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Changes and Technical Notes

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I'm doing some reorganizing, and hopefully most of the changes will be invisible to you, the reader. But some of you may have noticed a "site under construction" message over the last 24 hours if you tried to access the blog. Well, I've moved it to a new URL. From now on, the blog is at:

www.sengokufieldmanual.com

I decided having the "blogspot" in the middle of the name was a bit awkward, so went and registered the domain name. The old URL, sengokufieldmanual.blogspot.com, will still work--it just redirects to the new URL. So if you've got it saved as a link or something, it should still work.

I'm trying to iron out the kinks--for instance, if you type "sengokufieldmanual.com" without the "www", it will take you to an error page. There's a fix for this, so hopefully that will not be a problem soon.

Now that I've plunked down some money for this, I suppose I'm making the commitment to put out more content. Oh boy...

Methodology Video Series & Conference Update

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Well, I finally have an update on the Palo Alto conference: it will not happen as originally conceived. No trip to Brownsville, TX for me. However, it will take place in a modified form. The organizers were able to coordinate with another conference taking place in the spring at the University of South Carolina, the Fields Of Conflict Conference 2014. Our panels will be put on the itinerary for this conference, and we get to participate in a larger event. It's kind of exciting, and some of the other events they will have as part of this conference (We get to go to a shooting range and fire historical firearms! How cool is that?!) will be pretty useful.

So, with that news out of the way, let's get to business. I'm recording my "draft" version of the conference presentation and will put pieces of it in a series of posts. This will be the first portion. Not all of this will make it into the presentation; honestly, almost none of this first video will, as it just sets up where my methodology comes from. But it's all part of how I think, and kind of like the podcast and, well, this blog, putting it together is helping me work through how best to present it. Rather than just staring at slides, if I talk through it and then watch it, I can see what works, what doesn't, and what I need to cut or edit.

Feel free to provide feedback in the comments, of course. Unlike my other video presentations, this is unscripted and off the cuff. Recording this one, I found a slide animation issue I need to fix--so this is RAW, ORIGINAL NATE. Be kind, please, and enjoy.


More Conferencing! Chinese Military History Society/Society for Military History, Kansas City, April

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More conference news! This week I received my notice of acceptance to the Chinese Military History Society's annual conference next April, in Kansas City, Missouri. Once again they've opened their conference to the larger Asian military history community, and once again they've graciously allowed me to participate. Last year, the theme was "Demythologizing Asian Warfare", and so I presented on the historiography of Nagashino. This year, the theme is "Military Deception and the Art of the Stratagem." The title of my proposal is "Tactical Intelligence, Counterintelligence, and Deception in 16th Century Japan: The Battle of Nagashino (1575)." I am really grateful to have this opportunity again. There are very few people doing Japanese military history, even fewer working premodern topics, and almost none of them come to SMH. Last year I felt like I'd found kindred spirits...my academic cousins, if you will, and it was a very rewarding experience.

Between now and March/April will be a busy time, as I get ready for the Fields of Conflict conference in March and then this soon after, but I'm very excited. The CMH conference will again be held concurrently with the annual conference of the Society for Military History, the premier academic organization for military historians. This year I will not be presenting a paper at the main conference, but I'm excited to attend and hear papers, meet people, and all that fun stuff. The value of these is really the networking, as I've found at every conference I have been to so far. It will also be interesting to compare the SMH conference to the Fields of Conflict conference, as they represent two related but different approaches to military history. Of course, this is all assuming work doesn't come up with reasons I can't go, but such is life.

Last year I had wonderful discussions at the CMHS/SMH with some really fantastic people, and there was interest in my work from a few professors with influence in the publishing industry. My goal this year is to continue working with them, and have ready a book proposal on Nagashino for review. I also learned some good lessons and got valuable feedback on my work, so I'm excited to keep getting that going.

In the next few days I'll get the next installment of the Fields of Conflict presentation draft up, and will get some more things worked up. 

Fields of Conflict Conference 2014

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Giving my paper today at the Fields of Conflict Conference 2014 here in Columbia, South Carolina. Apologies for the lack of posts recently (since December I think I've been home a grand total of 3 weeks) but will definitely have some good updates out of this conference. I'm learning a lot, and hopefully my paper today goes well.

And thus (hopefully) ends a really busy 5 months

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Yeah, I've been pretty bad about updating. And as usual, I'll apologize and promise to write more. No really, this time I mean it!

Since December has been non-stop, between work travel and conferences. Things are slowing down a bit, so I will catch you all up on what's been going on (the conferences, not the work stuff) and hopefully can start doing some more regular blogging.

So, a quick recap of the conferences:

First, I went to the Fields of Conflict conference in Columbia, South Carolina. You can see the schedule at the link there. For those of you who remember, this was supposed to be the Palo Alto conference from last October that was postponed due to politics. Thankfully, the FOC was taking place this year, and one of the organizers for Palo Alto was also an organizer for FOC. The way things happened were unfortunate, but in the end I think we benefited from being a 1-day extension of a larger conference. At least for me, it was fantastic.

