dwelling landholders

serving as representatives to the prefectural assembly or mayor of Furukawa, and the

small-scale landlords becoming headmen in their respective wards. The whole

arrangement is understandable in light of the fact that (1) eligibility to vote was limited

only to the landholding public, (2) the greater the scale of landownership, the more

widely one was known, and (3) votes at that time often had literally to be bought, so the

larger the constituency, the greater the amount of money required to be elected.

Relations between local landlords were both cordial and competitive. Though

pitted against one another in the struggle for wealth and prestige, it was nevertheless

important for them as a socioeconomic class to maintain a unified front in opposition to 91 the mass of small owner-cultivators and landless tenants. Marriage, of course, is commonly employed as a means of creating alliances and retaining control of land and other capital within a small group of privileged households. As a rule, members of landlord households tended to marry within their class. The present Kaba and Watanabe, for example, though bitter economic rivals, are in fact biologically related to one another through marriage alliances. Both their grandfathers married Honda women—a pair of sisters as it turns out—and Watanabe’s great-grandmother was a Kaba. The mother of the present generation in the Sugishita household was a Honda. Likewise, the mother of the present head of the Honda household was an Okamura, and his grandmother a Kumazaki.

Thus the Sugishita, Okamura, Honda, Kaba, Watanabe, and Kumazaki households are all related through marriage.

The question then arises as to whether these marriage links involved economic alliances as well. When the Honda household sent the two sisters as brides, one each to the Kabas and Watanabes, did they receive any kind of economic concessions in return?

It is perhaps significant that while the large agricultural landlords like Sugishita and Sato, who lived outside the town, sold their rice to markets in the city of Takayama, town- dwelling landlords like Honda sold most of their rice to local buyers, particularly the sake-brewing Kaba and Watanabe houses. Thus there appear to have been strong economic links among the wealthy landlords residing within the town of Furukawa itself.^

"It must be noted here, however, that informants denied the marriages involved any kind of reciprocal economic relationship. Rather, they were described as being purely cases of marrying within the same social class. 92

The local landlord invariably assumed an influential position of leadership within the community, as wealth and property went hand-in-hand with political power. Also,

in the days before the so-called "citizens’ halls" fkpminkan) were established, a resident

landlord’s house was customarily used for public meetings since it was large enough to

accommodate a mass of people.

Landlords provided other assistance to their tenants such as repairing flood

damage, building new roads and bridges, and maintaining previously existing facilities.

They could also be counted on to reduce the nengu in the event of a poor harvest or other

calamity.

Transition to a Market Economy

The new economic policies adopted by the Meiji government in directing Japan’s

modernization drew the rural areas into the money economy. Until this time the peasants

had been largely self-sufficient, obtaining what few goods they could not produce

themselves through barter or payment-in-kind arrangements. The land tax was paid

annually as a percentage of the harvest, so the actual amount that had to be turned over

fluctuated with the yield. Now, however, the tax was to be paid in cash with the amount

fixed at three percent of the land value, and while barter arrangements continued to some

extent, many transactions had to be conducted exclusively in hard currency. Thus the

peasants were obliged to find additional sources of cash income.

Silk production was introduced all over Japan as part of the Meiji government’s

efforts to promote industrial development and was eagerly adopted by farm families as 93 a way to supplement their incomes with cash. Virtually all of the farm households in

Furukawa became involved in the silk industry as it was nearly impossible to subsist on rice production alone. Thus rice and silk became the standard agricultural combination in the new market economy.

Silkworms feed on the leaves of mulberry trees. At one time these trees grew abundantly in the mountains, and rights to their use were held in common. During the period of heavy silk production, however, the population of wild mulberry trees proved insufficient to meet demand, and people began planting and nurturing them in orchards near their own homes. Some of the rice paddies in the basin area were even converted to mulberry orchards.

The production of raw silk was carried on as a cottage industry. Farm houses were built with a low-ceilinged second story devoted almost exclusively to the care and

feeding of the ubiquitous worms. Extra headroom was not necessary and the low ceilings

helped conserve fuel by limiting the amount of air space that had to be heated.'®

The worms were placed in long wooden bins filled with mulberry leaves and

allowed to feed upon the leaves until they reached a certain size. Then they were

transferred into wooden honeycomb-like structures where they attached themselves and

began spinning silk cocoons. If left alone they would eventually have emerged as moths,

but instead the cocoons were placed in boiling water to remove the silk, which was then

"These old farm houses still dot the countryside around Furukawa. They are easily recognizable due to the low second story. 94 wound into bales and sent off to the manufacturer. This production cycle was repeated three times each year, from late spring to early autumn.

The silk manufacturers purchased the raw silk from the farmers, but perhaps more importantly provided factory jobs for the daughters of farm households. Girls of about

12-14 years of age-that is, after they had completed the compulsory six years of

education but before being married—were sent to work in the silk factories in neighboring

Nagano Prefecture. Daughters, once considered a liability, now became an asset. Wage-

labor opportunities were rare at the time, and women working in the silk factories could

actually bring in more income than men. Their families could then use the money to

build a house or purchase land. In fact a girl’s wages were often paid directly to the

head of the household (generally her father). Sometimes an advanced payment was made

before the term of employment began, the girl essentially becoming an indentured servant

at the factory.

Furukawa served as a staging area and departure point for Hida farm girls making

the long and difficult journey over the Japan Alps via Nomugi Pass into neighboring

Nagano Prefecture. The plight of these girls became the subject of a popular book by

Yamamoto Shigemi (1977) entitled A! Nomugi Toge (Look There! It’s Nomugi Pass'),

which describes the hardships they had to endure under the ruthless exploitation of the

factory owners.’’

’’The book was later dramatized and made into a feature film. Part of it was shot on location in Furukawa. Some of the local people maintain that Yamamoto’s account is highly exaggerated and melodramatic. They claim that conditions in tlie silk factories were not as bad as he described-indeed, that many of the girls were eager to escape the drudgery of farm life 95

During the Taisho and early Showa periods some migrant labor opportunities were made available for men as well. These included cutting timber in the Mino region (the southern part of Gifu prefecture adjacent to Hida) during the winter months. The work generally began in October after the rice harvest and continued on until the following spring. Men might also be employed erecting iron towers for the electric power lines that were being strung across the mountains, or building the Takayama rail line which would eventually pass through Hida on its way from Gifu City to Toyama. The railroad was perhaps the single most significant event in the history of Hida’s development, as it offered easy access to the outside world for the first time.

Other sources of income in currency included raising and selling livestock.

Japanese farmers had traditionally used the hoe in tilling their fields. As a result of the propagation of new farming practices during the Meiji period, however, the horse-drawn plow became the preferred method. It was not until around the beginning of the Shüwa period that the practice spread into the Hida region.

Horses were expensive, and not every farmer had tlie means to procure and maintain one. This led to an interesting exchange relationship between residents of mountainous northern Hida and the rice farmers dov/n on the plains of Toyama Prefecture to the north. The mountain dwellers had access to livestock forage but needed rice. The lowland rice farmers, on the other hand, held rights to extensive paddy fields but needed horses for spring plowing. Some of the mountain dwellers, therefore, began to raise horses to rent to the farmers down on the plains in exchange for rice.

by going off to work in the factories. 96

This practice was adopted by farmers living in the Furukawa basin to supplement their meager incomes. Due to the milder climate at lower elevations, the Toyama farmers were able to begin working their ground earlier than in Hida, so the Furukawa farmers could rent their horses in Toyama and bring them back in time to do their own plowing. The rice obtained in exchange for the horses could either be sold for cash or used to feed the owner’s household.

Horses were very important to farmers before the war and were treated with great care. Normally they were kept in a separate section within the farmhouse itself, so horse and people shared the same roof.

Before the land reform executed by the Occupation forces following the Second

World War, people who owned their own land were few. Estimates are that as many as eighty percent of the households in Furukawa were tenant farmers. The remainder were either owner-cultivators, landlords, or a combination of both. Of course Furukawa was home to a fair number of merchants, but most of these were engaged in agriculture as well. In fact the people of Furukawa routinely describe Üiemselves as being "hanno- hansho"-half-agricultural. half-commercial. This is not a recent phenomenon brought on by postwar economic conditions but one that dates back well into the early Meiji period. Faced with a rather tenuous environment, the combination of agriculture and commercial activity has allowed the townspeople to achieve greater economic prosperity than either endeavor alone could provide. 97

Land Concentration

While taxes to the government were to be paid in cash by the owner, rent to the owner on tenanted land continued to be obtained through a payment-in-kind arrangement.

The amount is said to have ranged between 30 and 60 percent of the harvest, with some estimates as high as 80 percent. Rents varied depending on the production potential of the land-higher for land in the fertile basin area, lower for the terraced paddies up in the mountains.

After their rent and production expenses had been paid, the tenants often had little left over for their own consumption. However, if they complained or failed to come up with the rent demanded, their right to till the land could be taken from them, leaving them witli no means of subsistence whatsoever. Access to land was not easily acquired, and wage labor opportunities were rare in those days, so tenants had little alternative but to defer to the landlord’s wishes.

Borrowers sometimes had great difficulty repaying their debts and some actually promised their children in lieu of payment in cash or kind. When such children reached a certain age they were obliged to provide labor service to the landlord until the debt was absolved. Sometimes the debtors’ wives were promised as well. If the indentured individuals objected, the other family members would join together and pressure them to comply. Repaying the family debt took precedence over personal interests.

Small landowners who found themselves unable to repay their loans were obliged to yield title of their land in order to cancel the debt, often remaining on the land as a 98 tenant cultivator for the new owner. The overall result was a trend toward increasing concentration of land holdings by a few prominent landlord households.

During the economic hard times which plagued rural Japan throughout the early

Meiji period, these wealthy landlords were able to acquire more land when smaller owners were forced to sell out, and their holdings eventually spread over into several different villages. With holdings so vast, they could no longer maintain the kind of paternalistic relationship with their tenants which the traditional Confucian value system demanded. They were also drawn by ambitions which lay beyond the local region and spent much of their time away in the cities. As absentee landlords they came to be viewed as being somewhat parasitic by other members of the community, particularly the poor tenant farmers, from whom they continued to draw nengu but offered little in return.

During this same period nationalist sentiments were being encouraged by the central government as the entire country was mobilized for war, first against the Chinese from 1884 to 1885 and then against the Russians from 1904 to 1905. Both wars resulted in victory for the Japanese and encouraged the military to continue its expansionist efforts.

Increasing land concentration, its impact on landlord-tenant relations, and rising militarism will all be examined more fully in Chapter Five, where they will be linked with contemporaneous changes in the form and significance of the Furukawa matsuri. 99

Land Reform

The postwar land reform (ndchikaikaku) had a tremendous impact on the landlord class, both economically and in terms of their privileged social position. The purely agricultural landlords were hit hardest since the greater part of their wealth was tied up

in their land holdings-most of which they were forced to liquidate at very low market rates. Along with their land went much of their political influence, as the tenant farmer,

now turned owner-cultivator, was no longer obligated to vote for the candidate favored

by his former landlord (Fukutake 1980:187).

The land reform did not necessarily mean total ruin for landlord households,

however. Those who invested their remaining assets wisely were able to reclaim some

of their former status. Honda, for example, started a taxi company in Furukawa after

the war. He remained active in politics, no doubt cashing in on his prewar connections.

Honda’s son was later elected to the same seat his father had occupied in the prefectural

assembly, and eventually became president of a local electronics firm.

It must also be noted that the postwar land reform did not involve forested

mountain land, so those who held title to such land prior to the war were allowed to

retain it. Hida landlords were fortunate in this regard compared to those in less

mountainous areas. Some used the trees to make furniture, while others sold the land and

invested the money as capital to begin a new enterprise. Still others held onto their

forests, carefully maintaining the trees to sell as lumber when they reached maturity.

Though trees require a long time to return a profit, they eventually pay off quite 100 handsomely, and these owner households are now in a position to reclaim some of their lost wealth.

Finally, in 1965 the Japanese government allocated 145.6 billion yen in compensation to former landlords as a reward for cooperating with the land reform. The

landlords were compensated at the rate of 20,000 yen for every ten ares (one are = 100

square meters), up to a maximum of one million yen (Moore 1989:292). At the prices

of the time, this represented a windfall for prewar landlord households.

On the whole the merchant landlords fared much better than their purely

agricultural counterparts because they had their commercial enterprises to fall back on

despite the loss of their land holdings. This was particularly true in the case of the sake

brewers. The silk industry has dwindled, mineral and timber resources have become

depleted and the market has shifted overseas, but the demand for sake has remained

consistently high. Both Kaba and Watanabe remain pillars of the community to this day.

Tajika and Kumazaki, too, have been able to regain much of their former prominence by

virtue ot their commercial activities.'®

With the exception of the Sugishitas, who now occupy what was once their

"second home" (besso) in Furukawa, the large-scale agricultural landlord households of

the prewar period have largely disappeared. The Sato house—the one that was rebuilt

following the Umemura Rebellion-still stands on what is now the outer edge of town,

'“The current head of the Kumazaki household now lives in Nagoya, as previously mentioned. It is uncertain at this point whether he will remain there or eventually move back to Furukawa. 101 but its present head remains in Tokyo, returning to Furukawa only on brief vacation visits.

Demographics and Local Character

Furukawa still retains much of its traditional character. This is due largely to its degree of isolation from major urban sectors such as the Pacific coastal region of central

Honshu. Although transportation has been greatly improved, the surrounding topography still presents major impediments. The single-track rail line passing tlirough town must wind through narrow valleys and steep inclines, and considerable time must be spent waiting at sidings for trains coming from the other direction. In fact starting from the prefectural capital in Gifu City it takes just as long to reach Furukawa as to travel to

Tokyo by high speed rail.

While the number of residents in Furukawa Township has continued to increase

slightly in recent years, the population of the Hida region as a whole has been steadily

declining. This reflects a nationwide demographic trend of young people moving out

away from the rural areas and into the major cities in search of educational and

employment opportunities and perhaps a more stimulating social environment.

A similar process operates on a smaller scale within the Hida region itself, as the

people are drawn from the surrounding mountain villages into the larger settlements.

This is particularly evident in the case of Takayama, which has continued to expand in

recent years despite the region’s overall decline. 102

At first glance the town of Furukawa appears to be expanding as well due to all the construction taking place on its periphery. The actual number of residents, however, has remained about the same during the past several years. The expansion, then, is attributable to population dispersal rather than numerical increase. Prosperous households located in the central town area may want to enlarge their living quarters but find themselves locked in by neighboring properties. The solution is to acquire land on the outer fringes and build new houses there. Many such households already own rice paddies somewhere in the surrounding basin and are able convert them to spacious new housing sites when they have accumulated sufficient capital. The movement is accelerated by the trend toward nuclear families and the establishment of separate residences for grandparents and married offspring.

Takayama and Furukawa are similar in many ways. They occupy adjacent basins,

both almost completely surrounded by rugged mountains. Both were castle towns

founded by the Kanamori warlords. Both boast a number of fine old buildings, a

tradition of skilled craftsmanship such as that represented by the Hida takumi. and a taste

for cultured living due largely to the influence of the big landlords and wealthy sake-

brewing households.

But Takayama is a city of about 65,000 inhabitants—four times the population of

Furukawa Township. It is considered more highly refined and metropolitan, while

Furukawa retains the rustic simplicity of a farm village. Ever since the Kanamoris

established their control in the late Sixteenth Century, Takayama has functioned as the

cultural, administrative, and commercial center of the Hida region, and Furukawa has 103 been forced to accept a subordinate position. In fact Furukawa is often described as the

"younger sibling, " seeking to emulate Takayama's grandeur but at the same time resentful of always having to remain in the shadow of the larger town.

The residents of Furukawa consider themselves to be warm and kindhearted.

There is an old saying among them that if money and food are a problem, one should come to Furukawa,” implying that within their community one can rely on the kindness of others—that material concerns will work themselves out. This sentiment is similarly expressed in the chorus of Furukawa’s trademark song, the Furukawa Medeta.^° which is sung by the townspeople on auspicious occasions:

(Korya) tsuita to te nan to sezu (Hey) no matter that they vanish ... zenze no ko, (korya) manma no ko. money, (hey) and food.

Takayama, by contrast, is seen as being rather cold and impersonal. In

Takayama, they say, status consciousness is stronger and boundaries between social strata

more rigidly observed. This is accompanied by a heavy suggestion that the people of

Takayama maintain a rather haughty attitude toward their neighbors downstream. Indeed,

Takayama residents commonly refer to Furukawa using the rather disparaging epithet

‘inaka.’ roughly comparable to the English slang term "the sticks."

Furukawa people maintain, however, that their own basin was actually the first

area in the region to be settled and has a higher concentration of archaeological sites

”"Okane to kome ni komattara Furukawa e koi."

“See Appendix B. 104 dating from the Kofun period. The old feudal ruler Anegakoji established the center of his administration there, not in the Takayama Basin as the Kanamoris did later.

The Furukawa Basin is also somewhat larger and more agriculturally productive.

It is well suited to irrigated rice cultivation in that it has a long, narrow shape with a river flowing lengthwise through the middle so that no place is too far from an adequate water supply. It is no surprise then that the Furukawa basin has always been the Hida

region’s principle rice producer.

In the area of cultural achievements, however, the residents of Furukawa have

consistently had to settle for second place. This has fostered within them feelings of

animosity and resentment-of not wanting to be outdone by the larger town. Ill feelings

have undoubtedly also been engendered by having to bow to Takayama’s regional

administrative authority, with officials from Takayama constantly meddling in Furukawa

affairs.

Mabuchi (1990:57) describes Furukawa as being characterized by three features:

obstinacy or inflexibility (ittetsu). plainness or simplicity (soboku). and the quality of

being persistent or tenacious--of never giving up fganbari ga kikul. The townspeople

characterize themselves as being motivated by ‘Furukawa yancha’^‘—a rebellious or

unruly attitude, of making one’s intentions clear and insisting that others comply with

them.

Indeed, the people of Furukawa have a reputation tliroughout the Hida region for

exhibiting aggressive, unruly behavior. Apparently this has become a kind of self-

2lfcYancha’ means literally "mischievious" or "unruly." 105 fulfilling prophecy, as the townspeople will cite ‘Furukawa yancha’ in insisting on having their own way in dealing with other communities. For example, every few years all the local shrines in the Hida region send a contingent of representatives to a grand religious meeting, or ‘taisai.’ which is held at one of six major Hida shrines on a rotating basis.

Each contingent bears the spirit of its local guardian deity in a portable shrine, and is assigned a specific place in a long procession to greet the host deity. The Furukawa contingent has been known to grow frustrated while waiting in line and barge in front of

the others, thus violating the prearranged order.

Such behavior would appear to conflict with the altruistic sentiments previously

described. The rebelliousness, however, appears to be directed largely toward rival

communities and the imposition of authority from the outside. In fact ‘yancha’ is often

described simply as "defying authority." In speculating upon the origin of this attitude,

the townspeople routinely allude to incidents such as the Ohara and Umemura rebellions,

in which an unfair directive issued by the authorities was met with opposition. Kuwatani

(1968:24), for example, mentions that during the Ohara Rebellions a contingent of about

200 peasant farmers from Furukawa broke into the home of the local administrator and

forced him to lower their annual land tax payment.

Yet another story involves the murder of a peasant named Zenkichi who lived in

the neighboring mountain village of Unehata. It is perhaps significant that the murder

occurred during the night of the Furukawa matsuri in 1868.^^ Zenkichi had been

“At that time the matsuri was held on the sixth day of the eighth month by the old lunar calendar. See Chapter Five for a more detailed explanation. 106 involved in a boundary dispute with some of the residents of Furukawa, involving rights of access to the common mountain lands. The court in Takayama decided in his favor.

On his way home from the court hearing Zenkichi stopped off in Furukawa to visit some friends. The next day his body was found lying in the riverbed. Apparently he had been murdered by vengeful members of the losing side while trying to cross the old pontoon bridge at Furukawa and head back to his own village. The assailants were never identified. By some accounts, this incident led to the coining of the term "Furukawa yancha" (Kuwatani 1969:23-25, Furukawa-chü Kyüiku linkai 1989:42-436).

While opinions vary on its origins, however, there is widespread agreement that

this unruly attitude was most clearly expressed every year at matsuri time during the

okoshi daiko. On that night, they say, people became barbaric fyaban ni nattai.

Members of other neighborhoods were considered enemies, leading to violent

confrontations, and the police were afraid to go out in uniform for fear of being accosted

by local rowdies (Kuwatani 1968:25).

Two points deserve special emphasis here. First, Furukawa yancha is closely

linked with the okoshi daiko in the minds of the local people. Second, the spirit of

yancha which motivates the okoshi daiko in the modem day is seen by many as a

manifestation of the same defiant attitude which incited the Ohara and Umemura

rebellions. These topics will be given gieater emphasis in Chapter Five. 107

Present Economy

As previously mentioned, the people of Furukawa routinely describe themselves as being "hanno-hansho "-half-agricultural, half-commercial. By this they mean that there is no clear distinction between farming and merchant households, as so many engage in both activities. The surrounding villages, on the other hand, were, until fairly recently, purely agricultural, and their residents have long relied upon the merchants and craftspeople of Furukawa to provide them witli the necessary tools and supplies.

In the present day, farm households rarely gain access to enough land to support themselves solely through the sale of their commodities, and the farm income must be supplemented with some form of wage labor or salaried employment. Thus farming has become largely a part-time activity conducted on weekends or delegated to the older members of the household.

As in other regions, most of the arable land is broken up into irrigated paddy fields devoted to the production of rice, the staple food grain. The seasonal round of labor has remained basically the same over the past several hundred years, though technological innovations have allowed the work to be completed with increasingly less expenditure of time and physical energy. Also, irrigation systems in which the water flowed through adjacent plots, thereby linking the community together, have been replaced by an an angement of rectangular paddies witli irrigation ditches running through them in parallel lines so that each individual cultivator can tap directly into the main channel. The overall result is that rice cultivation has become less dependent on the 108 coordinated efforts of neighboring cultivators and more an individual family or household enterprise.

The pattern of land ownership is of scattered, non contiguous plots. Thus a single household may own paddies in several different locations, separated by considerable distances. Most of the work is now done using machinery, which has to be hauled from paddy to paddy on small, snub-nosed pick-up trucks with dropping side panels. Narrow access roads have had to be built along the main irrigation ditches running between the paddies to accommodate these trucks. The township is currently engaged in a government-subsidized project to pave all the access roads.

The work begins in late April when farmers start to plow their dry paddy fields and mend the earthen levees which separate one paddy from the next and hold the water

in place.The next step is to flood the paddies by opening a valve leading off the main

irrigation ditch. Then the clods are broken up and the entire surface is paddled into a

soft, even mud covered by an inch or two of standing water. The paddies are then ready

for transplanting using rice seedlings grown in a separate location.

Transplanting in the Hida region now begins around mid-May—three to four weeks

earlier than down on the plains of Toyama which lie to the nortfi. The reasons most

frequently given for this are that farmers up in the mountains have to plant earlier to

allow sufficient time for the crop to mature before the weather turns cold in autunrn, and

that farmers down on the plains traditionally grew a crop of spring wheat in the same

^^Some of the farmers have replaced these earthen levees with concrete retainers which do not have to be repaired every year. 109 paddies before the rice crop was put in, which pushed rice transplanting into mid-June.

Many informants note, however, that transplanting in Hida now takes place much earlier than it did thirty years ago. The earlier starting date may thus be partly attributable to the fact that preparing the fields before spring planting requires far less time to complete

with the advent of mechanized farming.

Hand transplanting was standard procedure in this region until about twenty years

ago. Now, however, the vast majority of Hida’s farmers use transplanting machines

which drag themselves through the mud on rotating paddles, placing the seedlings in rows

while the operator slogs along behind. There is still a substantial amount of manual

labor, however, as every row is later gone over by hand to uncover any submerged

seedlings and fill in spots missed by the machine. Sometimes an entire row or two has

to be filled in along the edge of the paddy.

Rice seedlings are now grown in plastic trays for easier handling. Some of the

larger landholders still grow their own, but the majority obtain their seedlings from

commercial nurseries or the local branch of the agricultural cooperative.

The growing season lasts about four months, during which farmers visit their

paddies practically every day to maintain the proper water level. They also engage in

periodic weeding and pesticide application.

The harvesting begins around mid-September. Most farmers now use mechanical

binders which cut the stalks, tie them with twine, and pitch the bundles out to the side

as the farmer walks behind, guiding the machine. The binders are small—generally

capable of cutting only one or two rows at a time. Even so, they allow the work to be 110 completed much more quickly with fewer people required. As with transplanting, however, the harvest still involves a substantial amount of hand labor despite mechanization. The binding machines are unable to reach into the corners of a paddy without trampling some of the stalks, so each corner has to be cut by hand to create a space for the binder to turn.

The drying process is much the same as it was in the past, with the bundles of rice stalks being hung over horizontal poles in an inverted v-shape and the heads of grain pointing down. The landscape is dotted with small elongated sheds built at the edges of the paddy fields to store the poles during the rest of the year. A few of the farmers have substituted lightweight aluminum poles for the cumbersome wooden variety.

When the rice has dried, a small threshing machine is dragged into the paddy and the bundles are fed into it right there on the spot. The grain is bagged and carted away.

Most farmers then scatter the straw by hand back over the paddy, though a few gather

it up to sell to the tatami-makers.

Some of the larger farming households now use four-row combines which cut,

tliresh, and bag the grain in a single process. The stalks are chopped up and scattered

automatically. The bags of grain are then taken to a drying facility and can be sent on

to market practically the next day. However, the general impression seems to be that rice

dried in this manner is less tasty than that allowed to dry naturally on the stalk.

Each household retains enough of the grain for its own consumption, and perhaps

that of related households. The remainder is sold on the open market. Much of the rice

grown by farmers in Furukawa is destined for the local sake breweries. Ill

Rice is the main ingredient in brewing sake: thus rice and sake production go hand-in-hand. Also, a successful commercial enterprise requires a certain critical mass of consumers-an accessible market for its goods. It is not surprising, then, that most of the major sake-brewing households in Hida have been located in either Takayama or

Furukawa, as the flat basin area surrounding them contain the highest concentrations of both people and paddy land.

Two major sake-brewing establishments remain in Furukawa: the Kaba and

Watanabe households. They are located practically side-by-side along the same

thoroughfare. Both have been prominent and highly respected members of the

community for many generations. In fact tfie Kaba household is as old as the town itself,

tracing its descent back to one of the area’s earliest recorded residents. The Watanabe

household is, by comparison, a relative newcomer, having moved to Furukawa from

another area during the late Edo period.

Another major survival is the timber industry, and a number of small lumber

yards remain. Most of the surrounding forested mountain land is now privately owned,

though many of the less accessible areas are held by the government. A small portion

is still communally owned and utilized. The lumber companies acquire rights to the

timber only, clear-cutting small sections of forest and then replanting them before moving

on, much in the manner of slash and bum agriculture. Most of the timber contracted in

this manner is pine, particularly the Japanese cypress, or hinoki. whose wood combines

great strength with flexibility and is therefore highly valued as a building material. The

large, virgin stands of hinoki have, of course, long since disappeared, and new stands 112 require a considerable length of time to reach maturity. As a result, demand has greatly exceeded supply and the price for hinoki has sky-rocketed. Most new home builders have had to settle for less expensive grades of timber imported from overseas, restricting use of the native hinoki to the main weight-bearing pillar fchnbashira) and perhaps some of the long horizontal crossbeams.

As in other parts of rural Japan, the production of raw silk was once an important cottage industry in this region, and nearly every Hida farm household was to some extent involved. Now, however, only two households in all of Furukawa Township remain actively engaged in the silk production process.

Some of the traditional folk handicrafts have managed to survive to the present day, largely on the strength of tlie tourist industry. An example is the so-called "wa-

rosoku". or Japanese-style candle, made by hand from wax extracted from the haze tree.

Such candles are imputed with various qualities which supposedly make them superior

to the "western" version, and are highly prized as gifts and souvenirs. Only one

traditional candle-maker remains in Furukawa-the Mishima household, whose current

head represents the eighth generation. He will be succeeded upon retirement by his eldest

son and only apprentice.

Another example is the making of chüchin. or paper lanterns, traditionally

illuminated by placing a candle inside. Most paper lanterns in Japan are now

manufactured by machine, so the hand-made product is becoming increasingly rare.

Again, only one such artisan now remains in Furukawa-Shirai, the fifth generation in his

line of descent to carry on the tradition. Shirai’s lanterns are rather expensive, but he 113 notes that they are far more durable than the machine-made variety. He is able to produce them at the rate of about two per day- the vast majority destined for use during the Furukawa matsuri. Each lantern bears an inscription which identifies the group affiliation of the owner. During the matsuri resident households hang the lanterns in front of their homes, not only as decoration but also to mark their respective neighborhoods.

Shirai is 78 years old and has no heir to succeed him. He does have one

apprentice, however-a local woman who stops by now and then to lend a hand during

the busy periods-and she is expected to carry on the tradition. Artisans such as these

must walk a fine line in arranging for a successor. On the one hand they are concerned

that their tradition be continued, but, on the other, too many artisans in the same line of

work would glut the market. They must therefore concentrate their investment of time

and energy in the recruitment and training of a single heir.

Religious Events

One of the characteristic features of Japanese religious life is tliat different

religious traditions are able to coexist side-by-side in relative harmony. Indeed, most of

the people of Furukawa maintain a Buddhist as well as a Shinto affiliation. The vast

majority belong to the True Pure Land sect (Jüdo ShinshnI of Buddhism. The remainder

adhere to the Soto branch of Zen. The Soto Zen members reportedly constitute the

wealthy, more prominent families and their temple is located on the outskirts of town.

There are three large True Pure Land temples located within the town itself. 114

In the case of Buddhism, however, geographical location has little significance other than convenience of access. Bestor (1989:19) observes that "affiliation with a

Buddhist temple is a matter of family belief and tradition" rather than place of residence.

One tends to remain affiliated with the temple of one’s ancestral home, which may be located many miles away. The temple, therefore, is less closely tied to the local community.

Shinto and Buddhism have been able to achieve a peaceful coexistence because they address different aspects of human concern. Shinto deals with life and the living.

Its rites are aimed at promoting fertility, productivity, and prosperity, and tend to rely

upon direct experience rather than the propagation of any kind of moral or ethical

precepts. They also commonly involve a demonstration of communal solidarity.

Buddhism, on the other hand, concerns itself largely with death and the afterlife. Its

teachings are more ethical or philosophical in nature, and its rituals are aimed at

expressing reverence for the ancestors and ensuring the perpetuation of the household or

family line. In other words, Shinto emphasizes communal ties while Buddhism

emphasizes familial ties.

The fact that this region was isolated during the winter months led to the

development of a Buddhist custom called shotai. which simply means "invitation. "

People in the surrounding countryside were invited to gather at a local temple to listen

to teachings delivered by visiting Buddhist clergymen. In areas without a temple nearby

the event would often be hosted by prominent landlords, again since their homes were

spacious enough to accommodate large numbers of people. These sessions were held 115 during the winter months when other opportunities for entertainment were lacking, and thus served as both religious and social functions.

In Furukawa the custom developed into a major annual event known as the sandera mairi. or "three-temple pilgrimage." As mentioned above, there are three large temples in Furukawa, all belonging to the True Pure Land sect and all located in fairly close proximity. On the evening of January 15^“ these three temples are illuminated and the townspeople walk from one temple to another, pausing briefly to worship at each one.

This also gives them an opportunity to meet their fellow residents and exchange best wishes for the coming year.

The sandera mairi is historically linked with the silk industry. In the old days the

event provided an opportunity for young women employed in the silk factories to gain

public exposure in hopes of inviting marriage proposals. With most of their time spent

away in the factories the girls had little opportunity to meet eligible young men. They

did, however, return home for a brief new year visit. During the sandera mairi they

would dress in their best kimono and be escorted by their parents from temple to temple,

hoping to attract prospective marriage partners as they circled through the throng of

people.

This was at one time a major and anxiously awaited social event—a welcome

opportunity to break the dull isolation of winter. Now it has become a tourist attraction,

with many people coming in from cities far away to enjoy the spectacle. Vending stalls

^^Supposedly the date of the Buddhist saint Shinran’s death. Shinran was the founder of the True Pure Land sect. 116 are set up along the streets to sell food, beverages, and various art and craft items. In recent years it has become customary to erect a row of giant candles made of packed snow down the center of the main route, each with a flame atop in a metal container fueled by kerosene. The latest addition is a large statue of the god Ebisu carved out of ice. Tourists buy candles set in small containers made of wood and paper to float down the Setogawa canal, and the visual effect is quite beautiful. Also a giant prayer wheel housed on the grounds of Shinshu Temple is opened to public view. It dates from 1771 and has been designated a national treasure.

In contrast with Buddhism, Shinto establishes a definite territorial identity tlirough symbolic association with the local guardian deity (ujigamil extending its protection over the residents of a specific geographical area. Thus in Durkheimian terms the guardian deity serves as a totemic symbol of both tlie unity and territorial affiliation of the local people. Furukawa’s guardian deity is housed in Ketawakamiya Shrine, which is located atop Sakakigaoka, one of the foothills leading to Mt. Anbo to the northeast of town.

The shrine is the locus of periodic rituals, generally aimed at ensuring the happiness and protection of the townspeople. Tsukinamisai. or "monthly rites" are held on the first and fifteenth of every month. The ceremony begins at 9:00 AM and is conducted by the head priest regardless of whether anyone else shows up or not. Some of the townspeople, most of them elderly women, stop by individually to offer a brief prayer, but attendance is generally sparse.

Beyond these monthly observances, the remainder of the ceremonies conducted at the shrine are annual events. One of the most important is hatsumode. the first visit 117 to the shrine in the new year. Just after midnight on the morning of January 1 the people of Furukawa begin to leave their homes and walk up toward tlie shrine. At about the same time the Buddhist temples in town begin ringing the 108 tolls of the bell representing the 108 worldly desires to which humans are prone. Passersby are invited to stop at the temples and take a single strike at the bell.

On January 15 the children of Furukawa gather together for the dondo yaki—a collective burning of decorations used during the new year holiday as well as all paraphernalia associated with the previous year. The children collect all the old material on two-wheeled carts which they pull by hand up to the shrine. There it is piled onto a

large heap in front of the shrine and set ablaze. It is said that what is offered to the kami

must not simply be thrown away. Burning, however, is an acceptable means of disposal.

This event officially marks the end of the new year holiday.

‘Setsubun’ (written with two characters meaning "season" and "separation")

originally referred to the change of seasons and fell on the day immediately preceding the

beginning of spring, summer, or autumn. It is now limited to the transition from winter

to spring and falls on February 3, which supposedly represents the final day of the coldest

part of the year.“ Participants throw soybeans to drive away evil spirits, shouting "in

with good fortune, out with demons" tfuku wa uchi. oni wa sotoT The ‘oni’ ("demons")

represents gloom, and ‘fiiku’ ("good fortune") gaiety. The soybeans symbolize good

health in that the word for ‘bean’ tmamel is homonymous with another word meaning

‘good health.’

^It is also referred to as ‘kan’ake.’ or "break in the cold." 118

The most important event in the religious calendar of the shrine is undoubtedly the annual community matsuri. formally referred to as ‘reisai. A detailed description

of this event will follow in Chapter Four. For the moment I will confine myself to a

discussion of some characteristic features of matsuri in the Hida region in general.

The religious events known as matsuri derive from rituals directed toward the

local nature spirits—specifically rites held in the spring to welcome the presence of the

yama no kami down into the paddy fields and again in the autumn to send it back to the

mountains until the following year. The concept was transformed with the emergence of

larger, more diversified communities so that the multitudinous kami were eventually

consolidated and reconceptualized as the official guardian deity for a particular

community.

Both spring and autumn rites continue to be observed at every shrine, but each

individual community in Hida has chosen one or the other occasion for performing its

annual reisai. The periods from mid-April through early May and again from early to

mid-September, therefore, are the customary matsuri seasons in this area, and it is

common at such times to hear the sound of distant flute and drum music echoing through

the hills as the deity of one of the local villages is ushered through its community.

Significantly, both periods precede busy times in the agricultural calendar.

Transplanting of rice seedlings normally occurs around mid-May, so preparation of

paddies and dikes must begin in late April. The length of the growing season after

“The term ‘reisai’ is written with tlie characters ‘rei,’ meaning custom or precedent, and ‘sai,’ the Chinese-derived pronunciation of the same character used to write ‘matsuri.’ 119 transplanting has been completed is about four months, so the harvest usually takes place from mid- to late September.

It may seem unusual that a festival intended as an expression of gratitude for a bountiful harvest should be scheduled to take place prior to the harvest itself. However, in the folk religion of this area which is based on reverence toward the power of nature conceptualized in terms of supernatural presence, it is customary to acknowledge the

deity’s assistance before drawing material resources from its natural domain.

Woodcutters, for example, traditionally performed rituals directed toward the mountain

deity prior to cutting down a tree. Such rituals thus serve both as expressions of

thanksgiving and means of obtaining the deity’s permission before partaking of its gifts.

The reisai is conducted both in honor of the guardian deity and as a celebration

of communal solidarity. Rituals of supplication and thanksgiving remain the core of the

event, but now the deity is physically conveyed from the shrine to the community by

means of a special palanquin-like vehicle known as a mikoshi. It is then taken back up

to the shrine and reinstalled, all as part of a single festival.

It is still maintained that spring matsuri are for asking the deity to grant a

successful growing season and autumn matsuri are intended as expressions of gratitude

for a bountiful harvest, though in actuality there is little distinction in terms of form or

content between the two versions, as both follow the same general sequence of events.

Shrine officers and representatives of community organizations dressed in formal

attire assemble at the shrine. At the appointed hour they line up at a fountain to pour

water over their hands and rinse out their mouths in an act of purification. They then 120 enter the shrine building together in a solemn procession and take their positions kneeling on the floor. The officiating priest” begins by opening the curtains to the inner shrine.

Several miko. girls of about 10-12 years old dressed in white kimono and red hakata (a

long, divided skirt) line up on the stairs before the main altar. An assistant hands them

a series of food items placed on trays, and each is passed from miko to miko to the top

of the stairs where the priest places tliem on the altar. The food items represent a kind

of first fruits offering.^* The kami here is being treated as an honored guest at a

banquet, with all the offerings arranged in the form of a table setting oriented toward the

altar.

When the offerings have been presented the priest delivers a norito—a prayer for

the welfare and prosperity of the community. Then representatives from community and

regional associations are called forward in turn to place a tamagushi on a tray as a token

of good will toward the kami. The miko perform a ritual dance before the altar for the

entertainment of the kami. thereby bringing the offertory to a close.

All those in attendance gather outside the shrine and the mikoshi is brought

forward. The priest dons a white mask over his mouth and nose—the standard covering

used by the Japanese to prevent spreading infectious germs to others when they have a

”Many communities are too small to support a resident priest of their own, and must engage one to come in from a nearby settlement.

^'Rice, Î was told, is considered the most important "because [Japan is] the land blessed with an abundance of rice" ("mizuho no kuni da kara'l. my informant citing a line taken from the Nihon shoki. 121 cold. Use of this mask is customary when handling the kami to avoid polluting it with human breath.

The transferral itself is a rather secretive process which only the priest himself is permitted to see, while all in attendance bow their heads in reverence. A portion of the spirit of the kami. referred to as the ‘bunrei.’^’ is supposedly contained in a small talisman wrapped in white paper, brought down from the altar, and placed inside the mikoshi for its tour of the community.

In other parts of Japan the mikoshi is led on a raucous joyride-bounced and jostled about on the shoulders of a mass of high-spirited men through the streets and alleyways comprising its territory. But in Hida the vehicle is borne solemnly along in a stately procession, led by a troupe of flute and drum musicians playing the sacred

kagura music while the priest and other local dignitaries file along behind. The entourage

makes periodic stops along the way, at which point the priest comes forward to perform

an abbreviated version of the shrine ceremony, asking for the prosperity of the

community while local residents come out of their homes to stand in attendance. The

mikoshi procession thus serves both to bring the deity’s supernatural presence directly

into the community and to reconfirm the territorial boundaries of the shrine.

In both Takayama and Furukawa this event evolved over the years into a grand

spectacle, with ornate wooden festival wagons called ‘yatai’ leading the procession. Each

yatai was sponsored by a particular neighborhood association, and the various

^'’The term is composed of two characters: ‘bun,’ meaning "portion" or "division," and ‘rei,’ meaning "spirit." 122 neighborhoods would compete with one another to create the most impressive vehicle.

The wagons were embellished with elaborate carvings, tapestries, and other attractions.

All this cost a great deal of money, and every household in the neighborhood was expected to contribute. However, most of the cost was borne by the resident landlord households. Here again was an opportunity for them to fulfill their responsibilities as local benefactors by returning something to the local community.

Huge vertical banners were erected at the entrance to the settlement, welcoming the deity into the community. Red earth, or ‘akatsuchi’. was carted down from the mountains and piled in small mounds in front of every home. As the entourage drew near, local residents would spread the red earth in a line down the center of the street.

This was intended to purify tlie way before the kami. They would then spread branch

segments leading off at right angles from the main line and into their entranceways in an effort to draw the kami’s presence into their own homes.

As to why the red earth should by attributed with purifying qualities, my

informants have offered various explanations.“ Some held simply that the red color was

auspicious. Others noted that akatsuchi tends to harden like concrete and is used in the

construction of new roads; therefore spreading akatsuchi before the mikoshi procession

symbolizes creating a new road for the kami. The most plausible suggestion, however.

^“The red soil is also commonly referred to as ‘kamatsuchi.’ or "divine soil." It is high in nutrient content, particularly iron and manganese. For this reason it is commonly hauled down from the mountains and spread over the rice paddies as ‘kyakudü’. a practice alluded to earlier in this chapter. I was thus initially inclined to attribute the red soil’s religious significance to its fertilizing power, but was unable to obtain any corroboration for this among local informants. 123 is that the red earth is found only up in the mountains and is tlius considered "pure"-that is, untouched by human activity.

The custom of purifying the way before the kami still exists, but the red earth was abandoned about thirty years ago after the streets had been paved, reportedly because it was troublesome to clean up afterwards (Chunichi Shinbun, Gifu ed. Oct. 11, 1990, p.

26). Now the residents use regular table salt which they hurriedly sprinkle along the center of the street in a thin line as the kami approaches, again drawing perpendicular branches from the main line into their own homes.

The annual shrine festival was also a time for individual households to host lavish feasts, inviting friends and relatives to partake of their bounty. The guests would be drawn not only from the immediate area but from surrounding villages as well. This was known locally as ‘yobihiki’ ("calling/pulling"), referring to the effort to draw guests into one’s home. The size of the feast served as an indication of the prosperity of the household, and the number of guests who attended provided a rough measure of its influence in the local area.

The number of guests a particular household could draw in was related to the relative prestige it acquired. More importantly, the feasting afforded an opportunity to renew important social, economic, and political relationships. This was particularly true in the case of the spring matsuri. which followed immediately after a period of isolation imposed by the harsh winter.

As mentioned earlier, both the spring and autumn matsuri directly precede periods of heavy agricultural activity. Older informants recall that the conversation during the 124 feasts often focused on the hard work that lay ahead. Considering that the guest list consisted of friends, relatives, and those tied to one’s household economically, it is possible that these feasts provided a means of recruiting additional labor. Thus attendance at one another’s feast may have served as a statement of intent—a pledge of mutual support during the impending heavy work periods. This also helps explain a problem raised earlier in relation to the timing of autumn matsuri—namely, why a festival meant as an expression of gratitude for a bountiful harvest should be conducted before the harvest had even begun.

The custom of yobihiki has continued to the present day, and the feasts have become increasingly lavish with the growth of the region’s economy. Generally two adjoining rooms of the house are opened up to accommodate a long table. A wide array of food and drink is spread out upon the table, and guests are invited to sample what they like. Now, however, the hostess relies heavily on caterers and specialty shops to provide the food rather than having to prepare everything herself. Wild mountain vegetables are still an important part of the fare, but they are supplemented with a variety of delicacies such as raw fish and fresh garden vegetables, which would have been impossible to obtain in the old days due to the area’s relative isolation and lack of greenhouses and cold storage facilities.

Another characteristic feature of matsuri in this area is the shishimai. a dance involving an imaginary animal called a shishi. which is sometimes described as

resembling a cross between a lion and a dog. The concept of shishi derives from the

Asian continent, though local informants claim that the dance form itself is indigenous. 125

Each shishi consists of two performers-one assuming the role of the head and forelegs and the other the hind legs—who cover themselves with a large piece of cloth to form a single body. The lead performer holds in his hands the shishi’s head, a mask-like object with moveable chin, which he turns up and down and from side to side with the rhythm of the dance. The dancers are accompanied by the standard flute and drum corps, the same kind used to perform the sacred kagura music.

At festival time, teams of shishi pass through the streets of their settlements, performing a short dance at the entranceway to every home in return for voluntary contributions. The dance is intended as a means of driving away evil spirits takumabarail

and suppressing bad people twarui mono o osaeruT The shishi are a special attraction

for young children, who giggle with delight as the imaginary animal chases them down

the street clacking its wooden jaws.

The shishimai custom is found nationwide but is especially prevalent in the Hida

region. Each local community performs the dance with its own variations. The content

ranges from simple encounters between male and female shishi to more elaborate versions

in which the mythical animals engage in battle with human characters. The most

common story line involves three additional masked performers: a comical male character

named Kinzo and a peasant couple consisting of the husband Hyottoko, who has a

strangely twisted mouth and carries a hoe, and his wife Okame, who displays a round,

smiling face and holds a rice ladle. Kinzo, the main character, encounters the shishi and

the two engage in battle. At first the shishi knocks KinzO unconscious, but the peasant 126 couple nurse him back to health. With their assistance he is able to make a brave comeback and in the end subdues the menacing shishi.

A variation of the same story involves Tengu, the legendary mountain-dwelling goblin with the ithyphallic nose. In this version it is Tengu who is knocked unconscious, but two wild animals, a bear and a fox, show him through pantomime how to subdue the shishi by climbing on its back and beating on its head with sticks. Tengu follows their advice and eventually prevails.

