What is a Samurai?

I first came to Japan when I was in high school. When it came time to choose a club activity, my host mother suggested, "Why don't you try a traditional Japanese martial art?"

The movie "The Karate Kid" was popular at the time, so I actually wanted to do Karate, but the school only had a Judo Club and a Kendo club. When I saw Kendo for the first time, I was moved, thinking, "What is this?" and joined the club.

However, the teacher was terrifying, and after a while, I wanted to quit, but they wouldn't let me (laughs).

So it was very painful for you.

Truly, every single day, I was made to do intense training. But as I kept doing it, I gradually became hooked.

And I thought, if I'm going to do this, I want to know where Kendo came from and what its cultural roots are. I only knew that it was something samurai used to do, so after my high school exchange ended, I did a short-term study abroad at the International Budo University.

That's how I began to specialize in studying martial arts as a vestige of samurai culture.

Because of my family background, I'm often asked, "Do you practice any martial arts?" but actually, I don't do any martial arts at all (laughs).

I see.

I've been at Keio since Chutobu Junior High School. When I entered middle school, I wanted to do some kind of martial art and wear a dogi, but I also wanted a martial art that wouldn't hurt (laughs). So I joined the Kyudo (archery) club.

I desperately wanted to get my 3rd dan rank, so I kept at it until my master's program, but then I couldn't write my master's thesis. I failed a year and spent three years on my master's (laughs).

As I began to research the Middle Ages and traced the origins of the samurai, I realized that the original martial art for them wasn't sword fighting, but the bow and arrow. It feels like my own experience happened to be slightly useful.

I started to become conscious of being born into this family when I would go back to Nagano every year and stay at a house called the Sanada Residence. The gate said "Sanada Residence," and since I was about an elementary school student, I wondered what it was.

It's a structure from the end of the Edo period. When the rules for alternate attendance (sankin-kotai) were relaxed and the 9th lord's stepmother returned to the local area, the 9th lord and his primary wife were already in the castle, so they had to house her somewhere. This house was built outside the castle for that purpose. It still remains today as a cultural property and belongs to Nagano City.

The popularity of samurai overseas has been very high for a long time. Depending on the era, there is a strong mystical image. In the Meiji era, many foreigners began coming to Japan, and samurai customs and "harakiri" became well-known, so the word "samurai" became an international term early on.

There was also interest in samurai because people wondered why Japan was able to achieve victory against the military power of Russia in the Russo-Japanese War. Then, Inazo Nitobe's "Bushido: The Soul of Japan" (1900), written in English, became a worldwide bestseller.

Nitobe wrote it for his American wife, didn't he?

He wrote it for Westerners rather than just his wife. It's a famous story, but U.S. President Theodore Roosevelt bought dozens of copies and distributed them to his friends, saying, "The samurai are wonderful. There are things we can emulate too." Nitobe's book was a major catalyst for the samurai becoming known as dignified, cool, and righteous.

The British author H.G. Wells also made a samurai a hero in his novel "A Modern Utopia."

Speaking of recent events, I went there last week, and for some reason, Japanese samurai culture, Iaido, and Kendo are popular in parts of China as well.

Is that so?

In China, I thought samurai culture and Bushido were equated with militarism and disliked, but actually, among young people, Kendo and Iaido are becoming fashionable items.

I think the influence of anime and manga plays a part, but even in Asia, the image of the samurai as something very cool—an existence that serves as a model for human beings—is becoming stronger, just as it is among Japanese youth.

In Western countries too, the image of the samurai as an ideal human figure is strong. Nitobe's book is a long-seller and still attracts quite a bit of interest today.

The image of the samurai circulating in the world is based on Nitobe's "Bushido." However, Nitobe's image of the samurai, which was written in English and became the global impression as-is, is considerably removed from the actual reality of the samurai.

The samurai of the Muromachi period and the Kamakura and Heian periods before it were from an era when they were truly warriors. On the other hand, as Mr. Sanada mentioned earlier about not practicing martial arts, the samurai of the Edo period were people who governed and were no longer people who fought.

Furthermore, the Meiji era when Nitobe wrote "Bushido" was a time when samurai no longer existed. A theory of Bushido born after the samurai disappeared from this world must inevitably include beautification by later generations. When compared with raw historical materials from the Kamakura and Muromachi periods, it is unfortunately quite far from the reality.