I've never studied archaeology, and I only knew of the field of Conflict Archaeology from my contact with Dr. Peter Bleed and Dr. Doug Scott from the University of Nebraska, who invited me to participate in the Palo Alto conference based on my previous presentations elsewhere. Aside from the coolness factor of being the first conference I was directly invited to be a part of (and the thrill of having my way paid!), this was a major educational experience, just to see the different kinds of things that can be done with contemporary archaeology techniques.

I do a 2-part podcast with Chris at Samurai Archives Podcast, so I won't go too much into detail about it all. Check that out (first part is already out) and feel free to comment/ask questions here. But it was really awesome to see the ways that physical remains of a conflict site can be investigated and used to give flesh to the theories of what may or may not have happened at a battlefield. Of course my mind immediately went to the ways I could exploit this type of research for Nagashino, and I made some contacts who may be able to help me out with that in the future.

A great big thank you is in order to Dr. Bleed and Dr. Scott. And of course to all the great people I met at the conference, like Dr. Larry Babits, Dr. Tony Pollard, Kristen McMasters of the US National  Park Service, and Lucas Simonds, among many many more. I'll have more on some of where I want to take my thoughts coming out of the conference later, but suffice to say you'll see some content inspired by my time there.


Two weeks later I was at this year's Society for Military History conference in Kansas City, Missouri. This year I only presented one paper as part of the Chinese Military History Society's day-long series of papers on Friday. While this was a milestone for the CMHS, as it was the first time they were included on the schedule of the main SMH conference, I feel like it was a bit of a setback in that they weren't actually on the "schedule", so to speak. The SMH conference agenda contained a "Chinese Military History Society--All Day, Room XXX" in the official agenda, but did not list the papers and authors. So while it was on the agenda, there was really no reason for anyone not already a part of the CMHS to come in and attend. Further, because the CMHS panel was running all day in conjunction with the rest of the conference (instead of a day earlier like last year), it meant missing an entire day of panels from the greater conference at large. Additionally, we were kind of in a hidden side-room off on our own, so I was a bit disappointed. Oh well, baby steps, I suppose. I certainly can't complain too much, as there's no "Japan Military History Society" for me to go to, now is there?

In all seriousness, those minor complaints aside, the CMHS panel was yet again wonderful and an honor to be a part of. I truly appreciate Dr. David Graff and Dr. Peter Bleed allowing me to represent "other Asia" yet again, and I think my contribution was well-received (and not just because it was different.) I won't go into detail because I talked about Nagashino again, but my focus was on intelligence, recon/counter-reconnaissance, and deception in the battle, which fit in the larger CMHS theme of intelligence and deception for this year's session. It was great to see some people I'd seen last year, and of course it's all educational for me, as I'm not an expert in Chinese history in the slightest. Much like last year, I was reminded that in order for me to one day really understand how Japanese samurai commanders learned to command, I need to delve in to what knowledge and texts on warfare they received from China, and how that was absorbed and enacted. It goes way beyond just Sunzi--did the Japanese read the seemingly endless number of commentaries? Were Sengoku daimyo reading Ming and Sung treatises? How did they interpret them onto a Japanese context? All things I'd love to get to, eventually.

As for the rest of the conference, it was the usual bag of interesting presentations mixed with meeting lots of people. I had the honor and pleasure of meeting Dr. Stephen Morillo for the first time, and had lunch with him and Dr. Lorge. Considering they both wrote books/articles critical of the Military Revolution and Geoffrey Parker, and I base much of my approach on their works I've read, it was amazing to be sitting there grabbing a burger and talking with them. That's why I go to these things!!

I also got to briefly say hello to COL Greg Daddis, who I've mentioned here before. A busy man, we didn't get to talk very long, but it was fantastic to see him. He chaired a panel on the Vietnam War, and I was able to speak to him briefly after that. Amazing who all you run in to at these things!

The main thing I took back from SMH was that it's time for me to get serious about doing something with my research. To that end, I think next year I'll attempt to present at the Association for Asian Studies conference in Chicago next March. AAS is sort of the "final frontier" for me. I've presented at AAS regional conferences, and had a great time, but the national (international) AAS is the "big time", so to speak, for Asian Studies. While I greatly value my CMHS contacts, I need to go where the Japanists are to make connections with them, and that's the place to go. Unfortunately "military history" and "warfare" aren't the hippest of topics in that crowd, so we'll see how it goes. If I can work a panel together, then great--if not, I'll try for an individual paper submission and hope for the best.

Furthering the above goal, I'm currently refining a book proposal on Nagashino. I'll keep you updated on how that goes. Also, and this ties back in to FOC, I will be starting a new weekly (I hope!!!) series on the blog. Basically, it's a continuation of the old Doctrine 101 posts I did a while back. So many of the FOC participants were using concepts like KOCOA (a military method of terrain analysis) and the like that I felt really at home with talking about my own concepts. Dr. Bleed even did a paper on Battlespace. The idea, in my head anyways, is to just take one concept a week, twirl it around and see if I can make any use out of it for historians/archaeologists. I'm guessing that some concepts will be more valuable than others, but we'll see how it goes.

Anyways, that's the latest from here.

Nate

Remind me never to make promises...