The various elements described above are all found within the context of the

Furukawa matsuri. the official reisai of the Ketawakamiya Shrine. Yet the Furukawa

matsuri is more than just a collection of interesting folk customs. It is a ritual expression of community values which mobilizes the entire population, and is without question the

most important single event in the life of the community. It is toward a detailed

description of this event that I now turn. CHAPTER IV

THE MATSURI: ETHNOGRAPHIC PRESENT

Territorial Divisions

The Furukawa matsuri derives from Ketawakamiya Shrine, which houses the local guardian deity. The shrine is located on a foothill leading to Mt. Anbo just to the northeast overlooking the town. The essence of the matsuri as a religious event lies in the deity’s annual excursion out from its place of enshrinement to visit the town below.

The visit takes the form of a grand procession, bringing the deity’s sacred presence

directly into the heart of the community.

The territory under the deity’s protection roughly conforms to the boundaries of

the town of Furukawa itself.' All of the people who live within this territory are referred

to as ‘ujiko’ (literally "children of the lineage"). The term is usually translated as

"parishioner," but the original meaning implies the notion of having descended from the

deity itself.

Rituals are performed on behalf of the townspeople by the head priest, which in

the case of the Ketawakamiya shrine is a full-time occupation. The current priest claims

'This is not to be confused with the administrative unit known as Furukawa-cho (Furukawa Township), which encompasses a much larger area.

127 128 to represent the 20th generation in a single line of descent to occupy the position, extending back 250 years to the mid-Edo period.

The town of Furukawa is divided into eleven neighborhoods, locally referred to as ‘chünai’ (literally, "within in the town"). These neighborhoods are not officially designated political subdivisions—they are informally constituted and maintained through the collective efforts of their member households. The most important function for which these neighborhood units are mobilized is the planning and execution of the matsuri. In fact it is questionable whether the chonai neighborhoods could continue to exist as

meaningful social groups without the matsuri to engage them.

For the purposes of the matsuri these neighborhoods are referred to as ‘taigumi.’

or "yatai groups." As described in the previous chapter, ‘yatai’ is the local term for the

large wooden festival wagons employed in many parts of central Japan. The word

‘taigumi’ consists of two characters; ‘tai’, meaning "stand" or "pedestal" and drawn from

the word ‘yatai:’ and kumi’ (there is a phonetic change from the initial ‘k’ to ‘g’ when

combined with another character), referring a group or band of people. The term

‘taigumi.’ then, alludes to a group of residents that owns and maintains its own yatai

vehicle. Indeed, a neighborhood’s yatai is the most important symbol of its collective

identity, and the terms ‘chonai’ and ‘taigumi’ are practically synonomous.

Table 1 shows how the various neighborhood divisions relate to one another and

the number of households contained in each. Figure 4 on page 130 shows the symbols

by which each of the taigumi is recognized. 129

Table 1. Chünai and associated taigumi juxtaposed against political divisions and residential designations.

Constitu­ No. of Associated ent wards House­ Chonai Taigumi (ku) holds Residential Designation

Tonomachi Seiryü 19, 20, 492 Tonomachi; Kanamori-cho; 21,22 Higashi-chO; Kataharamachi; Wakamiya Itchome Upper SanbasO 15 31 Ichinomachi 1, 2, 3, 5 Ichinomachi Middle HoO 16 32 Ichinomachi 3, 5, 6, 7, 8 Ichinomachi Lower Kirin 17 171 Ichinomachi 8, 11, 12, 13, Ichinomachi 14, 15; Honmachi; Wakamiya-chD Nichüme, Sanchüme Upper Sanko 10 28 Ninomachi 1,2,3 Ninomachi Middle Kinki 11 45 Ninomachi 3, 5, 6, 7, 8 Ninomachi Lower RyUteki 12, 18 289 Ninomachi 8, 10, 11, 12, 13; Ninomachi Matsuhiro-chü; Miyagi-chü Upper SeiyD 8 46 Sannomachi 1,2,3 Sannomachi Lower Byakko 9 68 Sannomachi 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 10 Sannomachi Mukaimachi Kagura 4, 5, 465 Mukaimachi Itchome, 6 ,7 Nichüme, Sanchüme; Masushima-chü; Küei-chü Sakaemachi Tokeiraku 13, 14 255 Sakaemachi Itchome, Nichüme, Shinsakaemachi Keta Miyamoto 23 173 Kamikita 130

a. c. m

d. e. f.

' © a

g- h.

J- k.

Figure 4. Taigumi symbols, (a) Tonomachi, Seiryütai; (b) Upper Ichinomachi, SanbasO; (c) Middle Ichinomachi, Hootai; (d) Lower Ichinomachi, Kirintai; (e) Upper Ninomachi, Sankotai; (1) Middle Ninomachi, Kinkitai; (g) Lower Ninomachi, Ryntekitai; (h) Upper Sannomachi, SeiyOtai; (i) Lower Sannomachi, Byakkodai; (j) Mukaimachi, Kaguradai; (k) Sakaemachi, Tokeiraku. 131

As mentioned earlier, the original purpose of the yatai was to greet the deity on its descent from the shrine and serve as a kind of honor guard leading the way before it as it made its way through town. They eventually became objects of great pride, with individual neighborhoods competing against one another to field the most impressive vehicle. With their elaborate carvings and joinery, the vehicles are fine examples of wood craftsmanship in the tradition of the Hida takumi. Each has its own history of alterations and repairs, often involving complete reconstruction at considerable expense to neighborhood residents.

Yatai and taigumi share the same name. The suffix ‘tai’ from the word ‘yatai’ is added to the name when referring to the vehicle itself. Tonomachi, for example, is represented by the Seiryütai, and the group which maintains it is known as the Seiryü taigumi. The name ‘Seiryü’ refers to a mythical blue dragon which, according to the ancient Chinese directional system, signified the east. This is appropriate since

Tonomachi occupies the eastern part of town.

Seiryütai was originally obtained second-hand from a neighborhood in Takayama in the 1830s. It required extensive repairs during the early ShOwa period and had to be completely refurbished in 1940. The vehicle features karakuri ningyü-the mechanical puppetry earlier described. The central character in this case is Fukurokuju, one of the seven Chinese gods of good fortune, who is depicted as having an elongated shaved head.

His head extends so high, in fact, that he cannot reach the top with his own hands and must have an assistant stand upon a ladder behind him to help him shave. During the performance the Fukurokuju puppet ambles out to the end of the runway and waits while 132

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Figure 5. Schematic drawing of the Tonomachi’s Seiiyütai from the side, showing the positions of the karakuri ningyo puppets mid-way Üirough the performance. The manipulators sit in the enclosed area under the roof on the upper level of the vehicle. (Taken from Kuwahara, et al. 1991:261.) 133

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Figure 6. Schematic drawing of the Tonomachi’s Seiryütai from the front. (Taken from Kuwahara, et al. 1991:259.) 134 his assistant carries a ladder toward him from behind. The assistant then leans the ladder against Fukurokuju’s back and proceeds to climb to the top. Finally the assistant spins back and forth at the top of the ladder while a pouch on his back opens, spewing confetti over the crowd of onlookers below.

The insignia of the Seiryü taigumi is the so-called "plum blossom" (umebachil pattern (see Figure 4). This was the crest of the Kanamori clan—former lords of the Hida domain-who once lived in Tonomachi adjacent to their castle.

Middle Ichinomachi owns the Hootai, whose name refers to the Chinese phoenix.

The original dated from the early 18(X)s, but was discarded in 1891 due to its dilapidated

condition. The present version was completed in 1922. It is said that a children’s kabuki

play was performed in front of the vehicle, but this was discontinued many decades ago.

The group’s insignia is an image of the hoo bird itself.

Lower Ichinomachi’s Kirintai takes its name from the kirin, a mythical four-legged

animal with a dragon-like head. The original vehicle was built around 1846 but later

burned in a fire. Another was built to replace it in 1881. It was last used in 1924 and

eventually discarded. The current version dates from 1933.

Kirintai, too, features karakuri ningyp. in this case employing a single puppet

figure dressed in the manner of a shishi dancer. The figure walks out to the end of the

runway carrying a large basket. He sets the basket down before him, then mumbles a

few incantations. Suddenly he leans backward with his hands in the air as a flowering

plant shoots up out of the basket. Here again, the puppet’s body opens up as it is spun 135 back and forth, releasing a mass of confetti to rain out over the crowd. The symbol of the Kirin taigumi is a stylized image of the head of a kirin.

The Sankütai belongs to Upper Ninomachi. The date of its origin is unknown.

The present vehicle was completed in 1862, with extensive alterations and additions thereafter. The name ‘Sankü’ refers to the three lights—sun, moon, and stars-and its insignia is a stylistic representation showing the character ‘hikari.’ meaning Tight’ (the

Chinese-derived pronounciation is ‘kn’), radiating out in three directions from a central point.

Middle Ninomachi’s yatai is called Kinkitai, the name ‘Kinki’ meaning "golden

turtle." This vehicle is said by some to date from as long ago as the 1680s, but there is

no reliable documentation for this. The records do show that it was rebuilt in 1776,

followed by an extensive restoration in 1820. In 1840 the vehicle was given to

Mukaimachi and yet another one built to replace it. This one underwent major repairs

in 1897 and 1926, but has survived to the present day. Its symbol consists of segments

of three interlocking hexagonal shapes which represent the pattern found on a turtle shell.

The Ryutekitai of Lower Ninomachi dates from the 1770s, but the original was

worn so badly that a new one had to be built to replace it in 1886. At present it is the

largest yatai in Furukawa and has perhaps the most elaborate decorations. The name

‘Ryuteki’ refers to the so-called "dragon flute" which the boys of the neighborhood learn

to play. The flute is made of bamboo with seven finger holes and makes a sound said

to resemble the screech of a dragon. The insignia of the RyUteki taigumi shows three

dragon claws enclosing a circle with their points meeting in the center. 136

The Seiyotai now belongs to Upper Sannomachi and dates from 1818. All of

Sannomachi once constituted a single neighborhood, but in 1839 it was split into upper and lower divisions. At that time lots were drawn to determine which division would be allowed to keep the Seiyotai, and Upper Sannomachi won. The vehicle was heavily damaged when it overturned in 1893. It underwent major repairs and was used for several more years but was eventually discarded. The present version was completed in

1941.

The name ‘Seiyü’ means to shine purely. The insignia consists of three sword blades emerging from a central point with large dots filling the spaces in between them, resulting in what is described as a three-pointed star. The swords are said to represent purity.

After the partitioning. Lower Sannomachi had its own yatai built. It was completed in 1841 and named ‘Byakkodai.’^ The term ‘byakko’ means literally "white tiger," which indicated ‘west’ in the old Chinese directional system. The vehicle was originally equipped with a stage jutting out from the second level for performing an abbreviated kabuki drama, but this was discontinued somewhere along the way. By 1930 the vehicle had become too decrepit to participate in all the usual events and was retired altogether in 1943. The neighborhood had been planning to build a new one for some time and had collected the funds to do so, but the plans were never realized, perhaps due to the wartime austerity measures and inflation which followed the war.

^The name is customarily pronounced with a phonetic change of ‘tai’ to ‘dai,’ perhaps because of the double consonant which precedes the final vowel in byakko. ’ 137

A debate went on for many years as to whether to build an entirely new vehicle or simply refurbish the old one. It was finally decided to undertake an extensive restoration project, which was begun in 1981 and completed in 1986.

At this time tlie stage was replaced and the kabuki performance resurrected after

a hiatus of over 100 years. The actors now are children who dress in costumes of

Japan’s early feudal period to portray the story of the warrior Benkei’s famous encounter

with Ushiwakamaru on the bridge.

Byakkodai is the only remaining example anywhere in the Hida region of an older

style of yatai characterized by a more vertically extended lower level and the relative lack

of embellishment such as carvings and metal fixtures. It is also distinguishable by tlie

gohei-shaped ornaments on its roof. Its symbol is the sasarindo. or paulownia flower.

The taigumi representing Upper Ichinomachi is called "Sanbaso," though its yatai

no longer exists. ‘SanbasO’ refers to a dance drawn from the nokyogen play "Okina,"

and, in fact, the old vehicle was equipped with a female karakuri ningyü puppet designed

to reproduce the dance movements on a narrow wooden runway. With thirteen pulleys

operated by five individuals working at the same time, it was the most intricate karakuri

in Furukawa. Since the play "Okina" was customarily performed on auspicious occasions

such as the New Year holiday, the Sanbasotai always occupied the lead position in front

of the other yatai whenever they appeared together in procession.

In 1894 damages forced the Sanbasotai to be retired. Most of the vehicle was

later destroyed in the great fire of 1904. All that now remains are the puppet and a

single decorative tapestry. So far the vehicle has not been restored, as the cost of such 138 a project would place a tremendous financial burden on the relatively small number of households in Upper Ichinomachi. Sanbasotai is currently described as undergoing a period of "rest," and in the yatai activities conducted during the matsuri it continues to be represented by a banner bearing its name. The taigumi’s symbol is the image of a folded paper crane.

So far I have described nine chonai and their related taigumi. These nine together constitute what might be referred to as "Old Furukawa"-the original castle town as it existed during the Edo period-though the boundaries of some of the neighborhoods have

since expanded outward into the surrounding territory. Mukaimachi, which lies on the

other side of the Araki River, and Sakaemachi, which is located on the downstream end

of town, are of more recent origin and play somewhat different roles in tlie matsuri.

Mukaimachi is responsible for performing the sacred kagura music, and its vehicle

is known as the "Kaguradai. " Though it is of similar size, the Kaguradai is structurally

and functionally distinguishable from the yatai of the other neighborhoods. It has only

three wheels and no roof. A large drum is suspended inside a circular frame on the

upper level, and is pounded in unison by two men seated one on either side. The other

musicians sit to the front of the drum, facing forwaid. During the matsuri the Kaguradai

carries a portion of the spirit of the deity (bunreil wrapped in a talisman and mounted to

a stick erected at the front of the vehicle. For this reason it always takes its place at the

head of the parade of yatai. with the Sanbaso banner following immediately after.

Mukaimachi did not always play this special role. It used to field a regular yatai

which it had obtained second-hand from Middle Ninomachi in 1840. The vehicle was 139

Figure 7. Schematic drawing of Mukaimachi's Kaguradai from the side, showing the drum positioned on the upper level. During the matsuri the divided spirit of the deity (bunreil is attached to the shaft of the halbert at the front of the vehicle, which in the drawing faces to the left. (Taken from Kuwahara, et al. 1991:301.) 140

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Figure 8. Schematic drawing of Mukaimachi s Kaguradai from the front. (Taken from Kuwahara, et al. 1991:299.) 141 restored and given the name "Suzakudai." ‘Suzaku’ refers to the red sparrow which, according to the Chinese system, indicated ‘south.’ Again, this reflects the neighborhood’s geographical position as Mukaimachi lies south of the rest of the town.

In 1883 Mukaimachi obtained an old Kaguradai from a shrine in Takayama. The young men of Mukaimachi then formed a group called the ‘Sogakubu’ ("musicians league") and assumed the role of performing kagura music as well as the shishi dancing which accompanied it. Due to heavy damages the Kaguradai had to be completely refurbished in 1889, but the same vehicle is still in current use.

The identifying mark of the SOgakubu is a circle inscribed with a cross. It is known as the ‘kutsuwa.’ but is more commonly referred to as "maru ni jïïji" (the character for ‘ten’ in a circle). The mark is thought to be associated with Kogaidaijin, the patron deity of sericulture (Kuwahara, et al 1991:186).

Sakaemachi is of even more recent origin and at one time consisted almost exclusively of poor tenant farmers who lacked the resources to build their own yatai.

Instead they assumed the role of performing the tokeiraku. or fighting cock music, which dates to only the mid-Meiji period. The young boys of the neighborhood play a small hammer and gong instrument to produce a distinctive rhythm and lead the way before the deity on its procession through town.^

In addition to these eleven chonai there is one other neighborhood association

which plays an important role in the matsuri. This is the so-called "Miyamoto-gumi."

’This music is popularly known as "kankakokan"—an onomatopoeic description of its sound. 142 composed of residents from Kamikita, a small settlement lying at the base of the shrine grounds and separated from the town proper by a stretch of rectangular paddy fields/

The Miyamoto-gumi consider it their duty to look after and protect the shrine fjinja o mamoruT They are thus in a sense elevated above the rest of the town both physically and in terms of their special status as shrine caretakers. In fact, Kamikita once comprised a separate community distinguishable from the rest of Furukawa. Though they play an active role in the matsuri. the nature of their participation is significantly different from that of the other neighborhoods.

As previously mentioned, the annual visit of the deity and the elaborate wooden

festival wagons which were originally intended as a means of welcoming it into town

together constitute the core of the matsuri as a religious event. But the single feature

which most distinguishes the Furukawa matsuri from other shrine festivals is the okoshi

daiko. or "rousing drum" ritual.

To further complicate the organizational structure thus far described, an additional

set of boundaries overlapping the eleven taigumi exists exclusively for the performance

of the okoshi daiko. This second system divides the townspeople into four large groups

called ‘okoshi daiko gumi.’ all of which contain roughly the same number of households.

The groups are named using the ancient Chinese directional system previously alluded to

in reference to some of the taigumi. This system associates each of the four cardinal

directions with a particular animal and color (see Figure 1).

'‘Bestor (1989) has translated ‘miyamoto’ as "the seat of the shrine." In the case of Miyamoto-gumi the term relates not only to their geographical position but also to its special role as shrine guardians. 143

North Black Turtle "Genbu"

West East White Tiger Blue Dragon "Byakko" "Seiryg"

South Red Sparrow "Suzaku"

Figure 9. The ancient Chinese directional system.

Mukaimachi and Tonomachi are large enough to comprise their own separate

groups, but the other two were established by lumping some of the smaller taigumi

together. The okoshi daiko gumi thus correspond to the taigumi as shown in Table 2.

As previously mentioned, Miyamoto-gumi never participates in the okoshi daiko. and is

thus excluded from this four fold division.

Mobilization

The Furukawa matsuri is performed every year in mid-April. It is scheduled to

coincide with the emerging cheiTy blossoms and the long-awaited arrival of warmer

weather. It may also be seen as a prelude to the spring planting season, as local farmers

begin tilling their paddy fields shortly thereafter. Planning and preparation for the 144

Table 2. Okoshi daiko groups shown with component taigumi and their associated chonai divisions.

Okoshi Associated Number Daiko Component Chonai of House­ Gumi Taigumi holds

Seiryu Seiryu Tonomachi 492 Suzaku Kagura Mukaimachi 465 Byakko Sanbaso Upper Ichinomachi 505 HOO Middle Ichinmachi SankO Upper Ninomachi Kinki Middle Ninomachi SeiyO Upper Sannomachi Byakko Lower Sannomachi Tokeiraku Sakaemachi Gembu Kirin Lower Ichinomachi 460 Ryuteki Lower Ninomachi

matsuri begin several weeks prior to the actual event, however, and mobilize the collective efforts of the entire population.

Mobilization is achieved through an elaborate chain of command which in many ways mirrors the hierarchical structure of society in general. Next to the priest, the most influential figures connected with the shrine are the seven ujiko sodai. or parish leaders.’

These are not members of the clergy; they are laymen selected from the population at large who donate their time to help manage the affairs of the shrine. Their duties consist mostly of attending to mundane logistical and budgetary concerns.

’The term ‘sodai’ is usually translated "representative" or "delegate, " but because of the authority they hold and the degree of respect and prestige attached to the position I have chosen to use the word "leader." 145

The parish leaders serve not as advocates of their own individual neighborhoods but as general representatives of all the people residing within tlie shrine’s territory. One of them is chosen on a rotating basis to serve as their head (ujiko südaichôl. In terms of the matsuri. this individual is recognized as holding ultimate authority for regulating the event and is often referred to as ‘shinji torishimari’ (supervisor of sacred rites).

There is one additional individual on roughly the same level as the parish leaders.

He is referred to as a sodanyaku. or consultant, and assumes tlie role of an impartial observer.

On the next level down, each of the eleven taigumi selects one individual to seiwe as its official representative. The representatives hold the title ‘taigumi sodai’ (hereafter referred to as "taigumi leaders"), and are immediately subordinate to the parish leaders in terms of their authority. Miyamoto-gumi. too, sends a representative of its own at this same level, for a total of twelve individuals.

The taigumi leaders are assisted by the jinja iin. or shrine representatives. One such representative is selected from each of the twenty municipal wards (referred to as

"ku") which constitute the territory protected by the shrine. However, since the taigumi themselves are divided according to ward boundaries, each of the shrine representatives is in turn linked to a particular taigumi. The number of representatives each taigumi is entitled to, therefore, depends on the number of wards its neighborhood contains. This is justified by the fact that the larger neighborhoods consist of greater numbers of people and thus require additional administrative attention. 146

It is apparent at this level that a hierarchy of authority deriving from the shrine has coopted the institutions of local political administration—namely the official ward designations employed by the town government. Even more to the point, the ward units are being directly subordinated to the neighborhood taigumi. The next higher institution within the civil administration above ward level—the town council—is being bypassed altogether.

The seven parish leaders, one sodanyaku. twelve taigumi leaders, and twenty shrine representatives are collectively referred to as the ‘shrine officers’ ("jinja yakuin "1. and consist of a total of forty individuals:

7 ujiko sodai (parish leaders) 1 sodanyaku (consultant) 12 taigumi sOdai (yatai group leaders) 20 jinja iin (shrine representatives) Total 40 jinja yakuin (shrine officers)

The parish leaders at the top of the hierarchy are elected by the other shrine officers similar to the manner in which a prime minister is chosen by members of parliament. They serve for an undetermined period of time and retire only when they choose to do so.

The qualifications mentioned most often for becoming a parish leader are good character and special leadership abilities. They are without exception influential members of the community.* It is not surprising then that the position tends to run in the same

*The head priest during an interview actually described the parish leader as a "big man," using the English loan word. 147 family line and that many of its occupants belong to prominent prewar landlord households.

Unlike the parish leaders, the taigumi leaders and shrine representatives serve for a fixed term of three years. Some of them will move on to the next higher level, perhaps

eventually becoming parish leaders themselves.

In return for the prestige that accompanies their positions, shrine officers are

obliged to contribute a considerable amount of their own time and energy with no

financial compensation. This tends to limit membership to established households who

own and operate their own businesses. The heads of such households can afford to take

time away from their work, and often leave their eldest sons in charge of the business

while they attend to important community affairs.

Preparations for the matsuri officially begin on the first Sunday in March, when

the taigumi leaders gather at the shrine to participate in the so-called "lottery ceremony"

(chïïsen sail. The purpose is to choose which of the aforementioned neighborhood groups

will serve as ‘shuji.’ or director of festival events.

The word ‘shuji’ is written v/ith two characters: ‘A h / meaning "chief" or

"master" and ‘ji,’ meaning "matter," or "affair." The combination ‘shu-ji’ is usually

translated as "director," "manager," or "superintendent," though the actual meaning is

closer to "master of ceremonies." The term is applied in a general sense to the

neighborhood group selected that year to lead the events, but more specifically to the

most prominent individual within that group-the taigumi leader. 148

Two shuji have to be chosen each year-one to direct the okoshi daiko and the other to handle the yatai procession. The individual with ultimate authority for the okoshi daiko is referred to as the "sotsukasa" (general director). Later during the actual performance of the event he will ride atop the drum structure in the forward-most position.

As the name Tottery ceremony’ implies, the matter is decided by drawing lots.

However, since the ritual is conducted at the shrine under the auspices of the head priest it is actually considered an act of divination, in that the outcome is being left to the will of the divine.’ The selection process is not entirely random, however. In order to ensure that the burden is spread equally among the various neighborhood groups, those that have recently been selected are not required to participate in the drawing again until all the groups have served, at which point a new round begins. To ensure that the responsibility does not fall on the same neighborhood group twice in a row, the group that served the previous year is obliged to sit out for one round.

For example, in the case of tlie okoshi daiko there are four groups involved, so the directorship rotates among them in four-year intervals. The lottery is employed during the first three years, but is unnecessary during the fourth, as tlie responsibility that year automatically passes to the only group which remains unchosen. In 1988, for instance, Byakko-gumi was the only group that had not served over the previous three years so it automatically became shuji during the fourth. A new four-year period then began in 1989, but witli only three groups participating in the lottery—Seiryu-gumi.

’The custom is also referred to as the ‘mikuji shiki.’ or "divination ceremony." 149

Snzaku-gumi. and Genbu-gumi: Byakko-gumi sat out due to having served the previous year. Seiryu-gumi was chosen shuji that year. In 1990 Byakko-gumi reentered the

lottery, along with Suzaku-gumi and Genbu-gumi. This time Seiryn-gumi did not participate since it had served as shuji the year before. Byakko-gumi was chosen even

though it had served only two years earlier, so the following year, 1991, it sat out again

and only Suzaku-gumi and Genbu-gumi were involved in the lottery. Sïïzaku-gumi was

chosen, so in 1992 Genbu, the sole remaining group, automatically became shuji without

having to draw lots.

Selection of the yatai shuji follows a similar process. Although there are eleven

chonai neighborhoods in Furukawa, no more than seven of them are ever involved in the

lottery at any given time. First, only those who sponsor yatai are eligible to become the

yatai shuji. This immediately eliminates Mukaimachi and Sakaemachi, as neither

possesses a genuine yatai. That leaves nine yatai groups-those representing the

neighborhoods of "old" Furukawa.

Of those remaining nine. Upper Ichinomachi has never been obliged to participate

in the lottery. This is not because its yatai—the Sanbaso-was destroyed in a fire, as

might be suspected; it is rather due to the fact that the group’s position was traditionally

fixed as the lead vehicle, as previously described.

This narrows the field to eight groups. As with the okoshi daiko shuji. however,

at the end of each cycle the group that served last is obliged to sit out the following year,

so the lottery never involves more than seven groups at a time. Again, those groups that 150 have already served are ineligible until all the other groups have served also and a new rotation begins.

It was mentioned previously that the term ‘shuji’ is applied in general to the chosen neighborhood group, but more specifically to the individual leader within that group. In the case of the yatai shuji it is the resident taigumi leader who naturally assumes the responsibility, and it is he who comes forward to draw lots during the lottery ceremony. In the case of the okoshi daiko shuji. however, the matter is somewhat more complicated.

Referring back to Table 2, it is evident that two of the neighborhoods,

Mukaimachi and Tonomachi, are both large enough to comprise an entire okoshi daiko gumi in and of themselves. Thus for both of them the taigumi and okoshi daiko gumi represent the same geographical area, though they are referred to by different names.

Another of the okoshi daiko gumi—Genbu-consists of only two taigumi: the Kirintai of

Lower Ichinomachi and the Ryutekitai of Lower Ninomachi. However, the remaining okoshi daiko gumi-Byakko-contains seven separate taigumi. each with its own resident leader. This means that there are seven separate leaders—all of them on roughly the same level in the hierarchy of authority—within this one group. The result is that problems are more likely to arise when the Byakko-gumi is chosen to serve as shuji due to a lack of unified leadership. In a sense there are too many heads vying for control of a single body.

For example, each time Byakko-gumi becomes shuji one of the component taigumi leaders is customarily appointed sotsukasa for the okoshi daiko. with the office passing 151 from one leader to another in a fixed rotation. Since Byakko-gumi becomes shuji only an average of once every four years and there are seven taigumi within it, it would take about twenty-eight years to work through the entire order. Consequently many of the taigumi leaders are never given the honor of serving as sotsukasa. Such problems occur far less frequently in the Genbu-gumi. which has only two heads, and are virtually non­ existent for Suzaku-gumi and Seiryu-gumi. which have only one head each.

A third drawing is conducted during the same ceremony to decide the order in which the yatai will line up whenever they assemble together. As mentioned earlier,

Mukaimachi’s Kaguradai always occupies the lead position. The Sanbaso, too, though now represented by only a banner bearing its name, is fixed in second place. The shuji neighborhood, on the other hand, is automatically obliged to bring up the rear. This leaves seven remaining taigumi. and the leader of each draws a lot to determine which position his neighborhood group will occupy. Thus with the exception of the first, second, and final positions, the order is established by random selection.

The three lottery drawings are conducted in succession by the head priest. First the yatai shuji is chosen. Next the order of yatai is established. Finally the okoshi daiko shuji is determined. The two new shuji leaders are each presented with banners bearing the characters ‘shu-ji.’ which they carry with them to designate their roles. The same banners are used every year and passed from one neighborhood group to the next according to the rotation determined by the lottery.

After the ceremony the representatives return to their respective neighborhoods to inform their fellow residents of the results. The role of shuji carries with it additional 152 responsibilities which the entire neighborhood must share, so the news is received with great interest.

From this point forward the matsuri is directed through the hierarchical chain of command shown in Figure 3, with directives passing from the shrine to each of the two shuji leaders and on through several intermediate ranks down to the level of the individual household. The shuji has direct command over all the other taigumi leaders. Likewise, each of the taigumi leaders has control over all the component residential wards (ku) within his territory, the ward chief over each tonarigumi. or group of contiguous households, within his ward, and finally the tonarigumi leader (referred to as "kumicho "1 over each of the ten to fifteen member households that comprise the group.

In the case of the shuji for the okoshi daiko. this chain of command is somewhat simplified when either Mukaimachi or Tonomachi is chosen. Since each consists of only one large taigumi the second and third levels are combined, and the shuji deals directly with the ward chiefs.

A few days after the lottery ceremony the new shuji meets with his taigumi leaders to decide how many people each of their constituent wards should provide for each of the various activities. The figure is adjusted proportionally to match the population, with the more populous wards providing a larger number of participants. The shuji then gathers together the ward chiefs tkuchül of all his wards to deliver the assigned personnel quotas.

Each ward chief then holds a similar meeting with the heads tkumichol of all his

component tonarigumi to pass out their assigned quotas, again based on population.

Finally at the tonarigumi level, representatives firom all the member households meet on 153

parish leaders (ujiko sodai)

director (shuji)

yatai group (taigumi)

ward (ku)

household group (tonarigumi)

household (k)

Figure 10. Chain of command for conducting the matsuri.

a designated evening to choose their assignments and preferred times from a pre-arranged schedule. If any particular household contains no able-bodied members, it may call upon relatives, friends, or acquaintances from outside to fill its responsibility. Sometimes those enlisted are paid for their services.

Note that only the quotas are passed down from above. It then becomes an internal matter for the particular subunit to delegate responsibility among its constituents. 154

The role designations are then reported back up through the hierarchy and recorded by the shuji.

Note also that, here again, the institutions of civil administration are being drawn into a hierarchy of authority deriving from the shrine. The ward chief-an elected public official—is being made subordinate to the shuji leader, who is essentially an ecclesiastical representative.

The vast majority of households engage in some form of participation in the matsuri. The only exceptions are strict adherents to Christianity or those who are philosophically opposed to any form of religious activity.

After the individual responsibilities have been assigned the residents begin preparing for their participation in the festival. This applies not only to the two shuji territories, but to the remainder of the town as well, as each neighborhood taigumi has

a special function to perform. Much of the activity centers around the neighborhood

yatai.

Vital to the preparations are the resident young people, who during the next few

weeks meet in the evenings after school or work to practice musical instruments and

dance, led by senior members of the community who have volunteered their time. This

is considered an important opportunity to pass on local traditions to succeeding

generations (Furukawa-chü Kanko KyDkai 1984:48).

Most of the chonai have a public meeting hall located central to their territories,

and this is where the practice sessions are conducted. The children learn to play the

drum, flute, and sometimes a small cymbal called ‘surigane.’ Being able to produce the 155 proper sound requires some effort, though the tunes employed are not very difficult. An age-graded hierarchy is observed, with elementary schoolers learning first to play the simpler instruments before advancing to the flute when they enter middle school.

During the festival, these children will take turns riding in the neighborhood yatai. playing their music as accompaniment while the vehicle is pulled through the streets.

Two basic tunes are employed, with each neighborhood using its own particular version.

The first, called "Michiyuki" (going down the road), is generally used while the yatai is

in motion, but the second, known as "Hikiwakare" (pulling apart), is played at the end

of the festivities when the yatai break up and return to their Lome neighborhoods. The

tunes have reportedly been passed down unchanged from long ago, and constitute part of

what gives the chonai neighborhood its own separate identity.

It has been mentioned that Sakaemachi never had a yatai of its own and instead

adopted the role of performing the tokeiraku. a kind of percussive rhythm produced by

using an unusual hammer and gong instrument and small drum. The tokeiraku members

wear colorful costumes and lead the way before the long procession which accompanies

the deity on its visit through town. Their percussive rhythm can be heard from a great

distance and is the first indication to local residents that the deity is approaching. The

members also perform a set of ritualistic dance movements in a circular formation on the

grounds directly in front of the shrine both before the deity is taken out and after it is

reinstalled. Membership is restricted to elementary and middle school-aged boys. They

begin practicing in the fourth grade but do not actually start performing until the fifth.

The training sessions are led by members of the neighborhood young men’s association. 156

The matsuri functions of two of the chonai have yet to be discussed; Kamikita, the area located immediately adjacent to the shrine and distinguishable from the town proper, and Mukaimachi, which lies on the other side of the Araki River from the rest of the town. These two neighborhoods are alike in that they both perform kagura music and shishi dancing.

Kamikita is the home of the Miyamoto-gumi. which, as alluded to earlier, is considered the caretaker of the shrine. Its members are present to perform the kagura

and shishi dance when the deity is transferred to the portable mikoshi. and to lead the

way before it during its procession through town. Until about twenty years ago

Miyamoto-gumi held its own independent matsuri on April 21-the day the deity was

returned to the shrine. This underscores the fact that Kamikita has traditionally been

considered distinct from the rest of the town.

The kagura and shishi dance are performed by the young men, who Join the group

upon entering middle school and are allowed to remain until the age of thirty. The older

members train the new initiates and lead the practice sessions. Practices begin on March

23 and are conducted at the neighborhood public hall, located adjacent to the bottom of

the steps leading up to the shrine.

Mukaimachi lies on the opposite side of town and across the river from Kamikita,

placing the two neighborhoods in a kind of oppositional relationship. This is reinforced

by the fact that they both perform the kagura and shishi dance, and could thus be seen

as rivals. The Mukaimachi group -the ‘Sogakubu’—is described as a young men’s

association, though its membership tends to be somewhat older than the term would 157 imply. Male residents of Mukaimachi join the Sogakubu following graduation from high school and may remain active members through age 45, after which a few remain attached to the group as senior advisors.

Most of the members are eldest sons who have been designated to take over their respective households and in some cases the family business. This is not so much a matter of policy as of demographics-the designated heir often being the only offspring to remain at home upon reaching adulthood.

In the past, membership was rather selective, and those allowed to enter had to

demonstrate the highest character. In recent years, however, the number of young men

has declined to such an extent that practically any resident male who wants to can join.

Even so, the elder members meet to decide whether to grant or refuse entrance, and

sometimes attempt to recruit young men who seem to be good candidates. Being a

member of the Sogakubu is still a source of pride for the member’s family, as it indicates

that he is a responsible member of the community. The official membership roster now

contains the names of around sixty members, tliough only about half of these regularly

attend the practice sessions.

Three different instruments are employed in performing the kagura music: a

bamboo flute tyokobuei. a small drum (shime daikoi placed on a low stand with one side

facing up, and a much larger drum tshishi daikoi of about 1.3 meters in diameter which

is generally suspended from a wooden framework. All of these are employed on the

upper level of the Kaguradai whenever it is in motion. 158

In addition, many of the members learn the shishi dance, which involves not only the leg and body motions but also manipulating a wooden mask held in both hands in

front of one’s body to represent the head of the imaginary animal. The dance is

employed both as an entertainment for the deity and a means of dispelling evil from home

and neighborhood.

At one time each member was expected to learn all four roles. Now however,

they tend to select one of the roles in which to specialize. All must begin by learning to

play the flute, as it is the most difficult and therefore requires the longest time to master.

Later those who wish can move on to the shishi dance and perhaps one of the two

varieties of drum, and some eventually learn all four roles.

Though the older members remain active in teaching the correct form, the shishi

dance is generally performed by the younger men as it requires special strength and

stamina. The dance uses the entire body and involves a considerable amount of low

dynamic movements requiring extensive use of the legs and hips. The dancers may be

sore during the first few nights, but as training progresses their bodies become

accustomed to the movement, and it is said that through practicing the shishi dance one

grows as strong as a shishi.

Following every practice session the members gather in the back of the meeting

hall to drink beer and sake. The atmosphere is generally relaxed and the meetings often

become rather boisterous, with some of the members heading off in small groups to

continue drinking at one of the local bars. Thus the Sogakubu serves as a kind of social 159 organization for the young men who either chose or were obliged to remain in

Mukaimachi while others moved away to the cities.

For both groups of kagura performers—the Miyamoto-gumi and the Sügakubu-the practice sessions serve to instill not only musical ability, but respect for an age-graded social hierarchy. The musicians sit in the formal ‘seiza’ position, their lower legs tucked underneath them for continuous periods of up to an hour. There is no written musical score to follow. Rather, the junior members learn by eye and ear, sitting behind their seniors and imitating their hand motions. The senior members recognize their responsibility in passing on the tradition and try to set a good example. The whole

structure of participation thus reinforces the vertical relationship between senior and junior members.

Returning to the shrine level, an officers’ meeting tyakuin kail is held on March

30 with all the shrine officers, as well as an additional representative from each of the

designated shuji. assembling at the shrine to discuss any problems which might interfere

with the smooth functioning of the event. A representative of the "dangerous year"

attendants tyakudoshi hpshiini is also invited. In this region, a man’s forty-second year

is considered a "dangerous" one-a time when they are particularly susceptible to serious

illness or misfortune (Namihira 1978:42). Men of this age can volunteer to help pull the

mikoshi on its procession through town, thereby gaining some protection against the

danger.

In the old days tliere were often problems and disputes during the yatai

procession. Certain chonai would fail to observe the designated order or perhaps cut 160 through a side street in an attempt to jump ahead of the others. This led to the institution of a formal stamp-affixing ceremony tchoinshikil in which the leaders of all the taigumi were obliged to pledge strict conformance to the prescribed order.

The stamp-affixing ceremony itself is held a few days before the matsuri begins, but the formal invitation to attend the ceremony tchüin annaijol is delivered personally

by the yatai shuji himself to each of the other taigumi leaders on April 9. At 9:00 AM

the shuji sets out from his own home accompanied by an assisting member of the

neighborhood. Both are dressed in the montsuke costume,® a formal black kimono

reserved for special occasions. They are preceded by a banner man, bearing the flag of

the shuji and leading the way before them as they go from door to door. The invitation

must pass directly from tlie hands of the shuji to the taigumi leaders themselves. Each

of the leaders has been notified ahead of time when to expect the visit, and meets the

visitors at his doorway dressed in a black suit and white tie. The shuji and taigumi leader

briefly exchange greetings, then the former hands the latter the invitation wrapped neatly

in a silk cloth and placed on a small lacquered tray. Invitations are delivered in the same

manner to two of the parish leaders as well. The entire round of visits takes a little over

two hours.

On the afternoon of April 10 the shrine officers gather with civil authorities at the

town hall to hold the festival consultation meeting (Furukawa matsuri uchiawasekail. The

very streets and alleys of Furukawa become the stage upon which much of the matsuri

*The name ‘montsuke.’ literally meaning "mark-attached," refers to the fact that the wearer’s household mark is affixed to both sides of the chest area. 161 is performed, and the purpose of the meeting is to discuss logistical concerns such as traffic diversion, damage control, temporary disruption of electric power and telephone service, and how best to ensure the safety of participants and visitors alike. Those invited to attend include the head priest, parish leaders, okoshi daiko shuji. yatai shuji. and police and fire department officials, as well as representatives of the Chnbu Denryoku electric power company, Nippon Telephone and Telegraph (NTT), the Furukawa Tourist

Association, and the street vendors guild. Everyone’s cooperation is requested in the effort to perform the matsuri without incident.

That evening a similar meeting is held at a prearranged location somewhere within

the okoshi daiko shuji’s territory. This one is attended by representatives from all the

tsuke daiko teams (excluding Miyamoto-gumii. the purpose being to present the proposed

route of the okoshi daiko and discuss any potential problems that might arise during its

performance. Of particular concern is the clash between the rear guard, which protects

the drum, and the tsuke daiko team members, who charge upon it from behind. Again,

everyone’s cooperation is requested in helping to make the event proceed as safely as

possible. The representatives then return to their home neighborhoods to pass the

information on to the otlrer members of their respective teams.

On April 13 the sotsukasa and other high ranking members of the okoshi daiko

shuji meet with police officers, NTT representatives, and an agent of the planning,

commerce, and tourism department of the town hall to inspect the entire route the okoshi

daiko will follow. Trouble spots are identified and immediately repaired. These include 162 potholes, low hanging wires, and gaps between the concrete slabs which cover the gutters lining the streets.

On April 16 a work crew assembles at the shrine to clean the shrine gr ounds and prepare the equipment that will be used during the mikoshi procession. The crew is composed of representatives from every chpnai. the number each provides being determined by the size of its population. The small interior neighborhoods like Upper

Ichinomachi or Upper Sannomachi, for example, send only two or three workers, while large neighborhoods like Mukaimachi may dispatch as many as thirty. Most of the workers are housewives or senior citizens—those who can take time away from their jobs, in other words. Each contingent is assigned a particular area where it sets to work pulling weeds, raking leaves, and burning the refuse. Inside the shrine building itself the

shrine officers busy themselves attaching banners to long poles so that they can be borne

aloft during the mikoshi procession.

The stamp-affixing ceremony was traditionally held on April 18, two days before

the mikoshi procession. Recently, however, it has been set for the Sunday immediately

preceding the matsuri so that the attendees do not have to take time away from their busy

work schedules during the weekdays. The ceremony is held in a large tatami-matted

room attached to the rear of the newly renovated tabisho and begins promptly at 1:00

PM. Each taigumi is represented by its leader accompanied by two special duty officers.

Also in attendance are two of the parish leaders. The proceedings relate only to the yatai

procession so representatives from the four okoshi daiko gumi aie not involved. All 163 those in attendance wear the montsuke garment which is appropriate for formal occasions such as this.

A brief document describing the order of yatai as well as the route they will follow is presented and discussed. A few minor points of concern are raised and resolved, but serious problems rarely emerge thanks to thorough informal consultations

(generally referred to as ‘nemawashi.’ or "root binding") beforehand, and usually no changes have to be made before the signing begins. Each representative signs the document and affixes his stamp indicating his pledge to abide by the prescribed order.

Eveiyone is required to sign three copies of the same document, one of which is

later given to (1) the head priest, (2) the shinji torishimari. and (3) the yatai shuji. The

ceremony ends with a ritual toast of sake—the customary way to conclude a formal

agreement. Unlike the events I observed at the shrine, however, the gathering does not

thereafter degenerate into a boisterous party but remains a formal ceremony right to the

end, with all the participants filing out as somber and dignified as they had arrived.

Various preparations are conducted independently within each individual chünai.

These include raising the huge banners which mark the boundaries of the chünai’s

territory. The banners are always set in pairs, one on either side of the road, to form a

type of gate.** Traditionally each chünai erected two pairs—one at either end of its

territory. For each pair of banners, sakaki branches were placed at the base of either

pole, with a row of hanging paper lanterns suspended between them from a swinging

®In fact the Chinese character used for writing the word ‘gate’ is a pictographic representation of a pair of these banners. 164 beam. The beam was high enough to allow foot traffic to pass freely underneath, but had to be swung open so that the okoshi daiko and yatai could get through.

The custom is no longer so strictly observed, however. In the present day only three of the twelve chünai continue to erect two pairs of banners. Seven of them erect only one pair. The remaining two chünai continue to suspend a row of paper lanterns over the street, but these are used in lieu of, rather than to complement, the banners.

The others have abandoned the row of lanterns altogether, as they interfere with the passage of the okoshi daiko. yatai. and other traffic. Instead they hang a pair of huge lanterns, one on either side at the base of the banner poles.

The banners and paper lanterns mark the boundaries of the chünai territory but also serve to attract and welcome tlie deity. The lanterns are marked with various words reflecting the fact that they are being employed as votive fires (though they are now illuminated by electric light bulbs). The banners, too, bear inscriptions intended to impress the deity and gain its favor.

The day for erecting barmers and lanterns was originally fixed at April 17. Now, however, the neighborhoods are allowed to choose sometime between the twelfth and the eighteenth. Some prefer the Sunday which falls within this period, as the task can be accomplished without interfering with people’s work schedules. The majority, however, have chosen to stay with the Seventeenth.

Whichever day is chosen, each neighborhood also establishes a ‘tüban kaisho.’ or

"temporary meeting place" somewhere within its territory on that same day. This will

serve as its local command center for the duration of the matsuri. For chünai that have 165 one, the citizens’ hall tkominkanl becomes the meeting place. Other neighborhoods will commandeer part of a building at a convenient location. In any case, the location will be open to the street so that passers-by can look inside. Each meeting place contains a makeshift altar bearing trays of rice, flasks of sake, and other fruits of the harvest as offerings to the Shinto deities. The front of the altar is lined with hundreds of bottles of sake donated by resident households. Many of these are destined to be consumed by participants during the okoshi daiko. On the wall appears a large list showing the names

of individual residents and the duties they have been assigned to perform. A short curtain

(norgn) bearing the neighborhood insignia is draped over the entrance and a sakaki branch

is erected on either side. Several neighborhoods also build a small bridge leading into

the entrance. The bridge is covered with the auspicious red soil takatsuchil described in

Chapter Three. This is intended to entice the spirit of the deity to enter therein.

Also on April 17 the neighborhood yatai is rolled out of its garage to be cleaned.

The vital components are given a thorough inspection, and any necessary repairs are

immediately undertaken so that the vehicle will be ready for the events of the next few

days.

Most of the residents of Furukawa hang a large paper lantern outside in front of

their homes, with a decorative bamboo and wax paper umbrella over top. This is one of

the festive decorations characteristic of matsuri in this region. At night they are

illuminated and create a beautiful impression in the otherwise darkened streets. The

lanterns bear the name of the neighborhood yatai (or in the case of Sakaemachi the

Tokeirakul. Each neighborhood employs its own distinctive lettering. On the other side 166 is an inscription relating to the fact that the lantern serves as a kagaribi. or votive fire offered to the kami. All of the lanterns employed in the Furukawa matsuri are handmade by the local craftsman Shirai.

At around 8:00 AM on the morning of April 18, men from the shuji neighborhood gather to assemble the massive drum structure (referred to as the "yagura”! which will be used during the performance of the okoshi daiko the following evening. The term

‘okoshi daiko’ refers to a large, barrel-shaped drum with a leather head on either end.