Since samurai were born around 1200, even if we consider it late at the time of the establishment of the Kamakura Shogunate, their way of being changed completely over the long period of 600 to 700 years until the Meiji Restoration. A philosophy that can be discussed collectively as "Bushido" should not exist.

I believe it is wrong for Japanese people to start with Nitobe's "Bushido." This was originally written in English for Westerners, and in the Meiji era—in other words, it is a book of ideology, not a document conveying reality.

That's true.

I think the idea that "the samurai way of life serves as a model for life" is very dangerous, because ultimately, samurai live in order to die.

Edo period samurai were only a few percent of the population. And with the Meiji era, the samurai were supposed to have disappeared. However, in the 1890s, people started being told at school, "Since you are samurai, brave fighting and loyalty to the Emperor are important. And you must die for the public authority." For some reason, a reversal phenomenon occurred where 100 percent of Japanese males became descendants of samurai.

And ultimately, the philosophy of the samurai "living to die in battle" became the idea of "100 million dying for the nation" in reality during World War II.

The scary part about Nitobe is that he praised General Maresuke Nogi's ritual suicide upon the death of the Meiji Emperor as the pinnacle of Japanese morality.

Samurai status was fundamentally hereditary, so there was no freedom of choice in occupation. Consequently, to fight as a samurai in that world, one had to die as part of the job. For that purpose, they trained mentally and physically. This is a kind of professional ethics for samurai, but there is no need at all for farmers or merchants to live according to this philosophy. In other words, it was a philosophy irrelevant to over 90 percent of the people in the Edo period, and of course, the same is true for modern Japanese people.

As you say, Bushido has changed quite a bit with the times. For example, reading the "Koyo Gunkan" from the end of the Takeda clan's Sengoku period, I think they weren't necessarily living just to die.

Also, I had the chance to look at Mr. Momozaki's book, and I think the samurai were gradually established as descendants of the Imperial family went to the provinces and, in a sense, acted to survive. I also think the concept of "Zanshin" (remaining mind/awareness) is not necessarily for dying, but for protecting oneself.

The Sanada family has done various things to survive. The reason the brothers (Nobuyuki and Nobushige) split at the time of the Battle of Sekigahara was so that the house would survive rather than everyone dying. And as for whether they swore 100 percent loyalty to the Tokugawa Shogunate during the Edo period, they actually joined the new government side during the Restoration.

From the Sanada perspective, I believe that Bushido is not necessarily about showing loyalty to the point of destroying oneself. I think our Bushido is about protecting the house and the people of the domain no matter what.

Certainly, it differs by era, but rather than saying samurai essentially live to die, perhaps it should be said that "there was a limitation where they had no choice but to die because it was their birthright profession." So, of course, one could also say they are all doing it to live. In fact, samurai of the Kamakura and Muromachi periods rarely died. In the Onin War, even if hundreds of people fought in a battle, there were times when the war dead could be counted on one hand.

However, even if we say it's "to live," as long as the final means of resolution is killing each other, the possibility of eventually dying in battle is unavoidable. When that happens, if such a goal is possible only for samurai, then Bushido is a philosophy born out of a somewhat passive necessity—the idea of having a philosophy to not regret dying at any time.

This changes by era and region. "Hagakure" is the kind of book that was recommended by the former Imperial Japanese Army, but the Nabeshima Domain (Saga Domain) where this was written was an extremely unique place. It contains writings as if everyone was living only thinking about dying, even in that peaceful Edo period.

The domains that carried out the Meiji Restoration, such as the Satsuma Domain, also have aspects that cannot be explained by the average thinking of the Edo period. They disregarded human life, and the subordination of women to men was extreme.

There is also the difference in social status. Since a samurai's job is to die for his master, it is not the job of the lord, who is the master, to die. In Japan, this is called "Chu" (loyalty), and in China, it is called "Gi" (righteousness), but at the root is the ancient Chinese thought that those who are supported by a stipend to fulfill their duties should sacrifice their lives in a crisis for their lord.