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So...yeah. About that last post, and how I said I'd be posting more frequently...



Just after that, I got word that I was moving. Oh, and I had to take a work trip to Alaska (shame how it coincided with the salmon run...). And my HS reunion. And...well, you get the picture.

But, I'm finally now (at the end of September) settled into my new location, chugging along at work, and ready to get back to writing about Japanese warfare and military history and so on.

No, really. This time, I mean it...



Anyways, hopefully by the end of this week I'll have some good news to share. What I can say at the moment (in an unrelated subject) is it appears I'll be retiring in a little over a year, so it's time to get serious about investigating PhD programs. Also, I *may* have a shot at getting involved in battlefield archaeology in Mongolia sometime next year...when I've got details on that, I'll let you know, but for now I've got some reading on the Nomonhan campaign to do.

It's amazing to me to see that people have been checking the site even though I've been inactive. Thanks, and hope to have some actual content again soon.


Temporary setbacks

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Last post I hinted at some news coming in the next week. Well, it came, but it wasn’t what I was hoping for, exactly.

Over the summer I organized a panel proposal for the Association for Asian Studies conference next March in Chicago. Unfortunately, on Thursday I received a notification that our submission was rejected. I’m not REALLY all that upset, as I’ve had discussions with various professors who have told me that they’ll submit papers to conferences and really don’t understand the rhyme or reason as to which gets accepted and which gets rejected. AAS seems to be especially…random in what the selection committee is looking for in any given year. Other professors I’ve worked with noted that AAS is fairly anti-“military” themed panels, and as such they have stopped bothering with AAS altogether.

I find that very disheartening to hear, and will be more than a tad annoyed if I look at this year’s agenda and see five separate panels on re-interpreting the Genji Monogatari while we got left out. I thought we took pretty good pains to de-emphasize the “militariness” of our panel (judge for yourself below, where I post the abstract submission) and focus on sources and narrative creation. I’d be really disappointed if the reason we were not accepted was because each paper focused on “military” events.

As I get ready to engage professors and graduate departments to start a PhD, I worry that this attitude will prevent me from making headway in the more reputable programs around the country. Somehow there’s this idea that the Sengoku/military history has “been done to death”, yet very few people in Academia actually address it at all. David Spafford at Penn and Morgan Pitelka at UNC cover the period; Peter Shapinsky at Illinois-Springfield just put out a book on piracy in the period I’m waiting to get my hands on. Thomas Conlan and Karl Friday are the academic standard for looking at warriors society. But no one has really looked at it for the Sengoku since the days of Sansom and Hall, unless you count Berry’s Hideyoshi  and Lamers on Nobunaga, both of which are more political biographies. Important work, assuredly, but not filling what I see as an obvious gap.

Of course, many may point to the glut of “pop” history surrounding the Sengoku period and say “well, there’s a ton out there.” In fact, this seems to be a major basis of the disdain that academics have for Sengoku military topics. I’d argue they can’t have it both ways—you can’t say “it’s been done, nothing needs to be written about it” if you criticize what has been written as “not according to academically rigorous standards.” Clearly SOMEONE needs to tackle it in an academically rigorous manner, and I’d like that to be me, and hopefully others. I wonder if I’ll get my foot in the door though.  If academia can handle the seeming 100 people at any given time rehashing Genji, I’d think there’s room for me to integrate traditional operational military history with cultural and intellectual approaches and flesh out the wavetop level of understanding we have of how Sengoku armies functioned and affected/were affected by society. But if there’s an unspoken “glass ceiling” keeping anything military in the pop history realm, then I’m not sure what to do.

I think there’s hope, and really I’m just voicing frustration to vent. It’s been a bad week—our dog died, had a sick kid, and at least those things have helped put the rejection in perspective. Anyways, here’s the submitted panel abstract. Maybe we’ll get to do it another time at another conference.


Military Action Through Text and Image
in Pre-Modern and Modern China and Japan

Given that warfare is the ultimate form of violent exchange between competing social groups, it is unsurprising that both the methods and messages of historical war narratives are contested with nearly as much fervor. It is often said that the victors write the history; while not strictly true, this aphorism speaks to the need for critical interpretation of textual and visual recordings of military events, many of which are intended as memorials as well as “factual” accounts. This panel examines the construction and dissemination of military narratives in Pre-modern and modern China and Japan. 
First, Nathan Ledbetter traces competing narratives of the Battle of Nagashino (1575) in textual sources to understand how a flawed perception of the tactical battle has become so entrenched in Japanese and Western popular consciousness.
Next, [Name Redacted] demonstrates the influence of Ming visual representations of military accomplishments on similar depictions during the Qing dynasty, emphasizing the continuities in political-military imagery from one dynasty to the next.
[Name Redacted] follows by highlighting the ways Chinese and German sources represented the interwar arms trade differently for different audiences, shaping not only the narrative discussion of the trade, but the direction of the Chinese-German arms trade itself. 
Finally, [Name Redacted] examines the discourse between a survivor of the battleship IJN Yamato’s sinking and public narratives of war in Post-WWII Japan, as changes and contradictions between editions of the author’s memoirs show his struggle to place the memories of his fallen comrades into a changing national discourse on war.