Each head bears the symbol of the Ketawakamiya shrine—a cluster of three hollyhock leaves radiating out from a central point. The drum is normally housed in the main shrine building and used as part of the Shinto rituals regularly performed there, but on the night of April 19 it is borne atop a massive rectangular wooden framework through the narrow streets of Furukawa while neighborhood teams charge toward the structure from behind, vying with one another for the lead position.

Traditionally the entire weight of the drum and its supporting framework was supported on the shoulders of the men laboring underneath. However, unbeknown to most of the spectators, the structure now balances on a special carriage consisting of a single axle and two rubber-tired wheels which are positioned at the middle to support the bulk of the heavy load. During the actual performance of the ritual, the wheels remain hidden within the mass of bearers and thus go largely unrecognized.

The assembly work is performed at the place designated as the official starting point, which is located somewhere within the shuji’s territory and thus changes from year 167 to year. The workers are predominantly retired men—those with free time to devote to such activities. Most have helped with the assembly work several times in the past.

Pick-up trucks bring the big drum, paper lanterns, and other equipment down from the shrine. The undercaiTiage and beams are stored in the tabisho. and these too are brought to the assembly site. All the pieces of the drum structure are numbered to ensure that they are placed in the same order every year. The timbers are made of hinoki. or Japanese cypress, a type of wood known for its strength and resilience.

The work force splits into teams, each devoted to a specific activity. One team begins to assemble the rectangular framework. Four main cylindrical beams of about

eight meters in length are placed parallel to one another upon the undercarriage at

intervals of about .7 meter. A wooden stand the same height as the undercarriage

supports them at either end. Eight crossbeams measuring about 2.8 meters in length are

then laid over them to form a grid pattern, and all the pieces are bound tightly together

with rope at each juncture.

Next the wooden turret which holds the drum aloft above the framework is

constructed. It consists of a number of short overlapping beams joined at right angles

with a long iron pin running through each comer. Unlike those of the framework itself,

these beams are angular to ensure greater stability. Initially two timbers the same length

as the crossbeams of the framework are placed parallel to one another and the iron pins

inserted vertically from the bottom. Then a number of short beams of about .7 meter in

length, each with a hole drilled in either end, is fitted down over the pins in layers, a

single layer consisting of two parallel beams oriented at right angles to those immediately 168

8 meters

2.8 meters

TOP VIEW

1.1 meters

0.8 meters

1.8 meters

n. n _Q_ _Q_ n n _Q. -CL

SIDE VIEW

END VIEW

Figure II. The assembled drum structure showing top, side, and end views. (Adapted from Kuwahara, et al. 1991:57. 169 below. The four-sided turret is then fitted into the midsection of the rectangular framework. The parallel timbers which form the base of the turret thus become the framework’s two central crossbeams and are attached to the lengthwise beams with ropes just as the others were.

At the same time another group engages itself in wrapping the big drum in a sheath made of rice straw. First the sheath is laid flat on the ground. Then the drum is placed upon it and the ends of the sheath wrapped over the top, girding the body of the

drum but leaving the heads exposed. The sheath is bound tightly to the drum by ropes

passed several times around the middle and again at each end. The excess straw is

trimmed away from the edges, making them flush with the ends of the drum. Cylindrical

bundles of straw are placed over top the drum, one at either end, providing a cushion to

prevent the young riders from sliding off the edge. Similar bundles are fastened

lengthwise along either side of the drum, providing footrests to help the riders maintain

their balance. Photographs taken during previous years are consulted periodically to

avoid errors in detail.

The drum is then hoisted up onto the turret and secured with rope. The two

uppermost beams of the turret are aligned crosswise to the drum. Concave places have

been carved into them to accomodate the drum’s cylindrical body. A large metal ring

protrudes from each side of the drum. The rope is passed through the rings several

times, wrapped around the beams of the framework below, and pulled tight to prevent

slippage. 170

Finally sake is poured over all the ropes which hold the structure together. This serves as a means of purification but also causes the ropes to become tighter as they dry.

When the drum structure has been completely assembled, cups of sake are handed around to all those involved. Casual passersby are invited to join them for a drink, and a relaxed atmosphere prevails. Red-and-white striped curtains will later be hung around the perimeter of the grounds, marking the following evening’s event as an auspicious

occasion. The drum structure itself is adorned with blue-and-white striped curtains hung

from the edges of the outside beams, thereby concealing the set of wheels and end stands

upon which the structure rests.

Later that evening a practice session is held for the young drum beaters and

lantern-bearing hon’ei. or main guardsmen. Four drum beaters are employed to strike

the big drum. Two of them sit astride the drum, which, due to its elevated position

above the wooden framework—itself carried shoulder high—places them at a height of

nearly four meters. These two men are referred to as the ‘ueuchi’—literally "top beaters."

During the performance of the okoshi daiko they hold their sticks high above their heads

in vertical position, the palms of both hands facing forward as they grasp the handle.

They are supposed to focus all their attention on the task at hand and stare without

expression into space, regardless of the commotion going on around and below them.

At regular intervals one of them brings his stick crashing down in an arc to strike the

head of the drum positioned between his legs, then raises it slowly and dramatically back

into position. A few seconds later his partner behind him follows through with the same 171 action. The two men thus maintain a steady cadence, alternating back and forth at a rate of about one beat evei-y eight seconds.

The other two drum beaters stand down upon the beams of the framework at either end of the drum. They are called ‘yokouchi.’ or "side beaters," because they are positioned off to one side of the drum, striking it with a horizontal arc much like

swinging a baseball bat. Each times his own strike with that of the top beater sitting

above and on the opposite end. This allows both drum heads to be employed at the same

time, thereby amplifying the sound.

As previously mentioned, the drum is equipped with foot rests and rim cushions

to keep its riders from sliding off. In addition, there is also a metal loop on the top side

of the drum, and a long piece of white cloth is passed through it. When the riders take

their positions they wrap the cloth around their waists, simultaneously binding themselves

to each other and to the drum as well. They practice striking the drum a few times while

a few old veterans shout advice from below: "Hold the stick higher!" "The cadence is

too fast; you’ll never last at that rate!" It is particularly important for each of the two

side beaters to learn to coordinate his strikes with the man sitting above on the opposite

end so that both hit the drum simultaneously.

The main guard consists of a total of eight men, positioned four to the front and

four to the rear as shown in Figure 12. The men in front face forward toward the

direction of movement, with the sotsukasa in lead position. The men in back face to the

rear—the direction from which the tsuke daiko will attack. Each of them holds a lantern

in his right hand. The sotsukasa’s lantern bears his title. The others simply read ‘shu-ji. ’ 1. General director (sotsukasa) 2. Main guardsmen (hon’ei) 3. Side beaters (yoko uchi) 4. Top beaters (ue uchi)

Figure 12. Positions assumed by the main guard and drum beaters during the okoshi daiko.

The members of the main guard are considerably older than the drum beaters.

Many of them have ridden the drum structure before, and perhaps served as drum beaters themselves when they were young men. Nevertheless, they are given advice on how to keep their balance while standing on the rounded beams. Riding the drum structure is described as like being on a small boat in a choppy sea, and it is necessary to keep the knees bent and absorb the bobbing motion to avoid being pitched off. The men briefly practice moving together in unison, first lowering themselves into a crouch by bending at the knees, then rising up shouting "wasshoi!”'"

'“This term has no real meaning but is often used during boisterous events of tliis type and is usually translated "heave-ho!" Some have speculated that the term derives from the phrase "wa issho" (meaning "harmonize," or "pull together"). 173

After they have finished, another shift climbs aboard to take their places. The position of the sotsukasa at the front of the drum structure will be taken in turn by other prominent individuals, who are referred to as "ftiku-sotsukasa" (assistant general directors). The okoshi daiko will stop four times to change riders, so there will be five shifts in all. Each shift consists of twelve men-four drum beaters and eight main guard members-adding up to a total of sixty riders. The practice session continues until everyone of them has had an opportunity briefly to rehearse his assigned role.

While the shuji personnel are practicing their roles upon the drum structure, the young men in each of the other chünai gather at their respective neighborhood

headquarters to attach their drum to its wooden pole with a long rope. This is the ‘tsuke

daiko.’ or "attaching drum" which on the following evening will be held by team

members as they charge toward their goal. Each drum is about .3 meter in diameter and

shaped like a keg. Both heads of the drum bear the symbol of the taigumi it represents.

Like the beams of the drum structure previously described, the tsuke daiko poles

are made of hinoki. They appear old and scarred and have undoubtedly witnessed many

fierce battles.

Binding the drum to the pole so tightly that it will not slip off during the action

is no easy task. The rope has to be wound around the drum many times using an

intricate series of loops and knots. Each neighborhood employs its own special

procedure, recorded only in the collective memory of the group. Though senior members

are present to offer their advice, the younger members are generally left to try to figure

it out for themselves, stopping periodically to scratch their heads and discuss the situation 174 and perhaps even starting again from scratch several times before eventually stumbling upon the correct way. This allows them to ingrain the procedure into their own minds through direct experience, ensuring that the tradition will be faithfully transmitted. When the drum has been attached, sake is applied to the ropes so that they tighten as they dry.

The completed tsuke daiko is placed before the makeshift altar at the neighborhood meeting place with the insignia proudly exhibited for passers-by to see.

In fact the entire display becomes a temporary shrine dedicated not only to the deities but also to the solidarity of the neighborhood. Other treasured objects may also be exhibited there as well. Upper Ichinomachi, for example, displays its karakuri ningyo puppet—one of the few remnants of their beloved old yatai to have survived the fire, and

Mukaimachi places its shishi masks in a row before the makeshift altar when they are not in use.

Of the twelve chonai in Furukawa, eleven of them field tsuke daiko teams. These include the nine central yatai neighborhoods along with the newer peripheral sections of

Mukaimachi and Sakaemachi. As previously mentioned, Miyamoto-gumi never participates in the okoshi daiko and thus does not field a tsuke daiko team.

Entertaining the Sacred Presence

It has already been mentioned that Mukaimachi assumes the special role of providing the sacred kagura music and leading the way at the head of the yatai procession. Part of their responsibility is to accept the bunrei—a portion of the spirit of the deity—and place it atop their vehicle, the Kaguradai. This involves a special 175 ceremony conducted early on the morning of April 19, prior to the other events.

Members of the Sügakubu along with some of the older residents assemble themselves in front of Mukaimachi’s public meeting hall, and two pairs of dancers perform a shishi dance. At about 6:30 AM they set out for the shrine in a slow procession to the accompaniment of flutes and drums. The musicians don costumes reminiscent of the

ancient Shinto-style court robes and hat, while the attendants dress in formal montsuke.

Those employed to help carry the equipment wear simple happi jackets. A man holding

a large gohei is positioned near the rear. It is he who will carry the divided spirit of the

deity back to the home neighborhood.

The procession climbs the long set of steps leading up to the shrine and comes to

a halt in front of the main shrine building, where members disassemble and take their

positions inside, kneeling upon the tatami matted floor. The gohei-bearer sits front and

center. The ceremony is led by the head priest alone, who begins by asking the

musicians to play a brief kagura tune. He then waves the sakaki branch over the

assembled group as a means of dispelling evil. The members bow forward to receive this

action. The priest then opens the curtains leading up to the main altar and ascends the

stairs. He utters a low elongated moan, rising both in pitch and volume then falling back

again. This is to summon the presence of the deity. He then comes back down the

staircase and, after delivering a brief prayer, gives the representative from Mukaimachi

a sakaki branch to place upon a wooden stand in front of the altar. The priest again

ascends the stairs and brings down the bunrei wrapped in embroidered cloth and attaches

it to the gohei. While handling the talisman both the priest and gohei bearer wear white 176 gloves and a paper mask covering nose and mouth. After the spirit of the deity has been transferred, everyone goes back outside. The talisman is held aloft while a shishi dance is performed on the grounds directly in front of the shrine building. The Mukaimachi contingent then reassembles into its processional order and heads back into town much as it came. When they arrive at the meeting hall, a shishi dance is performed again in front of the building and the talisman taken inside. Later the Kaguradai will be brought round and the talisman installed atop it.

At 9:00 AM a group of about 150 men gathers at the shrine to perform the

hokeisai. a ceremonial offering to the local guardian deity. The group consists of all the

shrine officers as well as representatives from major institutions within the community.

All of them wear montsuke. Later they are joined by a group of miko girls who assist

the priest in placing the offerings upon the altar. Later the miko perform a dance for the

entertainment of the deity as part of the formal shrine ceremony.

The ceremony begins at about 10:00 AM. It is again conducted by the head

priest, but this time he is assisted by several additional priests from other shrines in the

Furukawa area. The parish leaders assemble in front of the auxiliary building while the

lower shrine officers line up on the ground directly in front of the shrine. The priests

emerge from the auxiliary building one by one and rinse their hands and mouths with

water at a basin just outside. They then assemble themselves in a line and procédé up

the stairs and into the shrine building, followed in order by the parish leaders, miko girls,

musicians, and lower shrine officers. 177

The rites performed within the shrine proceed according to the general pattern for

Shinto ceremonies described in Chapter Three. Of special note here are the titles of the representatives who are called forward in turn to present a tamagushi- a small sakaki branch used as an offering of good will to the deity. Each approaches a low stand set up at the bottom of the steps leading to the altar, kneels and places the branch upon the stand with the cut end of the stem pointing toward the deity, bows twice, claps twice, and bows once more, then returns to his former position. The representatives are summoned forward in pairs using their titles rather than their names. The order proceeds as follows:

1. Parish leaders tujiko sodai—in four pairs).

2. Head of the Yoshiki County branch of the shrine administration tjinjachü Yoshiki-

gun shibuchol and head of the Furukawa section of the shrine administration

(jinjacho Furukawa bukaichs).

3. Representative from the taigumi leaders ttaigumi sodai daihyOl and representative

of the shrine commissioners (jinja iin daihyo).

4. Representative/delegate from the town at large tshichn sodai daihyül and

representative of Miyamoto-gumi (Miyamoto-gumi daihyoT

5. Mayor of Furukawa (Furukawa chOchol and chairman of the Furukawa town

council (Furukawa chogikai gicho).

6. Chief of Furukawa police department (Furukawa keisatsu shochü! and Furukawa

middle school principal (Furukawa chügaküchô).

7. Primary school principal (Furukawa shogaküchü) and chief of Furukawa fire

department (Furukawa shôbôdanchô). 178

8. Chief of the Y oshiki County branch of the agricultural cooperative tYoshiki nogyO

kyüdü kumiai kaichot and chief of Furukawa tourist association (Furukawa kanko

kaicho).

9. Chief of the chamber of commerce and industry (Furukawa-chü shükü kaichüf and

chairman of the cultural assets council (bunkazai shingi iinchPl.

10. Local representative to the Gifu prefectural assembly (Gifu-ken gikai giint and

representative of the yatai director (yatai shuji daihyüL

11. Representative of the okoshi daiko director (okoshi daiko shuji daihvDl and

representative of the duty officer (tüban daihyüL

12. Representative for the kagura musicians and miko (kagura miko daihyül and

representative for the gagaku musicians (gagaku daihyüL

The entire ceremony lasts a little over an hour and remains very formal and somber throughout.

At 1:00 PM a procession of over 300 prominent townsmen arrives with the mikoshi. or portable shrine, to escort the deity on its annual visit down into the town.

Each is dressed in the formal montsuke. but this time with the kamishimo overmantle once worn by members of the samurai class during the Edo period. The deity must first be transferred from its place of enshrinement into the mikoshi in a ceremony referred to as ‘kamiutsushi’ ( "moving the deity")."

"As before, the entity actually being transferred is referred to as ‘bunrei.’ indicating again that only a portion of the deity is being taken from its normal place of enshrinement. 179

Kagura players from Miyamoto-gumi provide the musical accompaniment. At the actual moment when the transfer is performed the drums grow considerably louder and assume a regular one-two, one-two cadence, while the flutes settle into a prolonged trill.

At this point all onlookers bow their heads, averting tlieir eyes to the ground. The head priest comes hurriedly out of the shrine building and down the steps, carrying the spirit of the deity enclosed in an embroidered talisman which he places inside the mikoshi.

When he has finished the musicians return to their original melody and finally come to

a halt. Then the mikoshi begins its descent into town.

Unlike festivals in other parts of Japan, where the mikoshi is taken on a wild,

boisterous joyride by a gang of spirited young people, the guardian deity of Furukawa

is led through the streets in a stately procession. The mikoshi belonging to the

Ketawakamiya shrine dates from the mid-Meiji period and is thought to be about 100

years old. It was originally borne on the shoulders of forty men, using two wooden

beams extending out from both front and back like a sedan chair, with ten men on each

end. About twenty years ago, however, the mikoshi was placed on a small automobile

chassis complete with pneumatic tires. Over the chassis is a heavy wooden box frame

taken from one of the yatai which was no longer in use. This wooden frame serves as

a makeshift altar upon which offerings are placed during the procession through town.

The mikoshi itself is positioned atop the chassis and frame such that it is approximately

shoulder height. It is now pulled by twenty men usingJwo-big r^pes, with ten men to

a rope. There is a steering mechanism and hand operated brake lever in front. 180 Upon entering town, the mikoshi is met by a Shinto priest who recites a prayer and offers rice and sake to the deity within. It is then led through the streets to visit each of the eleven chOnai and bless the homes of their residents. The procession will take the rest of tlie afternoon, all of the next day, and the morning of the following day as well.

This aspect of the matsuri will be described more fully later on.

At about 4:30 that afternoon the deity is escorted to the tabisho'^-its temporary resting place within the town for the duration of the festival. The miko perform a dance, then the mikoshi is placed into the tabisho with the front facing out toward the open door.

The banners and other equipment are put inside as well. The priest conducts a brief rite,

the Miyamoto-gumi performs a lively shishi dance on the grounds outside, and the

participants disperse. Three guards dressed in formal montsuke are posted there to keep

watch. This nightly vigil will continue until the deity returns to the shrine, with the

guard being changed every two hours.

At 6:00 that evening a special ceremony is held at the tabisho as a means of

officially welcoming the deity’s presence. It follows a pattern similar to that observed

at tlie shrine that afternoon, but in abbreviated form. Again the group leaders come

forward to offer a sakaki branch, but this time the groups being represented are limited

to the parish leaders, taigumi leaders, shrine representatives, yatai shuji and okoshi daiko

shuji. toban officers, and tabisho guards.

Though the yatai no longer take part in the mikoshi procession, they still make

a cursory pass through town on the evening of April 19. At about 5:30 they line up at

‘^The term is written with two characters which together mean "travel place." 181 the lower end of Ichinomachi with the Kaguradai at the head, the banner representing

Sanbaso in second, and the rest following the prescribed order as determined by the lottery ceremony. Again, the yatai shuji brings up the rear. Each yatai is adorned with tiers of paper lanterns hanging from its upper levels. At a signal from the shuji the lanterns are lit and the yatai begin making their way slowly up through Ichinomachi in the twilight. The lanterns were traditionally illuminated with candles, but in recent years these have been replaced by battery-powered electric light bulbs. As the yatai move, the

young flute and drum players riding inside provide a musical accompaniment. The

lanterns gently sway with the rocking motion of the vehicles and the resulting effect is

quite beautiful. When they reach the upper end tlie yatai disperse, each returning to its

own particular neighborhood. This is known as the ‘hikiwakare.’ or "pulling away," and

traditionally marked the end of the festivities. Now, however, the yatai reappear on the

following day, so the event has lost some of its former significance and is rather

considered a prelude to the major attraction of the evening—the okoshi daiko.

Okoshi Daiko—The Rousing Drum

Though the official starting time for the okoshi daiko is 10:00 PM, an expectant

crowd of onlookers starts to gather at around 7:00, shortly after the evening display of

yatai has ended. Some of the more enthusiastic tsuke daiko teams can already be seen

at that time parading through the streets shouldering their drums and chanting the names

of their respective neighborhoods. Participants in the okoshi daiko dress in white cotton

shorts (called "han-momohiki" but known locally as "yancha pantsu"!. sarashi—a long 182 white cotton cloth wound tightly around the midsection, andjikatabi-the black calf-length canvas footwear with split toe favored by workmen. Despite the chill weather of early spring their upper bodies and legs remain exposed, which is why the Furukawa matsuri is referred to as a "naked festival" (hadaka matsuri!

The majority of the participants begin to emerge from their homes at about 9:00 to meet with their teammates and head for the official starting place. A boisterous crowd of spectators has already assembled. Some of the participants huddle around bonfires, drinking sake and engaging in some good-natured jostling in anticipation of the coming

event. They are easily recognizable by their costume, and the spectators part for them

as they make their way through the crowd, treating them rather like local celebrities.

The sake is referred to as ‘omiki.’ just as is the sanctified sake used in ceremonies

at the shrine. It is passed around in big bottles from one participant to another, and

sometimes to an unsuspecting tourist as well. It is customary for the men to take big

mouthfuls and spit it out in a fine spray all over the chest and back of a waiting comrade.

This is done for purification but is also believed to keep the body warm.

Here and there throughout the crowd the tsuke daiko poles are stood on end in

vertical position and young team members take turns climbing on top, balancing

themselves spread-eagled with the end of the pole positioned in the center of their

abdomens. Random exclamations of "sugoi. sugoi!" (which has something of the feeling

of "Wow, this is wild!") are uttered by awestruck spectators.

In the midst of it all, illuminated by floodlights, sits the big drum itself. Sakaki

branches have been erected at each of the four comers of the wooden framework as well 183 as at the midpoint on either side. Boards have been laid over the front of the framework to form a makeshift altar, and traditional Shinto offerings representing the fruits of the harvest are placed upon it. Thus the entire structure has been transformed into a huge religious object, and the activity surrounding it assumes the nature of a sacred event.

Indeed, some of the bystanders squeeze in close to touch the wooden beams of the framework for good luck, just as the tsuke daiko teams will try to make contact with the structure once the event is underway.

Prominently displayed upon the altar and looming over the other offerings are two

big kegs of sake. One bears the name of the Kaba household’s leading brand and the

other that of the Watanabe household. It is impossible, therefore, to view the structure

without drawing an immediate association with the matsuri’s two most distinguished

patrons.

.^t around 9:30 a loudspeaker welcomes the crowd on behalf of the reigning shuji

neighborhood and armounces that the okoshi daiko is about to get underway. The head

priest steps forward to offer a ritual of purification, waving a sakaki branch over the

drum structure, then in turn over the bowed heads of the sotsukasa and otlier okoshi daiko

leaders, the fire brigade, and the visiting dignitaries. Through the loudspeaker he

delivers a prayer, asking the kami’s favor in ensuring that the event be completed witliout

incident. He then sprinkles some salt on the drum structure, again for purification.

Following this the various representatives are called upon in turn to present a

tamagushi to the deity. The first to come forward is the sotsukasa. and he is met with

a great cheer and round of applause. He too is dressed in the short pants and belly 184 wrapping, as he will ride at the front of the drum structure as part of the first shift of the main guard.

Next is the head of the parish leaders (ujiko sDdaichül. who is also met with a great cheer. He, however, is dressed in the formal montsuke which befits a special event. Following him in order come the leader of the Furukawa Festival Preservation

Association IFurukawa matsuri hozonkaichol. the mayor, the town council chairman, the vice governor of Gifu prefecture, the local representative to the prefectural assembly, a representative of the local construction company which helped set up the facilities, the

chief of police, the head of the engineering office, the chief of the fire department, the

fire brigade leader, chairman of the local chamber of commerce, leader of the tourist

association, and finally representatives of each group of participants; the drum bearers,

the drum beaters, the tsuke daiko team members, and one additional individual referred

to simply as a "general representative" tippan daihyol.

The applause has been steadily waning with the emergence of each representative,

and the crowd is growing impatient. The priest opens a bottle of sake, places it upon the

altar, and offers another brief prayer. This ends the formal religious service (saijii.

The religious paraphernalia are taken away irom the drum structure, and the mass

of bearers begins to squeeze in underneath. Then the sotsukasa climbs by himself up onto

the structure with a microphone to offer his official greeting. He thanks the residents of

the shuji territory for all their hard work, the priest for his purification ritual, and the

visiting dignitaries for their attendance. He kindly requests from the police and fire

brigade their cooperation in preventing mishaps. He invites the spectators to allow 185 themselves to become intoxicated by the drum. Finally he says that his own taigumi has been delighted to sponsor this year’s event, and adds his wishes that it be carried on through to the end without accident.

Precisely at 10:00 PM, the two lucky young men chosen to serve as tlie top drum beaters climb up the turret and position themselves back-to-back astride the drum. Next the two auxiliary side-facing drum beaters take their places standing on the frame at either end of the drum. They hand the wooden sticks up to their comrades above, then take up their own.

The other members of the main guard scramble up onto the drum structure to join the sotsukasa. The sotsukasa positions himself directly at the front of the rectangular framework and holds a paper lantern with his title written on it. The others take their places behind him. They too hold lanterns, but theirs are simply marked ‘shuji.’

All those who ride upon the drum structure—the main guard and drum beaters

alike—are dressed similarly to their comrades on the ground below except that instead of

the black canvas workmen’s boots they wear white tabi—a sock-like garment with a split

toe and thin rubber sole. They also wear hachimaki—a white strip of cloth tied around

the head like a headband. The hachimaki is worn with the knot at the center of the

forehead and the ends sticking out to the sides in the manner of a bow tie. This is

opposite the normal fashion in which the knot is tied behind the head just at the base of

the skull. 186

The sotsukasa. still holding his microphone, now begins to sing the opening lines of the "Furukawa Medeta." A hush falls over the crowd of onlookers. The song is solemn and the words prolonged:

Wakamatsusama. Young pine tree. Eda mo sakayuru Its branches flourish ha mo shigeru. and its needles grow thick.

Then abruptly the song breaks into the familiar "medeta. medeta" verse, at which point the rhythm picks up considerably and all the local people-participants and onlookers

alike-join in. The song advises not to be overly concerned about material things—that

even without money or food the people will still survive by helping each other

(Furukawa-chü Kankü Kyükai 1984:25).

When the verse has ended the mass of bearers hoists the heavy framework onto

its shoulders as the crowd roars its approval. The top beaters raise their sticks high above

their heads. Suddenly the one facing forward brings his stick down swiftly to strike the

first blow. He is followed a few seconds later by his comrade behind, and the two begin

to alternate strikes. The mass of bearers below starts to rock the drum structure back and

forth like a seesaw. The top beaters coordinate their strikes with the rocking motion,

which rapidly builds up speed. The rocking causes the main guard to hunker down

toward the beams of the framework to keep from being pitched off. After a few seconds

the rocking motion slows to a halt and the drum beaters settle into a steady cadence. At

this point the side beaters join in, adding additional force to the percussion.

The rear guard, numbering 80-90 individuals, gather together behind the drum

structure. The structure itself appears for a moment to float above the crowd like a 187 magic carpet as it swivels about face and glides out into the street. The okoshi daiko has begun.

The drum creates a thunderous booming sound that reverberates through the night air. For every repetition of two strikes, the first is said to constitute a prayer for a bountiful harvest and the peace and security of the nation, and the second for the welfare of the townspeople and successful completion of the inatsuri without hindrance. Added to the booming of the drum are the voices of the main guard, who bend at the knees going into a crouch, then together raise themselves combined with an upward sweeping

motion of their arms shouting "wasshoi! " as if to rally the masses below them.

The drum structure itself is only the final component of a long procession of

townspeople extending for perhaps a hundred meters or more. As in the case of the drum

personnel, the shuji neighborhood bears the responsibility for mustering the requisite

number of participants. At the head of the procession is a banner recognizing the okoshi

daiko as an intangible folkloristic cultural property tmukei minzoku bunkazail as officially

designated by the Japanese government in 1980. Next comes a banner bearing the name

of the shuji group that yeai'. This is followed by a mass of townspeople bearing paper

lanterns. First is a group of large lanterns held high aloft on long poles which, by means

of their inscriptions, represent the sotsukasa and his assistants. Next there is a lantern

for every component ward within the shuji group. Similar lanterns follow in pairs, one

on either side of the street, bearing the names of all the neighborhood taigumi. They are

arranged according to the order of yatai as determined by the lottery ceremony, with

Kagura appearing first, followed by Sanbaso, then all the other groups. The yatai shuji. 188

Tokeiraku, and Miyamoto-gumi bring up the rear. Massed between them are a huge crowd of over a thousand townspeople, consisting mostly of women with their children and senior citizens. Each holds a round, red-and-white paper lantern on a short stick.

The lanterns are illuminated with candles, and the visual effect of hundreds of lanterns flowing by in the darkness leaves a memorable impression. As they walk along, the participants sing the Furukawa Medeta song. For lifelong residents of Furukawa this procession of lanterns constitutes their first direct experience of the okoshi daiko as small children and will very likely be their last as old people.

The mass of townspeople is followed by the shuji banner, more of the large paper lanterns bearing the name of Ketawakamiya Shrine, and finally the drum structure itself.

The drum is preceded by a small group of men referred to as the zen’ei. or "lead guard. "

Their function is mostly symbolic, however, as the tsuke daiko attacks come only from

the rear.

The men of Furukawa are organized into teams, each representing its own

neighborhood. Each team is armed with a tsuke daiko. which, as previously described,

consists of a small keg-shaped drum attached at the middle of a thick wooden pole. The

drum heads bear the insignia of the neighborhood group, so that each team is easily

identifiable to local residents. As the main drum moves through town, these teams lie

waiting at certain intersections to rush out and attack it as it passes by.

The tsuke daiko pole is held by all the team members at arm’s length above their

heads as they charge toward their target, the drum always aligned upwards with the

neighborhood symbol clearly visible. Each group tries to fight its way past, or more 189 correctly through, any competing teams as well as the gang of dmm guardians posted by the shuji at ground level directly to the rear of the drum structure to keep the attackers at bay. The object is to press all the way to the fore, holding the tsuke daiko pole crosswise over the trailing end of the drum structure with the neighborhood insignia proudly displayed for all to see. The verb used to describe this action is ‘tsukeru’

("attach"), referring to the fact that the neighborhood team is attaching itself to tlie shuji’s drum. Indeed, until fairly recently the aim was to set the tsuke daiko pole and drum directly onto the back end of the framework at the feet of the main guard. This had to be outlawed out of consideration for the safety of the main guard members, in that it posed a danger that they might be knocked off. Even so, a warning against such action

must continue to be issued every year during the tsuke daiko consultation meeting

(Furukawa-chü Kyüiku linkai 1991:40).

Generally the team that has succeeded in attaching itself to the drum structure tries

to remain in lead position for as long as possible, glorying in their achievement as the

wild entourage continues on down the street. Eventually they will be forced to yield to

the pressure of other teams pressing in from behind, peeling off to the outside at the

nearest intersection.

Joining in the attack induces a curious mixture of fear and exhilaration. The

teams lie in ambush at a convenient intersection. The booming of the big drum can be

heard from far away in the darkness, growing progressively nearer with each successive

beat. First the procession of lantern bearers begins to pass by, their hundreds of paper

lanterns adding to the mystical atmosphere. The teams line up with one end of their 190 poles on the ground and the other pointed out toward the street, raising and lowering the lead end in time to a repetitive chorus of "wasshoi. wasshoi! " The words and up-and- down movement of the pole are at first long and drawn out, increasing in rapidity as the big drum draws near.

Finally the drum arrives in a chaotic burst of noise and action. As it passes by, the tsuke daiko rush out from the side to begin their attack. There are only two basic rules: (1) neighborhood teams must always advance from the rear, and (2) team members must hold the tsuke daiko over their heads as they make their attack. Both are intended to lower the risk of injury. All participants in the okoshi daiko must take out special

insurance for the event and sign a waiver asserting that they will not hold the town

responsible for any injuries incurred.

The men shout to rally themselves as they advance toward their goal, charging

into the rear guard with reckless abandon. The chaotic melee which develops is called

the ‘sento arasoi.’ or "battle at the fore," referring to the tsuke daiko team members

struggling against the rear guard in trying to reach the drum structure. But there is also

pressure from other teams with similar attentions driving in from behind, and the crush

of hundreds of bodies is intense. Participants must be careful to avoid stumbling and

falling to the ground, as this would almost certainly result in being trampled by the

masses." The novice is advised to always cling to the pole with both hands, no matter

"This is perhaps why jikatabi are worn on the feet, as they provide sure footing but are made of canvas and thin rubber soles which do not inflict injury. 191 what happens. If he should fall or the pressure become too great he is told to get to the outside as quickly as possible.

In their zeal to make contact with the drum structure the other teams shove their way in from behind, their momentum often carrying them through or over anyone in their way. It is not unusual to get knocked in the back of the head by another team’s tsuke daiko. or to have one’s hands pinched between two of the poles.

Running alongside the drum structure on either side are members of the local fire brigade, easily identifiable in their traditional uniforms. Their job is to protect the crowd

of onlookers. The struggle at the rear of the drum is by nature wild and uncontrollable,

and participants often get swept off to either side, crashing into houses, poles, and

unwaiy bystanders. The fire brigade tries to keep the onlookers in against the buildings,

constantly blowing whistles to warn them out of the way.

Tsuke daiko teams that cannot succeed in pushing through to the fore get broken

up and dispersed, at which point the members attempt to squeeze off to the sides out of

harm’s way. Once beyond the crush of bodies they quickly regroup and circle around

through the narrow alleys to the next point of ambush where they can try again.

A successful strike is said to bring good fortune throughout the coming year, but

for the most part the teams compete against one another to bring honor upon their

respective neighborhoods. Competition between the teams is very lively, but much of

the friction that develops is the result of tsuke daiko team members being pitted against

the rear guardsmen, whose duty is to protect the shuji’s drum. The okoshi daiko is thus 192 characterized by two dimensions of struggle: (1) neighborhood versus neighborhood in vying for position, and (2) neighborhood versus shuji in attacking the drum.

My overall impression after participating in both is that the most aggressive confrontation is definitely the latter. The dangers inherent in rushing toward the drum

with the other teams is the possibility of getting crushed or trampled-it is not so much

a confrontation as a stampede. The clash with the rear guard, on the other hand, is a

direct confrontation. The guardsmen do what they can to repel the attacking waves,

meeting them head on and holding them back while the drum structure recedes, or

reaching up to grab the tsuke daiko and pull it down to the ground. It is not unusual for

fights to break out between the tsuke daiko and rear guard, and participants on both sides

are not above kicking the other’s legs. In addition, the drum structure itself can suddenly

reverse direction and come hurtling back toward its challengers, a menacing prospect

considering its great bulk and the combined strength of the mass of bearers underneath.

In fact the whole event appears to constitute a running battle between the shuji and tsuke

daiko.

There is an unwritten code of etiquette that when the drum passes through a

particular neighborhood the tsuke daiko team from that neighborhood is supposed to have

preference over the others in advancing upon the drum. Indeed, it is often permitted to

push through with little resistance from either the other teams or the rear guard, allowing

it to succeed in its home territory—in front of the home crowd, as it were. The

arrangement is especially important for the smaller neighborhoods, who are seen to be

at a relative disadvantage in not being able to muster enough participants to compete with 193 the other teams. In actuality, however, these preferential rights are often ignored.

Mukaimachi, for example, has a reputation for being extremely rigid (kibishiil in refusing to yield to the other neighborhoods, openly defying the unwritten rules.'" This is source of continuing resentment among the other teams.

As will be explained in the following chapter, prior to the end of the Second

World War the shuji neighborhood restricted itself to manning the drum sh ucture and did not field a tsuke daiko team. After the war, however, the okoshi daiko gumi were reorganized and made large enough to perform both roles. Thus in the postwar era tsuke daiko teams from the shuji group are now pitted against their own fellow residents as they advance toward the big drum. Obviously they meet little resistance from the rear guard, who as fellow residents of the home neighborhood are sympathetic to their efforts to

attach themselves to the drum. Also, when the main guard member positioned upon the

framework at the rear of the structure sees that the tsuke daiko team from his own

neighborhood has successfully arrived at the front he will sometimes reach down and

pound upon their drum in celebration.

After an attack is made, the tsuke daiko teams regroup and make their way

through darkened side streets to the next point of ambush, which has usually been

‘"In 1991 I participated as a member of the rear guard for Mukaimachi, which had been chosen to serve as shuji that year. Because of its size, Mukaimachi is able to muster a large number of participants, and for this reason is perennially strong. The rear guard were being adamant in refusing to allow any of the other neighborhoods to strike the drum. As the okoshi daiko was passing through Sannomachi 1 heard one of the members of the home team exclaim in frustration "This is Sannomachi! " tkoko wa Sannomachi da yo) apparently attempting to gain compliance with the unwritten rule that a team should be allowed to succeed on its home territory. His protest went unheeded. 194 determined beforehand during a meeting of the team captains. At various intersections bonfires have been built in the middle of the street and the participants huddle around them to keep warm. This is also an opportunity to fuel up with sake. Some of the teams engage again in the spread-eagled balancing act, largely for the entertainment of the assembled spectators. The members of a team gather in a tight circle with the pole in the center in vertical position. Each member puts one foot at the base of the pole to anchor it in place. One of the members is then hoisted up unto the attached drum, where he stands hanging onto the pole while his teammates swing it back and forth as if trying to shake him off. Finally he is allowed to climb on up to the top, positioning the end of the pole directly at his mid-section and extending his arms and legs. This places considerable pressure on the man’s stomach. Fortunately a bit of padding has been bound

to the end of the pole to provide some cushioning. He is generally required to remain

in this position until his comrades below have completed one chorus of the Medeta song.

He then gets down accompanied by a round of applause from the spectators and another

team member takes his place.

This custom allows the participants to demonstrate not only their personal bravery

but also faith in their comrades to support the pole from below. Once in a while a man

will fall off the top, but this is due more to the alcohol and his own lack of caution rather

than failure of his teammates to provide the necessary support.

The big drum, too, makes pre-arranged stops at intervals of about every 45

minutes to give the men underneath it a rest. These are also the points where a new shift

of drum beaters and main guardsmen gets on to relieve the old. As mentioned earlier. 195 the personnel who ride the drum structure will be changed four times through the course of the evening. Those who labor underneath, however, carry on all the way through to the end.

The okoshi daiko continues on for about four hours, eventually passing through

every neighborhood in Furukawa. The route varies little from year to year, though it

must always begin and end at the same spot within the shuji’s territory. The high point

of the event is when it passes through Ichinomachi. This part of town contains the largest

concentration of fine old buildings and is considered to be the most picturesque.

Photographers, amateurs and professionals alike, all try to capture the essence of the

matsuri at this point. It is here that all of the tsuke daiko in Furukawa come together to

rush upon the big drum at one time. It is also along this street that both Kaba and

Watanabe, the sake brewers and two of the most prominent of the prewar landlord

houses, are located. The significance of this will become apparent in the following

chapters.

The okoshi daiko finally arrives back at its starting point at around 2:00 AM. The

assistant general director, still standing atop the drum structure, takes up a microphone

to thank the participants and offer a few closing remarks, urging everyone to return home

safely. Many of tlie participants appear reluctant to leave, and continue to mill around

hugging and congratulating one another. A few of the neighborhood leaders are tossed

in the air by their teammates. The overall mood is joyous exhaustion. Eventually they

all return home for a hot bath, and the event is over for another year. 196

The Politics of Participation

At this juncture 1 would like to pause briefly to consider the qualifications for participation in the okoshi daiko ritual. While friends and visitors from other places are

sometimes invited to join the tsuke daiko teams, riding upon the drum structure carries

a special significance and only a select few are eligible. As previously mentioned, the

main guard thon’ei) who surround the drum are all prominent members of the community

who generally hold some special position of authority or responsibility, such as ward

leader (kucho), resident shrine representative (jinja iinl. head of the office of business

affairs tjimukyokuchüT or head of the office of general affairs fsDmukyokuchüT

These individuals range in age from their early 40s to their late 60s. They are

without exception influential figures within their home chonai. and usually within the

town at large. Standing at the head of them all is the sotsukasa who traditionally

occupies the very front of the drum structure during the first shift of riders. The position

is usually taken by a taigumi leader or one of the component ward chiefs.

The most envious position of all is of course riding atop the drum as one of the

drum beaters. It is considered a great honor to perform this role—indeed the experience

of a lifetime—and most young boys in Furukawa dream of growing up to one day ride

upon the drum. If they were fortunate enough to be born into one of the taigumi

neighborhoods there is a chance that they will be able to fulfill their dream, but the

opportunity is open only to a select few.

As previously described, for the purposes of the okoshi daiko the town is divided

into four territorial groups. When its turn comes to be the shuji. each is allowed to select 197 its own drum beaters, and the criteria vary somewhat from group to group. Above all, holding a large stick over one’s head and raising and lowering it several hundred times in the process of beating the drum require special strength and stamina, so the role is reserved for able-bodied young men. There is no standard age restriction, but the upper range appears to be somewhere in the mid-30s.

In years past one had to be a native of tlie town, unmarried, and the eldest son and designated heir of his household. In recent years, however, the qualifications have

had to be relaxed due to the tendency for young men to move away to the cities. This

is especially true for the smaller neighborhoods. Some informants claim that a candidate

still must be the eldest son, but this does not seem to be so much a fixed rule as a result

of current circumstances-eldest sons being the most likely to remain in the town to

succeed their fathers as heads of their households. Some neighborhoods continue to

adhere to the condition that the individual be as yet unmarried, while others have been

obliged to drop this condition in order to ensure a sufficient number of candidates.

One criterion which continues to be strictly observed by all the neighborhoods is

that the position be taken by their native sons—those who were bom and raised in a

household within the neighborhood’s territory and who have committed themselves to

remaining there for the remainder of their lives—or at least returning after a period of

educational training or employment service in some other location.

It is not enough simply to have resided there, however; one must have been

actively involved in neighborhood affairs. Boys who grow up in the chonai begin to

participate in the matsuri at a very early age. Pre-schoolers are allowed to ride inside the 198 yatai vehicles on the lower level, while elementary school children help pull them through the streets. Middle schoolers learn to play the bamboo flute and drum, and later ride on the upper level of the yatai to provide the musical accompaniment. Those who remain in the neighborhood after graduating from high school join the ranks of the young men’s association (seinendan> and begin to participate in the okoshi daiko. In fact the young men’s association is largely responsible for manning the tsuke daiko in attacking the drum structure, and when their neighborhood is chosen to serve as shuji. the drum beaters are selected from their members alone.

As the young men marry and begin to raise families they will leave the ranks of the young men’s association. They may continue to participate in the tsuke daiko as long

as they feel able, and when their neighborhood is chosen shuji they will serve as members

of the rear guard or help shoulder the drum structure. As they grow older they may

eventually become shrine officers or assume positions of civic responsibility such as ward

chief, entitling them to ride upon the drum framework as part of the main guard, perhaps

one day even occupying the lead position as the sotsukasa.

Thus for male residents of Funikawa the matsuri becomes a vehicle for instilling

the concept of an age-graded hierarchy and fostering a strong sense of identity with and

responsibility for one’s home neighborhood. "From childhood they take part in the

matsuri over and over again, and through the matsuri deepen their understanding of

proper human relationships and affectionate attachment to their native place" (Furukawa-

chD Kanko KyOkai 1984:89). 199

The drum beaters are also expected to exhibit good character and maintain a reputation in the community for being fine, upstanding young men. Several informants

mentioned that tliey should also be of good family or lineage (iegaral. This is

understandable in that the character of an individual is so often linked with the reputation

of his or her household.

All other things being equal, it helps also to belong to a prominent household,

especially one whose current head is a shrine officer and perhaps rode upon the drum

himself as a young man. Few household memorabilia are so proudly displayed as a pair

of photographs of the okoshi daiko hanging side-by-side, one showing the father as a

drum beater and the one beside it the son; or perhaps a single photograph in which both

father and son appear-the son atop the drum as a drum beater and the father standing

upon the beams of the supporting framework as a member of the main guard.

Four drum beaters man the drum at one time, and there are five different shifts,

so twenty young men must be selected every year. Following the normal chain of

command, each taigumi within the shuji’s territory is assigned to provide a certain

number of drum beaters. The number varies with the size of the taigumi neighborhood.

Middle Ichinomachi, for example, is very small and is generally only required to supply

a single individual. Even so, due to the trend for young people to move out of town to

pursue an education or career in the city, providing even a single individual is becoming

increasingly difficult. For this reason Middle Ichinomachi has recently been obliged to

drop the restriction against allowing married men to serve as drum beaters. 200

Again, each taigumi follows its own selection process, and the procedure varies from one to another. As previously mentioned, Genbu-gumi consists of two component taigumi. and responsibility for providing the drum personnel rotates back and forth between them. The young men’s association within each taigumi selects the drum beaters

from among its own members and informs the taigumi leader who they will be. In other

groups the taigumi leader assumes a more active role, choosing the young men himself.

Byakko-gumi contains seven different taigumi. all of them somewhat limited in

size. In this case the responsibility is parcelled out among them, each being responsible

for selecting a few suitable young men from among its member households.

There is also the matter of deciding which of the young men will serve as top

beaters and which as side beaters. The position of top beater is much more highly visible

and is by far the more desirable of the two roles. In most of the taigumi the roles are

determined by drawing lots, and the participants must bide by the results of the drawing.

This is unfortunate for those who aspire to the top position but have to settle for the side

beater’s role, as serving as drum beater is generally considered a once-in-a-lifetime

opportunity and repeat performances are not allowed.

Mukaimachi is different, however. Their version of the young men’s association

is the SSgakubu-the group responsible for providing the sacred music and shishi dancing

linked with their role in operating the Kaguradai vehicle. In Mukaimachi the drum

beaters are drawn exclusively from the ranks of the SOgakubu. They are chosen by the

elder members of the group—veterans of many years experience who have previously

served atop the drum themselves. Selection is based on how faithfully the candidates 201 have attended group practice sessions and performances, and may thus be seen as a reward for faithful service. The senior members also decide which of the young men will

serve as top beaters and which as side beaters. In Mukaimachi, however, the taboo

against a repeat performance does not apply. Any member who is chosen as side beater

can expect to be assigned the top beater position when the neighborhood next becomes

shuji. Twenty members (five separate shifts with four drum beaters in each) must be

chosen each time, and the shuji responsibility comes round on an average of about every

four years. Thus any member who remains actively involved in the group can expect to

eventually ride atop the drum. Indeed, this is one of the main incentives for resident

males to join the Sogakubu and participate in its functions.

The role of drum beater is further differentiated in that, of the two top beaters,

the one facing toward the rear (where all the action takes place) is considered to be the

better position. This may derive in part from the fact that this is the position most

prominently featured in the photographs which appear in newspapers and posters

promoting the event. Also, the first shift-the one which kicks off the event at the

uchidashi—is considered more important than the others, though the shift which serves

during the pass through Ichinomachi is perhaps equally desirable. The front and back

positions as well as the shift membership are determined by drawing lots.