That transformed over a long period, so to speak plainly, a system of ideals that can be explained by the single word "Bushido" does not exist. Everything is different depending on the era, region, and position. Speaking as an expert, the thing called Bushido is an illusion—a nostalgic image of history from a "good old days" that didn't actually exist.

Even if Bushido means dying for an individual, I think there is an aspect of "dying to survive" in the sense that they valued honor, especially in the Edo period, as a way to preserve the house by not doing anything cowardly.

In the case of the Sanada family, a retainer named Suzuki Mondo (Shigenori), the lord of Nagurumi Castle, was deceived by the Hojo and surrendered the castle, then committed seppuku. However, his son was employed by the domain lord until the end, preserving the house.

So, of course, one must take responsibility for a crime, but just because someone takes responsibility doesn't mean the house is destroyed. In a sense, there are cases where honor is maintained that way and the house continues.

That's exactly right. The "Koyo Gunkan" also has the major theme of how the Takeda family can survive. You shouldn't be too strong, and you shouldn't be too weak. You shouldn't be too clever. It's about taking a balance and how to survive. Otherwise, the house would truly be extinguished, so many techniques for survival are written there.

One mindset for survival is the term "Seishi Choetsu" (transcending life and death). It means having a spirituality that goes beyond living or dying—in other words, by not fearing death, the possibility of survival actually increases. Conversely, those who fear death are more likely to die.

In "Hagakure," there is the famous phrase, "The Way of the Samurai is found in dying." "Hagakure" is a book recording the words of Yamamoto Tsunetomo, a former retainer of the Nabeshima Domain, in 1716, but this book is very easily misunderstood if not read with an understanding of the historical background and context.

If you use the phrase "The Way of the Samurai is found in dying" during an era of militarism, you can easily say, "You guys, go die for the Emperor. That is the samurai. That is the Japanese."

However, if you read all of "Hagakure," that's not what it means. In short, it is criticizing the samurai of the time for being complacent in peace. It says, "You guys are no good without pride as samurai. You're only thinking about sex and money. Have you forgotten the true way a samurai should live?"

It means, "Be prepared to die at any time." That doesn't mean throwing away your life like a Kamikaze pilot; it's the idea that if you live thinking you could die at any time, you can lead a more wonderful life and do better work for your domain.

It is often interpreted as saying "die quickly," but it's the opposite. From the perspective of a martial artist, I think "The Way of the Samurai is found in dying" is the same as "sutemi" (abandoning oneself) in Kendo. Instead of worrying "What if I get hit?" while facing an opponent, you just go for it with a bang. Then you score an "ippon."

In short, live with dignity without being shaken. That is survival.

As mentioned, Nitobe's work is a so-called modern theory of Bushido, written in an era when samurai were already gone. However, we must not forget that Nitobe himself was born into a samurai family in 1862. He was the son of a relatively high-ranking samurai in the Morioka Domain. So I think the education he received as a child—the Bushido of that region and that era—is reflected in it.

A person raised that way wrote it to appeal to Westerners that although Japan doesn't have Christianity, its sense of morality is not that different from Westerners, and that Japanese people are not barbarians.

I think that is effective as one theory of Bushido. I used to criticize it quite a bit, but when analyzed, it says some pretty amazing things and I don't think it's worthless.

What went wrong was the understanding of Bushido in the modern era, especially from the Showa period onwards, where a single catchphrase came to be used arbitrarily.

As you say, extracting a single phrase and chanting it misleads the value of things. I had my students read all of "Hagakure" and "Bushido."

Certainly, since the way of dying is the goal of the way of living, if you live without thinking about when and how you will die, you probably won't have a proper life. Everyone dies eventually anyway. The problem is how you die, and I think it's a question of how to use that limited time effectively and what to stake your life on. If you're a samurai, you might stake your life for your lord, or fight with the resolve to give your life for the community you must protect.

What people who specialize in fighting always struggle with is adapting to peacetime. When people who show their presence in wartime first encountered peacetime in the Edo period, they thought, "We have to transform, we have to become different creatures," and changed in the direction of "Let's govern. Let's cherish the people."

When Tokugawa Iemitsu died, Matsudaira Nobutsuna was blamed for not committing ritual suicide. However, he thought, "This is not that kind of era anymore. If I cut my belly now, who will look after Shogun Ietsuna? It would be a problem if everyone died."