Moving in a positive direction

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Last post was clearly tinged with a bit of disappointment over not getting our panel picked up at AAS. And honestly, much of the disappointment was because I was looking forward to not only presenting, but being at AAS and getting to meet so many people who would be very useful to know. I remember being at AAS in Hawaii in 2011, and was just blown away at how many amazing people and presentations I saw. Of course, I was just a small little MA student at the time, and had no idea that under a year later I'd present in my first academic conference.

Anyways, I might have come across a bit...forcefully in some of my disappointment. So let me be clear: THE TALE OF GENJI IS IMPORTANT AND DESERVES STUDY. I didn't mean to suggest it did not, of course it does. For any literature scholars who wander by and feel I was taking shots at Genji, that was not my intent. I merely wish there was an audience in academia for my own topics that remotely approached that for Genji.

Also, I'm not really as down on my academic chances as it may have seemed. I've had enough scholars I've worked with and met tell me they think well of my work that I know I'll find a place somewhere. Mostly I'm just angsty because I have to finish out my time with the day job, and the waiting until next year, when I can move forward towards an academic program, is killing me.

That said, I AM making very good progress, and being forced to think about how my work is viewed by the greater academic community is a good subject for meditation. Some readers may notice a new button on the top-right corner of the page. I've started an academia.edu profile, and feel free to go peruse. For now I've just got a list of papers I've presented, but it'll grow, hopefully, as I move forward. It seems to be a quasi-LinkedIn/Facebook for academics. I've profited immensely from different forms of internet media to date, so I'll see where this takes me as well.

I will make my first visits to PhD programs in just under 2 weeks. I'm very excited about this. I'm about a year out from sending in applications, so this is really just to get a feel for the professors and programs.

Also, I'm in the middle of taking my Nagashino work and putting it into a book proposal. A professorial friend and mentor has offered to help shepherd it through the publication process, and I would LIKE to get it done, at least in manuscript, prior to starting a PhD program. I know you all think I'm Nagashino-mad, and I probably am. But I don't want to do my dissertation on so narrow a topic, so I'd rather just get it out of the way and be freed up to look at the Sengoku and period warfare more generally. More on what I *THINK* I want to do as I go on, but that will of course be shaped in the coming years.

Think that's it for now...perhaps I'll have some news on the Nomonhan project soon as well.

Book reviews and conference papers

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Sorry for the recent rash of navel-gazing the last few posts. There's certainly some anxiety present as I come to the last year of my time in the Army, and look to lay the groundwork for what comes next. For all of the stress a military career puts on you, it's actually quite stable in a lot of ways. I've never had to worry about losing my job. I've never had to "apply" for positions in a competitive manner. While I've decided to try my hand at academia because the returns I've gotten so far from the field have been positive, there's a bit of the feeling that I'll be working without a net. It's easy to focus on the experience or training I don't have and will be trying to get (and get paid for) in graduate school, and then the horror stories of the academic job market don't make matters easier. It's easy to forget that I've got some advantages your average PhD student does not.

Fortunately, there's usually someone on the internet to slap you in the face when you need it. For any other aspiring PhDs (or those who already have a PhD and are on the job market), I advise you to run, not walk, to Karen Kelsky's blog at TheProfessorIsIn. Dr. Kelsky is a market advisor for the PhD job market, and dishes out the real scoop on getting a job in academia with absolutely no sugar-coating. One of the things she constantly pounds into her readers is "stop acting like a starry-eyed grad student!" And frankly, that's how I've been acting the last few months. The uncertainty before me as I leave the Army has had me nervous that "I don't belong" or "what if they don't like me?" or "they'll find out me out as a fraud...I'll be wrong and they'll know!"

Which, honestly, are ridiculous thoughts completely based in anxiety, not reality. Since the time of my last post, I've had visits with professors at two Ivy League schools that went very well. At one of those schools, I met with the scholar who in many ways is the model for what I want to do, and a scheduled 45 minute meeting turned into 2 1/2 hours of intense discussion. I learned some things, but I also think I demonstrated some possibilities with my research approach that he'd never seen or contemplated before. That's a pretty cool feeling. By the end of the discussion, he was coaching me up on all the things I'd need to do to get into his school. That doesn't say "You're not good enough"--it says "you are good enough, and I want to make sure you get here to study with me."

A few weeks ago I got an email from a well-known journal, asking me to write a review for them of the Oleg Benesch book you see in the "now reading" entry on the left-hand side of my blog. While I understand that review writing isn't the same as getting an article published, and really counts for very little on a CV, it's still pretty amazing to me that I've got enough...profile...for a journal editor to reach out to me and ask me to write a review. I've read the book (it's fantastic, honestly--go read it!) and will write more about it here once the review is out. I felt pretty good that I'm not even in a PhD program yet and I've made enough impression with someone, somewhere that they passed my name on as someone qualified to take on the task.

I'll be going to a conference at the University of Virginia to present my paper that didn't get in to AAS this past year. This will probably be my last conference for the immediate future, unless an invite specifically comes up like it did for the Fields of Conflict last spring. While I've certainly benefited from the networking aspect of these conferences (hey, I got a book review out of it!), it's time to get serious about publishing some of my work.