The wooden sticks used in striking the drum are specially made for that purpose

alone. Willow wood (yanagi no kil is used because it is strong yet lightweight and

flexible. It also possesses a whiteness which shows up nicely in the dark of night.

Willow trees grow wild alongside the Miya River, and each of the young men chosen as 202 drum beater is required to go there himself in search of an appropriate branch to be made into his own personal stick. He cuts the branch from a living tree, then takes it to a local woodworker to be dried. He then has the woodworker pare it down to approximately the right size and shape, then sands it smooth himself. The sticks are slightly curved, somewhat reminiscent of a wooden practice sword. The curvature makes for better contact with the leather drum head. The shaft is rounded and flares out a bit toward the striking end. White adhesive tape is wrapped around tlie other end to serve as a hand grip. When the event has ended the young men keep their sticks as valued mementos.

The drum beaters also have their hair cut short in a close-cropped crewcut style.

This type of haircut is often recognized in Japan as a demonstration of serious intent.

Veterans of the event almost without exception describe riding atop the drum as an awesome experience that cannot be truly understood or appreciated without firsthand

exposure. Upon being invited into a Furukawa home it is quite common to find proudly

displayed somewhere within it a large photograph of the okoshi daiko. Upon closer

inspection one may notice that the individual riding atop the drum on the end facing

toward the camera is none other than the host himself, appearing as a young man of

several years before. The photograph is a valued document of that one brief moment of

glory—that unforgetable experience that belongs only to a true son of Furukawa.

Hongakusai-The Main Event

The grand mikoshi procession leading the guardian deity through every

neighborhood traditionally took place on the next day—April 20. Over the years the town 203 has expanded such that the procession now has to begin on the afternoon of April 19 and continue on through the morning of April 21 in order to cover all of the shrine’s territory. Nevertheless, April 20 is still officially designated the ‘hongakusai.’ or "main event," and this actually represents the core of the matsuri as a religious phenomenon.

The other activities performed at the same time center around the neighborhood yatai festival wagons.

Providing the weather is favorable, each yatai emerges from its special storage garage at around 7:00 AM for an initial pass through its own neighborhood. A single drum beat repeated at intervals from inside the vehicle alerts the residents that it is passing by so they can come out to watch. In this instance there are no flutes or accompanying procession—only the yatai and the drum.

The yatai then head out in the direction of the tabisho where by 8:00 they all line

up along Lower Ichinomachi with the Kaguradai at the head and facing out toward the

side street where the mikoshi will emerge. The yatai originally accompanied the mikoshi

on its tour of the town. However, the lengthy procession was becoming increasingly

difficult to maneuver through the narrow streets and was also seen as causing excessive

wear to the precious vehicles. Eventually banners bearing the names of the yatai were

substituted for the vehicles themselves. Though the actual vehicles continue to assemble

before the tabisho to welcome the deity, they now merely stand in attention as the

mikoshi procession passes by, then at a command from the shuji set out on a brief pass

of their own through the center of town. 204

The yatai are cumbersome and difficult to maneuver. They are pulled by hand using a pair of heavy ropes leading out from the front. The solid wooden wheels are fixed on their axes and do not swivel to either side when the vehicles turn. Instead, each vehicle is equipped with a fifth, somewhat smaller side-facing wheel which is lowered

into place at the front, raising the forward wheels slightly off the ground and allowing

the whole vehicle to be swivelled around. A long pole is inserted into the front to serve

as a lever when performing this maneuver.

The parade turns the comer onto Oyokocho then makes another turn a short

distance away onto Ninomachi, the major commercial district. At this main intersection

formed by Oyokocho and Ninomachi the parade comes to a halt. The vehicles position

themselves so that Byakkodai, Kirintai, and Seiryutai all point in from different directions

toward the middle of the intersection. This is done to allow space for a crowd to gather

to witness the respective performances of the three vehicles. As previously mentioned,

both Kirintai and Seiryutai incorporate mechanical puppets, and the Byakkotai sponsors

the children’s kabuki. These are performed at the intersection once in the morning and

again in the early afternoon.

The mikoshi procession, meanwhile, continues where it left off the previous day.

The number of participants in the procession varies slightly from year to year, but totals

well over 300 individuals. The components of the procession are arranged in the

following order:

1. A drum on a wheeled cart guided by two men and beat by a third. 205

2. A banner indicating that the event has been designated an intangible folkloristic

cultural property fmukei minzoku bunkazaO by the Japanese govemmnet.

3. A sakaki tree in a wheeled cart pulled by two men.

4. Two "forerunners" tsenkuT

5. Six "procession monitors" tgyPretsu shinkükeiT

6. A banner bearing the name of Ketawakamiya Shrine.

7. Shishi musicians and dancers from Miyamoto-gumi.

8. Banners representing each of the neighborhood yatai (led by the Kaguradai, with

Sanbaso in second position).

9. The yatai shuji banner.

10. The Tokeiraku banner.

11. Sixty Tokeiraku performers.

12. Six adult Tokeiraku escorts.

13. The Tokeiraku leader.

14. Representatives from each of the chonai neighborhoods, with the number each

provides determined by population as follows:

Miyamoto-gumi: 4

Sakaemachi: 8

Mukaimachi: 14

Tonomachi: 16

Upper Ichninomachi: 1 206

Middle Ichinomachi; 1

Lower Ichinomachi: 6

Upper Ninomachi: 1

Middle Ninomachi: 2

Lower Ninomachi: 10

Upper Sannomachi: 2

Lower Sannomachi: 3

Total: 68

These individuals dress in the manner of the elite samurai class during the

Tokugawa period, with kamishimo mantles worn over their formal montsuke

kimono. They are referred to as ‘keigo’ ("guard" or "escort") and are seen as a

kind of advanced guard.

15. Thirteen shrine maidens (miko).

16. Four female shrine dancers (maihime).

17. Seventeen gagaku musicians.

18. Banners representing sun and moon.

19. Fourteen kagura musicians.

20. Banners representing the Suzaku and Byakko okoshi daiko groups.

21. Two standard bearers.

22. Three offering collectors.

23. Another shrine banner. 207

24. The mikoshi. pulled by twenty men dressed in white robes called ‘hanten’ of the

type worn by religious pilgrims. These men are the "dangerous year" attendants

(yakudoshi hOshiinT so-called because they are forty-two years of age, as

previously described.

25. Yet another shrine banner.

26. A halberd bearer.

27. Two standard bearers.

28. Banners representing the Seiryïï and Gembu okoshi daiko groups.

29. The head priest of Ketawakamiya Shrine.

30. The priest’s attendants, one carrying a large red umbrella to shield the priest from

tlie sun, the other carrying a folding stool for the priest to sit on when the

procession is stationary.

31. The ujiko leaders, wearing kamishimo.

32. The banner of the director of sacred rites fshinji torishimarif.

33. Sixteen taigumi leaders and shrine representatives, wearing kamishimo.

34. An offering box on a wheeled cart pulled by two men.

35. A cart containing folding stools for the neighborhood representatives and shrine

officers to sit on when the procession is stationary, pulled by two men.

As the procession approaches, the townspeople emerge from their homes to sprinkle a line of salt before the deity. Branch segments are then drawn from the main line to the entrances of houses and shops lining the way. This is intended both to purify the deity’s path and entice its sacred presence into their homes. 208

)ints along the way so that a brief prayer and offerings can be made on behalf of the local residents. The procession is so long that a man with a radio must walk beside the mikoshi to inform the head of the procession when to stop. The town elders in their formal attire sit on folding chairs carried along in a cart by attendants.

At each stop a small crowd of local residents gathers. Some of the people bring offerings of rice piled high on a tray. Others offer money in the customary white envelopes bound with the red-and-white ribbon used on auspicious occasions such as this.

Many employ a combination of both rice and money, sticking the envelopes itito the pile of rice.

A priest collects the trays and places them on the front of the mikoshi. which

becomes a sort of mobile altar. Another priest waves a sakaki branch before the altar,

then over the bowed heads of the assembled crowd. Then the head priest steps forward

and prays to the deity for the protection of the people. The people are invited to clap

twice in unison, then bow their heads again in silent prayer.

The kagura music strikes up anew and the procession moves on to the next stop.

The offerings of rice and money are poured together into a large bag pulled along behind

in a cart and the trays handed back to their owners. Young men walk along beside with

collection baskets to accept contributions along the way. The whole event thus becomes

a combination sacred rite and collection drive for the shrine. Some of the people offer

sake as well-usually two bottles wrapped together in white paper. 209

The fact that offerings are made in the form of either rice or sake rather than simple monetary contributions indicates some deeper symbolic meaning. Rice, of course, was the form in which contributions were traditionally made-indeed the standard currency used in any form of payment. Yet I was consistently told by informants that households which grow rice offer rice to the deity, while those who do not give money instead. Offering rice is therefore akin to returning some of the fruits of the harvest.

In the event of rain the procession is canceled. Offerings are received at each of

the designated stopping places and later collected by the shrine officers.

While the mikoshi procession is in progress, members of Mukaimachi’s Sogakubu

make a tour of their own. This is called the ‘machi mawashi.’ or "going around town."

At about 8:30 on the morning of April 19, shortly after returning from the shrine with

the bunrei. a band of flute players and several pairs of shishi dancers go door to door

performing the shishimai and accepting contributions. The Kaguradai is pulled along

behind. This will continue for the rest of the day until all of Mukaimachi has been

covered. The following day they will expand out into other areas of the town, though

the Kaguradai will be elsewhere involved in the yatai activities.

The contributions received by the Sogakubu in this manner are used to purchase

equipment as well as food and drink for the practice sessions the following year. All of

the participants receive a share of the proceeds as well.

’’I was also told by priests and laymen alike that people who depend upon agriculture for their subsistence offer rice to the deity, while people who depend upon the sea offer fish. It could perhaps by extension be said that people who depend upon commerce offer money. 210

Normally two tunes are played: one for performing the brief shishi dance at the entranceways of homes lining the street and the other for advancing to the next location.

In some cases, however, a third tune is used to accompany a somewhat longer shishi dance. This occurs at special locations such as the small shrines dedicated to the fire deity, each neighborhood’s central meeting place, and of course the tabisho.

Significantly, however, the longer version is also performed in front of prominent

households like Honda, Kaba, and Watanabe. The explanation I received was simply that

these were former landlord households and therefore entitled to special treatment.

There is a parallel here in the conduct of the mikoshi procession. Though the

designated stopping places and prescribed order for arriving at them change from year

to year, the mikoshi always comes to a halt directly in front of these prominent former

landlord households. This is even more significant considering that Kaba and Watanabe

are located so closely together along the same section of the route, yet the procession

makes a special stop for each of them.

The mikoshi procession eventually returns to the tabisho and the deity is

reinstalled in the same manner as the day before. At this point the head of the parish

delegates informs the shuji that he may send the yatai home. At his command the

vehicles disperse, each heading back toward its home neighborhood while the young

people inside play the "Hikiwakare" tune, bidding each other farewell until the following

year.

It must be noted that there are very few onlookers at the ceremonies performed

at the shrine and mostly local residents gathered along the procession route to greet the 211 kami. These are not tourist events but rituals of a purely religious significance. The parade of yatai and okoshi daiko. on the other hand, have become a combination of both, and in recent years the tourist aspect appears to have become the major priority.

Returning tlie Sacred Presence

Though most of the events are performed on April 19 and 20, the matsuri does not officially conclude until April 21 when the deity is returned to Ketawakamiya shrine.

Before this can happen, however, the two divided portions of the spirit must be reunited so that both can be returned together to the shrine. At around 7:30 AM the Sogakubu members line up outside their public meeting hall to escort their portion of the spirit back across the river to the tabisho. where it will be placed with the other portion inside the mikoshi. A man holding the gohei to which the spirit is attached emerges from the building and a shishi dance is performed before it. The procession follows the same form

as two days before when the spirit was brought down from the shrine—again accompanied

by drums and flutes playing the sacred kagura music. Along the way some of the

residents come out to watch from their doorways and respectfully bow as it passes.

When the procession arrives at the tabisho. the Mukaimachi contingent performs

a shishi dance. Then with the drums settling into a regular one-two, one-two cadence and

the flutes going into a prolonged trill as is customary when the deity is being transferred,

the head priest removes the talisman from the gohei and places it inside the mikoshi. The

musicians return to the original melody and bring their performance to a close. 212

From this point the dancers and musicians from Miyamoto-gumi take over, for it is they who will escort the mikoshi back up to the shrine. They too begin by performing a shishi dance in front of the mikoshi. Then the vehicle is rolled out of the tabisho and the procession assembles around it, setting out on the final leg of its circuit through town to cover the areas not reached during the previous two days.

When the course has been completed the procession heads back toward the shrine, arriving at around 11:00 AM. The deity is reinstalled in the shrine, following a series of rites similar to that used when it was placed in the mikoshi. but in reverse order.

Again representatives of each group of shrine officers present a sakaki branch before the

altar. This time, however, the political administrative officials (mayor, chief of police

and fire departments, school principals, etc.) do not attend. The Sakaemachi contingent

perform their circular tokeiraku movements on the grounds directly in front of the shrine.

Miyamoto-gumi does yet another shishi dance, and the matsuri is officially over.

Follow-Up Activities

On the same day—April 21—the residents of each neighborhood busy themselves

with cleaning and putting away all the equipment used during the matsuri. The yatai are

inspected for damages and made ready for storage. The neighborhood in charge of the

okoshi daiko disassembles the huge rectangular drum structure and returns the drum to

Ketawakamiya Shrine. 213

In the afternoon the parish leaders visit the shrine, and a feast is held in gratitude for their services. This is referred to as ‘yamayuki’ ("going to the mountains"), as it was originally held outdoors in the hills adjacent to the shrine.

The townspeople used to hold a gathering of their own known as the ‘atofuki.’ or

"wiping up afterwards." In the days before everyone had refrigerators there was a problem with what to do with all the leftover food, so they used to gather it up and take it out to the mountains for a picnic under the cherry trees. The custom has been declining in recent decades as so many of the townspeople are employed outside the home

and cannot afford to take the extra time away from work. It is still observed by

Mukaimachi’s Sogakubu, however, as well as a few small groups of related households.

On the afternoon of April 22 some of the shrine officers meet in Kaba’s sake

brewery to "count the rice" fkome o kazoeruT As previously described, donations of

rice, money, and even a few bottles of sake are collected from the townspeople during

the mikoshi procession. The rice and money have been thrown together into the same

bag and must first be separated. The officers empty the contents of the bags into sorting

boxes with wire mesh screens in the bottom, shaking the boxes back and forth over large

steel vats. As the rice sifts through, the envelopes containing cash donations emerge,

finally lying in a pile on the wire mesh. A few random coins appear as well. All the

money is placed in boxes and taken to the office upstairs to be counted. The rice is

scooped up and poured into 30-kilogram bags. Each is weighed to make sure it holds the

right amount and then tied shut. The rice will later be sold and the money put into the 214 shrine treasury. The sake will be used during ceremonial occasions and following meetings of the shrine officers.

The shuji neighborhood generally holds a meeting about two weeks after the matsuri to discuss how the event proceeded and make suggestions for improving it when their turn comes round again. This is called the "hanseikai” (review or reconsideration

meeting).

As might be expected, serving as shuji places a considerable financial burden on the chosen neighborhood group. In 1991, the total cost for Mukaimachi was 1,110,145

yen. The shrine provides the shuji neighborhood with 400,000 ygn. The rest must come

ifom contributions by individual households. During the matsuri the name of each

household and the amount of its contribution are posted on a board at the kaisho for

public inspection.

Yobihiki and Women’s Participation

It is obvious from the foregoing account that participation in the public rituals

contained in the matsuri is dominated by males. With the exception of the young girls

who dance before the altar at the ceremonial offering to the deity and who then

accompany tlie mikoshi down into town, females are generally relegated to the role of

assisting the male members of their households. When the okoshi daiko gumi to which

they belong is chosen shuji. they may walk along with their children and elderly

neighbors as part of the procession of paper lanterns which leads the way before the drum 215 structure. Other than this their involvement in the ritual aspects of the matsuri is largely restricted to passive observation.

There is another side to the matsuri. however—that which takes place within the home and is thus beyond the public view. It relates to the custom of yobihiki-inviting relatives, friends, and business relations at matsuri time to partake of a lavish feast normally held in the evening. Individual households schedule their feasts for either April

19, to coincide with the okoshi daiko. or April 20, after the yatai procession has ended.

The guest list varies from household to household. In some it consists mostly of friends

and relatives; in others work-related acquaintances.

The custom is said to have originated as a celebration of the coming of spring and

an opportunity to reestablish contact with friends and relatives after a long period of

isolation imposed by the winter weather. As the term ‘yobihiki’ (literally

"calling/pulling") itself suggests, prosperous households tried to draw as many guests as

possible, the number of guests serving as a rough measure of the social prominence of

the host household. The less affluent, too, would sponsor some kind of feast, relying

upon the wild mountain vegetables tsansait they had picked and preserved the year before

to round out the fare. It is still customary in Hida households to serve the traditional

sansai during special occasions, particularly at matsuri time. Due to the widespread

prosperity, however, today’s feasts are far more sumptuous, and include many delicacies

ordered from local catering establishments.

Feasting at matsuri time is common for communities all over the Hida region.

A reciprocal relationship exists whereby the head of the host household is expected to 216 attend similar feasts sponsored by each of his guests when their own community festivals are being performed. Each household keeps a schedule of local festivals and the people whose feasts they are obliged to attend. The spring and autumn festival seasons are thus times of concentrated social activity, and heads of well-connected households are kept very busy moving from place to place, perhaps staying only long enough to offer a few words of appreciation and exchange a cup of sake with the host before moving on to the next stop.

With improvements in transportation and communications facilities, the local people have been able to extend their network of interpersonal relations over much larger

areas, and guests may now be invited from considerable distances away. It is also

common for households whose heads are engaged in the commercial sector to invite some

of their business associates—perhaps a superior from the main office in one of the major

cities. Such special guests are given the place of honor at the head of the long table upon

which all the food is spread.

The women are kept very busy cleaning the house and preparing the food, then

acting as hostess when their guests arrive, so there is little time to enjoy the festivities

going on outside the home. In fact some of the women look forward to the annual

matsuri with something less than eager anticipation due to all the extra work it

involves.'® There is little in the way of compensation, though most of them say they

‘®A common greeting among Furukawa women as the matsuri approaches is "Isn’t this matsuri ghastly?" (matsuri wa kowai. naal. 217 enjoy the opportunity to meet their friends and relatives, and that when their guests are happy, they themselves are happy too.

The atofuki picnic on April 21 was at one time seen partly as a reward for the women for working so hard during the matsuri—allowing them to spend a relaxing afternoon with their families and friends under the blossoming cherry trees. As mentioned above, this custom has been rapidly declining in recent years due to a dramatic increase in the number of women employed outside the home who are unable to arrange for the additional time off (Furukawa-cho Kankü Kyükai 1984:170).

As previously described, Furukawa neighborhoods are broken down into ku

(wards) and then into groups of contiguous households called tonarigumi. Each of the

tonarigumi elects a leader tkumichol to serve for one year, the responsibility rotating

from household to household. The position calls for distributing information and

collecting money by going door to door. Women are more closely integrated into the

neighborhood communication network, as the men are away at work much of the time.

It is common, then, for women to be designated as tonarigumi leader. Significantly,

however, when the ward chief calls his constituents together to distribute roles for the

matsuri. it is not the tonarigumi leaders themselves who attend but rather their husbands.

The women explain, with no apparent expression of bitterness, that men assume the

"important tasks" (daiji na kotol. After the planning meetings, they add, the men stay

on and drink, and it would be considered unusual and improper for women to attend.

All this serves to illustrate some important points. It first indicates that the role

of tonarigumi leader is assumed not by the individual but by the household-that the 218 individual acts merely as a representative of the household. It also provides further evidence that the public rituals contained in the matsuri are considered part of the males’ domain. Finally, it illustrates once again that the matsuri receives special emphasis as an "important" event.

The gender-based division of labor is thus reinforced through participation in the

matsuri. The men dominate the public rituals as representatives of their households or

neighborhood groups, while the women are largely confined to managing the domestic

sphere. Women native to the Hida region say that they accept this condition without

complaint because they have grown accustomed to it from the time they were children.

Women who marry into the area from outside, on the other hand, especially if they come

from the urban areas, are said to have trouble making the adjustment.

There is one aspect of the matsuri to which females have gained entrance. Girls

were at one time prohibited from riding in their neighborhood yatai. However, in recent

years some of the smaller chonai have been obliged to allow the girls to paiticipate. This

is related more to the shinking population-the fact that there is no longer a sufficient

number of boys to carry on the tradition—than to an interest in encouraging gender

equality. The girls now learn to play the flute and drum-once a strictly male activity-

and ride on the upper level of their yatai to help provide the musical accompaniment.

Transition

The matsuri is performed on a scale which mobilizes the collective efforts of a

majority of the townspeople for a period of several weeks. Most of the residents are 219 engaged in regular employment which does not cease during the matsuri. so all the additional planning and preparation required of them at matsuri time creates a considerable burden. However, the extra work is accompanied by all tlie excitement which the event generates, tlie opportunity to interact with other members of the community, and the pride of participating in a fine old tradition. In the words of one of my key informants, "After the matsuri is over I breathe a sigh of relief. Then I start looking forward to the next one."

Following my own participation in the matsuri I was told by several of the local people that 1 had now become a full-fledged resident of Furukawa. While such comments undoubtedly contain a considerable element of flattery, they nevertheless serve to underline the fact that participation in the matsuri defines membership in the

community. Participation may thus be seen as an annual reaffirmation of communal

identity.

Yet it is obvious from the foregoing account that the Furukawa matsuri has also

become a popular tourist spectacle. This is particularly true of the okoshi daiko-which

might be seen as Furukawa’s one big claim to regional notoriety. The ritual itself,

however, dates well back into the past when the town was still rather isolated. In those

days it was staged solely by and for the townspeople themselves. To return to a question

posed at the beginning of this study, what factors led to its development and what

significance did it have for the local people? The following chapter will present evidence

to test the hypothesis that the okoshi daiko emerged during Japan’s modernizing period

as a symbolic expression of opposition toward the local elite and the imposition of 220 authority by the central government. This possibility is supported by several historical incidents in which the ritual erupted into acts of vandalism against wealthy landlords and outright attacks upon the police headquarters. CHAPTER V

THE MATSURI: HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENT

The Matsuri in 1870

Considering the many haditional elements it contains, one might assume that the

Furukawa matsuri has been passed on virtually unchanged from the time of its inception to the present day. Indeed, one of the most frequently cited reasons for continuing to perform the festival year after year is the desire to faithfully transmit local traditions to

succeeding generations. In reality, however, the festival in its present form is the product

of an ongoing developmental process with several major alterations taking place along the

way.

In 1869, prefectural governor Miyahara Minoru commissioned Tomita Ayahiko

to conduct a general inventory of the entire Hida region. The results were published in

the Hida Gofudoki (Updated Geographical Description of Hida), issued in 1874. This

document contains a detailed inventory of cultural as well as natural resources, and

includes a lengthy description of the Furukawa matsuri. In compiling his inventory,

Tomita relied upon information contributed by local residents, and his description of the

matsuri was taken almost verbatim from a previously existing document entitled Fudo

Kakiage Cho (Written Geographical Register), which is attributed to Kaba Masamura

221 222

(Furukawa-cho 1984:11, 655-656). Kaba’s account is dated the Third Month' of 1870, and was thus based on observations of the matsuri made prior to that year. It therefore provides us with a glimpse of the Furukawa matsuri as it existed at the time of the

Umemura Rebellion. The following is a direct translation of Tomita’s (1968:399-400) version. Any divergence from Kaba’s original account will be noted therein.

The guardian deity is housed in Sugimoto Shrine, located in Kamikita Village. Shrine precinct: Furukawa and its environs—the visiting dignitaries quarters, Naka no Tomari,^ Machiura,^ and the downtown area. Shrine building.* The annual festival is Eighth Month, Fifth, Sixth, and Seventh Days. Records in Kamikita. The religious rites are every year Eighth Month, Fifth and Sixth Days. The shrine precinct also includes Kamikita Village, its rice paddies, and Uchiwada in Yamamoto Village. The Fifth Day is called the shigaku (preliminary festivities), while the day of the religious rites [the Sixth Day] is called the hongaku (main event). There is a procession of yatai much the same as during the spring and autumn festivals in Takayama. A day or two before, the festival banners are raised at the entrances to streets and alleys. Below them a votive fire is lit and pine trees erected. On the day of the shigaku. each man helps pull his yatai through town, then back to his own neighborhood for a display of artistic dancing. This is performed atop a stage extending out from the middle level of the yatai. The dances change every year and consist of famous excerpts from kabuki plays. The performers are children of about ten years of age. Then at dawn on the day of the hongaku the beating of a drum resonates as it circles through

'At this time dates were reckoned by the old lunar calendar, so the months were not strictly comparable to those employed by the western system. For this reason I have chosen to designate the months using a direct translation from the Japanese-"First Month," "Second Month," "Third Month," for example instead of "January," "February," and "March," respectively.

^A place name meaning "middle lodging."

^A place name meaning "back of the town. "

*The preceding was added by Tomita. Kaba’s description begins here. 223 town. This is called the "okoshi daiko. With the first glimmer of day the mikoshi is shouldered, originating from Kamikita Village, circling tlie residence for visiting dignitaries (a custom remaining from the time when the Kanamoris’ castle stood there) then heading on into town.® Before the mikoshi enters the tabisho the yatai are pulled from all over town and assembled there to meet it. Soon the dances performed the day before begin anew. Included among them are puppet performances [apparently referring to the karakuri ningyO). The order of yatai always begins with the SanbasD, the remaining sequence rotating annually. In final position is the nengypji (that year’s acting referee).’ The day before, two government officials arrive from Takayama to make sure that no disturbances occur. They are called "bugyo" (magistrates). For the remainder of the day the yatai are pulled through the various neighborhoods in town. As evening approaches lanterns are hurriedly attached, then from the section of town where the procession ends they each depart for their home neighborhoods. This is known as the "hikiwakare" (pulling away). The mikoshi is accompanied by town leaders, one on each of the four sides, wearing hempen over mantles and bearing standards. It is preceded by young men from Kamikita Village wearing shishi masks, who dance along to the rhythm of flutes, drums, and small cymbals. The shrine officials walk along behind as the procession makes its way around town, then returns back up to the shrine on Higashi Hill. The mikoshi is both met and seen off by the town officials. The main thoroughfares are swept clean, then purified using piles of sand and strewn earth, and a bucket of water is placed at every home. Members of the fire brigade patrol the town day and night in shifts. The chief dons a soldier’s helmet and haon® and walks bravely along carrying a ladle, fan, hook, bucket, standard, and other fire fighting equipment. On the evening of the Fifth and likewise on the Sixth every household lights a paper lantern, and to see them all lit up in a row is

®Kaba adds that the okoshi daiko "sets out from the neighborhood (cho) of that year’s acting referee tnengyoji. a term equivalent to the present ‘ shuji’V (Furukawa-cho 1984:655).

®Kaba adds that the mikoshi "customarily sets out from the shrine on the Fifth Day, but the location of the tabisho is not fixed so the specific route varies with the year" (Furukawa-cho 1984:655).

’Kaba adds that the nengyoji "directs all aspects of the matsuri for that year. The yatai immediately following the SanbasO goes to last position the following year. Pulling them through town also follows an established order which changes annually."

*A short jacket made of thick cotton cloth worn over work clothes. 224

quite beautiful. In the evening the government officials visit Sugimoto Shrine and on the morning of the seventh return to Takayama. That same day the men and women of Furukawa go together to visit the shrine. This is always a boisterous occasion.

Yatai names SanbasO: Upper Ichinomachi—leads the procession every year Byakkodai: Lower Sannomachi Seiryntai: Tonomachi Hootai: Ichinomachi nichüme, sanchome Kirintai: Ichinomachi yonchSme SeiyOtai: Upper Sannomachi Ryutekitai: Ninomachi yonchome Suzakutai: Mukaimachi Kinkitai: Ninomachi nichome, sanchome

This was the order in Meiji 3 (1870). The yatai are lined up in an established order. Each year the one occupying the final position is designated acting referee and is responsible for directing all of the festival proceedings. The one immediately behind the SanbasO becomes acting referee the following year.’®

The general form of the matsuri in 1870 appears to have been much the same as in the present day. On closer examination, however, a number of significant differences emerge. One of the most obvious is that the matsuri at that time was held in early autumn. The East Asian "Eighth Month" is usually translated ‘August.’ However, the old lunar calendar in use at that time began in early February by the western (Gregorian) calendar, pushing the date of the matsuri into the first part of September. The Furukawa matsuri. in other words, used to be held just prior to the rice harvest rather than as a prelude to spring transplanting as it is today.

®This final portion was added by Tomita to Kaba’s description.

’®In other words, the order rotated forward one position each year, and when a yatai reached the position directly behind the SanbasO it returned to the rear of the line-up and became the acting referee. 225

The 1870 description notes that on the day of the main event the yatai would gather at the tabisho to meet the mikoshi. It then describes both yatai and mikoshi being hauled around town. In fact, the visit of the mikoshi and the yatai parade were at that time combined in a single grand procession. They were not conducted as separate events as they are in today’s matsuri. Indeed, this has been the nature of the matsuri until only fairly recently, when it was decided that dragging the precious old vehicles all over town was causing too much wear, and flags bearing their names were substituted for the yatai themselves.

It is also apparent that the lottery ceremony for determining the order of yatai had not yet been implemented. Instead, the vehicles followed a yearly rotation, with the exception of the Sanbasü whose position was fixed at the head of the procession.

As is apparent from the list of vehicles included at the end of Tomita’s description, Mukaimachi at that time sponsored only an ordinary yatai. It had not yet assumed its special role of performing the sacred kagura music and leading the way before the deity.

The presence of government officials from Takayama as described in the 1870 version acknowledges the fact that Furukawa was politically subordinate to the larger

town. Furukawa is no longer under the administrative control of Takayama, so obviously

there is no reason for such official representation in the present day. Neither does the

fire brigade join the procession as it did in 1870.

But perhaps the most salient discrepancy lies in the nature of the okoshi daiko.

which is mentioned only briefly, almost in passing: the beating of a single drum can be 226 heard resonating tlrrough town at dawn, just prior to the main events. There is no mention of a huge wooden framework with several men riding atop, being lugged through the streets by a mass of bearers; no grand procession leading the way before it; no chonai teams vying with one another for position and advancing upon the great drum from behind as there are in today’s event.

Interestingly enough, however, the present-day okoshi daiko is by all accounts much more subdued than the prewar version. Indeed, during the mid-Meiji period the neighborhood tsuke daiko teams used to charge toward the great drum intent on toppling it over. Several times the authorities attempted to ban such behavior, only to be defied by the townspeople. Fighting among the participants was commonplace and random acts of vandalism not infrequent (Ono 1973b:4, 1976a:3). This so-called ritual, in other words, was more on the order of a genuine brawl (Furukawa-cho Kanko Kyokai 1984:80-

81). But nowhere in the 1870 account is there any indication of the violent confrontation, the raucous unruly event it later became.

Apparently, then, at some time during the late 1800s, a relatively minor and benign feature called the okoshi daiko began to assume a strange new significance. What

caused its transformation? What conditions led to its emergence as a forum for

expressing wild, unruly behavior-the very epitome of the defiant attitude known as

Furukawa yancha? I will attempt to demonstrate that the okoshi daiko emerged as a

symbolic expression of opposition against the exploitative tendencies of wealthy landlords

and the imposition of authority by the central government into local affairs. 227

Early Development

Though its exact origins are unknown, the Furukawa matsuri undoubtedly derives from folk beliefs relating to the local mountain deities. As previously mentioned, the forested mountains provided many of the raw materials necessary for subsistence, including irrigation water, wild vegetables and game, fertilizer, fodder, and wood for fuel and building materials. Deities (kami) were believed to reside there as well—a symbolic acknowledgment of the importance of mountain resources to the sustenance of the community below. The local mountain deity tyama no kamP was believed to descend from the mountains to the rice paddies just prior to the spring planting, remaining there until harvest time in the autumn to ensure a bountiful crop. Festivals were held in the

spring to welcome the deity and pray for a successful growing season and again in the

autumn to give thanks for the harvest and send the deity on its way back to the mountains

until the following year.

With the development of more highly integrated communities, the yama no kami

came to be associated with the concept of a local guardian deity (ujigamiT Local rulers

customarily placed a shrine to the northeast of their headquarters as protection against evil

spirits, which were believed to originate from that direction. In fact the northeast was

commonly referred to as the ‘kimon.’ written with two characters meaning "demon gate. "

Recall from Chapter Three that a branch of the Anegakoji family had built a castle on the

opposite side of the Miya River in the proximity of what is now Takano hamlet. A

shrine was built to the northeast of the castle in the area known as Koreshige-now part

of Mukaimachi. The guardian deity enshrined therein was known as Sugimoto 228

Daimyojin." It is in honor of Sugimoto that the forerunner of the Furukawa matsuri was originally performed.

When the Kanamori warlords took over tlie Hida region during the latter half of the 16th century, they coopted native folk beliefs and religious symbolism to help legitimate their administrative control over the local population. The Kanamoris had the old Anegakoji fortress razed, and built themselves a new castle on Masushima Plain.

Coincidentally, there already existed a small shrine on Sakakigaoka-a hill directly to the northeast of the new castle—so the Sugimoto deity was moved there. The shrine had been

called ‘Ketawakamiya,’ but the Kanamoris changed the name to Sugimoto Daimyojin to

affirm that they were retaining the community’s former guardian deity as their own.

Sugimoto was thus transformed into the guardian deity of the new castle town, and the

annual matsuri became a communal celebration as well as a religious event, symbolically

affirming the sociopolitical order established by the Kanamoris. The transition from

village to castle town, therefore, was accompanied by a fundamental change in the

underlying significance of the matsuri.

Recall that in 1692 the Kanamoris were transferred to the northeast, and Hida was

placed under the direct administration of the Tokugawa regime. Many of the local

religious traditions were retained, however, including the observance of shrine festivals

directed toward the resident guardian deities.

"’Sugimoto’ means literally "base of the cryptomeria. " ‘Daimyojin’ is a common appellation for the names of Shinto deities. 229

The central feature of these events was an annual excursion made by the deity from its place of enshrinement to visit the community below. In Takayama, which functioned as the Tokugawa regime’s administrative headquarters for the Hida region, this annual visit developed into a grand and stately procession accompanied by the ornate wooden festival wagons called yatai. This became a popular spectacle and the custom

soon spread to Furukawa as well. Again, Furukawa, in its subordinate position, became

the passive recipient of cultural influences which, like the waters of the Miya River,

flowed downstream from the regional capital.

The yatai assembled to lead the procession through town, then passed in review

before a small contingent of administrative officials from Takayama. These were the

‘bugyn’ alluded to in the passage above. While the alleged reason for the visit was to

pay their respects at the local shrine, it is clear from Tomita’s account that these officials

possessed the jural authority to control disturbances. Thus the review of yatai may be

interpreted as a symbolic acknowledgment of their political power, much in the manner

of a military parade or inspection of troops. Actual direction of the festivities, however,

was at that time assumed by the local headman.

The first reliable evidence of a yatai in Furukawa appears in 1776 with the

construction of the Kinkitai by Middle Ninomachi. The other yatai are believed to have

originated during the next several years (Kuwahara 1989:17). Yatai building in

Furukawa thus coincided with the Ohara rebellions of 1771-1781. Yamamoto (1986)

suggests that in Takayama the wealthy danna households sponsored yatai construction as

a way to keep the peasants’ minds off rebellion. This can be seen as part of a clever 230 divide-and-rule strategy which encouraged peasants to identify upward toward the apex of the social hierarchy rather than horizontally toward other members of the same socioeconomic class. By joining in cooperative ventures such as the building of yatai the landlords hoped to engender a sense of communal solidarity, drawing attention away from their privileged positions. The yatai thus became a collective representation of neighborhood identity and (literally) a vehicle for competing with other neighborhoods.

It was the impressive yatai accompanying the mikoshi in a grand parade which at that time received all the attention. The okoshi daiko. if it existed at all, must have been considered a rather insignificant event. A passage from a 1782 travelogue by haiku poet

Hayashi Takamura describes a procession of nine yatai during the main event (the Sixth

Day of the Eighth Month), but no mention is made of the okoshi daiko. Perhaps the drum did make its rounds but was not deemed worthy of special mention (Ono 1973b:4).

The origin of the okoshi daiko remains a topic of local conjecture. Uncertainty

is compounded by attempts to project the ritual far back into the past, thereby endowing

it with the sense of awe associated with a time-honored tradition. In fact one informant

claimed the event was over a thousand years old. Popular opinion on its origin appears

to be divided between two well-known explanations. Both relate to the fact that the

matsuri formerly began during the early pre-dawn hours.

The first explanation maintains that a large drum was carried through the streets

just before dawn, its purpose being to sound the alert that the matsuri was about to begin

and that participants should ready themselves. Each neighborhood then used its own

drum to awaken every constituent household within its home territory. As dawn broke 231 the main drum would withdraw and the day’s festivities would begin with the yatai gathering to escort the deity on its journey through town. In time, however, the passing by of the drum itself became an important event, with the various neighborhood groups competing to be the first to complete the circuit through their home territories. These individual neighborhood drums allegedly became what we now know as the tsuke daiko.

This explanation is supported by the name of the event itself (recall that okoshi daiko’ means "rousing drum"). It is also congruent with the written evidence, particularly the 1870 account of the matsuri. which, again, mentions that "at dawn on the day of the hongaku the beating of a drum resonates as it circles through town. This is called the okoshi daiko. ’ It sets out from the neighborhood of that year’s acting referee"

(Furukawa-cho 1984:655).

A competing theory begins with the premise that the shrine was once surrounded

by dense forest which served as a haven for fierce animals such as wild boar and wolf.

On their way to the shrine to escort the deity back into their settlement, the villagers used

to beat a large drum to frighten the animals away. A variation on this story adds that one

particular neighborhood was responsible for leading the procession while the other

neighborhood groups vied against one another to be next in line, and this action

eventually gave birth to the tsuke daiko.

Ono (1973b:4) considers this latter "wild animal" version a rather absurd idea

which first began to circulate sometime during the early Shüwa period. Even so, it has

crept into the local folklore and now enjoys fairly wide acceptance. The original version

describing the okoshi daiko as a kind of community-wide wake-up call is far more 232 plausible, though it does not explain why the neighborhood groups began attacking the main drum with such obvious fervor.

The use of a drum circulating through the community to announce the beginning of an important event is by no means unique to Furukawa. It can still be seen, in fact, prior to the opening of every sumo tournament and is referred to as a ‘fore daiko. ’ or

"shaking drum"-the original purpose being to shake up or rouse the townspeople ("machi o fureru'l to turn out in support of the event. The drum itself is a large, shallow-bodied

affair suspended from a wooden beam which is shouldered by two men-one in front and

the other behind-while a third man walks alongside with sticks to beat out a distinctive

rhythm.

Such drums at one time appeared in matsuri throughout central Japan. Some were

even called "okoshi daiko." just as the one in Furukawa. Indeed, Takayama employed

an okoshi daiko of its own until 1919. Nagakura (1988:18) explains that it functioned

much like a weather bulletin, informing the people that it was safe to bring their splendid

yatai out into the open air. It is likely, therefore, that Furukawa borrowed the okoshi

daiko in its original form from Takayama along with the custom of displaying yatai

during the matsuri.

The okoshi daiko in Takayama was eventually abandoned when it no longer served

a useful purpose. In other areas, however, the custom has managed to survive into the

present day. There are okoshi daiko at the spring matsuri of Yatsuo in Toyama

Prefecture and Nagahama in Shiga Prefecture, as well as the remote mountain village of

Kamitakara not far from Furukawa. All are performed in the early predawn hours as a 233 preliminary to the main events, ostensibly for the purpose of rousing the participants.

Judging from the 1870 account, the okoshi daiko in Furukawa appears to have been very much the same.

In short, a similar custom was at one time being employed in several different locations. In some places it was eventually abandoned, while in others it has survived

largely unchanged to present day. But in Furukawa it evolved into a rebellious

demonstration of power by the common people. I will attempt to explain this

transformation as a ritual response to concurrent social, economic, and political

developments.

The first written evidence of the okoshi daiko in Furukawa appears in an 1831

document entitled ‘Teishiki’ ("established form") which prescribes the manner in which

the matsuri is to be conducted. It is signed by Nakamura Zenbei, who at the time was

serving as headman tkumigashiral for Sannomachi san chome.

References to other drums appear in so-called "ritual form" (gishikil regulations

beginning in 1855. At this time there was no special drum designated as the focal point

of the ritual as there is today. Rather, each neighborhood taigumi had a drum of its own,

and when its turn came to serve as shuji that neighborhood would use its own drum in

performing the okoshi daiko.

It appears at this point, however, that representatives of the other taigumi had

begun trailing along after the shuji with their own drums. These additional drums may

be seen as early precursors to the tsuke daiko. though the documentary evidence by no

means implies the kind of aggressive tactics they later employed. 234

Exactly what these other drums were trying to achieve is not clear from the written evidence. The records do indicate, however, that attempts were made by the authorities to limit participation to the shuji alone. Regulations issued in 1858 state clearly that only one drum—that of the shuji—is authorized to make the rounds, and is to set out precisely at the break of dawn (Ono 1973b:4).

Efforts to control the event are further indicated by the introduction of the signing ceremony (choinshikil in 1846. Representatives from each of the neighborhood taigumi

were required every year to sign and affix their stamps to a document describing the

proper conduct of yatai during the mikoshi procession. A contractual agreement was

apparently deemed necessary to prevent any deviation from the prescribed order.

This, then, was the condition of the Furukawa matsuri during the mid-18(K)s, just

prior to the Meiji Restoration. Thereafter the matsuri was drawn into a symbolic struggle

between sociopolitical factions and became an arena for expressing conflicting points of

view. This, I will argue, is an example of the common people employing what Scott

(1990) has described as the "arts of resistance."

Restoration Politics and Religious Symbolism

Since the mid-Edo period, scholars belonging to an intellectual movement known

as ‘Kokugaku.’ or "National Learning," had been endeavoring to establish Shinto as an

independent religion, free of the Buddhist influence with which it was entwined. The

Shinto tradition, they maintained, represented the true Japanese spirit as it existed prior

to the influx of "foreign" religions from the Asian mainland (Earhart 1982:145); 235

Implicit in their criticism was the idea that everything Japanese had been natural, spontaneous, and pure, but foreign influence had destroyed that naturalness and purity. The tone of the criticism was often irrational, even mystical, advocating a return to the original state of purity from which the Japanese had fallen.

Adherents to the National Learning movement advanced their arguments largely through a reinterpretation of the ancient myth-histories, which justified the authority of the imperial family by tracing its descent from the sun goddess Amaterasu. This contributed to the rise of nationalist sentiments and became an important ideological

component of restoration politics after the Tokugawa regime was overthrown in 1867.

By virtue of his divine origins, the Japanese emperor had always been a figure of great

religious as well as political significance, and "the restoration of monarchical rule was

considered a return to the ancient polity of Japan with its ideal of the unity of religion

and government (saisei-itchiV* (Kitagawa 1987:166).

Shortly after taking power, the Meiji leadership abolished the old feudal domains

and established a new set of préfectoral boundaries. In 1868, twenty-seven year-old

Umemura Hayami was appointed first governor of Hida Prefecture and arrived in

Takayama to set up his administrative headquarters. As described earlier in Chapter

Three, the young governor’s dramatic reforms were poorly received by the local

peasantry. In particular they were disturbed over the cancellation of two long-standing

policies ensuring inexpensive rice to people who were unable to produce sufficient

quantities themselves. They were also opposed to his raising the land tax and restricting

communal access to timber and other resources in the forested mountains. 236

The following year while Umemura was off visiting Kyoto the peasants rebelled, smashing and burning various official facilities as well as homes belonging to Umemura’s local administrators (kannoyaku), most of whom were wealthy landlords. Twenty-three houses were attacked within the boundaries of what is now Furukawa-chü, including the homes of such local notables as Honda, Kaba, Watanabe, and Sato (Ono 1971a). In fact the only major landlord conspicuously absent from the list of those assaulted is the

Nakamura household.

This event, therefore, was not simply a case of angry citizens attacking the local advocates of an unpopular reform policy. It was essentially a class struggle pitting small landowners and tenant farmers against the more prosperous landlords. Scheiner

(1973:580) notes that in Japan "[m]ost forms of peasant violence were aimed against the propertied classes, the juridically and socially superior, however unexpected and

unpredictable the form of violence might be. " The Umemura Rebellion stands as an apt

example.

Upon receiving news of the uprising Umemura rushed back to the Hida region but

was intercepted en route by a mob of angry peasants. During the fracas that ensued

Umemura was shot and later died in prison awaiting a government inquiry into the whole

affair.

It is a matter of local pride that the Furukawa fire brigade was at the head of the

angry mob. On the way home, in fact, the firemen are said to have encountered the

Takayama contingent only then just arriving. This was rather suspicious since the

Takayama residents had less distance to travel. They were accused at best of dragging 237 their feet and at worst of being cowards, and a fight ensued. This story is fondly remembered as it represents one instance in which Furukawa managed to best the larger town.

Umemura's successor, Miyahara Minoru, was eventually able to restore tranquility. There were no more cases of open rebellion in the Furukawa area, with the exception of an isolated tenant uprising in nearby Sugisaki in 1870.

However, policies enacted by the central government continued to exert a major

impact at the local level. In 1876 the prefectural boundaries were revised and Hida was

lumped in with former MinO Province immediately to the south to form Gifu Prefecture.

From this time forward the Hida region ceased to function as a distinct political unit.

The new prefectural capital was established at Gifu City, located on the plains of Mino.

This meant that the people of Hida now had to take tlieir orders from an administrative

capital located well outside the boundaries of their own territory. The sense of isolation

from the capital was particularly acute for communities like Furukawa which lay beyond

the drainage divide separating Hida into its northern and southern halves.

Compulsory education was instituted in 1872, and schools all over the country

were placed under the authority of the government’s newly created Ministry of Education.

Seven new schools were established in and around Furukawa, replacing the old Buddhist

temple schools tteragoyal that had been in use prior to the restoration.