However, because they are soldiers at heart, that part occasionally surfaces. For example, the Boshin War at the end of the Edo period shouldn't have been necessary. Since the city of Edo didn't burn, they made a blood sacrifice of Aizu instead. Since the Meiji government army consisted of samurai from Satsuma and Choshu, they absolutely wanted blood for the revolution. They didn't realize this blood was a waste.

As Mr. Bennett said, Bushido is useful as a guide for how to live, but the only dangerous point is that at the very end, it condones resolution through killing each other. I think we just need to be careful about this.

I don't think it's completely worthless either. There are times in any job in life when you can't get to the next stage unless you dive in without thinking about the consequences. It's fine to use it as a metaphor, but if you take it literally, you'll throw your life away, so I think this part should be reinterpreted.

Early modern samurai were basically a social elite who didn't have to work that much during peacetime. Therefore, samurai in the Edo period started thinking quite early on, from around the 1630s, "What are we here for?" It was about how they could justify their existence.

For example, there is a book called "Heiho Kadensho" (The Life-Giving Sword) by Yagyu Munenori. Yagyu Munenori was a master of swordsmanship and an instructor to the Shogun. "Heiho Kadensho" is a textbook of the techniques of the Yagyu Shinkage-ryu, and at the same time, a book on how to apply the philosophy of that swordsmanship to governance.

In it, there are the famous words, "Setsuninto (The sword that kills), Katsuninken (The sword that gives life)." "Setsuninto" means a sword for killing. The "ken" in "Katsuninken" is "tsurugi" (sword). When bad people appear in society, everyone's life is disrupted, but if such a person appears, the samurai quickly kills that villain. By doing so, the "sword that kills" becomes the "sword that gives life."

In short, they are peacekeepers, the police. To keep the peace, you must always be prepared to fight. It is very difficult to maintain that when there is no war. That's why they also practiced martial arts diligently.

"The sword that kills" and "the sword that gives life," I see.

The "to" in "Setsuninto" is a "katana," so it's single-edged. On the other hand, calling it "Katsuninken" with "ken" refers to a double-edged sword; this means that while you point the blade at the opponent, you are also pointing a blade at yourself. It means that while cutting the evil in the opponent, you must also be prepared for the fact that there is evil within yourself. That's why the responsibility of a samurai who can use a sword is very great.

One could say this was seeking peace. It is precisely because there is peace that samurai are necessary and have responsibilities as samurai. I think that was a major point.

Daidoji Yuzan's book "Budo Shoshinshu" was written in the same era as "Hagakure," and in it, he says, "A samurai must always be prepared for death." Since fighting is the cultural base for samurai and they become known for their bravery by achieving feats, their pride is very high, so if they get into a fight while drinking, it turns into a sword fight. Over the slightest thing, it immediately turns into violence, like "You bastard!" You see many such stories when reading "Hagakure" and the like.

Since it wouldn't be strange for that to happen at any time, he says, "Always be prepared for death." By being prepared to die, one can avoid dangerous situations without being caught off guard, and thereby work longer. Therefore, while the resolve for death is the central concept of Bushido, it is different from a literal "dog's death"—a wasted death.

That's right. For the sake of peace, there are times when those who disturb it must be suppressed by force, and this is exactly the raison d'être of the samurai itself. It is, so to speak, violence for the sake of peace. I have a feeling that violence as a necessary evil is probably what allowed the samurai to survive for so long.

Of course, samurai are human too, so in their hearts they shouldn't want to die, but looking at samurai of the Kamakura or Muromachi periods, there are indeed times when a switch is flipped, thinking, "Ah, this is the time to die," and they switch to a way of fighting for the sake of dying.

There has always been the continuity of the house, and if one behaves cowardly in battle, their grandchildren and children will be ostracized and unable to survive. That's why there are wills from the Kamakura period and the Nanboku-cho period saying, "For the sake of my grandchildren, I am going to go and die now."

Death for the sake of giving life. There is a system where there are times when someone has to die. When someone performs well and dies in battle that way, it gets written in "The Tale of the Heike" or "Taiheiki" that "So-and-so worked this hard during this battle." Everyone reads that, and their existential value is recognized by society. It becomes a kind of resume, so to speak.