On that note (and on the note of FoC), I've mentioned before the possibility of a project involving Mongolia. The scoop is that some of the people I met at FoC last year are looking into developing a project to do archaeological investigation of the Nomonhan/Khalkin Gol conflict sites between the Japanese and the Soviets/Mongolians in 1939. I've been specifically asked to be a part of that group, though exactly what form or nature my participation will take is still nebulous, as the project is still in the concept stage. Nevertheless, I'll be reading/posting about Nomonhan a bit in the near future. Most likely I'll be asked to develop models for the conflict much like I did for Nagashino, as a way to inform site selection and analysis prior to digging. I see it as a way to try out all my theoretical ideas, and I'm hoping I can use it to "proof" my methodology in a trial run. A chance to publish the results wouldn't hurt either.

Thanks to everyone who stops by and reads. I see the hits from all over the globe, especially the ones who return, and I appreciate it very much. I need to stop worrying so much and start producing, and that includes content here. Thanks for your patience with me. For now, I've got a book review to finish.

AAS/SEC Schedule out

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The schedule for the Association of Asian Studies--Southeastern Conference is out here. The conference will be at the University of Virginia in Charlottesville, Jan 15-17.

My panel is here:


1/5. “Pottery, Power, and Punishment” 
 

“Neolithic Pottery and Identity Studies in Korean Archaeology.”
Jaehoon Lee, Korean School of Southern New Jersey


“The Economy of Leftovers: Feasting and the Dietary Condition of Convicted Criminals of Early Imperial China.”
Moonsil Lee Kim, Smithsonian Institution


“The Most Spectacular Demonstration of The Power: Framing the Battle of Nagashino (1575) in Popular Narrative.”
Nathan Ledbetter, Independent Scholar


“Monarchs, Monks, and Scholars: Religion and State Power in Tudor England and Chosŏn Korea.”
Christopher Lovins, Oberlin College
Moderator: Cong Zhang, University of Virginia

A quick glance over the schedule looks interesting. I think I'm the only one labeled an "independent". 

Empathizing with the Enemy

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As I've said here before, my primary research interest lies in the decision making of daimyo and other samurai leaders during the 16th century, and what inputs/philosophies shaped those decisions. So far I've mostly dabbled at the tactical level, because A. tactical decision making is what I'm trained in and comfortable with, B. no one else in academia seems to be working on Japanese warfare of this time period at the tactical-operational level, and C. I think it's an interesting departure point for all manner of tangential discussions. I'm not ONLY interested in the tactical, on-the-battlefield decisions, however. I'm interested in DECISION PROCESSES of these historical actors; tactical and operational military action is where I've got a ready-made framework I am comfortable with to help pick those decisions apart, and eventually hope I can find similar processes to explain other sorts of decisions.

At the root, my interest generates from a desire to understand what it was like being one of these people, and not just the Oda Nobunaga's and Takeda Katsuyori's of the Sengoku world. How did, for instance, a kogashira perceive his options for advancement and make choices to improve his situation? Of course this comes from my own experience as a junior and middle-ranking military officer-I want to know what pressures, what motivations, what constraints faced my subjects, and how they reacted, and what those reactions tell us about the socio-political/economic context of the time. My techniques for doing so are direct derivatives of the way intelligence officers are taught to analyze, empathize with, and predict enemy actions.

Empathy is a key word here. Notice it's not "sympathy". And developing "strategic empathy" is the subject of Zachary Shore's book A Sense of The Enemy: The High-Stakes History of Reading Your Rival's Mind (Oxford University Press, 2014). I picked this book up at last year's Society for Military History conference, and finally got around to reading it this past week. It's not too long (210 pages, plus notes & biblio), and goes pretty quickly. At first I wasn't all that excited by it, to be honest: the beginning felt a bit like Malcolm Gladwell book.

I don't mean that to come across as a scathing indictment or anything. While Gladwell isn't academic writing and is guilty of cherry-picking scientific studies to make his points, he is fun to read. And that's the sense I got through the first couple of chapters in Shore's book. It didn't feel "academic" and the first chapter, on how Ghandi supposedly read British critical reaction after the massacre at Amritsar and knew public opinion would dictate further massacres would not happen, seemed...well, assumed. Kind of like "This...and then that, and so therefore, Ghandi must have thought X." The bibliography is My thoughts were that this would be an amusing read, but not something I'd get a lot from.

I was wrong.


Through case studies from Ghandi as mentioned above, to the interwar Foreign Minister of Germany's dealings with the USSR and the Allies, to Stalin and Roosevelt's reading of Hitler's intentions, the Vietnamese reading of America's constraints in the 50's - 70's, and US issues in understanding the Soviets during the Cold War, Shore highlights some very, very interesting concepts that resonated with me. It's not written as an "academic" book-Shore clearly means to reach out to a broader audience-but there's a lot here to like, especially if one is interested in historical decision making.