The educational system was to become a major force for creating national

uniformity. Schools all over the country were placed under the authority of the newly

established Ministry of Education. Course schedules and textbooks became standardized 238 so that all children in Japan were receiving basically the same instruction, administered by teachers appointed from outside the local area.

The school system played a particularly important role in the propagation of a nationalist ideology known as the "family state" (kazokukokka). The Confucian tenet of filial piety, which stressed that children must be loyal and obedient to their parents, was metaphorically extended to focus upon the emperor as the ultimate father figure, with the Japanese people as his subservient children. The state, therefore, was perceived as a kind of huge extended family, with its people bound to the emperor through filial obligations.

The basic principles of this ideology were set forth in an influential document known

as the Imperial Rescript on Education (Kyüiku ChokugoJ. issued by the government in

1890. It encouraged the people to (Tsunoda, et al. 1958:140):

advance public good and promote common interests; always respect the Constitution and observe the laws; should emergency arise, offer yourselves courageously to the State; and thus guard and maintain the prosperity of Our Imperial Throne coeval with heaven and earth.

The rescript "sought to imbue the Emperor and his government with the sanctity and

legitimacy that would suppress political opposition and dissent" (Pyle 1978:99-100). It

was prominently displayed along with a portrait of the emperor in every public school

building, and recited by students in unison on ceremonial occasions.

Important structural changes facilitated propagation of the new ideology.

Scattered settlements were amalgamated into villages and towns, "thus augmenting the

fiscal base of local government and improving its administrative efficiency" (Fukutake

1980:146). These new units were linked through the prefectural administration to the 239 central government, creating a channel whereby the government could more effectively impose its authority into local affairs. Consequently, during the early 1870s the town of

Furukawa was combined with surrounding farm villages to form a new administrative unit known as Furukawa Township.

In a parallel arrangement, local shrines were merged to form larger units, one in each of the new administrative municipalities. Political and religious boundaries were thus made to coincide, each appearing to acknowledge the validity of the other. In 1871 the name of the shrine dedicated to Sugimoto Daimyojin was changed back to

‘Ketawakamiya’ because that name had appeared in tlie old records and thus implied

greater legitimacy. The new name ‘Ketawakamiya’ (literally "young Keta shrine")

implied a link with the grand Keta Shrine near Toyama City in Ishikawa Prefecture. As

previously mentioned in Chapter Three, Furukawa is historically connected with that

region via the drainage system, as the Miyagawa River flows into the Jintsu, which

continues on to Toyama.

In Furukawa, the name of the Sugimoto shrine was changed to "Ketawakamiya,"

establishing a nominal association with the grand Keta shrine in Ishikawa Prefecture to

the north.By order of the Meiji government, the spirits of three deities—all ancestral

members of the imperial line according to Shinto mythology—were officially incorporated

into Ketawakamiya Shrine. These were (1) Okuninushi no kami ("Great Land-Ruling

’^The term ‘wakamiya’ means literally "young shrine," implying subordinate status to the central shrine. 240 deity")", (2) Mii no kami, who was considered to be the offspring of the former, and

(3) Amaterasu Omikami, the sun goddess herself. The presence of the latter symbolically affirmed that the area was subordinate to imperial authority. Okuninushi no kami, however, was of the Izumo line on the Japan Sea side, and is thus associated with

Amaterasu's brother Susanoo, the god of storms.'^ Okuninushi no kami was thus made the official guardian deity for the local community. The townspeople, however, have to this day persisted in referring to their deity using its former name, "Sugimoto sama. "

Prior to the Meiji period local shrines were largely free to conduct their rites

autonomously (Hardacre 1989:100):

In ritual as in so many other areas, slirines before 1868 conducted their observances on a local scale with little connection to cult centers and hardly any coordination among individual shrines. Shrine rites comprised only a part of the annual observances in popular society.

This all changed after the restoration, however (Hardacre 1989:101):

In the Meiji period a national calendar of rites centering on the nation and the imperial house was introduced that dramatically altered the character of ritual life. While the emperor had always had a sacerdotal role, the people previously had been little awaie of it. Now his rites were to be their rites. The new calendar of rites gave him a high-profile, center-stage role as head priest of the nation.

The government also prescribed a liturgical format (keishikil for use by each

individual community during its annual shrine festival. The standardized liturgy was part

"Okuninushi no kami is described in the Kojiki as having dominion over the Izumo region. This further emphasizes the symbolic association of Furukawa with the Japan Sea side of the Japanese archipelago.

"Note that the Japan Sea side is the direction from which approaching weather patterns normally originate. 241 of a systematic effort to redirect the focus of people’s religious identity away from the local community and toward the newly created nation state. Hardacre (1989:103) observes that:

Through these various rites, the emperor’s religious authority was based on the unity of his person with Amaterasu, the apical ancestress of the imperial house. The idea that all other deities were putatively descended from her had a parallel in the notion that all the Japanese people were ultimately descended from the imperial house. Similarly, all deities being ultimately linked to Amaterasu, all shrines were ultimately subordinate to Ise. Thus Ise was the apex of a pyramidal hierarchy of shrines; their rites should conform to imperial rites conducted both at Ise and in the palace. In the person of the emperor was bound up the unity of the nation and its people and myriad deities. This unity was symbolized in local society by slu-ines and shrine rites.

Thus the annual matsuri was to become a local expression of religious symbolism

aimed at acknowledging the authority of the central government. Hardacre suggests,

however, that the local people failed to recognize the significance of such ideological

manipulation of their religious symbols (1989:84):

It is doubtful that most people even noticed the change that took place when all the shrines were linked in a single hierarchy. Where people were aware of change, however, they were generally pleased to have the gods they worshiped locally recognized by the new government. For one thing, they were encouraged to incorporate deities having some patriotic significance into their pantheon, and if that change were successfully accomplished, their shrine could assume the title of jinja ... To most people, the new title for the local shrine sounded like a promotion, suggesting an elevation of the status of the area and its people. That the incorporation of new deities could fundamentally change the character of shrine life was not immediately apparent.

Furukawa’s tutelary shrine had now in effect become a symbolic representation

of imperial authority at the local level, and its annual matsuri linked into the nationalist

ideology. The ornate neighborhood festival wagons continued as before to pass in review 242 before visiting officials from Takayama, but these officials now represented the regional administrative headquarters of the new Meiji government. The purpose of their visit was to oversee the proceedings, mediate disputes, and ensure against deviations from the prescribed order.

From Harvest Festival to Rite of Spring

In 1873, Japan officially adopted the Western (Gregorian) calendar, replacing the

old lunar calendar that had traditionally been used. The date of the Furukawa matsuri

was now fixed at September 20 by the new calendar, placing it at roughly the same time

of year as before.'^

There followed a series of time changes before the matsuri was finally fixed at its

present position. In 1881 the festivities were canceled due to a severe rainstorm. The

following year the main event was moved forward to September 19 and the matsuri

limited to one day, again due to inclement weather. In 1884 the date of the main event

thongakul was moved back to September 20, when from that time forward it was to be

performed regardless of weather conditions (Ono 1974).

In 1886 the grand taisai drawing together the tutelary deities from all over the

Hida region was held in Furukawa during the month of April. Later that same year the

regular matsuri had to be postponed due to a cholera epidemic, and was performed

instead on November 5-7. Cholera epidemics had been sweeping the country for several

''The old lunar-solar calendar year began later than the new western one, so the sixth day of the eighth month by the old calendai corresponds roughly to September 20 by the new one. 243 years, but due to its relative isolation Furukawa had until this time remained largely unexposed. It is not inconceivable, in fact, that the disease may have been introduced into the community during the taisai itself due to the influx of people from outside the local area.

In any case, the following year the matsuri was resurrected as a spring event, timed to coincide with tlie emerging cherry blossoms. The main event was now to be held on April 17. Ono (1974) attributes the switch to the unusual coincidence of the taisai with the cholera epidemic the previous year, suggesting that through the experience of the taisai the townspeople found a spring celebration more to their liking.

I am not entirely satisfied with this explanation, and am more inclined toward

another possibility. Recall that spring matsuri were held just before transplanting to request the deity’s favor in protecting the community and ensuring them a successful

growing season, while autumn matsuri were intended as expressions of gratitude for a

bountiful harvest. However, expressions of gratitude would hardly have seemed

appropriate to the people of Furukawa at that time considering the disastrous cholera

epidemic which had afflicted them during the past year. I think the switch to spring was

made in an effort to regain the deity’s benevolence and protection.'®

"The spread of contagious diseases was more prevalent in the spring, as people began to renew contact with one another after a period of isolation imposed by the long winter. Thus epidemics often coincided with the emerging cherry blossoms. In some parts of Japan, the two events became associated in the popular imagination. The opening blossoms were thought to release evil spirits into the air, thereby causing the diseases, and rituals called ‘hanashizume’ ("appeasing the blossoms") were performed to counteract the evil. It is possible that this may have been part of the motivation for changing the Furukawa matsuri from an autumn to a spring event, though no such evidence has as yet been forthcoming. 244

In 1889 the Furukawa matsuri was fixed at its present calendrical position of April

19-20. This final change was made to avoid conflicting with the spring matsuri in

Takayama, which began on April 15 (Ono 1974).

The Furukawa matsuri now proceeded according to the following schedule: on

April 17 the banners were erected at chPnai boundaries to welcome the deity. On April

18 the yatai were made ready for the next day’s performance. On the morning of April

19 the deity was escorted down from the shrine via the mikoshi and housed temporarily

within the tabisho. Early on the morning of April 20 the okoshi daiko was performed,

and at daybreak the yatai assembled at the tabisho. The deity, with the yatai leading the

way before it, then set out on a grand procession through town, which continued on

through the entire day and into the evening. On the morning of April 21 the deity was

returned to the shrine and the banners were taken down. Later that afternoon the

townspeople loaded up all their leftover food and drink and headed up into the mountains

for the atofuki celebration.

The Role of the Local Elite

In the everyday functioning of social life, local landlords were accustomed to

issuing orders and managing important affairs while the less prominent people were

generally resigned to deferring to their authority. This naturally carried over into tlie

planning and execution of the matsuri. with the landlords assuming the principal

leadership roles. Hardacre (1989:13) notes that:

While for the most part any villager might observe the festival of the village deity, actual participation was most frequently restricted in a 245

manner mirroring the social hierarchy of the village, the most prestigious roles automatically accorded to those with the highest social standing. The status of parishioner (lyiko) of the village shrine was not accorded to all villagers but was usually reserved for those of wealth and/or long residence in the area.

Indeed, in Furukawa the offices of parish leader and taigumi leader were dominated by the old established landlord households. Religion, in this respect at least, served to confirm the existing social hierarchy.

Performing the matsuri required considerable resources, and the wealthy landlord and merchant households were the major contributors. Though every household in the neighborhood-rich and poor alike-was obliged to provide its share of money, labor, and

materials, the more prominent households were expected to contribute considerably more.

The appropriate amount was thus based on the individual household’s ability to pay. The

size of the contribution given by each component household was posted on a board at the

neighborhood headquarters for public inspection. Those who failed to make contributions

appropriate to their status were labelled stingy and subjected to malicious gossip or even

vandalism.

The contribution of large sums of money and materials by the landlords at matsuri

time served as a form of redistribution, and can thus be equated with the Polynesian "big

man" or Kwakiutl potlatch type of behavior-exchanging wealth for greater prestige, in

other words. By returning some of their wealth, the landlords were able to acknowledge

their commitment to the welfare of the community, thus casting themselves in the role

of patron or benefactor. 246

The most visible signs of landlord patronage were the wooden yatai vehicles. It is important to note here that in those days it was the yatai that drew all the attention during the festival. The okoshi daiko was merely a signal for the residents to prepare for the day’s events. As recorded in the revised festival regulations issued in 1877, the yatai at that time led the way before the mikoshi as an advance guard, so the mikoshi procession and parade of yatai were conducted as a single event. It began on the morning of the 20th, with the yatai assembling to meet the mikoshi upon its arrival at the tabisho.

The procession went all around town, even crossing over into Mukaimachi, and required

the entire day to complete. As darkness descended paper lanterns were attached to light

the way. This was the origin of the so-called "evening festival" fyoru no sail.

The yatai became sources of great civic pride, and the various neighborhoods

began to vie with one another to create the most impressive vehicle. This no doubt

helped instill a strong sense of collective identity within each neighborhood by uniting its

residents in a common cause. Not surprisingly, the wealthy landlords took the lead in

this competition, supplying timber from their forested mountain lands for yatai

construction and repair. They also contributed money for additional carvings and other

embellishments.

In recognition of their prominent status and generous patronage, the elite were

privileged to assume special roles in the matsuri. Up until the end of the Second World

War only men of wealth and status donned the formal montsuke and kamishimo uniform

to stroll along at the head of the mikoshi procession, while ordinary people were enlisted

to pull the yatai. Appearing in the procession thus became a sort of ritual who’s who 247 enactment, visually acknowledging the participants’ status as prominent members of the community.

Clearly then, the matsuri functioned in one sense as a means of legitimating political authority through the use of religious symbolism. But it also became a medium for expressing opposition against the abuse of that authority. This involved a dramatic transformation in the intent and conduct of the okoshi daiko. which emerged from a

rather peripheral position to assume center stage-eventually becoming the very heart of

the matsuri itself.

Sociopolitical Change and Grass Roots Opposition

The new Meiji government had effectively established its control within a few

years after the restoration, but still faced pockets of resistance in some of the outlying

areas. The Satsuma Rebellion led by Saigü Takamori in 1877 was the last major threat

to central authority. Scattered opposition to government policies remained, however,

especially among the rural peasantry.

In 1874 the Meiji government had instituted a land tax revision tchisü kaiseit

which ended the practice of payment in kind as a percentage of the harvest (nengu). The

tax was now fixed at an annual cash payment equal to three percent of the assessed land

value. Landholders were made directly responsible for payment of the tax and in return

given title to their lands.

The tax revision was intended to both modernize the land holding system and

provide a stable source of income for the government, which desperately needed revenue 248 to help finance its huge industrialization program. The government had adopted a policy of taking as little as possible from commerce and industry under the assumption that these sectors would then reinvest their profits in further expansion. The peasants, on the other hand, were taxed as heavily as possible as this was the government’s only way of extracting their wealth. Thus Japan’s industrialization was to proceed by imposing the heaviest burden on those with least to gain—the rural peasantry.

Unlike the traditional system, the fixed payment made no allowance for fluctuations in yield or price of commodities. In the event of a poor harvest small farmers operating close to the margin had little alternative but to borrow from

moneylenders in order to come up with the necessary cash payment. Inability to repay

such a loan would result in foreclosure, with the moneylender acquiring title to the land.

In most cases, the former owner was then allowed to remain on the land as a tenant

cultivator.

Rent on tenanted land continued to be paid to the owner in kind as a percentage

of the rice harvest. The owner then paid the land tax to the government in cash using

the profits gained from marketing the rice. While the tax had been fixed by the

government, however, rent on tenanted land was solely determined by the landlords

themselves. To ensure that its revenues would continue uninhibited, the government tried

to promote the landlords’ ability to collect their rent and consistently favored landlords

over tenants in dispute settlements (Waswo 1973:21):

The Meiji land settlement, then, upset the previous distribution of power between landlords and tenants. Their property rights almost totally unrestricted, landlords were permitted by law to deal with tenants in any way they chose. Unprotected and to a great extent ignored by the 249

government, tenants were more vulnerable to exploitation than ever before.

The plight of the rural population engendered a nationwide grass-roots people’s rights movement tjiyu minken undoT which favored local autonomy. It was led by political activist Itagaki Taisuke.

It has been mentioned that the Hida region was combined with Mino Province to form Gifu Prefecture in 1876. The new prefectural assembly convened in Gifu City for the first time in 1879 and consisted of about fifty representatives. From the beginning there were disagreements over the apportionment of the budget for public works, with

each assembly member favoring spending to benefit his own region. The members were

split into two factions: one representing the lowlands (Gifu and Ogaki plains) and the

other the mountain belt (Hida and Tünü). The lowlands representatives wanted funding

for flood control projects along the Kiso, Nagara, and Ibi Rivers, while the minority

mountain belt faction advocated the construction of roads and bridges in their own areas.

The prefectural governor, Ozaki Rijun, decided in favor of the lowlands, and massive

improvement projects were initiated along the three rivers. This required an enormous

expenditure of public funds, but as a result the lowland plains of southern Gifu Prefecture

became a major rice producing area, its rice streaming into markets all over the country

(Gifu-ken Koto Gakko KySiku Kenkyïïkai 1988:9).

The mountain belt representatives felt that they were not receiving their fair share

of the funding, and briefly aligned themselves with the people’s rights movement in

opposing both the lowlands faction and Governor Ozaki (Gifu-ken KyDdoshi Kenkyïïkai 250

1978:171-174). The movement took root in Gifu Prefecture with the founding of the

Nühi Jiyïïtü ("Freedom Party of Tünü and Hida")” in 1881.

In 1882 Itagaki travelled to Gifu Prefecture to meet with people’s rights activists from the mountain belt, but was stabbed after delivering a speech in Gifu City.

Thereafter the movement grew increasingly weak and eventually disbanded in 1884 (Gifu- ken Kyüdoshi Kenkyïïkai 1978:173-174).

Widespread dissatisfaction in the rural areas continued, however. During the

1880s, strict monetary policies and heavy taxation imposed by Finance Minister

Matsukata Masayoshi triggered a severe nationwide economic depression. This combined

with the earlier land tax revision created even greater hardships in the rural countryside,

at times severe enough to incite the peasants to open rebellion. Irokawa (1985:155) notes

that:

Because of the haish economic circumstances of those years, about sixty riots stemming from agricultural indebtedness took place in all parts of Japan in 1884. More than half of them took place in mountainous, silk- raising areas in the Kanto region.

One of the most notable riots was the Chichibu incident of 1884-85, basically a

peasant uprising against the exploitative activities of greedy money lenders and

government officials. An army of peasants from the Chichibu district in what is now

Saitama Prefecture took over the district office in Omiya and battled with government

"The term ‘Nohi’ is composed of two characters: the ‘ns’ of Tünü and the ‘hi’ of Hida. Together they represent an abbreviated way of referring to the union of both regions. 251 troops sent to crush the rebellion. The incident marked a turning point in the means employed by peasants to express their opposition. As Hane (1983:27) observes:

The suppression of the Chichibu Uprising signaled the end of any attempt on the part of the poor people’s parties to rely on force to protect their interests. Although minor protest movements did occur afterward, they were readily squelched by the government.

In addition to economic hardships, the people were at the same time being afflicted by the spread of contagious diseases. As mentioned earlier, it was a cholera epidemic that ultimately led to the Furukawa matsuri being transferred from autumn to spring in 1887. Epidemics of cholera, dysentery, typhoid fever, and smallpox were in fact sweeping the entire country during the mid-1880s, adding to the already considerable economic woes. The government, however, did little in response to the health crisis, and this became yet another source of popular dissatisfaction.

Ritual Resistance

Scott (1990:87) notes an inherent difficulty in any historical analysis of political

discourse among subordinate groups:

The difficulty is, however, not merely the standard one of records of elite activities kept by elites in ways that reflect their class and status. It is the more profound difficulty presented by earnest efforts of subordinate groups to conceal their activities and opinions, which might expose them to harm.

Thus it is unclear from the written record to what extent anti-government sentiments were

being harbored by the people of Furukawa. Significantly, however, the performance of

the okoshi daiko began to be suppressed by the authorities at about the same time. In

1878, the police ordered that the name of the okoshi daiko (rousing drum) be changed 252 to "mezamashi daiko" (eye-opening, or wakening, drum). Ono (1974a:7) suggests that the name change was necessary in order to obtain permission to continue s are

"overrepresented" in matsuri affairs—the reason being that each taigumi is still entitled to only one sodai leader, regardless of its size. Also, the population decrease among the inner chünai has actually broadened participation in one sense since there are no longer a sufficient number of boys to perform the festival music while riding in the yatai. two of the neighborhoods have had to open participation to girls as well. Though girls were traditionally prohibited from riding in the vehicles, these two chünai decided to be

flexible rather than face the prospect of having to watch their traditions die out altogether.

Another potential threat to matsuri tradition is posed by the nature of the

employment situation. The matsuri was originally scheduled as a brief interlude in the

agricultural calendar, preceeding a time of particularly heavy labor. Most working adults

are now employed outside the agricultural sector and have trouble taking time off from

their jobs to devote to the matsuri. Many work in other towns and cities like Takayama,

where the management is not inclined to grant leave for participation in the local event.

As a result, participation in traditional gatherings like the atofuki celebration has been

steadily declining over the past few decades. Though scattered groups of friends and

relatives still go independently to the old location on Sakakigaoka for a picnic lunch, the

custom of atofuki no longer exists as an organized event. The reason most often given

is that people simply no longer have the time to spend a leisurely afternoon relaxing

under the cherry blossoms—at least not on a workday. Contemporary employment

patterns lead one to wonder whether the old patriarchs have been allowed to retain their 253 authority in planning and directing the matsuri out of respect for their age and experience, or simply because they have more free time than younger residents.performing the event.

It is significant here that the word ‘okoshi’ can be interpreted in various ways, including

"rousing" people to rebel. ‘Mezamashi.’ on the other hand, holds no such connotations.

Thus by ordering the name change the police were trying to steer the ritual away from the subversive turn it was taking and restore it to its original purpose.

That same year the actual term ‘tsuke daiko.’ referring to the other neighborhood

drums, appeared in print for the first time in a document entitled ‘Yatai Kishiki’ ("festival

wagon standards"). It has already been mentioned that these drums were considerably

larger than the tsuke daiko of today. At that time their object was simply to "attach"

ttsukerui themselves to the drum of the shuji by lining up behind it and accompanying

it on its route through town.

In 1884 the tsuke daiko were prohibited in yet another revision of the festival

regulations IReisai Kisokushoi issued that year. Exactly what they were doing to warrant

their restriction is not clear, but as before only a single drum—that of the shuji—was

authorized to pass through town. The townspeople found a clever way around the

prohibition, however, by simply referring to their drums as "suke daiko" (helping drum)

rather than "tsuke daiko" and proceeding more or less as before, thereby obeying the

letter, if not the intent, of the provision. This too, was banned the following year in a

document referred to simply as the "naiyakusho" (private treaty) (Ono 1973b:4).

Having been moved from early September to mid-April, the matsuri now followed

immediately after a long period of isolation and confinement, and thus offered the 254 townspeople an opportunity to release their pent-up energies in boisterous communal activity. This perhaps in part explains why the okoshi daiko ritual became increasingly unruly as the Meiji period progressed. I will argue, however, that the main motivational factors were sociopolitical.

The economic policies of the Meiji government led to the emergence of a local elite which became the dominant force in rural social organization. Hane (1983:103-104) explains that:

the growing burden of taxation and the deflationary policy adopted by the government in the 1880s led to the steady impoverishment of most farmers, forcing them to give up their lands to pay their taxes and repay their debts. Their land, too, then passed into the hands of the wealthier landowners, moneylenders, and merchants.

The overall result was increasing tenancy, with more land being concentrated in the hands of a privileged few. Waswo (1973:19) notes that "the extent of tenanted land rose from 36 percent of all arable land in 1883 to 45 percent in 1908."

Furukawa was no exception to this trend, with wealthy landlords and prosperous

merchant households rising to even greater prominence than before, primarily through

rapid land acquisition during the period of so-called "Matsukata deflation" (Nakamura,

et al. 1972).

Economic advantages were accompanied by greater political authority. The

Japanese Imperial Constitution, issued in 1889, established a new system of local

government, dominated by wealthy landlords who were in turn controlled by the central

bureaucracy. Fukutake (1980:146) explains the new system as a response by the imperial 255 government toward the demand for local autonomy as represented by the people’s rights movement:

In order to prevent a resurgence of the movement, the government set about to establish a system of bureaucratic control over the villages. Before promulgating a constitution and adopting a parliamentary system, the government felt it necessary to create and impose from above new institutions of local self-government and offer local areas what was, at least in form, the power of self-government, thus defeating the growing momentum of the grass-roots movement for local autonomy. However, in substance, the local administration that eventually emerged was under the jurisdiction of the central government and served essentially as the lowest level of national administration under bureaucratic control.

The new constitution initially limited voting privileges to males over 25 years of

age who paid at least 15 yen in taxes to the central government. This restricted direct

participation in the political process to members of the wealthy landholding elite, which,

in the rural areas at least, amounted to only a small group of people. A register of

eligible voters compiled in 1889 shows a total of only 56 individuals for the whole of

Furukawa Township.’® Thus, in Hane’s (1983:13-14) words, "for the vast majority of

the peasants the new political order offered no direct, or even indirect, access to political

power."

Local offices were dominated by the same socioeconomic stratum (Fukutake

1980:154-155):

When elections were held, hamlet leaders generally controlled the votes by dividing up the hamlet and instructing the residents of each division to vote for a particular candidate ... The candidate for village-town council representative was almost without exception a powerful local landlord, and frequently he stayed in office for a long time ... The positions of mayor and deputy mayor, who were selected by the council members, usually

®See Appendix C. 256

went to the most powerful landlords, or to lesser landlords who would follow their lead.

Fukutake concludes that the system of local government which the constitution enacted

"was for all intents and purposes landlord government" (1980:155).

In sum, the government’s effort to encourage local autonomy was largely a facade. Fukutake (1980:147-148) notes that the system:

did not permit local autonomy in the true sense of the term, for the village council and the mayor were unable to act independently of prefectural and national government control and supervision ... The village government offices were less the locus of local autonomy than the last link in the chain of national and prefectural administration. Thus the local government system begun in 1889 allowed local notables, namely the landlords, to control village administration through limited suffrage and the system of differentiated electoral classes. And, while it appeared in form to permit some local autonomy, in actuality local government was virtually under the full control of the bureaucracy.

This is an important link in my argument in that it integrates the landlord class and the central government into a single bureaucratic chain of command. Therefore, a ritual event such as the okoshi daiko explained as an expression of opposition toward both

(1) the local elite and (2) the imposition of authority by the central government may actually be seen as a reaction toward a single exploitative system.

The imperialist attitudes and expansionism which eventually led Japan into the

Second World War were already beginning to assert themselves at this time. Tremendous economic and industrial growth was accompanied by impressive military victories, first against the Chinese in 1895 and again against the Russians in 1905. These in turn provided the central government with the justification for continuing to exploit its people

(Hane 1983:10): 257

Competition for international markets and resources as well as political advantages in Asia exerted a profound influence on Japanese leaders, whose perception of the Western powers as potential threats provided an excuse to demand of the Japanese people their continued personal sacrifice for the good of the nation.

Religion was of course an important force in generating popular support for these efforts. Prior to this time the new ritual calendar and religious symbolism imposed by

the central government had met with some resistance, but the government was able to

capitalize on the perceived threat from a common enemy in attempting to draw the people

together into a more cohesive polity (Hardacre 1989:102):

While the outline of a new national ritual calendar was established in the 1870s, it was not until much later tliat it really began to be observed. Diaries of the 1880s indicate that the police had to force people to fly the national flag on the new holidays, and that for the most part the populace continued to be attuned to the old customs ... Like so many aspects of State Shinto, things really began to change after the wars with China and Russia. These rites began to be incorporated in the schools as of the first decade of this century, and it was also about this time that local authorities began to promote the new holidays in many areas.

In light of the Meiji emphasis on the unity of political and religious ideology, it

is not surprising that the rural elite were dominating local shrine offices as well. After

the restoration, direction of the Furukawa matsuri had been assumed by the town mayor

(chPchoL the Meiji counterpart of the old headman. In 1889, the same year the new

system of local government was instituted, directorship was transferred from the mayor

to three prestigious shrine representatives known at the time as ‘shinji torishimari’

(supervisor of sacred rituals)—forerunners of the ujiko sodai. These people were given 258 absolute authority over all matsuri proceedings.'® A brief look at the list of individuals who served in this capacity between the years 1889 and 1900 reveals they were almost without exception prominent landlords and wealthy merchants who appear in the aforementioned voter registry. Three names in particular dominate the list: Honda,

Tajika, and Watanabe. Other prominent households such as Nakamura and Fuse appear as well.

Mere wealth alone, however, was insufficient to garner such prestigious positions.

Aspiring candidates had to command the respect and confidence of the townspeople. It must be admitted, however, that fostering this type of image on one’s own behalf often requires a substantial financial investment.

Here again, religious symbols were being used to legitimate the existing social

order. But the local elite were also using religious affiliations to extend their sphere of

influence. As Hardacre (1989:108) observes:

Local projects to build a shrine or raise an existing shrine’s rank provided a powerful vehicle for increasing the prestige and prominence of provincial elites ... Paying money to public administrators for a shrine could give provincials valuable contacts useful, no doubt, in a variety of contexts outside tlie original shrine-centered negotiation.

Political ambition thus went hand in hand with active support of the Shinto ideology

being propagated by the state, the latter helping to establish influential contacts through

which the former could be pursued.

'®This office was later replaced by the ujiko südai. but their flag remains. It is still carried during the mikoshi procession. 259

In sum, policies enacted by the Meiji government greatly enhanced the exploitative potential of the rural elite (Waswo 1973:3):

The Meiji Restoration of 1868 and the land settlement which followed it brought about important changes in the status of landlords, providing them with hitherto unparalleled opportunities to profit from leasing land and enhancing their authority in both tenancy relations and village life. For the next half century or so they functioned as the dominant elite of the countryside and exerted considerable influence in national affairs as well.

Recognition of class distinctions within the local community was inhibited, however, by efforts of elite members to stress their common interests as fellow residents

and downplay obvious sociopolitical and economic inequalities (Fukutake 1980:156-157):

Hamlet interests were foremost in the farmer’s mind, and that overriding concern obscured the latent conflict of interest between different strata in the hamlet. The poor tenant farmers at the bottom of the hierarchy were thus blinded to the interests of their own class. While "hamlet interests" appeared to be neutral and transcend the interest of any particular stratum, they were, in the final analysis, the interests of the landlord and the wealthier farmers.

In 1897 yet another pivotal document—the Meiji Civil Code—was promulgated by

the central government. It demanded sacrifices by the citizens on behalf of the emperor,

who represented a kind of physical embodiment of the state.

In Furukawa at around this same time the tsuke daiko. which had officially been

banned in 1884, began to stage a dramatic revival. Once again they attached themselves

to the drum of the shuji and reportedly moved through town in a lively procession. The

return of the tsuke daiko was officially acknowledged in a revision to the festival

regulations in 1901 (Ono 1973b:4).

It is thought to have been from about this time that the drum of the shuji was

placed atop a wooden framework (yagura) to be lugged through the streets (Ono 260

1973b:4). Thus the drum came to be handled in much the same manner as the mikoshi during its procession through town later in the day.™ The framework was a rather simple affair constructed of rice-drying poles boirowed from resident farming households.*' Each year, the neighborhood chosen to serve as shuji would be responsible for assembling the framework and attaching the drum, as well as furnishing the people to carry it on their shoulders.

With its base at shoulder height the drum could no longer be struck from ground level, so the drumbeater began to ride upon the framework himself. It was presumably from about this time that two drumbeaters came to be employed, one positioned on either

side of the drum. They did not sit atop the drum as they do in today’s event, as the

drum in use at that time was merely a shallow disk-shaped object. It was probably fixed

in lateral position with the drum heads facing port and starboard. The drumbeaters may

have originally assumed a sitting position facing in toward the drum-much as they do

upon the Kaguradai to this day. A sakaki branch was placed at the front of the

framework (Kuwatani 1969:31). A few years later two additional men were positioned

upon the framework, one in front of the drum and the other to the rear, each holding a

paper lantern (Ono:1973b:4).

™It is possible, in fact, that the original intent was to mock the mikoshi procession.

*'Some informants claim that both the size of the yagura and the number of people who rode upon it varied from year to year with the size of the shuji’s chnnai itself, as the smaller chonai were unable to provide the requisite number of individuals to carry an excessively large burden. 261 The whole nature of the event began to change, with the tsuke daiko now competing with one another to be first in line behind the shuji. It thus became advantageous for them to carry smaller drums, with the actual sound the drums emitted being less important (Ono 1973b:4). Prior to this time these drums were of the type that dangled loosely from a short beam shouldered by two men. Now they were being lashed securely to long poles which could be held by several men at once. This new configuration made the instruments more wieldy and afforded greater leverage. It is apparent, then, that the neighborhood drums were undergoing a functional transformation.

No longer simple percussion instruments, they were now becoming visible symbols of neighborhood identity and taking on a form suitable for use in engaging others in physical confrontation.

The main drum structure continued to change as well, gradually beginning to assume its present appearance. The shuji began to employ a special drum, larger and of

a more oblong shape to produce a deeper, more resonant sound. None of the

neighborhood taigumi possessed such a drum of their own, so they borrowed the

instrument from one of the Buddhist temples in town. The barrel-shaped drum was now

positioned lengthwise with the heads facing fore and aft. The drumbeaters stood one at

either end of the drum with long wooden sticks which they swung at the drum in a

horizontal arc to produce a thunderous booming sound. The wooden framework

subsequently grew larger and heavier, and the number of lantern-wielding riders

increased. Moiphological change in both the framework and the tsuke daiko must thus 262 be seen as related processes, as both were linked to the new symbolic meaning the okoshi daiko was beginning to assume.

Recall that the neighborhood which had been chosen shuji each year was responsible for providing all the manpower necessary to shoulder the drum on its circuit through town. This was becoming increasingly difficult due to the drum structure’s expanding bulk. Some of the neighborhoods contained only twenty or thirty households and could by no means muster a sufficient number of able-bodied men. Extra bearers had to be recruited from outside, and resident landlord households began enlisting the aid of their tenant farmers from neighboring villages, compensating them with food and drink and perhaps money as well. Thus participation was no longer strictly limited to residents of Furukawa alone. Note, however, that the role of the outsiders was limited to

shouldering the heavy framework—a rather servile position; they did not join the tsuke

daiko teams nor perform any of the other more important functions.

At some time around the turn of the century, the tsuke daiko began to attack the

drum structure as it passed through their respective neighborhoods. Ono (1976:3,

confirmed during a personal interview: September 14, 1990), based on accounts provided

by his own informants nearly twenty years before the present study, reports that it was

common for team members to charge toward the great drum shouting "smash the shuji!",

hook their poles in through the crossbeams of the framework, and use them as levers to

topple it over. At other times the entire structure was dragged to the bank of the Araki

River and dumped into the water. The drum of the shuji was now being treated as an 263 unwanted intruder into the home territor)'-an object to be opposed through physical violence.

I suggest that the okoshi daiko was in fact becoming a classic example of one of

Gluckman’s (1954) rituals of rebellion, with the townspeople publicly demonstrating their power to rise up against autliority as represented by the shuji. It would perhaps be stretching the limits of credibility to explain the ritual as a physical reenactment of the

Umemura Rebellion. Yet, while I have uncovered no direct written evidence to confirm such a possibility, several of my informants insist that the defiant spirit of ‘yancha’ which motivated the historical event has survived to the present day through the annual performance of the okoshi daiko.

As the Meiji period progressed, industrialization, the transition to a money economy, and absorption into the world market widened the socioeconomic distinction

between rural and urban Japan. While the urban-industrial centers were expanding

economically the rural areas remained virtually untouched by the purported benefits of

the modernization. This strained traditional patterns of social organization, particularly

the relationship between landlord and tenant.

Waswo (1977:66) notes three trends among Japanese landlords at the turn of the

century: (1) a steady decline in the number directly engaged in cultivation themselves,

(2) growing involvement in more lucrative economic opportunities and social attractions

available to them in the industrializing urban areas, and (3) gradual increase in absentee

ownership. She concludes that (1977:137):

By abandoning farming, investing or working in industrial and commercial enterprises, and departing for the towns and cities of Japan, landlords 264

were, in one sense, responding positively to the new opportunities and new national goals of the post-Restoration era. But at the same time, by dissociating themselves from rural life, they were giving up the remaining bases of their elite status in the countryside. Whether absentee landlords in a geographical or a functional sense, they were no longer able to behave as their tenants expected or to perform their time-honored role in village life.

Landlords thus grew more parasitic and less attentive to their traditional obligations as

local benefactors. This trend too coincides with the emergence of the okoshi daiko as a

ritual of rebellion.

Rising Militarism

Japan entered the war with Russia in 1904. That year, in keeping with the

seriousness of the national emergency, the festival in Furukawa was temporarily

suspended. No shuji was chosen, so there was neither an okoshi daiko nor any display

of yatai. It is unclear whether the guardian deity made its annual visit into town without

the grand procession, but the prayers of supplication at the shrine continued to be

performed as usual.

August 25 of that same year marks a pivotal event in the history ohborhoods

decided to bring out their tsuke daiko in spite of the absence of the lead drum, and with

spirits high made their way through town in a lively procession. As they were passing

in front of the police station the scene suddenly turned violent. The young men broke

into the station building and began to lay waste to its contents, overturning furniture and

scattering written documents about the room. Onlookers outside then began to pelt the

station building with rocks. The local newspaper reported 49 window panes broken. 265 Laborers sent to clean up the next day found enough rocks lying around to fill four big oil cans. Honda Rokusaburü, the mayor of Furukawa at the time, met later with the police chief to discuss the incident and the matter was eventually settled peacefully out of court (Ono 1973b:4, 1976a; Kuwatani 1969:27; Furukawa-cho Kanko Kyükai

1984:82-83).

This incident is particularly interesting in that suppression of the people’s symbolic medium of opposition appears to have resulted in an actual attack on the authorities.

Note that the police were appointed by the prefectural government, and thus represented the imposition of authority from outside the local area. The incident can thus be interpreted as a local reaction against the growing power of the central government, understandable in light of the sacrifices the people had been obliged to make in

supporting the government’s war effort. According to some accounts, soldiers returning

from the war were told of the abuses the townspeople had been subjected to in their

absence at the hands of the police, and it was these returning soldiers who led the assault,

though the actual perpetrators were never identified (Kuwatani 1969:27). The okoshi

daiko was officially reinstated the following year, possibly in recognition of the fact that

a ritual expression of opposition was preferable to the real thing.

The rock-throwing incident may have been seen as a local manifestation of a

nationwide trend—growing dissatisfaction with the imperialist policies of the central

government. Socialists were active in opposing military expansion and capitalist

imperialism throughout the early years of the 20th century. Government suppression 266 eventually drove them to adopt radical measures, however, and in 1911 twelve individuals were hanged for treason in a plot to assassinate the Emperor Meiji.

That same year, electric lights and telephone were introduced into Furukawa, and the following year a road was opened to automobile traffic between Furukawa and

Takayama. Improvements in communications and transportation were making the town more accessible to the outside world. A travelogue entitled Hida Sansen (Mountains and

Streams of Hida) written by Okamura Rihei described the okoshi daiko as a "strange custom" which was gaining notoriety (Ono 1973b;4). Okamura's use of the term ‘okoshi daiko’ also indicates that the original name for the ritual was still in common use, even though it had been officially replaced with the less provocative ‘mezamashi daiko.’

The emperor died of natural causes in 1912, bringing the long and eventful Meiji period to a close and ushering in the Taisho era (1912-1925). For the next two years the

okoshi daiko was canceled in keeping with a nationally imposed official mourning period.

The mikoshi procession was performed as usual, but without its grand complement of

attending yatai.

The okoshi daiko was resumed in 1915. The two-year lull apparently had little

effect on its level of exuberance. That year while attacking the big drum, the tsuke daiko

team from Tonomachi got their pole hooked inextricably through the crossbeams of the

wooden framework. The pole (with the neighborhood drum attached) was snatched away

by the shuji personnel, who refused to give it back. A fight ensued. Ono (1973b:4, 267

1976a;2) reports that from this time forward the shuji leaders were obliged to ride upon the yagura to ensure that no such incidents recurred 7^

As previously mentioned, the local elite commonly assumed the most prestigious roles in the matsuri themselves. The shuji leadership, therefore, consisted of members of the wealthy landlord class. These elite members were thus required to stand upon the wooden framework as hon’ei. or "main guardsmen" of the dnrm, while the neighborhood

teams advanced upon it. It is uncertain whether the original intent was to discourage

unruliness by the other teams or to control the aggressive tendencies of their own

subordinates. There can be no question, however, that their presence upon the elevated

platform constituted a highly visible representation of their political authority.

The tsuke daiko teams attacked with such enthusiasm that their poles sometimes

struck the big drum itself, and since it was being borrowed from one of the Buddhist

temples the townspeople became concerned that it be might be damaged in the melee.

In 1917 the drum was placed upon a turret made of short wooden crossbeams. The

higher elevation kept the drum up out of range of the tsuke daiko and made it more

visible. The height of the turret is thought to have been about half that of the one in

current use (Kuwatani 1969:31, Ono 1973b).

It is not known exactly when the two drumbeaters began riding back-to-back

astride the drum, one facing forward and the other to the rear as they do in today’s event.

^^One of my informants recalled that the offending team had to go to the shuji headquarters the next day with a peace-offering of sake to make a formal apology before they were able to get their drum back. 268

Several of my own informants insist that they were positioned there from the beginning, and certainly this is the general impression that has been fostered among the public at large. Both Ono (1973b) and Kuwatani (1969:30-31), however, have reported accounts which place the origin of the custom sometime well into the twentieth century. I am

inclined to accept the earlier data gathered independently by these two local historians

since their informants were alive during the time period in question.^’

In any case, the earliest existing photograph of the okoshi daiko. allegedly dating

from the first few years of the Taisho (1912-1924) period, shows that the young men had

already taken their positions atop the drum by that time. They appear to be clad in dark

momohiki—close-fitting cotton trousers generally worn under work clothing—and are

naked from the waist up. They are joined together with a band of cloth wrapped around

botli their waists. There are no foot rests nor end pads to keep them from sliding off as

there are today. Instead their feet are placed in stirrups consisting of loops of cloth,

precisely as if they were riding a horse.

The photograph shows the supporting framework to be considerably smaller than

it is now, and the wooden turret does indeed appear to be about half the height of the

present one. The drum, too, looks a bit smaller and the leather heads are plain. Today’s

drum bears the symbol of Ketawakamiya Shrine, but of course the drum m use at that

time belonged to one of the Buddhist temples.

^^My own informants’ conviction that the custom is much older demonstrates both the tendency to endow ritual with a long and venerable past and the speed with which it can can be achieved. In this case a recent development was successfully established as a time-honored tradition within the space of a single generation. 269

The smaller structure afforded less room to stand, so tliere were fewer riders. The photograph shows one man standing at the front of the structure holding a lantern in one hand and facing forward. Another is similarly positioned at the rear facing back. Both are attired in the same fashion as the drum beaters, naked from the waist up.

Four other men stand directly beside the turret, two on either side, and cling to the drum with one hand. In the other hand each holds a lantern out to the side. They too are aligned in the same direction as the drumbeaters, with the lead pair facing

forward and tlie trailing pair to the rear. Unlike the others, however, they are fully

clothed and appear to be somewhat older. These, perhaps, are the leaders of the shuji

neighborhood.

The number of men riding upon the drum structure at that time thus totalled eight,

as compared with today’s twelve. Note also that the two side drumbeaters standing upon

the framework itself at either end of the drum had not yet been added.

As previously mentioned, the tsuke daiko teams had begun the practice of

harassing the shuji’s drum as it passed through the darkened streets. In Sannomachi the

drum had to enter a section where the street ran briefly along the riverbank with no

houses on the side facing away from the river. It was here that the shuji was particularly

vulnerable, because without the protective cover of the houses lining either side, its flank

was left open to attack. Indeed, the tsuke daiko used this as an opportunity to press in

upon the structure from the side, threatening to shove it over into the river. There were

other dangerous sections as well. Around 1918 or 1919 some of the men shouldering the 270 yagura reportedly fell into the Araki River as they were crossing Kasumi Bridge

(Kuwatani 1969:32).

During the early 1920s the townspeople received permission to obtain cryptomeria

wood from nearby mountain lands held by wealthy patrons to put together a permanent

set of poles and crossbeams for the big drum framework (Ono 1973b:4). With a standard

set of components, the framework no longer varied in size from year to year. Prior to

the great fire in 1904, the streets of Furukawa had been very narrow. Indeed, this is one

of the reasons the fire spread so quickly from house to house. When the town was

rebuilt, however, the houses were set back a bit from tiieir former positions so that the

streets could be made wider. As a result, the streets of Furukawa were now able to

accommodate a bigger structure, and the new drum framework was accordingly enlarged

(Kuwatani 1969:30).

A 1925 photograph taken during the daylight hours shows the drum attached to

its rectangular framework, the entire structure sitting on the ground along the street

running through Lower Sannomachi. Lower Saimomachi served as shuji that year (Ono

1976b:2-3), so the big drum must have been placed there in the home territory awaiting

the night’s event. Two men in street clothes pose for the photograph. They stand on the

framework with sticks in their hands while looking into the camera as if demonstrating

how to strike the drum. Visible in the background is the Byakkodai, Lower

Sannomachi’s festival wagon, with some schoolboys sitting in its upper level.

Judging from this photograph, the drum framework at that time looked much the

same as it does today, though it appears to have been somewhat narrower-consisting of 271 only three long beams instead of the present four. Also, the turret was made of only five overlapping layers of short crossbeams—not as high as the present version. As noted previously, the drum heads bear no identifying symbol, having been borrowed from one of the Buddhist temples.

This larger, heavier structure required additional laborers to bear it through the streets. Again, most of the extra hands were tenant farmers enlisted by the wealthy landlord households of the shuji neighborhood. The current head of one prominent

lineage estimates that his household alone provided around 30-40 of its tenants. Another

recalls mustering as many as 50. The tenants were compensated with food an drink, but

one suspects that they were motivated primarily by a sense of obligation toward the

landlord.

The Taisho emperor passed away in 1926. As with the death of the previous

emperor, the okoshi daiko was canceled that year. The mikoshi procession again made

its rounds but without the accompanying yatai.

The coronation ceremony for the new Emperor Showa (Hirohito) was held in

1928. One of Kuwatani's (1969:30-31) informants suggests that it was from about this

time that the drum beaters were positioned back-to-back atop the drum, facing in opposite

directions, though the Taisho period photograph previously described indicates that the

custom had begun several years before. I think it more likely that at this point the two

side drumbeaters were added, raising the total number of drumbeaters to four. By the

late 1920s, therefore, the personnel riding the drum structure had assumed much the same

positions they occupy today. 272

Today’s participants note that, due to the nature of the motion required, the big drum can be struck more forcefully from the side than it can from above, thereby creating a more powerful percussive sound. However, the two young men who sit back- to-back atop the drum with their sticks held in vertical position high above their heads create a more striking visual impression. It would appear, then, that the two original

drumbeaters were placed atop the drum primarily for their visual effect, and that the two

additional drumbeaters were later added to amplily the sound.