A person who behaved cowardly would mean their descendants also couldn't live in society thereafter. In the Middle Ages, peacetime didn't last for 20 years, so I think there was a part of them that thought of death as the cost of social sustainability.

That's likely true. So the most important point was when the moment to die should be. Since everyone will die eventually, judging when one should die and when one should not was the most difficult choice for a samurai. If you get it wrong, it's called a dog's death.

It's not that you should just die recklessly. It's about how to use your one and only life.

During the Edo period, for a daimyo like Sanada—those on the side of the rulers—it wasn't necessarily a peaceful time; you never knew when your domain might be confiscated. In fact, during the Hachirogoro Hara Rebellion and the era of the 'Higurashi Suzuri' by Onda Moku (Tamichika), there were times when the Sanada family itself faced the possibility of being dissolved.

In such an era, I think those at the top felt immense pressure to live properly and govern the domain correctly.

In fact, the Sanada family did have the Numata Domain dissolved once. This was fundamentally because the lord at the time was, in a sense, showing off and levied excessive taxes on the farmers. That is why it was actually clearer and easier to govern during the warring periods, when military power was the primary standard of evaluation. I feel that in a peaceful era, it wasn't just about being strong; there was a background where you couldn't govern your subordinates unless you lived your life with integrity.

Therefore, rather than Bushido existing for the sake of dying, I believe it was about living a proper life and earning proper respect from those around you.

Even now, the Sanada family has a bad reputation in Numata. This story is from around the mid-1700s, about 300 years ago, but even today, there is a card in the 'Jomo Karuta' set that says 'Mozaemon, the Righteous Man of the World,' commemorating a man who risked his life to petition the Shogunate. The one he petitioned against was the Sanada family. In that sense, the family left behind a mark of shame.

Somehow, the main branch in Nagano survived. But I think it was a close call. The pressure of governing must have been staggering.

I imagine so. Even among samurai, responsibilities differed depending on one's status within the domain. In other words, the ideal way of living varied according to rank.

The senior retainers (Karo) below the daimyo served as advisors and consultants, didn't they?

Those advisors could perform what was called 'Oshikome' (forced confinement), where they would replace the lord if necessary.

If they decided 'this lord is no good,' they would force him into retirement and bring in the next successor. The primary goal was 'preserving the domain and the family name,' so the lord or daimyo was not necessarily absolute. The senior retainers did this with the resolve that they might have to commit seppuku themselves depending on the outcome.

I see. Is that what is called 'Kanshi' (remonstration through death)?

Yes, dying to admonish one's lord. On the surface, samurai society was a perfect pyramid, but in reality, the 'number two' had the responsibility to correct the lord. Dying to remonstrate was one such duty, though it wasn't just about dying or forcing the lord into confinement. An exquisite sense of balance was always pursued.

Kanshi was already being practiced during the Nanboku-cho period. In the Kanto region, there was the Ashikaga clan of the Kamakura Kubo—a branch of the younger brother's line—and in almost every generation, they would rebel against the main line in Kyoto.

The 'number two' was the Uesugi clan, the Kanto Kanrei, who existed to control the excesses of the top leader. There was an instance during the time of Ashikaga Yoshimitsu where, unable to control the leader, the Uesugi representative stopped him by saying, 'I told you so much, but I can no longer take responsibility. I will cut open my stomach and die, so please stop.' As far as I know, it is the only instance of Kanshi in the Muromachi period.

The practice of 'Shukun Oshikome' (confining the lord) is a core samurai tradition. If the lord is incompetent, the community sinks, so for the survival of the community, an incompetent lord must be removed.

After the Minamoto line ended with Yoriie and Sanetomo, the Hojo regents decided everything regarding the Kamakura Shogunate's leadership, such as calling for a Shogun from the Fujiwara/Sekkan families in Kyoto or requesting a member of the Imperial family. In Japanese history—as seen in regency politics (Sekkan Seiji)—it is often the 'number two,' rather than the top leader, who holds power most effectively.

One question I have is: since both samurai and Western knights were professional warriors who valued honor and were lords of their land, why do Westerners, who have their own chivalry, feel such an attraction to Bushido?