"Strategic empathy", which Shore defines as "the ability to think like [your] opponent" (p.2), is the main theme through the course of the book. Again, note that he doesn't say "the ability to put yourself in your opponent's place." We'll get into that in one of the case studies. Shore poses two questions in his introduction: "First, what produces strategic empathy? Second, how has strategic empathy, or the lack of it, shaped pivotal periods in twentieth-century international conflict?" Thus, the book chapters consist of case studies showing the presence/lack of strategic empathy over the last 100 years, and how to ID it in each case. He brings in the psychology of decision making as well (On P4, for example, he cites a study that indicates having more information isn't helpful, it's harmful to making a decision, and that the best decision makers don't account for every fact so much as they quickly filter out the 98% that is irrelevant to focus on the 2% of info that matters--something I agree wholeheartedly with after 17 years in military staff work).

..."when leaders succeeded in thinking like their enemies, they focused on the enemy's behavior during meaningful pattern breaks." (P.6) The term "pattern break" is another that comes up repeatedly in Shore's book as a key concept. Defined as "deviations from the routine" (p.6), some are important, some are not, and part of what makes a good strategic empath is reading not only which ones are important, but what they mean. As Shore says, this helps us avoid relying on what he calls the "continuity heuristic" (p.7), where we assume that because X has done Y in every situation Z up until now, they will continue to do Y in the next one.  "Meaningful pattern breaks are those that expose an enemy's underlying drivers or constraints." (p.8). Put another way, a pattern break is an event that forces the enemy to make a choice. By observing what choice is made, you can get insight into what the "driver", or motivation/goal might be, or the "constraint", which would be a roadblock the enemy must work around, something that limits his/her action.

The first three chapters, as I said before, were interesting but didn't really grab my attention. The Ghandi chapter, along with the next two coveriing Gustav Stresemann, the German foreign minister during the Weimar Republic, are meant to be examples of good strategic empaths. Ghandi furthered his independence movement because he could assume the British would not take violent measures after the backlash over Amritsar. Stresemann likewise was able to work with the Soviet Union, Germany's ideological enemy, by sifting through the Communist rhetoric to see that Stalin was more interested in building his own power than spreading revolution. I thought the Stresemann chapters were more detailed, and therefore better, examples than the initial Ghandi example. Shore also details how Stresemann was able to gauge Allied responses to German rearmament (which was why he was working with the Russians, to build military equipment) and pay lip service to observing German disarmament, with the Allies looking the other way at the reality of what was going on.

It's the next several chapters that really grabbed my attention, though. The next two chapters contrast Stalin and Roosevelt's methods of ascertaining Hitler's motives and actions. Stalin, Shore asserts, was a "simulator"--someone who interprets the enemy by placing himself in their shoes and deciding what he would do. On the surface, this sounds reasonable; however, a simulator overlays their own drivers and constraints onto the enemy. Stalin, as we learned in the previous chapters, was obsessively concerned with maintaining his own power. Immediately prior to invasion by the Germans, Stalin purged a huge number of military officers and others he felt might be a challenge to his control of the USSR. This of course did not help once war began, as he'd basically eliminated anyone competent not named Zhukov. But to the point of Shore's book, it meant he saw everything in terms of maintaining power and stability. So when Stalin looked at Hitler's actions, he overlaid his own concepts when trying to predict what Hitler would do. Hitler, however, did not have power as his prime motivator--it was racial ideology. Hence Hitler could do what Stalin would never accept as possible--begin a war on a second front against the Soviets at the same time he was at war in the west against England. The Germans told the Russians that they were staging troops on the Russian border "to keep them out of range of British bombers while we prepare for the invasion of England." Because starting war on a second front would be incredibly destabilizing to an authoritarian regime bent on maintaining an iron grip, Stalin bought it, and was wrong.

Roosevelt, on the other hand, started by theorizing what made Hitler tick, and put it together through reading his words in Mein Kampf and speeches, Nazi pattern breaks like Kristallnacht, and direct impressions from US envoys who met with Hitler and other Nazi leaders. Shore calls this "theory-theory", in that the theory of what an opponent does is based on the best theory of what their drivers and constraints are, as interpreted through pattern breaks. This, he asserts, while imperfect, is infinitely better than the "simulation theory" Stalin employed, because it is not imposing the viewers values on the enemy to predict their actions.

This stuck with me because it's so often what we see out of historians, except instead of trying to predict what a historical actor does, we're trying to extrapolate reasons from the actions. We're working backwards, so to speak. Yet by assuming that a historical actor conducted an action for the same reasons we today might conduct the same action, aren't we "simulating" as well? An example in Japanese history would be the assumption often made that daimyo were all trying to conquer each other to seize central political control--the "Japan was a game of Risk" assumption. We assume that because that's how things ended--first Nobunaga, then Hideyoshi, then Ieyasu claiming national hegemony--that it must have been the end goal for all daimyo, and these three simply "won" the game. Not only were most daimyo, especially before them, simply concerned with survival, but even those like Shingen or Imagawa Yoshimoto that are often described as having had national ambitions, I question whether or not that was truly the case or an after-the-fact rationalization for their actions.