It is interesting to note that the form which the top drumbeaters assume is

curiously reminiscent of the mythical RyDmensukuna figure described in the Nihon shoki.

As mentioned in Chapter Three, Ryomensukuna had two faces aligned in opposite

directions, each with its own set of arms and legs. The Nihon shoki depicts

Ryomensukuna as the evil ruler of the Hida region who was mistreating his people and

needed to be vanquished. Local legends, on the other hand, describe Ryomensukuna as

a benevolent personage, the two faces representing both a strong as well as a

compassionate side to his personality. In any case, the similarity in form raises the

interesting possibility that the two young men were originally positioned back-to-back

atop the drum to recreate the image of Ryomensukuna. The significance of tlie image

could then be interpreted in either of two ways: (I) Ryomensukuna as a nativist

representation of the Hida region-a proud symbol of Hida’s autonomy placed upon a

pedestal for all to see, or (2) Ryomensukuna as a symbol of oppression that, just as in 273 the mythical episode, deserved to be overthrown. The latter would help explain why the shuji’s drum became the target of attacks by the tsuke daiko.

In honor of the new emperor’s coronation, a special drum was designated exclusively for use during the okoshi daiko. ending the practice of borrowing the drum from one of the nearby Buddhist temples. The new drum was used for the first time in

1929 (Ono 1973b;4).

As a result of these changes, the big drum together with its supporting framework became too large—and perhaps was considered too valuable-to subject to the kind of treatment it had been receiving. Now the effort to "smash the shuji" was aimed simply at bringing the structure down and halting its progress. This was achieved by placing the tsuke daiko up onto the rear of the framework and pulling down, thereby causing the bearers below to collapse under the additional weight. Team members also used their

poles as levers to shake or jostle the structure as if to topple its passengers, perhaps

serving to remind the elite of their tenuous position.

The shuji. however, was not merely a passive recipient of this behavior. It also

mustered a gang of burly rear guardsmen positioned at ground level to the rear of the

drum framework to keep the tsuke daiko teams at bay. In addition, the entire structure

could at any time suddenly reverse direction, pressing backward to menace its would-be

attackers. Such defensive tactics served to raise the overall level of animosity.

^It must here be admitted that while interpreting the position of the drum beaters as a representation of Ryomensukuna remains an interesting possibility, there is at present no evidence to support it. When I pointed out the similarity to my informants they seemed intrigued, but it was obvious that such an idea had never occurred to them before and the majority dismissed it as nothing more than an amusing coincidence. 274

This scenario presents several interesting interpretive possibilities. The elite ride atop the drum framework, a symbolic affirmation of their elevated status. They are supported by the efforts of the poor tenant farmers who labor underneath, a visual reminder to the elite from whence their privileged position ultimately derives. The common townspeople attack the structure and threaten to bring the whole thing crashing down, thus demonstrating that if necessary the masses can unite in overthrowing their oppressors.

Why would the elite tolerate the open expression of such rebellious sentiments?

It is important to note that, while they had to submit themselves to being jostled through the streets, their very presence atop the drum framework functioned at the same time to reaffirm their elevated social status. The okoshi daiko was thus characterized by the

simultaneous expression of various sociopolitical themes.

In addition, allowing the young men of the town one night out of the year to

release their pent-up energies and frustrations through a cathartic ritual may have been

seen as an important safety-valve for relieving social tensions. Rather than trying to stifle

its expression, the elite may have recognized that their own interests could best be served

by playing along with the little drama despite the rather subversive messages it had come

to embody.

It is important to remember also that the most parasitic members of the local elite-

-the large agricultural landlords—lived not within the town of Furukawa itself but in

neighboring villages located just upstream. These absentee landlords belonged to other

shrine precincts and thus had no control over the matsuri of Ketawakamiya Shrine. 275

Herein lies the suggestion of another possibility. Were the town-dwelling resident landowners capitalizing upon their position within the community, as well as their patronage of the local matsuri. to strengthen their economic and political positions relative to the larger absentee landlord households?

There is in addition yet another dimension of local conflict which has not been addressed—that pitting neighborhood against neighborhood. The tsuke daiko teams were competing with one another for position while advancing upon the shuji from behind, always holding their poles with the drum positioned upward to display the symbol of the home neighborhood. Thus the event also gave the townspeople a forum for engaging in

inter-neighborhood rivalry, thereby encouraging among the members of each individual

neighborhood a strong sense of communal identity.

Social unrest continued through the early decades of the twentieth century. The

economic boom triggered by the First World War produced masses of urban nouveau

riche. This led to a dramatic rise in prices, making even the most basic commodities

increasingly difficult for the less affluent to obtain. Rice riots broke out all over the

country, and were particularly intense in the area around Toki City in the extreme south-

central portion of Gifu Prefecture.

The economic depression that followed the war, combined with the effects of the

devastating Kanto earthquake in 1923, caused serious repercussions nationwide. The

impact on the agricultural industry, supported largely by rice and silk production, was

particularly heavy. 276

The silk industry was an important source of supplementary income for farm households, especially in mountainous regions like Hida which had always been somewhat marginal rice producers. Most farm households in Hida were involved in the silk industry to some extent, both in sending their daughters to labor in the silk factories in neighboring Nagano Prefecture and in the production of raw silk at home as a cottage industry. Thus the collapse of the silk market overseas during the Great Depression threw the regional economy into chaos and forced a number of bank closures (Gifu-ken

KütD Gakko KyDiku Kenkyukai 1988:9-10).

As described in Chapter Three, amendments to the constitution in 1900, 1919, and

1925 extended voting privileges to successively larger groups of people. Such reforms

did not significantly alter the sociopolitical order in the mral areas, however, as local

landlords were still able to capitalize upon informal social controls—namely, their higher

status and recognized ties of pseudo-filial obligation—in directing their subordinates how

to vote. At the national level, on the other hand, rapid development of the capitalist

market economy had greatly enhanced the political strength of urban-oriented

entrepreneurs, while that of the rural landlords began to decline. "The relative

importance of the landlords in national politics waned rapidly during the early decades

of this century, but their position of political leadership in the villages was sustained,

though gradually weakening, until the [postwar] land reform" (Fukutake 1980:185).

Prior to the Second World War the matsuri was a purely local event conducted

by and for the people of Furukawa themselves. There were very few automobiles at the 211 time and no railroad until 1934. Lack of easy access limited visitors from the outside to residents of nearby villages.

In those days there were few opportunities for diversion, and the annual matsuri was always an anxiously awaited event. The coming of spring signified a yearly renewal, and the matsuri was a celebration of the renewal process. It also provided an opportunity to reestablish contact after a long period of isolation due to the harsh winter. Even ordinary people who passed their lives in frugal simplicity used what they had managed to save to sponsor lavish feasts, inviting friends and relatives from neighboring villages to join in the festivities. The host in turn would be invited to the feasts of his guests

when their own local festivals were held. The whole matsuri system thus functioned as

a means of maintaining a network of reciprocal exchange relationships. Therein lies the

true significance of yobihiki.

At that time the okoshi daiko and mikoshi procession were not clearly

distinguishable as independent events, and a single shuji was responsible for directing

them both. As previously mentioned, the shuji was determined each year by a special

lottery ceremony conducted at the shrine, and the responsibility rotated randomly from

one chonai neighborhood to another.

Only eight of the neighborhoods were involved in the lottery, however.

Participation was limited first of all to the nine neighborhoods comprising old

Furukawa.These were also the neighborhoods that sponsored yatai. Mukaimachi on

Again, old Furukawa consisted of Tonomachi, Upper Ichinomachi, Middle Ichinomachi, Lower Ichinomachi, Upper Ninomachi, Middle Ninomachi, Lower Ninomachi, Upper Sannomachi, and Lower Sannomachi. 278 the other side of the Araki River and Sakaemachi located further downstream to the northwest had only recently been established and consisted mostly of poor tenant farmers.

Mukaimachi did own the Kagura-dai, but this was not considered a genuine yatai.

Sakaemachi was never able to raise sufficient funds to build or purchase a yatai of its own, perhaps because it lacked the requisite number of wealthy landlords. Instead it

fashioned a role for itself in the matsuri by performing the tokeiraku. Without yatai.

these newcomer neighborhoods were not entitled to send representatives to the lottery

ceremony and therefore could not serve as shuji. though they did field tsuke daiko teams

to advance upon the big drum during the okoshi daiko.

Of the nine neighborhoods comprising old Furukawa, Upper Ichinomachi was

exempt owing to its special role as sponsor of the SanbasD. The position of the Sanbaso

had traditionally been fixed at the head of the mikoshi procession. Since it was not

obliged to follow the prescribed order of rotation along with the other vatai it never ended

up in final position, and consequently never served as shuji. This practice carried over

even after the lottery ceremony was instituted, and to this day Upper Ichinomachi has

never participated in the drawing.

Into the Realm of Living Memory

This account of the development of the Furukawa matsuri now enters for the first

time into the range of living memory. Looking back over the past sixty or seventy years,

my informants consistently remark that while the basic structure of the matsuri has

remained relatively unchanged, the old enthusiasm is missing Ifom today’s event. The 279 prewar matsuri. they claim, was more highly animated by the wild and unruly spirit of

‘yancha. ’ The action of the tsuke daiko was much more aggressive, its participants determined to fight their way forward and place their own neighborhood drums upon the big drum framework. Building fronts were smashed and windows shattered. Fights were frequent and injuries not uncommon. There was also a proscription against admitting to personal injuries incurred during the okoshi daiko. and those requiring medical attention would go secretly to visit a bonesetter in the next county to prevent anyone in the local area from finding out.“

The prewar version, they recall, was a simpler affair,^’ but the overall effect was

more awe-inspiring. There were no street lights at the time so at night the town was almost completely dark, and although tlie chochin procession leading the way before the

drum was smaller than at present, the candle light emanating from the paper lanterns

created a more mysterious and powerful effect.

Another early photograph of the okoshi daiko shows the big drum passing through

Middle Ninomachi. The exact date of this photograph is unknown, but it appeared on

a postcard used by the Tajika household to invite friends and relations to partake of their

feast in 1930, and thus had to have been taken prior to this time. The best estimate is

that it dates from the late Taisho period- sometime during the early 1920s.

^®The bonesetter was located in the village of Higashi Ueda, just north of Gero in Mashita-gun. the next county to the south.

^’They describe the prewar matsuri using the term ‘soboku.’ which can be translated as "plain", "rough" or "crude" but also has a favorable connotation of "pure" and "simple." 280

The ritual at that time appears to have proceeded much as it does today, though on a somewhat smaller scale. The photograph confirms that the auxiliary dmmbeaters and main guardsmen had indeed already assumed their present positions. All the

personnel upon the drum structure are naked from the waist up, clad only in dark

momohiki trousers—the white shorts and waistbands having been a later innovation. As

in today’s version, they wear special headbands tied with the knot positioned in front over

the forehead, with the ends sticking out to the sides in the manner of a bow-tie. This is

opposite the usual manner, in which the knot is tied behind the head at the base of the

skull. The two young men sitting back-to-back atop tlie drum are connected by a band

of cloth wrapped around their waists and use cloth stirrups to keep from falling off, but

the footrests and other stabilizing features have not yet been introduced.

The mass of bearers laboring beneath them wear the standard laborer’s costume

consisting of momohiki. a short jacket (uwagi), and straw sandals twarajil. The tsuke

daiko team members, too, are fully clothed. Thus while the okoshi daiko is widely

touted as one of Japan’s traditional "naked festivals" thadaka matsuril. this is in reality

only a fairly recent development. Until around the early ShOwa period, only tliose riding

on the drum framework—the drumbeaters and main guard—went shirtless. Later the tsuke

daiko teams joined them, but the bearers underneath the big drum continued wearing the

workman’s jacket to prevent their shoulders from chafing under the heavy load.“*

^®In speculating upon how the practice of stripping to the waist began, some informants suggested that the participants simply became too warm during the vigorous activity. This seems unlikely due to the cold night-time temperatures which lasted well into early spring. Others noted, however, that the naked condition was appropriate to a rite of purification (misogi), so perhaps the original motive was of a more spiritual 281

A sequence of three photographs taken a few years later in 1933 show the okoshi daiko passing through Ichinomachi in front of the Kaba house. Again, the ritual at that time appears to have been performed much as it is today, but on a somewhat smaller scale. These photographs show a chochin procession leading the way before the big drum, though it does not appear to have been quite as grand as it later became. A banner bearing the characters ‘shu-ji’ immediately precedes the drum. The street is packed with a throng of spectators, and people can be seen leaning out the second-story windows of houses lining the way to get a better look.

By this time the drumbeaters and main guardsmen had donned the short pants and white sarashi waist wrapping characteristic of today’s event. Their headbands too are white, and, as previously mentioned, tied with the knot in front. They also wear white tabi footwear.

The photographs show two tsuke daiko teams closing in from behind. Their members also wear headbands, but these are tied behind the head in the normal manner.

The laborers bearing the drum structure still appear to be fully clothed. Many of them wear towels wrapped like a scarf overtop their heads.

This sequence of photographs taken in 1933 reveal one other interesting feature:

several young men from the neighborhood teams appear to have joined the main guard

atop the drum structure itself. Though they too are shirtless, they are clearly

distinguishable from the authorized shuji personnel in that they wear regular belted

nature. 282 trousers and their headbands are tied in back. The first photograph in the series shows the big drum approaching. Two of the unauthorized riders can be seen to have positioned themselves at the very front of the structure as if imitating the main guardsmen. In the second photograph the drum has just passed in front of the camera, and three other intruders are visible at the rear. In fact by the final photograph one of them has squeezed in beside a member of the main guard and smiles broadly while waving out at the crowd with both hands. To his left, one of his compatriots appears in the second photograph to be trying to push another member of the main guard off the edge of the drum framework, but in the third photograph the victim has regained his balance while his assailant can still be seen lurking behind.

The second photograph also shows a man sitting upon the horizontally-held pole

of the lead tsuke daiko team, as if he were riding a rail. He is clothed in the same

manner as the unauthorized drum riders just described-naked from the waist up, regular

trousers, and a headband tied in back. By the third photograph he has disappeared into

the crowd below. Informant opinions vary on what this man is trying to accomplish.

Some think he must be one of the rear guardsmen positioned at ground level, and that he

has climbed up onto the encroaching team’s pole in an effort to force it down away from

the drum framework. Others suggest he is a member of that particular team himself and

is merely celebrating the fact that his neighborhood has attained the lead position. I am

inclined to agree with the second explanation. The man is shown facing the small drum

attached at the middle of the pole he is riding—the drum which bears the neighborhood

symbol—and appears to be beating on it with his hands. As noted in Chapter Four, this 283 is a customary way for neighborhood team members to celebrate being in lead position.

However, in my opinion it would have been very difficult for him to scramble up onto the pole from ground level with another team pressing in from behind. I think it is more likely that he was on the big drum framework himself before the picture was taken and had merely climbed down onto the lead tsuke daiko pole from above. This would put him in league with the intruders.

In any case, this series of photographs would seem to have captured a brief

insurrection in progress. Several young men from the neighborhood teams have climbed

up onto the elevated drum structure where they now occupy positions alongside—and

perhaps even threaten to displace—the main guard. This may be interpreted as a direct

challenge to elite authority staged within the ritual medium of the okoshi daiko.

It has already been mentioned that the shuji was at that time responsible for

directing both the mikoshi procession and the okoshi daiko. Though the assignment came

around only about once every eight years, it nevertheless represented a considerable

burden, especially for the smaller neighborhoods. One of the shuji’s most important tasks

was mustering a sufficient number of "ninsoku." the men assigned to carry the heavy

drum framework through the streets on their shoulders.^® A single neighborhood might

consist of only twenty or thirty households, and could by no means supply the necessary

^’The word ’ninsoku’ is written with the characters for "person" (nin) and "leg" (soku), and is variously rendered into English as "laborer," "navvy," "carrier"-even "coolie." As these English terms suggest, the word is associated with a very low-status position. 284 manpower by drawing solely from its own constituents. The only solution was to enlist the aid of outsiders.^”

Each constituent household was made responsible for providing a certain number of extra hands, the number varying with the household’s wealth and status. Wealthy landlords might be expected to supply as many as forty or fifty men, drawing them from the ranks of their deiri servants and tenant farmers. Again, Japanese tenant farmers at that time recognized certain filial obligations toward their patron landlord households.

In Furukawa, one such obligation was helping to shoulder the drum when the landlord’s

neighborhood served as shuji.

Ordinary households were assigned a quota of perhaps four or five individuals,

relying mostly on relatives and friends from neighboring farm villages. Farmers were

preferred because they were physically strong and accustomed to heavy labor. The

enlistees were compensated with food and sake and sometimes paid a nominal fee as well.

Not all of the additional drum bearers had to be recruited from other villages. For

example, while Mukaimachi was not itself qualified to serve as shuji. its residents could

be called upon to assist the neighborhoods that were. Again, this usually involved

landlord-tenant relations, as Mukaimachi at that time consisted mostly of tenant farmers.

Also, reciprocal relationships developed between households belonging to different

neighborhoods, each supplying additional manpower when the other’s turn arrived. These

^"Some informants claim that Tonomachi alone was large enough to get by without outside assistance. For the other neighborhoods, the vast majority of the drum bearers had to be recruited from outside the neighborhood boundaries. 285 labor exchange relationships were usually based on kinship ties involving the bride’s natal home, for example, or a household to which a married sibling now belonged.

During the 1930s many of the local men were called away to military service, so the townspeople resorted to enlisting the aid of Korean laborers brought from their

homeland to work in the mines of nearby Kamioka. As might be expected, their

participation in the ritual was limited to shouldering the drum structure. Here again is

an example of how the politics of subordination was physically enacted through the ritual

medium of the okoshi daiko. This particular instance involves ethnic as well as economic

subordination—Korea at that time having been a colony of Japan. As a means of

compensation, the Korean laborers are said to have been invited to attend the atofuki on

April 21.

The okoshi daiko began sometime after midnight and continued on until just

before the break of dawn, eventually completing a circuit of the entire town. The drum

had to return to its point of origin in the shuji’s home territory before the other festivities

could begin, and it would have been considered a great loss of face for the shuji not to

complete the entire circuit. This, however, was no easy task. For the men laboring

underneath, the huge drum structure seemed to grow increasingly heavy as the night wore

on. Some of the men enlisted from other villages would sneak away, creating an even

greater burden for those they left behind. As a result, the whole structure would sink

progressively lower through the course of the event, and by dawn the men were so tired

and drunk that they were often reduced to cradling the structure in the crooks of their

arms. Older informants recall that at times the main guard riding above would shout 286 encouragement and raise their lanterns in an upward sweeping motion, urging their bearers to hoist the structure back to its proper level.

One of Kuwatani’s (1969:32) informants admitted that "On the night of the okoshi daiko we had our guests who were drinking there disrobe so we would confiscate their clothes before sending them out to help shoulder the drum.^' If you didn’t take their clothes they would just run away." This suggests that guests invited to the household

feast were expected to reciprocate by serving as drum hearers. It also indicates that

carrying the drum was not a particularly enjoyable task, and that some amount of

coercion was necessary to ensure compliance.

While serving as drum bearer was a low status occupation open to practically

anyone, riding atop the structure as a member of the main guard was a prestigious

position reserved for only a select few. Again, the shuji neighborhood was responsible

for supplying the okoshi daiko personnel, and the most prestigious positions were

naturally assumed by its own leadership. This included holders of special religious or

political offices such as parish leader (ujiko südai). ward chief ficuchoT counselor

tsodanyaku). or advisor (komon), the majority of whom were prominent landowners. It

would have been deemed highly inappropriate for such individuals to join with the masses

in shouldering the drum or involve themselves in the frenzied charges of the tsuke daiko.

Riding atop the drum structure, on the other hand, allowed them to participate in a

physical expression of their elevated social status. Note, however, that another kind of

^‘The exact phrase used here is ninsoku ni dete moratta’—"had them go out as carriers." 287 message was being implicitly conveyed at the same time-that the elite occupy a precarious position which is ultimately supported by the people laboring beneath them.

Not surprisingly, the most coveted position of all was atop the drum itself, riding high above the others at the very heart of the spectacle. But pounding the drum for an hour or more required special strength and stamina and was therefore assigned to the younger men. Beyond age, opinions vary on the specific attributes an aspiring drum beater was required to possess. The discrepancies may be due to the fact that each neighborhood employed its own selection criteria and that these criteria sometimes had to be relaxed out of practical necessity.

The most commonly mentioned attributes were that the young man be: 1) the eldest son (or "chonan") in his household, also implying that he was destined to succeed as its head, 2) as yet unmarried, 3) from a household of prominent standing in the

community, and 4) recognized as having good character. Of course the candidate had

to be physically strong enough to perform the required task. In those days the okoshi

daiko began shortly after midnight and continued on until dawn, but the drum personnel

were changed only three times. An impressive physical appearance was also mentioned

as a desirable quality.

Some informants insist that only the sons of the elite were eligible to ride upon

the drum. At matsuri time, they say, the young man’s household was expected to

contribute one barrel of sake to the neighborhood-the cost being prohibitive to all but the

affluent. 288

During the Taisho and early Showa periods, however, the sons of the wealthy landowners began drifting away toward higher education and employment opportunities in the cities. The eldest sons eventually returned to assume the head of the household, but by that time they were already at or approaching middle age. In addition, the middle class began to expand at about this same time, absorbing some of both rich and poor alike, so the range of eligible young men among the wealthy landlord class became increasingly narrow. The larger neighborhoods were able to maintain their rigid selection criteria, such as being the eldest son or not yet married. The smaller ones, on the other hand, were eventually obliged to relax their standards due to a shortage of qualifying men, and the most important prerequisite became simple physical strength. However, even though participation was being opened to a broader socioeconomic spectrum in the smaller neighborhoods, the sons of households having greater power and influence in the community persisted in being able to obtain selection more easily than others.

So far I have discussed the local elite and the drum bearers which supported them.

The attacking tsuke daiko constitute a third element in this ritual scenario.

Each neighborhood taigumi sponsored its own team, consisting of members of the young men’s association tseinendanl. so unlike those who shouldered the big drum, the tsuke daiko were manned entirely by the chonai residents themselves. During the okoshi daiko they would wait in ambush for the big drum to pass through their respective territories, then rush out from a side street and advance upon it from the rear.

As previously mentioned, Ono (1976a:3, personal interview 1991) has reported that at around the turn of the century the object was to try to topple the shuji’s drum. 289

This observation is based on interviews with actual participants conducted twenty years before my own research. None of my informants exceeded the age of 83. Their firsthand memories, therefore, could only reach back to around the early Taisho period.

While they acknowledge that the phrase "shuji o tsubusu" (smash the shuji) was commonly employed, none of them recall that the tsuke daiko teams ever attempted to

actually smash or overturn the drum. Rather, the effort was aimed simply at bringing

the structure to the ground and halting its progress. This was achieved by placing the

tsuke daiko pole lengthwise across the rear of the framework and pulling down, causing

the bearers below to collapse under the additional weight. The attacking teams also used

to hook their poles between the beams of the framework and use them as levers to shake

or jostle the structure as if to topple the shuji personnel—thereby reminding them of their

tenuous position.

The drum structure was well-protected both front and rear, but dangerously

vulnerable from the sides. This was usually not a problem since the narrow streets were

lined on both sides with buildings, ruling out the possibility of a broadside attack. As

mentioned previously, however, at certain points along the established route the big drum

had to pass along the riverbank or cross over bridge abutments, momentarily exposing

its flank. At these points the tsuke daiko would press in from the side threatening to

topple the drum structure into the river. My informants could not recall that the threat

had ever been carried out, adding that the drum and rectangular framework were too

valuable to be treated with such disregard. As noted previously, lateral attacks were

prohibited altogether shortly after the Second World War. 290

One informant related a tale about an attack on the drum structure from above.

Recall that in those days the roofs of the houses were made of wooden shingles, with boards laid across them and rocks placed on the boards to hold the shingles against strong winds. The men climbed up on the roofs and lay hidden, ready to ambush the okoshi daiko by tossing the rocks down upon it. However, some members of the shuji found out about the plan. They started a fire in a boat house across the Miya River then shouted an alarm to attract everyone’s attention. While the would-be assailants were

preoccupied with the blaze, the big drum passed by uninhibited. Another version of the

story holds that the assailants were actually planning to push the yagura into the river and

were lying in wait when the fire distracted them. Again the big drum was allowed to

pass by unimpeded. I was unable to document whether such an incident ever actually

occurred. Such stories do serve to illustrate, however, that the prevailing attitude toward

the main drum was one of antagonism.

At this juncture, it is important to point out that the neighborhood chosen to serve

as shuji each year confined itself to manning the big drum; it did not field a tsuke daiko

team. This was a holdover from the days before a special drum had been designated and

each neighborhood simply used its own drum for performing the okoshi daiko when its

turn arrived. The tsuke daiko. therefore, were never placed in the position of having to

attack their own people.

Note how closely this aspect of the ritual performance parallels the actual

condition of landlord-tenant relations in Japan at the time, as Hane (1983:107) describes

them: 291

When, as the landlords turned to other means of making money, absentee landlordism began to increase, personal ties weakened and tenancy disputes became more acrimonious. Even then, however, tenants who were still linked to their landlords through personal ties normally remained loyal, siding with them against tenants who, encouraged by "radical" outsiders, challenged the landlord’s authority.

Likewise during the okoshi daiko ritual, the neighborhood tsuke daiko teams were never brought into direct confrontation with their own resident elite, but only with those of other neighborhoods—ones who had been chosen that year to ride upon the drum structure as symbolic representatives of their class. Thus while the okoshi daiko expressed a message of generalized opposition toward the landed elite, specific, interpersonal relations between landlord and tenant remained unchallenged. This is even more significant considering the role played by both (1) the drum bearers, pressed into service by their landlord patrons—the very individuals whom they dutifully supported on their shoulders during the ritual, and (2) the rear guard, positioned behind the drum structure to ward off the other neighborhoods.

There is yet one other dimension of this ritualized struggle—that which pits chonai

against chonai as they vie for position in advancing upon the drum structure. In time the

major objective for the tsuke daiko teams became outmaneuvering the other

neighborhoods to occupy tlie esteemed position directly behind the shuji. then proudly

displaying their drum insignia for everyone to see. This gave them boasting rights when

the action was later recounted.

The two dimensions of ritual conflict-neighborhood against neighborhood and

common townspeople united against the shuji-often resulted in actual fighting. 292

Informants recall that in the old days the okoshi daiko was a true "kenka matsuri”

(fighting festival), and that fighting was an ever-present aspect of the whole affair.

Violence was not limited to the ritual medium alone, however. During the prewar period tsuke daiko team members sometimes fought with operators of the small food and entertainment stalls that lined the main streets during festival time. In addition to being outsiders, tliese operators often had organized crime tyakuzal connections and thus were not well received by the townspeople. There were also fights with yakuza members from nearby Takayama who had come to watch the action.

The okoshi daiko was performed in the early predawn hours—an unusual time for people to be out running about in the streets. This, combined with the obligatory sake- drinking, created an atmosphere conducive to deviant behavior, thereby offering the townspeople an opportunity to gain retribution for perceived injustices. Anyone having a score to settle would wait for the night of the okoshi daiko to seek their revenge.

Random acts of vandalism would likely go undetected in the general confusion that surrounded the affair. Sake-drinking afforded temporary license for engaging in abnormal behavior, and airing one’s grievances through aggressive confrontation could later attributed to tlie effects of the alcohol.

In some cases the drum structure itself became the very instrument of retribution.

It would on occasion mysteriously lurch to one side, smashing into the home of a stingy landlord or greedy merchant. It must be noted that the elite who rode upon the beams of the fi-amework had no control over its movement and were largely at the mercy of the 293 laborers underneath. Due to the mass of participants it would have been extremely difficult if not impossible to single out specific individuals as the instigators.

The most famous example of such behavior involved yet another attack on the police headquarters, this one occurring in 1929. This has become an important episode in the local tradition which is retold with great enthusiasm and, one senses, a certain amount of pride. Various explanations are offered as to why the incident occurred. It should not be attributed to a single cause, however, but rather to the culmination of a number of interacting variables.

The police in prewar Japan were strict and intimidating-the most immediate agents of a militarist central government imposing its authority into local affairs. They adopted a rather arrogant attitude toward the local people and maintained a policy of strict enforcement of even seemingly trivial rules. In Furukawa some of the police were facetiously referred to as shoben junsa (pee police) because they were in the habit of arresting people for urinating out of doors. Also, in those days it was customary for farmers to spread beans and other vegetables out along the streets to dry, and while the authorities had traditionally turned a blind eye, they now began to enforce a strict prohibition on the practice.

Such incidents led to widespread dissatisfaction among the townspeople, but since the police were so powerful there was little they could do in tlie way of opposition. The abnormal atmosphere surrounding the okoshi daiko. however, afforded them some degree of anonymity and criminal license. Older informants recall that on that night alone out 294 of the entire year were the police not to be feared. On that night alone the townspeople had the courage to defy the authorities.

One informant remembers a police officer they nicknamed "the caramel cop" fkarameru junsal because of his fondness for caramel, which was difficult for ordinary people to obtain in those days. This officer was of small stature but notably ill-natured temperament, and had become very unpopular among the townspeople. One year during the okoshi daiko as the big drum was passing in front of his quarters, four or five men

climbed up onto the drum structure and in through a second floor window to his room.

The policeman, apparently sensing danger, had apparently fled the premises just moments

before. Finding no one at home, the intruders left the room a shambles. This incident

was thought to have occurred around 1925.

Ill feelings toward the police had thus been prevalent in Furukawa for several

years. In 1929 they intensified. During the New Year observances that year the police

made a raid on a gambling party. Many of those arrested turned out to be members of

the local fire brigade. In those days it was possible for influential third parties to

intervene on behalf of the accused to gain their release, but in this particular instance the

police remained adamant. The fire brigade, which consisted exclusively of local

residents, and the police, who were posted there from other areas, had traditionally been

at odds. Now it was rumored that there would be big trouble during the okoshi daiko

(Furukawa-chü Kyüiku linkai 1987:474).

For several years the shuji had had to borrow its drum from one of the local

Buddhist temples. In 1929, to commemorate the coronation of the Showa emperor, a 295 new drum was dedicated specifically for use during the okoshi daikoIn honor of its inaugural employment, Lower Ichinomachi-the shuji that year-decided to have a Shinto priest ride atop the drum in place of the forward-facing drum beater, waving a sakaki branch over homes and onlookers as the procession made its way through town (Ono

1976:3, Furukawa-chü Kyoiku linkai 1987:475).” This priest had no relation to

Ketawakamiya Shrine, but merely happened to be a resident of the shuji neighborhood.

The otlier chonai were upset since there was no precedent for such an unusual innovation, so tensions were high from the beginning.

The fire brigade was responsible for providing security during the okoshi daiko. patrolling the event to keep the action from getting out of hand. That year, however, due

to the ill feelings they had been harboring toward the police stemming from the gambling

incident, the fire brigade refused to perform its customary duties and the event went

largely uncontrolled.

One of the police officers-reportedly the man who had led the raid on the

gamblers and been most adamant in refusing to release them—had taken up residence in

Mukaimachi. As the okoshi daiko passed by, the huge wooden framework crashed into

”Note that this symbolically associates the drum with imperial authority. Though the emperor succeeded to the throne in 1926, his official coronation was not held until 1929 (Showa 4 by the Japanese chronology).

"According to some accounts the priest was squeezed in between the two men normally positioned atop the drum. This is doubtful due to the size of the drum, which was somewhat smaller than the one in use today and could hardly have accommodated three giown men. One informant maintains that the priest merely stood upon the framework to one side of the drum, waving the sakaki branch out over the crowd. 296 his house (Furukawa-chü Kyoiku linkai 1987:475). Some informants add that the officer was hiding inside but escaped out a back entrance into the paddy fields.

The okoshi daiko then proceeded on to a scheduled rest stop before crossing

Kasumi Bridge from Mukaimachi back into the main part of town. On the other side of the bridge stood the police headquarters.^^ When the rest period had ended the mass of bearers reshouldered the drum and proceeded on across the bridge. As they were rounding the comer in front of the police station to head down Ninomachi, however, the whole structure suddenly swung wide and crashed into the front of the station building.”

For a time it continued on down the street, but then reversed direction and moved back

toward the station. Some informants report that it crashed into the building repeatedly

in the manner of a battering ram. At this point the police station was pelted with a

barrage of rocks, smashing the windows facing the street.

The sudden outburst was precipitated in part by the sight of a group of

policemen’s wives and consorts looking down upon the spectacle from the second floor

windows of the station building. The okoshi daiko was seen as a sacred event, and the

(hum structure itself a religious object. It was therefore considered taboo to look down

upon it from a lofty height.” Some informants add that the fact that the onlookers were

”The old police station was located on what is now the small parking lot on the bank of the Araki River in front of Honkü Temple, and stood there until as recently as about six years ago. Prior to its demolition it was being used as a community meeting hall.

”Some informants claim the (hum stmcture was actually rammed through the entranceway and inside the building itself.

”01d photographs appear to contradict this contention. They reveal a number of spectators observing the okoshi daiko from the second floor windows of houses lining its route. Recall, however, that a Shinto priest was riding the drum and waving a sakaki 297 women may have been particularly galling, as females were at that time prohibited from participating in sacred rites. Also, looking down upon the spectacle suggested an air of superiority, compounding the arrogant image already associated with the police.

A contributing factor may have been that the town administration had failed to provide sufficient funds for the electric street lighting that year, so the streets were completely dark. There were lights on in the station building, however, making the group of wives and consorts appear all the more conspicuous.

One of the eyewitnesses-in fact the young man who was sitting upon tlie drum

at the time as the rear-facing drum beater has recalled noticing about twenty new men join the mass of bearers under the back of the wooden framework before it set out over

the bridge. He claims that it was these newcomers who were responsible for swinging

the structure into the police station (Furukawa-chD Kyüiku linkai 1987:476). He denies,

however, that the okoshi daiko participants had anything to do with the rock barrage.

One of my own informants, himself an eyewitness, concurs that the okoshi daiko

participants themselves were laigely innocent—that most of the rocks were thrown by the

crowd of onlookers. He notes that prior to the event a pile of gravel had been placed at

the comer opposite the police station by a road maintenance crew to fill potholes in the

dirt streets. This pile conveniently provided much of the ammunition during the attack.

Hostilities that night did not end with the attack on the police station, however.

The okoshi daiko continued on down Ninomachi, made the turn at the end, then headed

branch over the crowd in an act of ritual purification. This may be the reason why looking down upon the event was considered so objectionable on this particular occasion. 298 up through Saniiomachi along the bank of the Araki River. At this point the tsuke daiko team from Tonomachi succeeded in hooking their pole through the crossbeams of the drum structure, threatening to dump the whole thing into the river. A little farther along the route at the intersection with the Otani side street another team came pressing in from the side with a ladder held horizontally, pushing the drum structure dangerously close to the edge of the embankment. The okoshi daiko managed to make its way back to

Ninomachi, only to find that someone had built a bonfire there in the middle of the street, bringing the entire procession to an abrupt halt (Furukawa-chD Kyüiku linkai 1987:476).

At this point the shuji had had enough and refused to continue on into Tonomachi

in accordance with the prescribed route. The ward chief (kugho) and other

representatives from Tonomachi soon arrived to protest the delay, and a heated argument

ensued. Finally at daybreak the tsuke daiko teams dispersed and the shuji was left to

carry on alone. It passed through Tonomachi without incident before finally returning

to its home neighborhood—a rather anticlimactic finish to a rather bizarre afiair

(Furukawa-chD KyDiku linkai 1987:476-477, Ono 1973b:4).

Later in the day all the men who had participated in the okoshi daiko were

rounded up for an investigation into the rock-throwing incident. Additional police had

to be summoned from Takayama and Kamioka to assist in the interrogation. The police

were under the impression that the attack on the station building had been premeditated-

that the instigators had capitalized upon the absence of street lighting to ensure their

anonymity. Most of the investigators were from other towns and were unfamiliar with

the particulars of the event. They accused the okoshi daiko participants themselves of 299 carrying rocks to throw at the station house. The accused countered that they were all wearing tlie close-fitting momohiki. which had no pockets for concealing rocks, and in any case had their hands full with bearing the drum.

Over 200 men were held for questioning. The police station was not nearly big enough to accommodate them all, so the majority were kept next door in HonkO Temple.

The night of April 20 was very cold, and it had begun to snow. Families brought food and bedding for their men, but were denied access to the prisoners. The questioning was

severe and some of the suspects were beaten. One of my informants recalls being warned

during the interrogation that the power of the police was second only to that of the

imperial family.

All those arrested remained loyal to one another and refused to give up any

incriminating information. Honda Akinori, at the time serving as both mayor of

Furukawa and representative to the prefectural assembly, intervened on behalf of the

townspeople and eventually secured the release of most of the prisoners. In the end,

however, three of the men had to be given up for punishment.”

The police may have been unusually wary at the time due to events that had

occurred earlier in the year. Government plans for improvement projects along the

Saikawa River in southern Gifu Prefecture were threatening the livelihood of the peasants

downstream. In January, about 7000 peasant farmers in the villages of Sunomata and

Musubu had risen in opposition. The rebellion was suppressed and the projects were

”It is significant that informants refer to these men as "giseisha" (scapegoats), the very term used for those given up for punishment during the peasant rebellions. Use of this term suggests an attitude of moral conviction and solidarity in defying the authorities. 300 eventually carried out as planned (Gifu-ken Koto Gakko Kyoiku Kenkyukai Shakaika

Bukai 1988:10), but the incident was fresh on the minds of the regional authorities and may have led them to be particularly vigilant against any further indications of subversive activity in the rural areas.

As previously mentioned, the 1929 attack on the police station is one of the most well-known and frequently recounted episodes in Furukawa’s history. It is variously known as the "keisatsu shugeki jiken " (attack-on-the-police incident), the "toseki iiken"

(rock-throwing incident), and the "sojo jiken" (riot incident). Several informants observed (unsolicited by the researcher) that the incident resembled a peasant rebellion in that it involved the people rising up against oppression. At that time, they say, the police were abusing their authority, and the attack was an open expression of the people’s defiance. To this day, they continue, the police avoid getting too close to the okoshi daiko. preferring instead to keep watch from a safe distance.’® As in the old days, it is the local fire brigade which patrols the event.

Changes were instituted in the conduct of the matsuri in response to the problems

that had occurred. A document called the "Saisoku” (festival rules) issued in 1930

includes a passage stating that for no reason whatsoever was the drum of the shuji to

reverse its direction. The drum structure was thus prohibited from going back along its

route as it had during the attack on the police station the year before (Ono 1973b:4).

’®At the conclusion of the okoshi daiko in 1991, one of the tsuke daiko teams was observed advancing upon a police cai that had been slowed down by the crowd. The team was approaching the car from the rear, their pole held horizontally with the drum in upright position in a humorous attempt to contact ftsukerul the patrol car just as they would the drum structure. 301

In December, 1936, Watanabe Ichiro, the sake brewer, donated a new and bigger drum for the okoshi daiko in celebration of the birth of his first grandson.” This is the same drum used in today’s event, bearing on its leather heads the familiar hollyhock design—symbol of the Ketawakamiya jinia (Ono 1973b:4). Thus the rousing drum, once borrowed from one of the Buddhist temples, was now the exclusive property of the tutelary shrine.

As previously mentioned, the okoshi daiko was originally conducted as a preliminary to the main events of the day, and generally completed its circuit just before dawn. Upon returning to the home neighborhood, the shuji would pass out sake to all the men it had enlisted, and by that time it was already starting to grow light. The participants had only enough time for a quick bath, a change of clothing, and perhaps a brief rest before heading back out to join the events of the day.

The stately mikoshi procession can perhaps be seen as an attempt at reconciliation

following the hostilities of the night before. The yaitai vehicles accompanied the mikoshi

on its grand tour through the town, so representatives from each taigumi were obliged to

pull their yatai through rival neighborhoods. Maneuvering the cumbersome vehicles

through the narrow streets was a difficult task. Participants would often be invited into

homes along the way for food and sake, bringing the entire entourage to a halt. It is not

surprising, then, that the procession continued all day and on into the evening hours. The

mikoshi followed roughly the same route as the okoshi daiko. except that it stopped at

”This grandson is the present head of the Watanabe household. 302 the near side of Kasumi Bridge and did not cross over into Mukaimachi. Indeed, this is the point where the banners were erected, marking the limits of the shrine’s territory.

The atofuki gathering was held the following day-April 21st. The townspeople packed all the leftover food and sake and headed up into the hills just west of the shrine for a picnic under the blossoming cherry trees. The event provided chonai leaders with an opportunity to reflect upon how the festival had been conducted, assess the condition of damaged equipment, and suggest possible revisions, similar to tlie hanseikai held after the matsuri in the present day. But the atofuki also offered a chance to relax, especially for the women who had spent so much time preparing food and entertaining their guests.

The people would assemble by neighborhood affiliation, with curtains hung to separate

one group from another. As the party progressed, however, the attendees began to

mingle further afield, perhaps visiting acquaintances in the other sections. Some of tlie

chonai invited geisha to entertain. The gathering assumed an atmosphere of boisterous

revelry and continued on until dark.

It has already been mentioned that spring matsuri in this region were held as a

prelude to the rice planting season. Informants recall that the conversation during the

atofuki often alluded to the hard work that lay ahead, and the event undoubtedly played

a role in cementing cooperative labor commitments.

Informants also remember that some of the men would bring their marriageable

daughters along to pour sake and perhaps engage in some light conversation, but

otherwise remain demurely in the background. The intent here was obviously to

advertize the young women’s availability in hopes of inviting a marriage proposal. 303

The 1930s brought new advances in transportation, further linking Furukawa with the outside world. The Takayama rail line, connecting Gifu with Toyama via Furukawa, was completed in 1934."° This represented a major turning point in the development and expansion of the town. In addition, a bus line over Kambara Pass was initiated in 1937, making Furukawa more accessible from nearby towns like Kamioka.

The 1930s were also characterized by Japanese military expansion into the Asian continent. Though far removed from events in the capital city, rural Japan was by no means oblivious to the rising tide of war. "The village, " Fukutake (1980:158) observes,

"became the last link in the chain of organization for the all-out war effort and lost all

vestiges of autonomy under the pressures of national administration. "

With Shinto having been drawn into the nationalist ideology, it is understandable

that as the war progressed local shrine festivals all over the country became increasingly

oriented toward the national goal of military victory. The prayers and ceremonies

performed during the Furukawa matsuri were no exception. Significantly, however, the

okoshi daiko was not viewed in quite the same manner. In keeping with the seriousness

of the war situation, the parish leaders and ward chiefs together decided in 1938 to

temporarily suspend the boisterous event, though the shrine ceremonies and mikoshi

procession were carried on as usual. This decision was poorly received by the

townspeople (Ono 1973b:4), and the okoshi daiko was resumed in 1940.

"“An old photograph taken on the day of the grand opening of Furukawa station shows the yatai vehicles lined up along the street leading from the new station building into town. This indicates both (1) what an important event the opening represented and (2) that the yatai were not confined exclusively to use during the matsuri but were sometimes employed on other auspicious occasions as well. 304

The following year, however, the okoshi daiko was performed in broad daylight, beginning at 2:00 in the afternoon (Ono 1976b). The reason for this is unclear, but most likely had something to do with the austerity measures adopted in support of the war effort. Recall that since 1878 the event had been officially referred to as the "mezamashi daiko." That same year, 1941, the original name ‘okoshi daiko’ was reinstated by an amendment to the earlier regulations (Ono 1973b:4). The name appears to have changed because the term ‘mezamashi’ ("eye-opening" or "wake-up alarm") no longer made sense

in referring to an afternoon event. As mentioned earlier, the alternative term ‘okoshi’

can be interpreted in various ways, and is not limited to a simple wake-up signal.

The event was again performed in the afternoon in 1943. This time it did not

begin until 4:00 and made only a single perfunctory pass through Ichinomachi (Ono

1976b). Due to the threat of allied air raids, the Japanese government imposed a

nationwide blackout in 1944. This ruled out any nighttime outdoor activities, so the

Furukawa matsuri as a whole had to be greatly curtailed. The mikoshi procession, which

normally lasted all day and on into the evening, was canceled outright. The

neighborhood yatai. which ordinarily accompanied the mikoshi. merely lined up together

briefly along Ôyoko-chü, the major side street. The okoshi daiko began that year at 2:00

PM (Ono 1976b).

One senses that the ritual had largely become devoid of meaning with the

transition to a daytime context and the spirit of austerity which prevailed as a result of

the war. By this time so many of the local men had been called away to military service

that there were hardly enough able bodies remaining to shoulder the drum structure. In 305

1945 the okoshi daiko was abandoned altogether, along with the mikoshi procession, though the prayers of supplication continued to be performed at the shrine as usual.

The Postwar Years

The prevailing mood immediately following the war was one of disillusionment and shame—hardly conducive to a festive atmosphere. Besides, the matsuri could no longer be properly celebrated due to severe shortages of food and other supplies.

Nevertheless, in 1947 young men returning from military service overseas led a

movement to resurrect the okoshi daiko. They were at first unable to gain the consent

of either the parish leaders or the town officers, and for two years the ritual was

performed unofficially under the impetus of the various neighborhood young men’s

associations. The young men made their own alcoholic beverage called "doburoku"—sake

being difficult to obtain during the immediate postwar years. Reportedly there were so

few participants that the drum bearers were reduced to carrying the structure in the crooks

of their arms while their elders looked on in bemusement.

The event was fully reinstated in 1949, but some changes were necessary. The

land reform instituted by the Allied Occupation after the war had effectively dissolved the

landlord class. In 1947 voting privileges were extended to all citizens, male and female,

at least 20 years of age. As a result of the new democratic reforms, former landlords no

longer held the authorify to enlist the additional labor necessary to carry the huge drum

structure. The center of town consisted mostly of merchant households whose members

were not physically as strong as those engaged in agriculture, and in any case most of the 306 old neighborhoods were too small to draw sufficient manpower from among their residents alone. A decision was made to divide the town into four new divisions, each large enough by itself to provide the necessary manpower from among its own residents.