I've been asked that for 30 years, and I still don't have a fully satisfying answer. Chivalry has changed over time, from the concepts of the Crusader 'Orders' to what was perceived as the lifestyle of a gentleman in the 17th and 18th centuries.

One thing I can say is that for the samurai, honor ultimately meant protecting the community. Compared to that, I don't think it was quite the same for knights. While the concept of honor was certainly emphasized, it was something belonging to the individual.

Samurai cherish the honor of the Sanada family, for example, even if it's something from the distant past.

That's true.

So honor is not just an individual thing; it is connected to ancestors and descendants. In the world of knights, that is relatively less common.

You mentioned the Crusades; there is always Christianity behind the knight.

That's the point. Therefore, the reward after death is going to Heaven.

I see. That's similar to the Ikko-ikki uprisings. The Ikko-ikki was a system where if you fought hard, you were guaranteed birth in the Pure Land. However, that was a group of amateurs; samurai do not die for faith. At least not in the Middle Ages.

In the past, clan deities (Ujigami) fought each other, but they weren't fighting for an absolute God. To put it bluntly, the difference of whether it is monotheism or not is significant. For the samurai, faith was for winning now, and for not suffering after death. If you look closely, it's pragmatic. There are no people in Japan who fight for 'God's justice' or perform Jihad.

Mr. Sanada, you are still the head of a daimyo family today. Although the peerage system no longer exists, you still have relationships with the descendants of your former retainers as a community. For those of you who are survivors of a certain kind of feudal order in modern Japan, what kind of future do you think would be a happy one?

When I talk to people from former noble families, many are still, in a sense, guardians of cultural properties. But as a practical matter, the peerage system from before the war no longer exists, so it's economically difficult. In our case, fortunately, we donated almost everything to the city and have the city manage it, which makes it much easier, but there are still various challenges.

The mausoleum of Nobuyuki is an Important Cultural Property, and the lacquer needs to be reapplied every 40 years. The estimate for that is about 400 million yen. We simply cannot afford that on our own.

In the end, reigning requires costs, but there are cases where the sources of income were taken away while only the responsibilities remained.

The question is until when and who should bear that burden. Of course, cultural properties shouldn't be the sole responsibility of the person who owns them.

You certainly couldn't do it on a university professor's salary (laughs). In that sense, my grandfather was truly the last 'Lord.' He didn't have a job.

The Sanada family has survived by constantly discarding traditions. Even in the Showa era, my grandfather made my father get a job because he felt that if he didn't, his grandchildren wouldn't be able to eat. We have optimized how to preserve the family by adapting to the times. That's why I don't practice martial arts today (laughs).

I think that's similar to the story of samurai throwing away their lives. Deciding what to keep is the same as deciding what to discard. I believe samurai must have made those kinds of decisions.

On the last day of my spring semester class, a student said to me, 'Professor, actually, my father is the head of the Matsudaira family.' I don't remember which generation of a branch of the Matsudaira family he said he was, but he said that as the eldest son, he would be the next head.

He had been studying in America for a long time and was very fluent in English, but he said he was panicking because he didn't know much about Japanese history, Bushido, or samurai culture. He said that since becoming a university student, he had started to feel how heavy the weight of becoming the head of the Matsudaira family would be.

I understand that well. My father passed away early, so I succeeded him when I was 15. I was in my third year of junior high school. I certainly felt the pressure.

There are several traditional ceremonies that remain, and a temple priest told me, 'Young master, you just need to remain dignified. Just do not lose your composure. If you lose your composure, those around you won't be able to help you.' So in a sense, I think that is what Bushido is today—if you lose your composure, you lose.

That is probably not limited to Bushido; it's a theory of leadership. In China, as long as a ruler has virtue, they don't necessarily need skills or strength. Those around them will handle that. But they must carry themselves like a ruler.

That's what I was told. I used to memorize the words I needed to know for ceremonies, but recently I've come to think that if I make a mistake, those around me will manage somehow. It's actually easier for them that way.

Such things must have happened many times in the past. That's why traditions that people think must be strictly adhered to are often surprisingly new. In reality, I think there is often little meaning in trying to protect tradition at the cost of one's life.