Nagashino, of course, is another example--Takeda Katsuyori must have lost as badly as he did because he was a failure as a general, right? That's what the Koyo Gunkan says anyway, so it must have been true. Except his record other than Nagashino indicates differently.

Anyways, I really liked the way these two chapters talked about different ways to theorize an adversary's actions.

The next two chapters reinforced his points by looking at Le Duan's  formulation of strategy against the United States in the Vietnam war. Le Duan ascertained the pattern breaks correctly to understand US drivers and constraints. It was interesting reading, but we've been over the points, so read it if you want to know more.

Chapters 8 and 9 take on two problematic but common heuristics. First, the continuity heuristic assumes that past performance equals future behavior. This is often tied to fundamental attribution error, in that if for instance we assume that by nature, Communists are evil and hellbent on world domination, then we assume that any action they take is to further that goal. The continuity heuristic "confirms" this when we look at previous behaviors and see a pattern of aggression; therefore, this time they're being aggressive, and our only course of action is to stand up to them, etc. It completely takes context out of the analysis, and so runs the risk of ignoring external drivers and constraints on adversary action that may lead them to act a certain way, even if it isn't what they intend or want.

As Shore says on page 164: "The root problem with the continuity heuristic is that it identifies a behavior pattern, such as productivity or aggressiveness, without clarifying why that behavior exists. In contrast, the pattern-break heuristic focuses our attention on what underlies that behavior. It suggests why the enemy was aggressive in the first place by spotlighting what is most important to that individual or group."

Chapter 9 talks about the issues with relying on quantitative analysis. Bottom line, human behavior isn't iterative, so assuming that aggregate quantification of data is a predictor of future action falls flat. Much of this chapter goes back to the need to filter out large chunks of information to focus on the right pieces--the "signal amidst the noise." Again, my experience agrees with this.

Shore wraps it all up in a conclusion, the useful part of which for me is his application to historical actors. Historians debate all the time the intent of historical actors by looking at various things--Shore contends that the pattern breaks are what really tells us what they may have intended or held dear, and I agree. I think it's a useful heuristic for a historian to apply.

The last section (the Afterword) is where Shore hides all his methodology and academic stuff. He's really not writing this book for academics, which is why portions of it felt...a bit light. Rather he's writing for policy makers and military officers. This is a practical guide, and the examples aren't meant to be exhaustive examinations of the historical events, but illustrative. He stresses over and over again that strategic empathy is a skill to be learned and cultivated. This is apt, as Shore is professor at the Naval Postgraduate School, a military graduate school (I almost ended up there, but lucked out and went to Hawaii instead). He's teaching mid- to senior level military officers who have a definite need to interpret enemy actions. In that, I think the book does well. I think it's something historians could learn from as well.


AAS-SEC and New Project

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(Note: I STARTED writing this post in January, right after the AAS-SEC Conference. I then left for a month in Japan and...well, got busy. So if some of the text sounds like I'm writing about things in January as if they were last week, that's why. I'll try to edit, but at this point I just want to get something up.)


In January I was at the University of Virginia for the Southeastern Conference of the Association for Asian Studies. This is a regional affiliate of the main AAS, much like the Mid-Atlantic Region AAS (MARAAS) I attended in 2012. A professor I talk to for advice has told me not to bother with these regional conferences, that they don't do a whole bunch for you. I can certainly see his point after the weekend (There was ONE person in the audience, the rest of the people in the room were the other presenters and the moderator), but it's good to see both well-run and not-so-well-run conferences, as you learn from both. I won't say this was "not-so-well-run", but there were...glitches. However, the relaxed nature of the conference makes for a bit easier time "networking", as the important people (if any are there) are less worried about finding their colleague from Across The Country U. to hang out with. I got to talk to many people, which was nice. There was no one there remotely close to my research topic, which was...well, it meant I got a lot of experience explaining what it is I do and why. The proverbial "Elevator Talk" got a lot of work.

The conference had a very heavy Chinese lean, which isn't all THAT surprising, but I was surprised at how few Japanologists were there. I suppose since China is the hot thing, there are Chinese scholars everywhere, but since Japan has receded a bit they stick to the Northeast and West Coast a bit more. Oh well. I had a good time, and even though almost no one saw my presentation, I still revised and updated it, I still gave it, and it still goes on my CV haha.

On to other things. It appears that the proposed archaeology in Mongolia I was invited to be a participant in may be finally getting some steam, as I was advised in February that they have a grant proposal on the way for US State Department consideration. The problem with a group of scholars, are running multiple projects at once on different continents, is getting them to figure out what is going on with THIS particular project. But despite at one point thinking nothing was going to come of it, it seems it will move forward. To that end, I'll still be looking at the Khalkhin Gol (or Nomonhan) campaign, trying to break it down. It provides a useful case for my ideas on how to look at a campaign, since it's so different and much larger in scope than Nagashino. Mechanization and mass-mobilized armies make things so MESSY compared to nice, clean, organized Sengoku warfare (this is your notice that the previous sentence is dripping with sarcasm).