Responsibility for conducting the okoshi daiko was to rotate among these four new units.

The decision resulted in the rather complicated chain of command described in

Chapter Four. From this point on two individual shuji had to be selected during the lottery ceremony—one to be responsible for directing the yatai procession and the other for leading the okoshi daiko. These two components of the matsuri had thus come to function as completely separate events.

The highest ranking member of the shuji in charge of the okoshi daiko was now referred to as the sotsukasa (general director). Like the prewar torishimari. this man held

ultimate authority over all the proceedings, and customarily rode at the front of the drum

structure as the lead member of the main guard.

The new four fold okoshi daiko divisions placed the outlying settlements of

Mukaimachi and Sakaemachi on an equal status with the inner neighborhoods comprising

old Furukawa. In fact, Mukaimachi, because of its size, now by itself constituted an

entire division, and thus for the first time became eligible to participate in the lottery

ceremony and serve as shuji for the okoshi daiko.

This initially led to a rather embarrassing episode. When Mukaimachi was first

chosen shuji one of its responsibilities was of course to assemble the drum structure. Its

residents had never done this before and mistakenly placed the drum so that the three- 307 leafed hollyhock symbol of the shrine was upside down, much to the amusement of the residents of the old neighborhoods.

Witli the institution of the larger divisions there was no longer any need for smaller households to enlist the cooperation of friends and relatives from outside the town. The event was now performed solely by the residents of Furukawa, and ties with neighboring communities grew subsequently weaker. There is a parallel here with the

overall decline in cooperative inter-neighborhood work relationships which accompanied

the spread of mechanized agriculture.

In 1956, as part of a nationwide program to consolidate towns and villages

(choson gappeil into larger political units, the town of Furukawa was combined with the

nearby villages of Hosoe and Kotakari to form Furukawa Township (Furukawa-chü).

This had no major effect on the development of the matsuri. however, since the shrine

boundaries restricted the event to residents of the town of Furukawa itself.

The new four fold okoshi daiko divisions remained in effect for over twenty years.

Within that period, however, the "donut effect" (donatsuka genshol created by households

moving from the center to the perimeter of town, caused a serious imbalance in the

number of households per neighborhood. In 1973 it was decided that rather than having

the shuji responsibility rotate among the four divisions as it had in the past, each taigumi

in Furukawa should every year provide one quarter the number of its ujiko membership

for shuji service—the shuji personnel now in effect being drawn from all over town. This

“"Some residents of Mukaimachi claim that the advisors they had consulted from the old neighborhoods had purposely set them up to make them look foolish. 308 also meant, however, that in advancing upon the shuji. the tsuke daiko would be forced to confront many of their own fellow residents, which did not encourage a very enthusiastic attack. In 1977 the okoshi daiko gumi were reinstated with the lines redrawn to achieve a more equitable distribution of households among the four divisions.

The tsuke daiko continued to clash against the rear guard. Now when they reached the drum structure, however, it was deemed sufficient for them merely to place their poles directly onto the back end of the wooden framework and allow them to ride there rather than trying to pull the whole thing to the ground.

The occupation reforms had largely dissolved the rigid authoritarian hierarchy which existed before the war. In light of the new democratic ideals, positions of authority within the matsuri were no longer to be held exclusively by the local elite. As

Fukutake (1980:101) observes:

The ujiko group is now more egalitarian, and the elitism of the past is almost imperceptible. The families that once monopolized the lead roles in festivals and ceremonies can no longer handle the financial burden that these impose because of the lowering of their economic position since the land reform (1947-50). In addition, the influence of democracy on hamlet people is such that the kind of class distinctions which were once implicit on religious occasions will not be tolerated.

Furukawa may be seen as an exception in that the old merchant landlord

households have in large part managed to regain their privileged positions and continue

to dominate the annual matsuri. Even so, the nature of social relations in the postwar

period has been far more democratic. There is little need in the present day for symbolic

expressions of opposition toward an oppressive elite. Riding upon the drum structure as

a member of the main guard is still restricted to prominent members of the community. 309

Prominence, however, is defined less by material wealth and political influence and more by personal integrity and community service. The riders may be jostled a bit as they are borne through the streets, but they are in little danger of being pitched off or toppled.

Though the okoshi daiko has lost much of its earlier significance as a ritual of rebellion, acts of vandalism continued well into the 1960s. During the postwar period the merchants began to enjoy the benefits of economic prosperity well before the other people and this often led to feelings of resentment. Shop owners had to resort to setting up wooden screens on the night of the okoshi daiko to prevent their store fronts and windows from being smashed.

Several steps have been taken to limit the danger, if not the hostility. Attacks by the tsuke daiko have been prohibited while the drum structure is crossing bridges or passing along the river bank in Sannomachi. The teams must now raise their drums high above their heads as they rush forward, so it is no longer possible to use the pole as a lever. In recent years placing the pole directly onto the drum structure has also been discouraged, as it is seen as endangering the members of the main guard positioned there at the edge. Every year at the consultation meeting ttsuke daiko uchiawasekail held several days prior to the matsuri. the team captains have to be cautioned against the practice (Kuwahara, et al. 1991:40).

Even so, the okoshi daiko remains a rather wild and boisterous affair. A large number of inebriated men concentrated in one area, motivated by inter-group rivalries and

a tradition of unruly behavior, all set the stage for violent outbreaks. Fighting is not

unusual and injuries still occur. One of the most common dangers is stumbling during 310 the tsuke daiko attacks and being trampled by the masses pressing in from behind.

Around 1970 one of the participants was killed at the point where Ninomachi meets the side street which runs across Kasumi Bridge—approximately the same spot where the rock-throwing incident took place in 1929. Apparently the man was drunk and fell into one of the open gutters, hitting his head on the concrete. When the crowd passed by he

was found lying dead in their wake.

While attempts are made to limit such injuries, it must be admitted that the peril

involved is part of the appeal, much like the running of the bulls in Pamplona. In fact

neighborhood team members will sometimes invite friends visiting from other areas to

don the white shorts and sarashi wrapping and join in the action. The special attire

immediately identifies those who are bold enough to participate, and the young men are

seen as local heroes by the admiring onlookers.

Tradition and Tourism

The post-war period has been characterized by rapid economic expansion, bringing

widespread prosperity and further dissolution of socioeconomic distinctions. The most

significant changes in the matsuri in recent years have resulted from efforts to capitalize

upon this new prosperity .

In 1952, at the request of the Commerce and Industry Association, the starting

time for the okoshi daiko was moved ahead to 10:00 PM of the previous day, the purpose

being to facilitate attendance by tourists from outside the town. This further established

the okoshi daiko. which had formerly been performed in conjunction with the yatai 311 procession, as a completely independent event conducted on the evening before the regular festivities.

With the postwar emphasis on tourism, the yatai constituted one of the most important attractions, and their safety and preservation became the overriding concern.

Dragging them through the streets was thought to subject them to excessive wear, so in

1961 banners bearing their names were substituted for the yatai themselves during the mikoshi procession.

Thus while the yatai traditionally led the procession, symbolizing the unity of shrine and neighborhood, in recent years the connection has become increasingly vague.

The vehicles now make only a short circuit along a predetermined route. In the evening rows of paper lanterns are attached and they make another short pass to simulate the yoru

no sai. In the old days if it began to rain during the procession the yatai would simply

be covered and continue on unless or until the shuji ordered them to stop. Now the yatai

return to their garages before it starts to rain to protect them from water damage. Again,

the yatai themselves have become more important than the event, and any religious

significance they formerly had has been obscured.

This can be seen as a general trend apparent in other aspects of the matsuri as

well. Inscriptions on the festival banners erected at chonai boundaries did not use to

simply bear the name of the shrine as many do today. They were originally intended as

messages to attract and welcome the deity on its visit to town. This is still the case with

twelve out of the seventeen sets of banners in Furukawa. The problem is that the

inscriptions are written in rather obscure Chinese characters and very few people are still 312 able to read them. This problem was brought to light in the following incident. The banners are subjected to strong winds and periodically need to be replaced. They are erected in pairs and the inscription continues from one to the other, so that both must be read as a unit to make any sense. However, in ordering new banners made, one of the

neighborhoods simply had the characters which appear on one side repeated verbatim on

the other. Few could read the inscription any longer so the significance of the error went

unnoticed until the work had been completed (Ono 1974b :4).

There have been many other changes to accommodate the tourists. The yoru no

sai procession, for example, in which paper lanterns are attached to the yatai after dark,

was traditionally the final event of the matsuri. Indeed, the hikiwakare (pulling away)

at the end of the procession signified a farewell until the following year. During the late

1960s the evening procession was moved to the 19th so that tourists who had come to see

the okoshi daiko could enjoy both events.

As a result of the promotional effort, the Furukawa matsuri began to gain

notoriety beyond the immediate area. In 1966 the okoshi daiko was designated as one

of Gifu Prefecture’s intangible cultural properties fmukei bunkazaiT and the Disney

company was hired to document the ritual on film in an effort to promote tourism in

Furukawa. On this occasion the okoshi daiko was performed during the day so that there

would be adequate lighting for the color film. The event was staged on the grounds of

the elementary school where the cameras could be set up at the proper angles. As with

the daylight performance during the war years, participants and onlookers report that the

whole atmosphere was completely different. In addition, the action was free of its spatial 313 constraints in tlie wide open spaces of the school grounds. The tsuke daiko were able to attack not only from the rear but from the sides as well. Since there was nothing

equivalent to the rear guard along the sides, tlie tsuke daiko were able to make contact

freely and even slide their poles over top and onto the framework. The overall result was

a lapse into general confusion.

This episode illustrates the significance of a ritual developing within the context

of a specific environment. The okoshi daiko evolved in the narrow streets of the town,

with intersections to provide opportunities for the tsuke daiko to rush out and attack. The

cover of night adds an air of mystery and temporary license to display unusual or bizarre

behavior. When taken out of such an environment the whole event loses its significance

and appeal.

The okoshi daiko went "on the road" on two separate occasions, again largely in

an effort to draw tourists to Furukawa. The first instance was the filming in 1969 of an

NHK television program introducing Hida folk traditions. Various cultural attractions

from all over the Hida region were assembled and performed before the cameras on the

grounds of a high school in Takayama. The second occasion was a 1988 exhibition of

folk culture from all over Gifu Prefecture, held in Gifii City. In both cases the huge

framework, drum, and a few of the neighborhood tsuke daiko had to be transported to

the site along with a mass of young men pressed into service for the special performance.

In January, 1980 the okoshi daiko and yatai procession were raised to the status

of intangible folkloristic cultural properties fmukei minzoku bunkazail as officially

recognized by the Japanese government. This has given the Furukawa matsuri a certain 314 degree of national exposure, though it is by no means as well-known as the Takayama matsuri or some of the large urban festivals.

The rousing drum ritual itself has undergone certain fairly inconspicuous yet fundamental alterations as well. The procession of lantem-bearers preceding the drum has grown over the years so that it now includes over a thousand people. While this creates an impressive spectacle, many of the oldtimers lament the loss of its former simplicity.

As for the drum itself, foot rests and other stabilizing features have been added

for the benefit of the two young men sitting atop. The long strip of white cloth which

is wrapped around the waists of the two men to hold them together now also passes

through a metal loop attached to the drum itself, acting much like a safety belt.

The most significant change, however, has been that in 1967 a set of wheels—

complete with pneumatic tires—was installed underneath the huge wooden framework

which bears the drum, making the whole structure much easier to lug through the streets.

This is not readily apparent to onlookers during the okoshi daiko as the undercarr iage is

concealed within the mass of bearers. The two wheels are positioned at the middle of the

framework so that it can still be rocked back and forth in the manner of a seesaw, but it

is now virtually impossible to topple over. With most of the weight home by the wheels,

the great endurance effort once required is no longer necessary. Now the so-called

"bearers" shuffle along underneath, pushing more than carrying the structure. Older

informants note derisively that today’s young people are not accustomed to physical labor

and are too weak to shoulder the heavy load—that is why the wheels had to be added. 315

In any case, the whole structure now remains at a constant height right on through to the end with no danger of collapsing. The foot rests and other stabilizing features help the top drumbeaters maintain a symmetrical upright posture, creating a nice impression for the spectators. Note also that tlie wheels keep the structure on a steady course and afford far greater control when turning comers, so there is no longer any danger (nor,

one might add, implied threat of vengeance) to houses lining the way.

As described in Chapter Four, the mikoshi. too, now rides along on a set of four

pneumatic tires. As a result it can no longer ascend the long flight of stone steps leading

up to the shrine. Instead it waits at the bottom of the steps while the deity is brought

down. Transferring the deity must thus be performed in two stages. It is first put in a

temporary box and carried down the steps by four men. Then it is taken from the box

and placed inside the mikoshi for its journey through the town. The undercarriage is

constmcted such that the mikoshi continues to be borne at shoulder height, just as it was

in the old days, though actual shoulders are no longer employed.

In defense of these changes it must be remembered that both the mikoshi

procession and the okoshi daiko have considerably more territory to cover now than in

the past. This is one of the reasons why wheels had to be added and banner bearers now

take the place of the yatai in preceding the mikoshi.

The acrobatics performed atop the tsuke daiko is a fairly recent development

emerging only during the last fifteen years. This too has become a popular attraction for

the tourists, and is often featured in promotional materials. 316

The tourist industry has been greatly assisted by improvements in transportation facilities, making Furukawa much more accessible to visitors from the outside. National highway route 41 linking Nagoya with Toyama City via Furukawa was completed in

1968, and in 1978 the limited express train began to stop at Furukawa station. When the

Takayama main line was first opened in 1934, the journey between Nagoya and

Furukawa took two days to complete, but now with the new limited express trains the trip

can be made in a little over two-and-a-half hours.

In fact the Japan Railway companies (JR) have become willing partners in

promoting local festivals of this type, as they stand to profit by shuttling the throng of

tourists in from other areas. The huge color posters made each year to advertise the

Furukawa matsuri are produced by JR and hung in the stations of major cities as far away

as Osaka.

At matsuri time special trains and buses are added to the normal schedule to

handle the increased flow of passengers. There is not nearly enough overnight

accommodation in Furukawa itself, so many people have to stay in Takayama and

commute. Accommodation has been limited in Furukawa because there aie huge crowds

of tourists during the matsuri in April and Sandera Mairi in January, but the rest of the

year visitors are relatively few, so any additional hotel or inn space would stand most of

the time.

The push to promote tourism is given additional impetus by a government program

referred to as "furusato zukuri" (creating the old hometown) which is designed to

promote regional economic development by transforming local points of interest into 317 tourist attractions. Local areas receive funding from the central government to develop

(or perhaps in some cases invent) their own unique features. Furukawa’s one big claim to fame is the okoshi daiko. and it is upon this ritual that much of the town’s future development aspirations depend.

One problem with the Furukawa matsuri as an economic resource is that it is an

annual event capable of drawing tourists for only two or three days out of the year. With

the aid of furusato zukuri funding, new facilities are being created so that tourists can

visit and experience the matsuri all year round.

A huge new tourist facility has just been completed near the center of town across

the street from the administrative office building and within convenient walking distance

from the railroad station as well as other points of interest. Called the Okoshi Daiko no

Sato (Home of the Rousing Drum), it includes a special theater where a new three-

dimensional film of the matsuri. shot in 1991 by the Sony Corporation, is shown to

visitors at frequent intervals. It also houses a permanent display of three yatai. one of

which turns slowly around on a revolving platform. The yatai are changed every tliree

months on a fixed rotation so that all the neighborhoods are equally represented.

Also recently constructed on the other side of the railroad station near the general

affairs office is a large facility known as the Kataribe no Sato (Home of the Storytellers’

Guild), in which local folk arts are exhibited. A new pedestrian bridge has been built

across the railroad to make the facility more accessible from the other points of interest.

The entire area can thus be seen as an emerging tourist complex. 318

The impact of the tourist industry became immediately apparent during my most recent visit to Furukawa for the new year holiday of 1993. Emerging from the old train station building I was suddenly confronted by the huge iron skeleton of a new western- style hotel being erected on the spot where a traditional Japanese inn had stood. With a height of five stories, the hotel will tower over the surrounding buildings. It will provide additional accomodation for tourists and visitors to nearby ski facilities, which

are accessible by bus from the station.

The emphasis on promoting tourism has caused friction between town

administrative officials advocating continued economic development and the shrine

officers who insist that the matsuri is essentially a religious event and should be preserved

as such. In 1991, for example, there was some conflict over making the film for use in

the new tourist facility. The film crew had asked that certain accommodations be made

to assist in the project. Along part of the route they wanted to attach a small platform

and camera to the rear of the drum structure to record the charge of the tsuke daiko and

their clash with the rear guard. Some of the shrine officers objected that the okoshi daiko

was a sacred ritual and that placing a camera on the drum structure would constitute an

act of violation. They complained that the filming was getting first priority and the

religious essence of the event was being ignored. A compromise was finally reached

when the decision was made to build a mock-up of the rear portion of the framework,

complete with its own set of wheels underneath. The camera could then be placed upon

the mock-up and dragged along behind without threatening the sanctity of the genuine

item. 319

I was participating as a member of my own neighborhood team that night as, with camera rolling, the tsuke daiko advanced upon the mock-up in the first attack. The action was, if anything, more exuberant than usual in light of the fact that the moment was being recorded for display in the museum.

As previously mentioned, the high point of the okoshi daiko is when it passes through Middle Ichinomachi, as this area contains a large number of traditional buildings, including the two big sake brewing households. It is also at this point that all the tsuke daiko teams converge upon the drum structure at one time. This makes it an ideal location for taking pictures, and nearly all the photographs used to publicize the event are

shot at this juncture. The Sony film crew members likewise positioned themselves along

Ichinomachi for what would perhaps be the most important scene. To ensure that the

cameras were able to capture all the action, the film crew requested that the okoshi daiko

pass twice through the same section—two takes, in other words. This resulted in a rather

bizarre sight-the entire procession backing itself up to make the second pass, thereby

fostering the impression that the whole affair was being staged for the cameras.

The Effect of Current Demographic and Employment Patterns

One problem the matsuri has had to face in recent years is the movement of

residents out of the old neighborhoods. As previously mentioned, a large proportion of

Furukawa's residents may still be characterized as half-agricultural, half-commercial.

Thus even though they engage in merchant or other types of commercial activity they

may also own rice paddies outside of town. Many are converting these paddies to 320 spacious new housing sites. They then sell their town properties to neighboring residents, shop owners, or small factories like the sake breweries who wish to enlarge their facilities, resulting in a net loss of households. The problem is compounded by the fact that while the peripheral neighborhoods''^ have room to spread out into undeveloped territory the inner chOnai"^ are entirely closed in and unable to expand in any direction.

As a result the outlying sections are expanding rapidly while the number of households in the interior is steadily decreasing. This creates a shortage of young people to carry on the traditions. It also places a heavy financial burden on the remaining residents.

Money for maintaining the yatai. for example, comes entirely from donations made by

resident households. The fewer the number of households, the greater the burden each

must assume.

This phenomenon demonstrates how closely residence and tradition are linked.

Movement from the old neighborhoods in the center of town to the outlying areas where

there is more space creates a drain of talented young people necessary for learning and

passing on the traditions. As a result the old traditions are in danger of fading away.

This has in fact emerged as a nationwide trend. Even in the large urban festivals

the organizers are having trouble generating sufficient participation. The whole situation

seems rather ironic in that the number of spectators continues to grow while the

“^Miyamoto, Tonomachi, Lower Ichinomachi, Lower Ninomachi, Sakaemachi, and Mukaimachi.

"’Upper Ichinomachi, Middle Ichinomachi, Upper Ninomachi, Middle Ninomachi, Upper Sannomachi, and Lower Sannomachi. 321 performers themselves are dwindling away. The famous Gion matsuri in Kyoto, once primarily a local event, is now performed largely by outsiders. With companies and office buildings moving in there are no longer enough actual residents to perform the events, so they have resorted to hiring college students on summer vacation.

Interestingly enough, however, the population imbalance in Furukawa creates a

situation in which the old inner neighborhoods are "overrepresented" in matsuri affairs-

the reason being that each taigumi is still entitled to only one sodai leader, regardless of

its size. Also, the population decrease among the inner chonai has actually broadened

paiticipation in one sense since there are no longer a sufficient number of boys to

perform the festival music while riding in the yatai. two of the neighborhoods have had

to open participation to girls as well. Though girls were traditionally prohibited from

riding in tlie vehicles, these two chünai decided to be flexible rather than face the

prospect of having to watch their traditions die out altogether.

Another potential threat to matsuri tradition is posed by the current employment

situation. The matsuri was originally scheduled as a brief interlude in the agricultural

calendar, preceeding a time of particularly heavy labor. Most working adults are now

employed outside the agricultural sector and have trouble taking time off from their jobs

to devote to the matsuri. Many work in other towns and cities like Takayama, where the

management is not inclined to grant leave for participation in the local event. As a

result, participation in traditional gatherings like the atofuki celebration has been steadily

declining over the past few decades. Though scattered groups of friends and relatives

still go independently to the old location on Sakakigaoka for a picnic lunch, the custom 322 of atofuki no longer exists as an organized event. The reason most often given is that people simply no longer have the time to spend a leisurely afternoon relaxing under the cherry blossoms—at least not on a workday. Contemporary employment patterns lead one to wonder whether the old patriarchs have been allowed to retain their authority in planning and directing the matsuri out of respect for their age and experience, or simply because they have more free time than younger residents.

Economic success has brought widespread prosperity to urban and rural areas alike. Even so, towns and villages still lag well behind the larger cities in terms of economic development, and young people continue to leave tlie countryside in droves,

looking for employment opportunities in the more densely populated areas. Part of the

rationale behind the government’s machi zukuri program is that it will help to reduce

economic disparities, making the rural areas more attractive places to live and eventually

resulting in a more equitable population distribution. Thus local cultural attractions like

the matsuri have become economic resources in the battle to stem the flow of young

people away to the cities. CHAPTER VI

ANALYSIS AND CONCLUSION

Change and Adaptation

As is evident from the foregoing account, both the form and underlying meaning of the rituals contained in the Furukawa matsuri have been subject to a continual process of change and accommodation. The significance of the okoshi daiko as a symbolic expression of opposition has faded away along with the rigid authoritarian hierarchy towaid which it was at one time directed.

Old-timers in Furukawa consistently remark how the underlying spirit of the matsuri has declined in recent decades. They lament that the okoshi daiko has become a mere spectacle performed largely for the benefit of the tourists. While such a transformation is perhaps regrettable from the perspective of a previous generation of participants, it is in a larger sense only the most recent phase of an ongoing developmental process, by which the ritual adapts itself to the changing demands of the townspeople. As a tourist attraction, the okoshi daiko is capable of drawing additional income into the community, which is more in line with their immediate needs. Thus the matsuri can be seen as a means of adapting to changing conditions.

323 324

The concept of culture as adaptation has recently been subjected to critical réévaluation. Bargatzky (1984:400), for example, questions "whether this concept has not really outlived its usefulness and should not be abandoned altogether. " He contends that the concept of adaptation, borrowed from the biological sciences, is meaningful only in relation to genetic and physiological changes, and is inapplicable to sociocultural phenomena (1984:400).

Bargatzky’s critique is directed toward the so-called "adaptationist programme" in anthropology, the basic elements of which he describes as (1984:401):

1. the ecosystem, "an all-embracing entity that contains human populations as parts

of a biotic community."

2. a population, or "unit of adaptation," existing within the ecosystem.

3. adaptive processes governed by self-regulatory devices for achieving equilibrium.

4. an inherent rationality directing these adaptive processes toward some ultimate

purpose, of which the population itself remains generally unaware.

Thus the adaptationist way of thinking is summarized as follows (Bargatzky 1984:401):

Societies are in a state of "equilibrium" until they are "disturbed" by external factors, or "challenges." "Adaptive responses" ensue, and, finally, "homeostasis" is reestablished.

While this type of homeostatic model may characterize a certain type of ecological

approach within anthropology—specifically that employed by Rappaport—it does not

represent all thinking on the concept of culture as adaptation. As alluded to in Chapter

Two, Vayda and McCay (1975:298-299) prefer the concept of resilience, which they 325 describe as "remaining flexible enough to change in response to whatever hazards or perturbations come along."

A Shinto priest from a neighboring village mentioned to me one afternoon that though the form of religious customs may be passed down faithfully from generation to generation the meaning behind them is often forgotten, and that people go through the

motions largely unaware of their original significance. His comment indirectly suggested

a mechanism whereby religious ritual serves as a means of adaptation. When the original

meaning is lost and only the pattern remains, the participants are free to interpret the

movements in ways that are most relevant to their immediate circumstances. It is

expedient, then, that the original meaning of a ritual is forgotten or obscured, as this is

what lends it its adaptive potential.

There is an ironic trade-off here between change and continuity in the passing on

of tradition. It is necessary for the people of Furukawa to maintain some sense of

continuity with the past in order to preserve their own cultural identity, but it is also

necessary for them to remain adaptable in the face of changing conditions. Local

traditions such as those contained in the matsuri provide the necessary sense of continuity.

Fostering the impression that they are old and unchanging gives them greater credibility

and appeal. Yet if they remain too rigid or specific they run the risk of becoming

irrelevant. Thus while "time-honored" traditions are commonly assumed to have been

transmitted faithfully from past generations to the present day, they are in reality the

products of continual change and reinterpretation in adapting to present needs. Indeed, 326 it is this adaptive quality which explains their longevity, for without it they would eventually be abandoned through lack of interest.

As for the notion that the concept of adaptation implies "an inherent rationality," this too varies depending on the theorist. Again, my own definition of adaptation is simply change in response to changing conditions; it does not presume any notion of progress in the sense of movement toward a higher and better form of life.

The Furukawa matsuri remains such a vital part of life in the community because

it has been flexible in responding to current needs. But its resilience also derives from

the fact that it addresses such a broad range of human experience. I would now like to

analyze the various realms of significance which the matsuri encompasses.

The Matsuri as a Religious Event

The Furukawa matsuri is a prime example of a cross-cultural phenomenon which

Paden (1988:101) has described as the annual "great festival":

Great festivals are often connected with the beginning of a new season or calendar year. Such times have special richness and comprehensiveness, involving the entire aspect of life in their regenerative power ... It is as if that system, that world, is created anew, in its perfect, pure form.

Since the festival at Furukawa coincides with the beginning of spring and the first

emergence of new leaves and blossoms, it conforms nicely with this concept of renewal.

Paden (1988:104) further suggests that such festivals hold the key to understanding

what participants acknowledge as being the source of their sustenance:

In major festivals the sacred thing that is to be renewed is strongly highlighted, revealing more concretely than any doctrine Just what it actually is that a community perceives its life to be based on. 327

Therefore it is reasonable to expect that the matsuri would direct itself toward the natural environment which sustains the community as well as the technology employed by the community in exploiting that environment. However, it is also reasonable to assume that any change in the underlying basis of community life would be accompanied by the emergence of new symbolic patterns or at least the reinterpretation of previously existing patterns.

The origins of the matsuri lie in rituals of supplication and gratitude directed toward the forces of nature conceptualized as kami. The rituals welcomed the mountain

spirits fyama no kami") down into the paddy fields in spring and sent them back to the

mountains at harvest time-symbolically acknowledging the intimate relationship between the agricultural community and the surrounding forested mountains upon which its

sustenance depended.

With the transition from village to castle town and subsequent development of

complex commercial and political institutions, the mountain spirits were consolidated and

reconceptualized as the local guardian deity and enshrined in the foothills overlooking the

town. The emphasis switched from ensuring a bountiful harvest to promoting communal

solidarity and social order. The deity continued to make an annual visit to the community

below, but the focus now turned toward the mikoshi procession as a symbolic

acknowledgment of the reigning administrative hierarchy: first confirming the authority

of the Kanamori clan with its headquarters in Takayama, later being adopted by the

Tokugawa regime which displaced the Kanamoris and took over their administiative 328 institutions, and ultimately being drawn into the ideology of the newly-created central government through the propagation of State Shinto.

Recognition of dependence on natural forces is still evident in offerings given to the deity during Shinto rites. With changes in technology and communications brought about by industrialization, however, the relationship with the local environment has become increasingly less explicit. Fukutake (1980:81) notes that:

Over the past century, field and forest land and water use have gradually lost their previous importance as the material base of the Japanese village community. One reason is tliat modernization of irrigation facilities downgraded the relative weight of the individual hamlet in the irrigation system. No longer indispensable as fertilizer sources, field and forest lands have often been broken up among families in the hamlet. Propane gas is now commonly used for cooking and heating, and fuels from the forest are no longer needed. Most mountain villages no longer make their own charcoal, so commonly owned forest lands are valuable only as a source of timber production and grass fields as pastureland for cattle.

Dependence upon electricity, fossil fuels, and imported lumber all direct the focus away

from the local area and its tutelary shrine toward much larger entities such as the national

political system and the market economy.

As a result, shrine festivals are seen by some to have largely become devoid of

any religious significance. Bestor (1989:234), for example, notes that:

Although the festival is a Shinto rite, for most participants it is in practice an almost secular ritual of obscure religious significance but of great social meaning.

Yet tlie matsuri remains fundamentally a religious ritual in that its sociopolitical messages

are conveyed through the idiom of the supernatural. This raises the question of what I

feel is a rather arbitrary distinction separating religious from so-called "secular" ritual. 329

Moore and Myerhoff (1977) have attempted to differentiate the two, arguing first that, unlike religious ritual, the secular variety need not be attached to an established ideology and that its explanatory range is thus more limited (1977:11);

Secular ceremony seems connected with specialized parts of the social/cultural background, rather than with the all-embracing ultimate universals to which religious rituals are attached.

I disagree. Even so-called secular rituals appeal to some higher purpose, value, or guiding principle. As previously maintained, ritual is essentially the physical expression of an ideology, regardless of whether the ideology is associated with any conception of a supernatural power. This is what distinguishes ritual from mere custom or habit.

Secondly, the authors maintain that secular ritual implies no consequences beyond

its social effect-no supernatural consequences, in other words. Religious ritual is "other­

worldly;" secular ritual is "this-worldly" (Moore and Myerhoff 1977:14):

The religious ritual moves the other world to affect this one. The secular ceremony moves this world and this world only. Hence two quite different explanations of causality underlie the two performances.

Again I disagree. One world merges into the other. Religious ritual also has

social, political, and psychological ramifications. Secular ritual appeals as well to

spiritual and moral principles, differing only in what seems to me the rather trivial

criterion of not being associated with some sort of divine presence.

Certainly, all categorical distinctions are somewhat arbitrary. They may

nevertheless serve some useful purpose provided they are recognized as simple conceptual

devices and applied with caution. The distinction between religious and secular ritual is 330 misleading, however, because it implies that the two are characterized by different properties and directed toward separate realms of human endeavor.

The Japanese matsuri provides an excellent example of how ritual combines the secular with the religious. Social relationships and ideals are imbedded in a religious idiom, thereby lending them greater legitimacy and ensuring a higher degree of acceptance. To borrow Rappaport's (1979:228, 1984:236) terminology, information regarding social relationships is "sanctified" through the ritual medium.

Ueda, et al. (1988:148) challenge the contention that matsuri are purely secular

affairs, acknowledging that, in Japan at any rate, there is no clear distinction between

‘secular’ and ‘religious’:

the very assertion of secularity depends on its contrast to a specialized sense of the "religious" which may not always be appropriate in discussions of Japanese life. Further, it can be pointed out that even that aspect of "play" found in matsuri originates in the presentation of sacred entertainments to the divinity in the form of kan-nigiwai. or "divine amusement."

The authors go on to suggest that the "secular" nature of matsuri derives from a long

tradition of combining religion and government in Japan (1988:148):

it is true that matsuri involve a mobilization of what we would today term "secular powers" to an extent not commonly encountered in the context of Western religions. This comes out most forcefully when we confront the fact that matsuri as "worship" has long been closely associated with the term matsuri-goto (the "activity of worship"), a term which through time came to be associated with the political activity of governing.

This political aspect was readily apparent in the performance of the rituals themselves

(Ueda, etal. 1988:149):

the administration of matsuri was in ancient times the province of the leader of the community, whether the patriarch in the case of a single 331

family or lineage group, or the emperor in the case of the nation. As intimated by the term matsuri-goto. the socio-political ruler legitimated his rule over everyday life by his simultaneous "rule" over the non-everday activity of worship.

There continues to be a strong link between the performance of matsuri and the socio-political order, as has been demonstrated in the previous chapters. The matsuri can in fact be seen as an important mechanism for perpetuating that order.

The Matsuri as a Social Template

The people of Furukawa distinguish between so-called ‘miru matsuri.’ or

"spectator festivals, " and ‘yaru matsuri’—festivals which involve mass participation by the

residents themselves. The Furukawa matsuri. they say, is of the participatory variety

while large festivals like the one at nearby Takayama are primarily for the entertainment

of the tourists. As is evident from the earlier chapters, the Furukawa matsuri is itself in

the process of evolving into a major tourist event, yet it still remains cenhal to the lives

of the local people and proceeds almost exclusively by virtue of their direct participation.

The importance of the matsuri derives from its role in fostering group identity,

maintaining communal solidarity, and reaffirming the existing social order. Paden

(1988:102-103) notes that:

Major festivals always reconstitute social relations and roles. They create a flow of communal energy. The festival provides for the group an experience of itself in its ideal social form, thus setting up paradigms of social existence that contrast with the imperfections of society during the ordinary time of the year.

Festivals of this type thus attempt to represent the "ideal" social order. In fact the

Furukawa matsuri might be characterized as a type of dramatic performance for acting 332 out community values and organizational principles. Or perhaps more accurately, values and organizational features are recreated even as they are being acted out-literally

"enacted," in other words.

The matsuri could first be described in terms of the territorial distinctions it establishes and maintains. The mikoshi procession encompasses the entire town, defining the limits of residential affiliation. All those who live therein are drawn together under the protection of a single divine presence, and it is significant that the route has been extended over the years to incorporate new territory as the town expands.

Within the delineated area, however, the okoshi daiko and yatai activities create a context for competition among component neighborhoods. Residents within a particular neighborhood are drawn closer together through shared responsibility and competition with rival groups. It is important to remember that these neighborhoods, or "chünai." as they are referred to in Furukawa, are not officially designated political units—they are informal associations that exist only through the collective efforts of the people residing therein. The matsuri is the principle event which activates or engages them; therefore the matsuri is the key to their continued existence.

The matsuri establishes social distinctions as well as territorial ones. Within each individual neighborhood, social organization takes the form of a Confucian hierarchy, characterized by distinctions in relative status based on seniority and rank. Elder members of prominent households occupy positions of special respect and authority, as is clear from their participation in events such as the lottery ceremony, stamp-affixing ceremony, and mikoshi procession, where they appear as the leader-representatives of 333 their respective neighborhood associations. By assuming the most prestigious roles such as participating in the mikoshi procession or riding upon the drum structure during the okoshi daiko. men who occupy influential positions within their communities engage in a physical demonstration of their exalted status.

Even more significantly, the matsuri is executed through the very structure of authority it is designed to express. Organizing and performing the various activities creates chains of command, group identities, and associations or relations which persist

after the matsuri has ended, extending into other aspects of community life. Like a self-

fulfilling prophecy, the matsuri simultaneously expresses a condition and helps bring that

condition into being. In fact, since the matsuri is the most visible and explicit

manifestation of these social phenomena it is questionable whether they could persist for

long without it. The Furukawa matsuri may thus be seen as a kind of social template,

imprinting itself on successive generations of participants. The annual slirine festival,

then, is not simply a symbolic expression of yearly renewal; it is the actual process of

renewal itself.

This does not mean that the template never changes-that exactly the same

configuration is generated year after year. Alterations or adjustments are made as the

balance of power shifts, but they too may be implemented through the performance of

the matsuri. Participation, then, is not only an measure of status; it is one of the avenues

whereby higher status may be pursued. This makes the annual event a crucial time period

in the struggle for power and position within the community. 334

The matsuri also plays a role in maintaining gender distinctions. Males perform the public rituals. With the exception of the miko dancers, it is the males who participate in the shrine ceremonies and accompany the deity during the okoshi procession. They also dominate the planning positions. The okoshi daiko is exclusively a male’s event, and the young men’s association in each neighborhood assumes leadership at practice sessions as well as in forming a tsuke daiko team. Women are for the most part restricted to

activities within the domestic sphere—entertaining their guests during the yobihiki feasts,

for example. It has only been recently that girls were allowed to ride in the yatai in some

neighborhoods and, as mentioned in Chapter Four, this was more a matter of necessity

than an attempt to encourage gender equality.

The gender distinction is further enhanced by the insider/outsider dichotomy. In

a society where patrilocal residence is the norm, females bom into the neighborhood are

destined to grow up and marry into other households, whereupon their territorial identity

will change. They are thus considered only temporary residents, and therefore not

entitled to associate with the yatai—the symbol of territorial identity—in the same way as

the males. Recall that one of the qualifications for young men chosen to serve as drum

beater during the okoshi daiko is that they are committed to remaining permanently in

their home neighborhoods. This usually also means that they are the eldest sons, as these

are the most commonly designated to succeed as heads of their households. Thus the

position of eldest son may not hold much significance when taken at face value; it is

important by virtue of its association with permanent membership in the community. 335

Despite the hierarchical distinctions within component neighborhoods, great emphasis is placed on egalitarianism at a level which encompasses the entire town. This is clearly indicated by the fact that the role of shuji is shared equally among the various neighborhood associations and that the order of yatai rotates randomly from year to year.

Thus no single neighborhood can be seen to predominate. Regarding this last point it is significant that the three yatai kept on display in the new tourist facility are changed every four months—again so that each neighborhood’s yatai receives equal treatment.

For those born and raised in Furukawa and who choose to remain there, the

matsuri also represents an ongoing rite of passage with participants "graduating" from one

age grade to another as they assume the roles appropriate to their years. Participation in

the annual event thus comes to be intimately associated with the course of life itself.

The Matsuri as a Form of Resistance

Thus far I have emphasized the role of the matsuri in maintaining the social order.

One particular aspect of the matsuri—the okoshi daiko-may be seen as a reaction against

the constraints which the order imposes.

In Japanese society rank and status distinctions are carefully maintained.

Recognition of class consciousness, however, is discouraged through hierarchical social

structures which lead individual members to focus upward in convergent lines toward an

apical symbol of group unity. This leads them to identify with the hierarchical structure

as a whole and to acknowledge shared interests with members above and below them, but

to deemphasize obvious affinities with other individuals on the same social level. 336 This is of course the basic model proposed by Nakane (1970) in describing the so- called "vertical" structure of Japanese society. However, Nakane uses her model to present an image of harmony and cooperation, in which superior and subordinate are mutual beneficiaries. This may in fact be the case, provided both sides fulfill their agreed-upon roles. But if the superiors become negligent in providing the benevolent services they are obliged to bestow the pattern becomes more exploitative and therefore less acceptable to the subordinate members. This relates to Scotf s work on the politics of subordination.

Based on his study of the political economy in rural Southeast Asia, Scott (1976) argued that the peasants practiced a subsistence-oriented agriculture geared not toward maximizing profit but rather minimizing risk. Peasant cultivators lead a rather precarious existence. They are vulnerable to flood, drought, pestilence, and other vagaries of nature, all of which threaten their livelihood. Their primary concern is not the amassing of wealth but the provision of security against the threat of disaster. This is important in understanding relations between wealthy landlords and their less prosperous tenant cultivators. The tenants evaluate the relationship based on the degree of subsistence security it provides. They are willing to accept their subservient position and to yield a huge portion of each year’s harvest to the landlord as rent. But in return they expect rent

concessions and material assistance from the landlord in times of need. Thus landlord

and tenant are bound by a kind of patron-client relationship, each recognizing certain

moral obligations toward the other (Scott 1976:169);

as a general rule the patron is expected to protect his client and provide for his material needs whereas the client reciprocates with his labor and his 337

loyalty. The moral tone of the relationship is often reinforced by ceremonies of ritual kinship or other symbolic ties.

Differences in wealth and status are thus acceptable so long as the more prominent members of the community conform to recognized standards of reciprocity, using their surplus wealth to assist the less fortunate. Those who fail to do so run the risk of damaging their reputations. Thus (Scott 1976:42):

Well-to-do villagers avoid malicious gossip only at the price of an exaggerated generosity. They are expected to sponsor more conspicuously lavish celebrations at weddings, to show greater charity to kin and neighbors, to sponsor local religious activity, and to take on more dependents and employees than the average household.

Their benevolence is rewarded with social, political, and economic advantages (Scott

1976:42):

The generosity enjoined on the rich is not without its compensations. It redounds to their growing prestige and serves to surround them with a grateful clientele which helps validate their position in the community. In addition, it represents a set of social debts which can be converted into goods and services if need be.

As is evident from the description in Chapter Three, Scott’s "moral economy"

concept applies equally well to rural Japan up until around the mid-Meiji period. The

similarities extend well beyond the landlord-tenant relationship, however, to include

national political and economic conditions as well.

Scott follows his description of the traditional subsistence economy in rural

Southeast Asia with an examination of how it was undermined by the imposition of

colonial rule. Two major transformations were of particular significance: (1) the growing

power of the state and (2) the commercialization of agriculture with the intioduction of 338 a capitalist market economy. Both posed serious threats to the subsistence security of the rural peasantry.

The peasants were now drawn into the world market and subjected to a price system that lay well beyond their limited sphere of influence. In the restricted local market low yields had been offset by higher prices resulting from increased demand, so the return to the cultivator remained fairly stable. In the world market, however, price fluctuated independently of local yield. In the event of a poor harvest there was no longer any assurance of higher prices to compensate for the drop in production. Kin-

group and community relations held less practical significance in the new economy, as

villagers were increasingly tied to outside institutions with which they had little or no

direct access. Local forest and pasture lands once held collectively by the village had

provided a variety of subsistence resources to supplement the rice harvest. These were

now parcelled off into private lots and all but the owners denied access, making tlie

majority of the peasants even more dependent on the market. Landlord-tenant relations

became less paternalistic and more contractual (Scott 1976:66-67);

Typically the landholder provided fewer services while exacting the same or more from the tenant or laborer. In this sense, the relationship becomes objectively more exploitative ... The critical change in terms of peasant perceptions, however, was ... that the relationship as a whole lost whatever protective value it once had.

Taxes had formerly been levied as a percentage of the harvest and were therefore

related to the peasants’ ability to pay. In a poor year the actual amount the peasants were

required to give up was lower. This also meant less revenue for the government. 339

In order to ensure a reliable flow of revenue to finance its expanding bureaucracy, the new colonial administration instituted head taxes and land rates that were to be paid in cash and remained fixed from year to year. There was no allowance for fluctuations in yield or market price, either of which could seriously increase the relative tax burden.

Also, requiring a cash payment forced peasants to convert from subsistence foods to cash crops or drove them into the labor market.

The land taxes were heaviest on the large landowners, who were inclined to

simply pass the burden on to their tenants by raising their rent. This had the effect of

placing tenants in a double bind (Scott 1976:200):

we must remember tliat in cash crop regions the elites themselves were firmly enmeshed in the market. A price failure or credit crisis hit them first. As the value of the crop they claimed and the capital value of their land plummeted and as their creditors closed in, they too faced ruin. Their very integration into the market impelled them to wring all they could out of their tenants and laborers in order to stay afloat. At the time, therefore, that the market reduces the tenants and laborers to penury, landowners are under the greatest temptation to press even harder and to eliminate any remaining vestiges of paternalism. For those at the bottom of the agrarian structure, the pressure of the market and the pressure of the elite are thus likely to coincide.

Thus the imposition of colonial rule combined with incorporation into the market

economy had a tremendous impact on the nature of landlord-tenant relations. Scott

illustrates with reference to the hacienda system in Central Luzon (1976:175):

Landowners gravitated steadily away from their holdings toward the economic and social advantages of the provincial towns. Both their personal and timely assistance to needy tenants, and the collective services they had once maintained, diminished or disappeared with their physical witiidrawal. Most important, the practice of loaning grain in the months prior to the new harvest was sharply curtailed. By any standard there had been a marked deterioration in the balance of reciprocity—an increase in exploitation. Tenants themselves remembered the older landlords as better 340

men and referred to the older pattern of tenancy as more just. The change in the level of exploitation was, moreover, reflected in the rise of tenant agitation and violence.

In the minds of the peasants, the landlords were failing to live up to their end of the bargain. With nothing to justify their elite status they became objects of resentment

and came increasingly to be viewed as parasitic. This gave the peasants the moral justification to rebel. Indeed, Scott links the incidence of peasant rebellion in Southeast

Asia to the larger historical forces which destroyed the traditional social order and the

subsistence economy which supported it (1976:189):

the development of capitalism, the commercialization of agrarian relations, and the growth of a centralizing state represent the historical locus of peasant revolts in the modern era. For, above all, these large historical forces cut through the integument of subsistence customs and traditional social relations to replace them with contracts, the market, and uniform laws.

Note how closely this parallels the Japanese experience in the early twentieth

century as described by Waswo (1973:63):

The wealth of landlords, once regarded by tenants as a guarantee of their own survival when disaster struck, now lost much of its functional significance. No longer as dependent on their landlords for emergency aid, tenants had less reason to be content with the great gap in living standards between landlords and themselves. In the past some tenants had been willing to pay extremely high rents to landlords with a reputation for granting generous rent reductions, sacrificing prosperity in good years for the comfort of knowing that when crops failed they would fare better than the tenants of less benevolent landlords. Now, however, they were more aware of the burden than the benefit of such high rents.

Waswo describes a dramatic increase in tenancy disputes during the mid-Taisho

(1912-1924) era, noting that they occurred more frequently on land owned by absentee

landlords (Waswo 1973:106): 341

the most common reason cited for these disputes was the hostility of tenant farmers toward absentee landlords who showed little interest in local affairs. As discussed previously, the tenants of absentee landlords usually paid no more in rent than tenants of resident landlords while enjoying greater security of tenure. But apparently these economic advantages were not as meaningful to them as personal relations with their landlords, precisely what absentee landlords could not provide.

It is true that Japan differs from the Southeast Asian examples in that it has never been subjugated by a colonial power. Yet there are striking parallels between rural Japan during the Meiji period and the colonial Southeast Asian societies Scott has described.

These include (1) the establishment of a strong centralized bureaucracy capable of

extending its authority into even the most remote areas, (2) institution of a fixed land tax

to replace the more flexible payment-in-kind arrangements, (3) loss of rights to common

lands, (4) commercialization of agriculture and absolution into a market economy, and

(5) subsequent breakdown of traditional forms of reciprocity. In fact it may be argued

that the Meiji government functioned much the same as a colonial administration in

exploiting the peasantry to fuel its modernization efforts. In a sense, then, the emerging

new urban-industrial Japan was colonizing its own rural areas—a case of capitalist-

industrial society exploiting the rural peasantry within the boundaries of a single nation.

The reaction from the peasants toward the transformation was similar as well.

Just as in the Southeast Asian examples, failure of elite members to assume their

traditional responsibilities toward the less fortunate gave the Japanese peasants the moral

justification to rise up in opposition. Rebellion, then, was not simply the consequence

of disparities in wealth between the elite and peasantry, but of failure by the elite to 342 fulfill their traditional obligations. Stratification was tolerated but breach of the norm of reciprocity was unacceptible.

Scott cautions against attributing peasant resistance to change as simple conseiwatism. Rather (1976:180):

It is motivated by the fear that a readjusted balance will work against them ... It is because the commercialization of agriculture so frequently works against the interest of poorer peasants that they are cast in the role of defending traditional rights and obligations and demanding the restoration of the status quo ante.

In relation to the Hida region, for example, conventional explanations of the

Umemura incident describe the rebellious peasants as being backward, conservative, and

resistant to change. In light of Scott’s argument, their reaction may now be seen as an

attempt to force the administration to acknowledge its traditional obligations. By

rescinding the provision of low-cost rice to those who could not produce their own, the

young Governor Umemura was violating the moral principles to which the peasants

adhered. From the peasants’ point of view these and other reforms only served to

threaten their security. When seen in this light their angry reaction becomes completely

understandable.

Likewise, the practice of designating certain mountain lands as iriaichi to be held

communally by a particular village had once allowed all the people access to a variety of

important resources. This was replaced by a system of private ownership, thereby

limiting access to the forested mountains to only the wealthy landowners.

In fact the entire Meiji period may be seen as a steady process of destroying local

autonomy and asserting the authority of the central government through administrative 343 institutions, the police, education, and manipulation of religious ideology. This is what the peasants were reacting against.

Outright rebellion, however, even when morally justified, placed the peasants at great risk considering the combined pressure which tlie local elite and the new central government could bring to bear. Thus lack of any record of open rebellion does not necessarily indicate the absence of resistance. In a later work Scott (1985) suggested that

focusing only on outright acts of rebellion could be highly misleading in that individual,

unorganized acts may be the only means of resistance available to peasants living under

a repressive regime. These were collectively referred to as "weapons of the weak"

(1985:29):

Here I have in mind the ordinary weapons of relatively powerless groups: foot dragging, dissimulation, false compliance, pilfering, feigned ignorance, slander, arson, sabotage, and so forth ... To understand these commonplace forms of resistance is to understand what much of the peasantry does ‘between revolts’ to defend its interests as best it can.

Scott (1985:331) also argued against the idea that, with no experience of any other

social order, the peasants come to accept their present condition as inevitable. Proof that

they are capable of imagining alternative arrangements is imbedded in rituals such as the

Feast of Krishna in India, Carnival in Europe, Saturnalia in ancient Rome, and the

Buddhist water festival in Southeast Asia: "all involve to a considerable extent a reversal

of status, the breaking of routine codes of deference, and the profanation of the existing

social order." The okoshi daiko that emerged during the mid-Meiji period fits into the

same pattern. 344

Scott goes on to observe that rituals which temporarily reverse the normal social hierarchy may be recognized as important tension-relieving mechanisms which ultimately stem the emergence of more serious forms of oppostion. "To stop here, however, would ignore both the degree to which such rituals often get out of hand and the strenuous attempts made by dominant elites to eliminate or restrict them" (1985:331). It may be recalled from Chapter Five that numerous attempts were made by the authorities to

suppress the development of the okoshi daiko. and on several occasions it was canceled

outright.

The most ambitious effort to control the okoshi daiko may well have been the

effort to draw it under the jurisdiction of the shrine by embellishing it with Shinto

symbolism. The okoshi daiko originated as purely a community affair having no direct

association with the shrine. Each neighborhood owned its own drum which it used to

perform the service when its turn to be shuji came around. Later, when the event became

larger and more boisterous, the shuji began using a drum borrowed from one of the local

Buddhist temples—not the Shinto shrine—and the neighborhood drums were employed as

tsuke daiko. In 1929 a new drum designated exclusively for use during the okoshi daiko

was donated to the shrine to commemorate the inauguration of the Emperor ShOwa,

thereby linking the shuji’s drum with imperial authority. That same year a Shinto priest

rode atop the drum structure waving a sakaki branch over the onlookers in a standard

Shinto rite of purification. Coincidentally, this was the year of the second attack on the

police station as well as other conflicts resulting from the tsuke daiko teams being overly

exuberant in harassing the shuji. A few years later a new and bigger drum was donated- 345 significantly by the Watanabe household-this one bearing the symbol of the shrine on both drum heads. Now there could be no question from whence the drum derived.

Random acts of vandalism continued as before, however. It has been noted that the huge rectangular framework had a tendency to swerve at opportune moments, crashing into the home of a greedy landlord. Here then was an opportunity to seek revenge without fear of punishment—in a sense the perfect crime. It appeared accidental and, even if suspicions were raised, the damaging surge originated from somewhere within a mass of intoxicated men so that no specific individuals could be singled out for blame.

In addition, the crowd of people, the noise and confusion, and the atmosphere of temporary license suiTounding the whole affair created an excellent opportunity for individual acts of vengeance. In reference to the carnival, Scott (1990:173) offers the following observation:

what is most interesting about carnival is the way it allows certain things to be said, certain forms of social power to be exercised that are muted or suppressed outside this ritual sphere. The anonymity of the setting, for example, allows the social sanctions of the small community normally exercised through gossip to assume a more full-throated voice ... Disapproval that would be dangerous or socially costly to vent at other times is sanctioned during carnival. It is the time and place to settle, verbally at least, personal and social scores.

In Furukawa too it was customary among the local residents to wait for the night of the okoshi daiko to settle grievances and vent their hostilities (Furukawa-cho Kanko Kyükai

1984:84, Furukawa-cho KyOiku linkai 1989:474). One of my informants, himself the present head of one of the old landlord households, claims that this was practically the 346 only kind of vandalism that ever occurred—that in a small town like Furukawa any other kind would have been easily discovered and the perpetrators identified and punished.

Scott (1990:65-66) explains why mass assemblages of ordinarily disaggregated subordinates are so threatening to the dominant elite:

First, there is the visual impact of collective power that a vast assembly of subordinates conveys both to its own number and to its adversaries. Second, such an assembly provides each participant with a measure of anonymity or disguise, thereby lowering the risk of being identified personally for any action or word that comes from the group. Finally, if something is said or done that is the open expression of a shared hidden transcript, the collective exhilaration of finally declaring oneself in the face of power will compound the drama of the moment. There is power in numbers, and it is far more significant than the now long-discredited sociology that treated crowds under the rubric of mere hysteria and mass psychopathology.

Likewise, the okoshi daiko contains the implicit suggestion that the masses,

normally divided by neighborhood rivalries, are capable of rising up against the elite.

The tsuke daiko sometimes attack the drum singly and at random, but at several

predetermined locations they all come together and charge toward the drum structure en

masse. It is perhaps significant that this occurs every year without fail along the street

which passes through Ichinomachi directly in front of the Kaba and Watanabe houses.

As noted briefly in Chapter Five, the form assumed by the two drum beaters who

position themselves back-to-back atop the drum is curiously reminiscent of the mythical

RyOmensukuna figure, who, as described in the Nihonshoki. ruled the Hida region before

its subjugation by Emperor Jimmu. RyOmensukuna supposedly had two faces aligned in

opposite directions, and could thus face both forward and backward at the same time.

The two faces indicate uncommon intelligence-a standard image used in Asian religious 347 symbolism. Each face was serviced by its own set of appendages, giving RyOmensukuna a total of four arms and four legs. This implies an individual of great stiength and agility.

The Nihonshoki was written from the perspective of the imperial court.

RyOmensukuna is therefore represented as an evil personage from whose oppression the people of Hida had to be liberated. This was meant to justify the subjugation of Hida by the imperial government. However, there appears to have been an oral tradition among

the people of Hida in which RyOmensukuna was described not as an oppressive figure but

as the just and benevolent ruler of the Hida territory before its subjugation by the imperial

government. RyOmensukuna may thus be seen as a symbol of Hida’s autonomy and its

opposition toward imperial authority. According to this version, the two faces of

RyOmensukuna represent a propensity for both strength and justice on the one hand and

benevolence and compassion on the other. The okoshi daiko. too, is said to have two

faces: one brave and heroic (yïïSü) and the other kind and gentle (yasashiP.

I had at first been inclined to attribute the similarity to more than mere

coincidence. The image of RyOmensukuna, I reasoned, could have been resurrected and

employed during the okoshi daiko as a symbol of local identity in opposition to the

growing authority of the central government. This presented a problem, however, in that

the resulting ritual scenario had the masses charging against their own symbol.

Alternatively, the drum and its riders could perhaps be seen as the representation of

authority itself, with the elite forming the main guard around it and the masses attempting

to wrest it away. 348

In any case, I was unable to find among my informants anyone who was willing to acknowledge more than an intriguing similarity between the Ryomensukuna figure and the image created by the two drum beaters seated atop the drum. Nevertheless, the two representations can be related indirectly through a common East Asian philosophical concept, which in Japanese is referred to as ‘in’ and ‘yO’ (the Chinese yin and yang).

‘Yo’ is related to attributes such as ‘positive,’ ‘male,’ ‘heaven,’ ‘sun,’ and ‘light;’ while

‘in’ refers to ‘negative,’ ‘female,’ ‘earth,’ ‘moon,’ and ‘darkness.’ The concept thus represents a principle of opposition, which can be extended to the opposition between good and evil. This principle is expressed through both the Ryomensukuna figure and the position taken by the drum beaters during the okoshi daiko. It is an appropriate image for referring to the local elite because they both exploited the people and contributed to their welfare, thus revealing two "faces."

The Furukawa matsuri conforms to a model recently proposed by Dirks

(1988:856) for explaining the development of annual rituals of conflict, which he defines as "rites or periods of celebration that call for one segment of a community to speak or act antagonistically toward another." This definition accurately reflects the confrontational nature of the okoshi daiko as neighborhood teams compete against both one another and the shuji personnel in attacking the drum structure.

Gluckman (1954) originally coined the term ‘rituals of rebellion’ to describe recurring behavior patterns in which the rules concerning proper respect toward authority

are temporarily abandoned. Though primarily concerned with southeast African societies. 349 he allowed that the concept might apply to other areas as well. Norbeck (1963:1255) noted that:

Gluckman sees the ritual enactment of conflicts of interest as a form of catharsis that banishes the threat to disunity imposed by the conflicts ... He holds that institutionalized rites of rebellion may exist only in societies in which the social order is established and unchallenged.

Norbeck then expanded upon Gluckman’s idea both geographically and conceptually, applying the new cover term "rituals of conflict" to similar phenomena

found over the entire sub-Saharan African region. He divided the ritual expression of

social conflict into several categories, including a type involving "formally defined social

and political groups," for which he provides the following comment (1963:1265):

Any social relationship that produces tension may serve as a theme. As with other events already discussed, the ritual occasions for expression are highly varied, including birth and initiation rites, weddings, funerals, ceremonies of accession to high office, rites performed at times of illness, and grand annual festivals. [Emphasis added.]

In Dirks’(1988) more recent conceptualization, rituals of conflict are recognized

as annual events and examined in terms of their incidence worldwide. His objective is

"to elaborate a theory of annual rituals of conflict that both explains and predicts their

occurrence" (1988:856). Dirks uses statistical analysis of cross-cultural data to test

hypotheses suggested by Gluckman’s earlier work. The results lead him to two important

conclusions.

First, "groups prone to imposing conformity across the widest spectrum of action

are those in which rituals of conflict are most likely to be found" (1988:858). This is

particularly relevant to the present research in that an emphasis on cooperative behavior

and subordinating one’s individual concerns to the interests of the group are widely 350 considered important distinguishing features of Japanese society. Beyond this, pressures to conform were particularly heavy during the early and mid-Meiji period, when a new political ideology was heing imposed upon the people with all the power the centralized government could bring to bear to insure its propagation.

Dirk’s second conclusion links rituals of conflict with seasonal food shortages:

"Peoples whose annual cycles include periods of food scarcity and starvation are more

likely than others to celebrate yearly rites containing some sort of agonistic expression"

(1988:861). The lack of food is, of course, no longer a problem in the Hida region.

However, periods of famine were fairly common in Japan throughout the early modem

era, and widespread poverty and periodic food shortages continued to plague rural areas

well into the Meiji period. In any case, Dirks’ (1988:866) concedes that not all rituals

of conflict occur in areas prone to seasonal food shortages and acknowledges the

possibility that other stress-producing factors might be involved.

In light of Scott’s work as previously described, the two factors Dirks’ has found

to be correlated with the incidence of annual rituals of conflict-namely, the imposition

of conformity and seasonal food shortages—may be recognized as being interrelated.

Mandating adherence to a new political and economic system had a direct impact on the

peasants’ livelihood, making them far more dependent on forces outside their control.

The fixed land tax and widespread economic recession would have significantly enhanced

the severity of food shortages.

Dirks’ statistical analysis also suggests that (1988:864):

relatively complex societies tend toward more refined, less strife-filled enactments of conflict ... Thus there appears a tendency for congruence 351

between general cultural evolution, as measured by key indicators of complexity, and level of ritualization.

He therefore proposes an evolutionary model, tracing the development of annual rituals of conflict tlirough the following stages (1988:865):

1. relief-induced agonism takes ritual form.

2. this develops into a ritual contest or sham battle.

3. the battle eventually becomes fully ritualized with no relation to seasonal hunger,

perhaps assuming economic or political functions.

Dirks’ model acknowledges both (1) that there is a close connection between ritual behavior and environmental stimuli, and (2) that rituals are adaptive and take on new functions. This second factor complicates the effort to determine how such rituals originated (1988:866):

The question of origins will always remain somewhat obscure in any case because of the propensity for rituals, as they evolve toward more polished and specialized communication devices, to drift free of their original stimuli and assume new functions.

The historical development of the Furukawa matsuri as previously described appears to support Dirks’ evolutionary model for annual rituals of conflict. Whatever the origins of the okoshi daiko. it is clear that it has passed along a developmental pathway from a mock battle featuring the expression of genuine hostilities through successive stages of increasing ritualization. As Dirks suggests, the event has assumed new functions in adapting to changing conditions over time. Indeed, this adaptable quality explains why the ritual has persisted into the present day. 352

Earlier it. was suggested that the matsuri as a whole serves as a template for regenerating the social order. If this is so, why then does it contain rebellious elements such as the okoshi daiko which appear to challenge the authoritarian hierarchy? It is important to bear in mind in this regard that the matsuri is a product of the entire society, not just the elite. The shr ine ceremonies and mikoshi procession reinforced the hierarchy of authority, but the okoshi daiko emerged from the ranks of the common townspeople and became a vehicle for demonstrating rebellious sentiments. Though the authorities tried to suppress it, the sentiments from which it arose were able to prevail. Returning to the template idea, the matsuri may be seen to be capable of regenerating relationships of various kinds. It mobilizes a hierarchical chain of command, but it also perpetuates an egalitarian solidarity.

To summarize my argument, the Furukawa matsuri contains two major demonstrations of power—one authoritarian and the other reactionary. The religious rituals performed at the shrine and the mikoshi procession through the str eets of the town became associated with the ruling authoritarian hierarchy, acknowledging their elevated social positions and linking them into the religio-political ideology being propagated by the central government. The okoshi daiko. on the other hand, emerged as a folk response to the officially-sanctioned liturgy—a ritual expression of opposition issuing from the ranks of the common people. Here we see the clash of two opposing ideologies being played out on a single stage-Redfield’s (1960) great tradition and little tradition squaring off against one another in ritual confrontation. 353

During the day the Shinto deity is led through town in a grand procession and treated with great deference by the townspeople who present offerings of rice and money.

At night, however, there is an entirely different kind of procession—the okoshi daiko.

The dmm, too, originates from the shrine and follows roughly the same path through town. Unlike the mikoshi. however, it is not welcomed but rather attacked as if it were an intruder. The Furukawa matsuri thus presents contrasting themes of deference and defiance.

In Chapter Five it was suggested that the elite were persuaded to go along with the okoshi daiko because (1) a symbolic demonstration of rebellion was preferable to the real thing and (2) their presence upon the elevated drum structure, while temporarily exposing them to some good-natured jostling, simultaneously confirmed their prestigious social positions. There may also have been more practical reasons.

Wealthy land owners did not constitute a single undifferentiated class. Earlier a distinction was drawn between the large agricultural landlords and the medium-sized merchant landowners. The former lived outside the town in the midst of their rice paddies and surrounded by huge walled compounds, subsisting primarily by drawing nengu fiom their tenants. The tenants were expendable in a sense, as access to land was difficult to come by and there was always a supply of eager replacements. As a result, the purely agricultural landlords became arrogant and proud. When new social and political opportunities began to open up for them during the mid-Meiji period their focus turned increasingly toward the cities and tliey began to neglect their traditional obligations as local benefactors. 354

The merchant landlords, on the other hand, lived in the center of town and maintained a personal interest in the life of the community. While it is true that some of them acquired substantial tracts of land, they were able to do so primarily through their commercial activities. They recognized that their success depended in large part upon good relations with their fellow residents and could not afford to alienate people through arrogant behavior. They made certain they were seen to have periodically given

something back to the community, trading some of their wealth for greater prestige. The

merchant landlords were thus more demonstrably of and for the immediate area. With

the exception of the Honda household they tended not to move in such lofty social and

political circles as the large agricultural landlords. As a result they remained closer to

home and more in touch with the local people.

Note also one other distinguishing feature. The merchant landlords lived well

within the shrine’s boundaries and participated in its affairs. In fact their intimate

involvement with the community was perhaps most conspicuously demonstrated during

the matsuri. not only in directing events but also contributing food, sake, and funds for

yatai construction. This undoubtedly helped relieve some of the animosity directed

toward them, and they were unlikely to have been subjected to any serious resentment

unless they were seen as having accumulated excessive wealth without giving anything

back to the community.

The large, purely agricultural landlords were different. Due to the vast size of

their holdings and the scattered, non contiguous pattern of Japanese landownership, many

of their tenants were located in Furukawa. The agricultural landlords themselves. 355 however, resided outside the jurisdiction of the Ketawakamiya Shrine and were thus excluded from participating in its annual matsuri. Without this important demonstration

of reciprocity they undoubtedly came to be viewed with greater resentment than the town-

dwelling merchant landlords.

In fact it is not inconceivable that the merchant landholders were using the matsuri

to strengthen their political and economic positions relative to their purely agricultural

counterparts. One of my informants, the current head of the Sato household now living

in Tokyo, acknowledged that his father had been obliged to enter this game of

contributions with the other landlords in order to maintain his own relative social

standing.' The merchant landowners may thus be seen as a kind of nouveau riche,

challenging the ascendancy of the old established landlord households.

Previously it was mentioned that some of the town dwelling landlord households—

Honda, Tajika, and Kaba-trace their descent back thirteen generations to the retainers

who accompanied Anegakoji from Kyoto when he first came to this region in the

Fourteenth Century. Such households can hardly be classified as newcomers. It must

be remembered, however, that the Sugishitas trace their own descent back twenty-four

generations, so they can claim by comparison to be much older. Occupation is also an

important aspect in determining household prominence. During the Edo period merchants

‘The Sato case is unusual in that their house lay within the political boundaries of Furukawa but outside the area protected by the Ketawakamiya shrine. They were active in local politics and one of their members served as mayor of Furukawa. Not being associated with any particular neighborhood’s taigumi. it is not unlikely that the SatOs were obliged to contribute to all the neighborhoods in Furukawa in order to gain favor for their political efforts. 356 were able to acquire wealth, but because of the Confucian bias toward merchant activity as being parasitic they enjoyed little prestige. Those who engaged in agriculture, on the other hand, were subordinate only to the warrior class in the social hierarchy. When the class system was officially abolished following the Meiji Restoration, land acquisition was one way for merchant households to acquire the prestige they had been previously denied.

There was also considerable competition within the merchant landlord class itself-

most notably between the two major sake brewers, Kaba and Watanabe. In this case

Watanabe can claim only eight generations to Kaba’s thirteen-again, a relative newcomer

in the struggle for ascendancy among the old established households.

Competition among rival landlords was translated to rivalry among their respective

neighborhoods, each vying with one another to create the most magnificent yatai. for

example, or gaining position in advancing upon the drum structure during the okoshi

daiko. This explains the emphasis on egalitarianism at the level of the entire town as

indicated by the lottery ceremony for choosing the shuji and the stamp-affixing ceremony

to ensure compliance with the prescribed order. Competing factions are aligned against

one another on both horizontal and vertical lines of division.

Age is another important factor in rank determination. Sonoda (1988:67) suggests

a generational dimension to the conflict as well:

When we consider the fact that in a society bound by a strict hierarchical system based on age-rankings, this kind of "festival" chaos temporarily dissolves the status order, allowing young men the opportunity to become adults, the position of young men in matsuri has a significance which cannot be totally explained as merely the result of traditional custom. 357

It is the young men of town who have not yet entered the upper ranks in the established sociopolitical hierarchy and thus are denied access to greater channels of influence. They must resign themselves to waiting until the older members relinquish their control; in fact the elders may be seen as impediments to upward mobility. Note that the main guard who ride upon the drum structure are distinguishable by their advanced years as well as their special status, and that the tsuke daiko which attack them are manned by members of the young men’s association. It is the young men who are most likely to display rebellious tendencies not merely because of their youthful vigor but because they have less at stake in maintaining the status quo. It is significant in this regard that the impetus for resurrecting the okoshi daiko after the Second World War came from the young men of the town—the older members apparently being content to let the whole thing lapse into oblivion.^

One question that remains to be addressed is why such rebellious sentiments came to be so clearly manifested in Furukawa but failed to develop in other Hida communities, considering that they were all subjected to similar conditions. A possible answer is that the people of the Fumkawa basin were heavily involved in rice agriculture and thus more sensitive to administrative actions affecting rice production than were the surrounding mountain villages. Several informants cited Furukawa yancha as being the crucial difference. ‘Yancha.’ they maintain, relates to defying authority, and peasant farmers

^Takahashi (1985) addresses the role of the young men’s associations twakamono gumil in leading the peasant rebellions of the Tokugawa period. 358 were particularly inclined toward this type of attitude. Any unfair directive issued by the authorities would be met with resistance.

Furukawa also had the critical mass of residents necessary to perform such events as the okoshi daiko while the other communities did not. Takayama, of course, was an exception, having several times the population of Furukawa. But Takayama has long functioned as the seat of regional administration and therefore has been more tightly under the control of the authorities. Furukawa was farther removed from the locus of political authority and could afford to be less obsequious in reacting to unpopular policies. There were no government representatives headquartered in Furukawa following the departure of the Kanamoris and subsequent takeover by the Tokugawa regime. From that point forward directives were issued from the headquarters in Takayama, which from the Furukawa perspective was seen as an outside authority meddling in their affairs. It was previously mentioned that the people of Furukawa have traditionally harbored resentment against their larger, more sophisticated neighbor. This is due in part to having to bow to its political authority.

But there remains yet another, more compelling possibility: perhaps such rebellious sentiments were being expressed in other communities and have simply gone unnoticed. Without the kind of historical perspective adopted in the present study, such features are not likely to be revealed. Yet, as Scott’s work suggests, historical accounts by themselves must be viewed with suspicion, as they were generally written by members

of the elite who were perhaps unaware of rebellious sentiments and in any case would

hardly be inclined to record them for posterity. One must also consider contemporary 359 social conditions and regulations enacted to control or abolish matsuri performances for indications that subversive messages may have been implicit within them.

Nor are the rituals themselves in their present form sufficient, as they are subject to change and reinterpretation with changing conditions. In fact there are many examples

of so-called ‘kenka matsuri’ ("fighting festivals") in various parts of Japan, but they are

usually interpreted as expressions of inter-neighborhood rivalry. Indeed, this is how most

of the residents of Furukawa explain the okoshi daiko. It is only by talking to the older

people that another pattern emerges.

Even so, none of my informants ever specifically characterized the okoshi daiko

as a ritual expression of opposition toward an exploitative elite and the imposition of

authority by the central government. They were unanimous, however, in noting that it

would have been inconceivable for any member of the old prewar elite to help shoulder

the drum structure or participate in the tsuke daiko. and equally inconceivable for

ordinary people to ride upon the drum structure as a member of the main guard. One

informant did suggest that the okoshi daiko developed as a demonstration of power by the

people of Furukawa toward the administrative authorities in Takayama. Another offered

a similar explanation but thought it must have been directed toward the Tokugawa

bakufu. There was apparently some misunderstanding here, as the aggressive version of

the okoshi daiko did not emerge until well into the Meiji period.

Yet another informant, a man who had worked for the prefectural government in

Gifu City but had returned home to Furukawa upon retirement, suggested that the attack

on the police station was motivated by a growing awareness of political oppression. He 360 described the people of Hida as simple peasant folk with little experience of the outside world. However, with the coming of the TaishO (1912-1924) period and the spread of democratic principles, new ideas gradually began to filter in. This is attributable in part

to the spread of popular literature: magazines such as Chuüküron. Kaizü. and Akahata.

as well as the so-called "enpon"—reprints of Japanese and world literature sold in serial

form for one yen per issue. This was also a time when many of the young people were

engaging in migrant labor (dekasegi) in other regions and bringing back new ideas. The

neighboring Shinshu region (Nagano prefecture) was, in conbast with Hida, fairly

progressive. Its educational system was well-developed, and several notable literary

figures emerged from there. This raises the possibility that the silk factory girls described

earlier, sent to work in the factories of Nagano prefecture, were a major source of new

ideas filtering into the Hida region, and could have been partly responsible for the

growing animosity toward the authorities, eventually resulting in the 1929 rock throwing

incident.

The Matsuri as a Liminal Experience

Yanagawa (1988) suggests that an overemphasis on the symbolic nature of the

matsuri neglects tlie sensations it evokes in the participants. As an example he mentions

carrying the mikoshi. which, in many parts of Japan, is a wild and boisterous affair not

unlike the okoshi daiko. Yanagawa acknowledges that the mikoshi itself serves an

important symbolic function (1988:17):

but at the same time, tlie act of carrying the mikoshi. feeling the weight of it, calls up in us through our tactile sense a certain state of 361

consciousness. The same can be said for the noise, or for the power of the alcohol in the sake which people drink, and if such things are called merely a system of symbols, or when all the things which appear within the matsuri are relegated merely to various combinations of symbols, the aspect of matsuri as sensation is, so to speak, discarded.

Yanagawa thus implies that the matsuri may be considered a means of attaining an altered state (1988:18):

in a matsuri. people are enabled to reach a kind of state of trance or ecstasy through physiological conditions, a state which, in an extremely deviant form, is also experienced by those in the modern-day drug culture who take hallucinogens. The problem, however, remains: within this kind of religious state, what kind of relationship does our consciousness—the psychological consciousness which occurs within people—have with the sensation of surrounding conditions.

Sake drinking is, of course, an obligatory aspect of the festival experience. It was

mentioned earlier that sake is attributed with powers of purification, and is one of the

standard offerings to the deity during Shinto rites. Not only is it a product of rice, which

is associated with the very essence of Japanese culture, but it also serves to promote the

abandonment of inhibitions. If religion is viewed in the Durkheimian sense as spiritual

behavior directed toward an abstract representation of society itself, then sake may be

seen as a sort of mystical force which flows from the kami through the minds and bodies

of its parishioners, drawing them together into an active community. By sharing together

in the drinking of sake they commune at the same time both with the kami and one

another. Kami and community are essentially one/ Scott (1990:41) noted how

^Note that an exchange of sake cups is an essential ingredient in forging social relationships such as the marriage union and the oyabun-kobun relationships initiated by gangsters and labor bosses with their subordinates. 362 consumption of alcohol had the effect of relaxing inhibitions, allowing part of the hidden transcript to be revealed.

Bestor (1989:239) makes the following observation regarding the kind of

boisterous mikoshi procession found in other parts of Japan:

Once the priest sanctifies a mikoshi and installs the deity in it, the mikoshi is said to be under the deity’s control, not the bearers’. And indeed the mikoshi appears to take on a life of its own and becomes a bucking, pitching, careening force beyond the control or influence of any single bearer.

Elsewhere Bestor notes that a discussion with an informant led to a revelation about the

weight of the mikoshi and its relation to the ideology of social life. "Ideally, he said, a

mikoshi should be so heavy that no single person’s actions could affect, or even be

noticeable in, its movements" (1989:311). In Furukawa the mikoshi procession is a slow,

stately affair, and it is the okoshi daiko that entails a boisterous joyride through the

streets. It is significant in this regaid that both the drum and its supporting structure

grew larger and heavier during the okoshi daiko’s emergence as a ritual of rebellion.

Since the drum structure is itself considered a sacred object, crashing into nearby

buildings could be interpreted as a form of divine retribution, absolving the bearers of

any complicity.

Added to the sake is the effect on the emotions produced by the drum itself. One

of my key informants, a man in his mid-forties who has enthusiastically participated in

the okoshi daiko every year since his late teens, confided that as he gets older he finds

himself increasingly less enthusiastic about running around half naked in the cold night

air and getting battered and smashed during the tsuke daiko charges. But when he hears 363 the sound of the drum approaching the old spirit returns. It is the sound of the drum reverberating through the night which stirs the soul, rousing the men of Furukawa to action as its name implies.

While participating in the tsuke daiko in 1992 I had the opportunity to witness the effects such stimuli produce. It was shortly after the uchidashi and our team, along with several others, lay in waiting at a darkened side street for the drum to pass. Here we

made our initial charge, fighting our way to the fore and finally reaching the drum structure. We were able to remain there for what must have been a few hundred meters before peeling off into a another side street. Some visitors had foolishly left their cars

parked along the street there. Emotions were so high that some of the young men began

smashing the row of cars with their fists, elbows, and feet before cooler heads jumped

in to restiain them. As we ran off into the night toward the next point of ambush I

looked back to see that the side of the first car had been completely caved in and its

windows broken. One of the older members looked at me and shook his head saying that

the sake combined with high spirits had a dangerous effect on some of the young men.

One of the parish leaders—an enthusiastic participant in the Furukawa matsuri

preservation association—offered the following explanation for the okoshi daiko: the

townspeople are ordinarily obliged to exercise restraint, suppressing their emotions in the

interests of maintaining harmonious social relations. As a result they are unable to

express what they truly feel; the rest is kept hidden away inside them. But once a year

at matsuri time their pent-up emotions are given free reign. The young men in particular

emerge half-naked for an evening of drinking and wild revelry in the streets. My 364 informant confirmed that the okoshi daiko involves abandoning the normal social order and implied that on that evening abnormal behavior becomes the rule rather than the

exception. He described the whole affair as a means of relieving stress, a safety-valve

for suppressed emotions.^

Here is a case in which a native informant has characterized the okoshi daiko in

terms highly reminiscent of Turner’s ideas regarding structure and anti-structure. The

okoshi daiko is one of a number of so-called ‘hadaka matsuri’ or "naked festivals" in

Japan, which require the participants—usually male—to shed most of their clothing and

join together as an undifferentiated mass of fellow human beings. The wild revelry and

attacks upon the drum structure represent a temporary reversal of the normal social order

and abandonment of restraint.

Perhaps the okoshi daiko was not merely a rebellion against the dominant elite,

but also against the ideal of social harmony itself-that one must sublimate his or her own

desires and ambitions in conforming to the expectations of the community as a whole.

On the surface Furukawa appears to be a peaceful, harmonious community, but

competitive passions seethe underneath. This is demonstrated by the efforts of individual

neighborhoods to outdo one another in yatai construction and the institution of the lottery

ceremony to ensure strict adherence to the established order. The okoshi daiko provides

■*The sense of emotional constraint is no doubt magnified during the winter by the heavy accumulation of snow and ice. After spending a winter in Furukawa, I can easily understand how the spring thaw could lead to such a joyous outburst. 365 them with an opportunity to engage one another in open confrontation. Sonoda (1988:54) notes that

even the other festival ceremonies as well, while superficially appearing to be performed with tact and refinement, are in fact the subject of strict restraints, the slightest of which if broken would result in a situation of chaos. As a result, the superficial appearance merely serves to hide a situation of unremitting tension.

In fact it is entirely possible that rebellious sentiments were being expressed even prior to the emergence of the unruly okoshi daiko. This would explain the institution of the

stamp-affixing ceremony and other early efforts to control the proceedings.

Sonoda goes on to describe two contrasting aspects of matsuri behavior: ritual and

festival. The former is represented by the formal ceremonies performed at tlie shrine

during the day in which the shrine officers and other representatives assemble to pay their

respects to the guardian deity (1988:62):

here is presented the world of order set out in its perfection, with the deity before all. Witli the deity occupying the central place of honor, those men greeting the deity express their own relative rankings by sitting in a strict order on the left and right sides.

The solemnity of the shrine ceremonies stands in sharp contrast to the "festival"

aspect which prevails at night, as represented by the okoshi daiko (Sonoda 1988:64):

Here, the minority of formally attired, ‘named’ powers lose their central role to the majority in the stark naked, ‘unnamed’ mass, and it would appear that the direct clash of nakedness against nakedness makes possible not only the communion of fellow human beings, but that between human and divinity as well.

This is again reminiscent of Turner’s "communitas," which involves temporarily

surrendering one’s own social identity and joining in the ecstatic union of an

undifferentiated mass of fellow human beings. 366

As briefly alluded to in Chapter One, Turner drew his concept from the "liminal" stage in rites of passage. In a later work (1974:13-14) he suggested tliat this liminal phase represents an opportunity whereby adaptive changes may be introduced:

In this interim of "liminality," the possibility exists of standing aside not only from one’s own social position but from all social positions and of formulating a potentially unlimited series of alternative social arrangements ... Without liminality, program might indeed determine performance. But, given liminality, prestigious programs can be undermined and multiple alternative programs may be generated.

He then included the following rather provocative statement relating the whole idea to

evolutionary theory (1974:15):

The besetting quality of human society, seen processually, is the capacity of individuals to stand at times aside from the models, patterns, and paradigms for behavior and thinking, which as children they are conditioned into accepting, and, in rare cases, to innovate new patterns themselves or to assent to innovation. There is nothing mysterious about these capacities if we are to accept the testimony of evolutionary biology. Evolving species are adaptive and labile; they escape the constraints of that form of genetic programming which dooms a species to extinction under conditions of radical environmental change. In the evolution of man’s symbolic "cultural" action, we must seek those processes which correspond to open-endedness in biological evolution. 1 think we have found them in the liminal, or "liminoid" (postindustrial-revolution), forms of symbolic action ... in which all previous standards and models are subjected to criticism, and fresh new ways of describing and interpreting sociocultural experience are formulated.

Relating this concept to the Furukawa matsuri. the solemn rituals performed

during the daylight hours may be recognized as simultaneously expressing reverence

toward the local guardian deity and reaffirming the existing social order. Nighttime, on

tlie other hand, provides an opportunity for wild revelry and intoxication. The usual

social norms of harmonious interaction and self-restraint are temporarily abandoned, and

rebellious tendencies emerge. The noise, the alcohol, and the cover of night all 367 contribute toward an atmosphere in which practically anything can happen, and interesting possibilities emerge: What if the masses were to join together and rise up against their oppressors? What if the normal social order could be overturned? What if the authorities had to bow to our wishes? What if they could be shown how we really feel about their constant meddling in our affairs? Liminality may thus be seen as an adaptive feature in that it creates the opportunity to introduce alternative ideas.

An Ideological Environment

Recent critics of the adaptationist approach err by (1) limiting their concept of

"the environment" to that which is purely "natural," and (2) failing to recognize that the adaptive value of any particular feature varies with the perspective of the affected populations and the time frame according to which the effects are being evaluated. As for the first misconception, consider the following rather confusing statement (Bargatzky

1984:402):

Human populations are not adapted to their environment via their institutions: rather, these institutions simplify and thereby incorporate or appropriate and selectively use the resources of the environment.

Apparently it is the purposeful designation of selected elements of the environment as

"resources" which, in Bargatzky's mind, casts doubt upon the concept of culture as adaptation. He tries to make his point by invoking Bennett’s (1976:3) use of the term

"ecological transition" in referring to the "progressive incorporation of Nature into human

frames of purpose and action." "The more nature is incorporated into culture," 368

Bargatzky insists, "the more the concept of ‘adaptation’ dissolves into meaninglessness"

(1984:402).

Why should this be so? Is it because the so-called "natural environment" is no longer completely "natural?" One is led to wonder at exactly what stage in their evolutionary history did humans leave the other animals and emerge from their "natural" condition-when they began to use tools? When they started building shelters? Other animals engage in similar types of behavior. At what point does the qualitative difference appear? As argued in Chapter Two, there is no clear distinction between the natural and the artificial since human beings as a species of organism are themselves part of nature.

As in so many instances of scientific inquiry, an arbitrary distinction has been imposed

upon a continuous set of data, then treated as if it actually existed. In fact, no such

distinction is possible.

Next there is the problem of determining which cultural features may be

considered "adaptive" in the sense of helping a population to survive and perpetuate itself.

Ellen (1982:244) correctly observes that the adaptive value of any particular feature

depends on the level of organization at which it is applied. What is adaptive at the

individual or constituent group level may not be adaptive in terms of the population as

a whole. Therefore:

In discussing processes of adaptation it is always necessary to ensure that the mechanisms, population units and range of environmental features involved are clearly specified and identifiable.

The situation is complicated by the fact that what qualifies as adaptation is

exclusively related to a specific environment, and even the most seemingly beneficial 369 features may prove to be detriments when that environment is altered. Ellen notes the importance of temporal context-that what is adaptive may change over time (1982:247):

Natural selection does not always promote the long-term survival of populations, since, in cases of increasing specialization, adaptation might be concomitant with increasing vulnerability to extinction. Much the same situation applies to cultural modifications, and in specifying adaptations it is crucial to take into the account the time period over which they are effective.

Human beings are generally interested in improving or at least maintaining the

conditions of their existence. It is unlikely that they would intentionally act against their

own interests. Therefore, the changes they impose upon themselves and others, as well

as upon their physical environment, may be considered adaptations-regardless of whether

these changes later turn out to be detrimental to their long-term survival—as the initial

intent was to serve their own needs. Industrial systems, for example, may ultimately

destroy the environment which sustains them, but they do confer a selective advantage

on certain populations in the short-term.

Ellen concludes that (1982:251):

A human population observed at a particular point in time is therefore in part a web of (often conflicting) adaptive strategies employed by individuals and collectivities of different degrees of inclusiveness to cope with present and possible future conditions ... The situation at any one time is a dynamic compromise between individuals and groups, and their interests as perceived for different phases of future time.

Adaptation must therefore be seen as an ongoing process which can never be

completely realized. This is why the quality of flexibility or resilience is so important,

as it broadens the range of possible environments wherein any particular feature may be

beneficially employed. The Furukawa matsuri displays this quality in that (1) the 370 significance of its rituals are open to revision or reinteipretation, and (2) it addresses various aspects of the human experience, as indicated by the analyses above. The fact that the matsuri has persisted so long is attributable to this quality of resilience, not the mere force of tradition.

It is apparent from the previous chapters that the Furukawa matsuri has undergone

many significant changes in adapting to new conditions. It is also apparent, however, that the matsuri is a collective expression of the entire community and is beyond the

power of any particular interest to control. The matsuri itself thus constitutes a kind of

ideological environment—in addition to the physical and social—to which individual

members of the community must adapt themselves in seeking to promote tlieir own

interests. The elite, for example, used the matsuri to acknowledge their privileged

positions. The peasantry, likewise, expressed their opposition by escalating what was

once a rather insignificant feature of the same matsuri into a wild and rebellious

demonstration of their collective power. In the present day the townspeople are

responding to the need for economic development—again through the medium of the

matsuri. These changes did not simply materialize; in each case they emerged from a

previously existing ideological framework. Thus ideology exerts an important influence

on the nature and direction of adaptive change. APPENDIX A

CHARTER OF THE PEOPLE OF FURUKAWA (Enacted September 6, 1976)

We are the townspeople of Furukawa, a place of history and tradition, filled with nature’s beauty and abundant love. In order to build a green and sunny Furukawa, we keep the following charter:

to create a highly cultured town which values harmony.

to create a humane and elegant town of deep respect for nature.

to create a bright and cheerful town whose residents adhere to order and help one another.

to create a prosperous town of gratitude for health and work.

to create a town which produces healthy children and a tranquil environment for the elderly.

371 APPENDIX B

THE FOLKSONG "FURUKAWA MEDETA'"

1. Medeta, medeta no Auspicious, auspicious wakamatsusama yo. young pine tree! Eda mo sakaem; Its branches flourish ha mo shigem. and its needles grow thick/

Chorus: (Korya) tsuita to te nan to sezu(Hey) no matter that they vanish zenze no ho, (korya) manma nomoney ko. (hey) and food/

2. Oto ni na takai The famous Furukawa matsuri; Furukawa festival; okoshi daiko no the bravery of isamashisa. the rousing drum.

3. Ora ga yataka wa Our house medetai yataka. is an auspicious one; Tsuru go gomon ni a crane built its nest su o kaketa. in the entrance gate."

4. Tsuru ga gomon ni What did the crane say, nan to yutte kaketa? building its nest there? Die hanjo to "Prosperity on your household," yutte kaketa. it said.

5. Yome o mitate no The three-temple visit sandera mairi; for choosing a bride. kami o iwasete Tie up your hair reimairi. and go to pay reverence.^

6. Bahasa doko ikyaru, Where’s old grandma headed sanjo tarn sagete with the six-quait keg? Yome no zaisho e To the home of the young bride

372 373 mago daki ni. to hold her grandchild.®

7. Omaeya hyaku made, Till you are one hundred washa ku-ju-ku made; and I ninety-nine; tomo ni shiraga no till our hair grows white, haeru made. together.

1 .The first verse of this particular folk song appears in folk songs from other parts of Japan. That is why this version is called the "Furukawa Medeta"—to distinguish it from other songs containing the medeta verse. The melody is unique to Furukawa as are the remaining verses, which contain references to specific features of Furukawa culture. There is also a distinctive dance to accompany the song. It is customarily performed at bon odori. the folk dances held during tlie midsummer bon festivals.

2.As the words of this verse imply, the pine tree is considered auspicious because it remains green all year round. The fact that it flourishes portends prosperity. Note that the honorific ‘-sama’ is attached to the ‘wakamatsu’ meaning "young pine," implying a special reverence for the tree. Since there is no standard plural form in Japanese the word ‘wakamatsu’ could also refer to a stand of trees.

3.The chorus is meant to convey the idea that even if resources grow scarce, we will all get by somehow by helping each other.

4.The crane symbolizes long life.

5.Before the Second World War the sandera mairi served as an opportunity for the single men in town to search for a bride. The young women dressin tiieir finest kimono with their hair done up in the shimada style. Single women were distinguishable in that their had a fold or part in back with an ornament inside.

6.A sanjo taru (here pronounced "dam") is a small wooden cask for transporting sake. One sho equals 1.92 quarts or 1.8 liters. It was customary for the young bride to return to her native home to give birth to her first child, and after a period of one month the husband’s mother went there to see her new grandchild for the first time. The sake was a gift to the bride’s family to celebrate the birth. APPENDIX C

REGISTER OF ELIGIBLE VOTERS FOR ELECTING MEMBERS TO THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES ISHUGIIN GUN SENKYO JINMEIBO^ FOR FURUKAWA TOWNSHIP-1889

Occupational Tax Payment Name Designation %en rin

Inotani Chuhichirü agricultural 16 833 Inoue Heiroku agricultural 33 344 Hasegawa Kanhichiro agricultural 144 852 Chiyoda Kichiemon agricultural 31 888 Otsubo ShinzD agricultural 43 659 Oga Hikoroku agricultural 20 555 Daimaru Genjuro agricultural 26 268 Watanabe Buemon agricultural 28 574 Wada SeizaburD agricultural 44 670 Watanabe Shohachi agricultural 19 582 Watanabe Heiemon commercial 19 036 Watanabe Yahichiro agricultural 20 052 Wada Kiemon agricultural 29 615 Kamomiya Jiichirü agricultural 26 647 Kamo YojirO agricultural 20 873 Kaba Tokuro commercial 81 283 Kamiyama Wasuke agricultural 28 783 Uenohara Seizü agricultural 29 905 Tanaka Hikozaernon agricultural 16 307 Tajika (Honda) Rokusaburü agricultural 440 929 Taniguchi Kyuemon agricultural 16 138 Taguchi TOjirO agricultural 16 556 Tsutsumi BunshirO agricultural 17 016 Nagatsuka Zenjiro agricultural 31 432 Nakamura Nobuo agricultural 135 485 Utsumi Sukezaemon agricultural 15 568 Ushimaru Sukejiro agricultural 16 354 Ushimaru Chuji commercial 65 304

374 375

KugO Chuemon agricultural 33 096 Kumazaki Tomoyuki commercial 71 169 Furuta Seiemon agricultural 25 933 Fuse Matazo commercial 85 730 Fukushima ChOemon agricultural 15 422 Goto ShinjirD commercial 16 314 Goto Kyoheiji commercial 16 218 Goto Shigehide commercial 34 229 Araki Shüga commercial 18 741 Adachi Yaichiro commercial 38 495 Amaki ShinshirO agricultural 25 532 Sato Hikotaro agricultural 473 451 Sato Magoichi agricultural 19 066 Sakaguchi ZenshirO agricultural 15 682 Sakamoto Tarosuke agricultural 39 299 Kiriyama Genbei agricultural 61 939 Mishima Chuichiro commercial 23 511 Mitsuzuka lemon agricultural 23 518 Shitanda GorOsaburO agricultural 51 914 Shirakawa Yasubei agricultural 29 677 Shineno Kichizaemon commercial 25 965 Morishita Moemon agricultural 19 326 Morishita Tamenosuke agricultural 16 334 Sekiya Yahichiro agricultural 16 278 Sekiguchi Kamenosuke agricultural 16 599 Seki Genemon agricultural 19 005 Seki MosaburO agricultural 18 009 Seki Michimori commercial 49 041 BIBLIOGRAPHY

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