However, continuing (alone, for the moment) with Khalkhin Gol allows me to participate in a project I'm really excited about. Anyone with an interest in WWII, or digital study of history, or just really cool toys, needs to go check out the Envisioning History project. This is a group using the Palantir application to enter in WWII data to a giant database, then play around with it. Now, for those of you not in the intelligence community, Palantir is a data-mining application that was originally developed by PayPal to help them track people stealing from them, and it was later acquired by the US intelligence community. My most common experience with it is mapping out terrorist networks...and that's all I can say about that. But the bottom line is it allows you to input data, then manipulate the connection points between various sets of data in order to find and interpret the relationships.

Say, for instance, that Person A is a suspected bomb-maker for al Qaeda. Among the things you know about Person A, you know he always eats lunch at the same falafel stand every Tuesday. By itself, this is insignificant, as if you're looking only at Person A, it's a minor details. However, let's say you've got another suspect, Person B, who it is suspected works in procurement of weapons parts. In his info sheet, we know that he eats at that same falafel stand every Monday. Meanwhile, Person C eats there every other Thursday. You're not sure what C does, but every other Friday morning--coinciding with C eating lunch at the falafel joint the day before--there's an IED attack within a 10km radius. None of these things are necessarily connections you'd make simply reading intel reports, but the Palantir software will help tease out these connections, allowing you to see this chain of events and conclude with a good probability that the falafel joint is being used to drop off parts for a bomb (B to A), then signal the transporter (C) that it's ready for deployment.

That's really cool, you say, but what does that have to do with Khalkhin Gol? Well, the folks at Envisioning History are inputting massive amounts of data regarding WWII. Check out their video demonstration here. Go ahead, I'll wait:

ENVISIONING HISTORY DEMO VIDEOS

 We don't normally think of the short conflict between the Soviets and the Japanese on the Mongolian borderlands in the summer of 1939 as part of WWII, but we should. The short version, for those that haven't gone to the Wikipedia links, is that the Japanese tried to expand out of Manchuria and seize resource-rich parts of Mongolia and possibly sneak in some Russian territory as well. The Russians, with the Mongolians, spanked the Japanese pretty good. Some guy named Zhukov was in charge for the Soviets, and I hear he went on to do some good for Mother Russia elsewhere. Anyways, this forced the Japanese to look other directions...like south towards the oil and rubber of Southeast Asia, owned by the Western European colonial powers, who were in alliance with the US, who was squeezing Japanese imports over Japan's involvement in China and wouldn't have liked Japanese waltzing into British and Dutch colonies...and so....well, you know the rest.

The EH folks have hooked me up with an account and given me free reign to play around with Palantir, inputting data from the Nomonhan/KG campaign. Once I get a decent enough data set in, I can start to manipulate it and create analytical products that will help set up my archaeologist friends for their work in Mongolia.

MORE INTERESTINGLY (as if that's not cool enough), my contact at EH has graciously offered to let me ALSO use it for...well, whatever I want. Their project limits are the roughly 40 years leading from WWI to WWII and then immediate aftermath, but the system can hold data from whenever and wherever. So if, for instance, someone wanted to open a file and put in data for the Nagashino campaign and play around with it, they're perfectly fine with that. I'll have to frontload Nomonhan work because that's what's paying my metaphorical bill, so to speak, but look for updates and any cool things I figure out for that or Nagashino in the future.



I REALLY like the Palantir program--I use it at work and have had training courses on it, so I think I've got a good idea of its potential, and it goes way beyond simply tracking military activity. It's a bit of a grandiose goal, but I would love to eventually have my own Palantir instance (the term for an iteration of the system) dedicated to post-Onin Japan, and be able to give access to scholars working on all aspects of Sengoku history, to include culture, politics, economics, etc., because Palantir would be amazing at helping find hidden connections between, say, the trade at the rice exchanges in Osaka and the use of luxury goods by daimyo in the Kanto area. Or whatever--the possibilities are truly exciting. Hopefully I can do enough with it to show it's value and get other people on board.

Anyways, this post only took 2 months to get out...sigh. One day I'll be more regular at this...

A kid in a candy store...

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Not a long post today, as too much to do in a short amount of time, but I just had to share--I'm at the Harvard-Yenching Library, and I feel like a kid in a candy store!!! So much to read and copy and scan and absorb in the next 2+ days. No way I'll get everything I want, but at least I can figure out what I can get online or through ILL sent to me, and copy the important stuff. So hopefully I can then delve through all the works on Sengoku battles and so on and put up some content here!!!


No, I haven't forgotten...

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First of all, greetings to all of my new guests. Somehow I got linked from the amusing website "Badass of the Week" and their article on Kôsa Kennyô. All of a sudden my traffic feed seemed to quadruple. The article linked to my post on the Ikkô Ikki as a form of fortified compound insurgency in their struggle against Oda Nobunaga. I'm not sure if the readers of "Badass" were exactly looking for that sort of article, but who am I to complain? The Kôsa Kennyô article is pretty well done when viewed as a humorous endeavor. As I told friends elsewhere, I laughed my nembutsu off.


I haven't forgotten my promise to review Olof G. Lidin's Tanegashima book. Unfortunately it seems that every time I think I'm going to do something, work and/or life say "ha ha, free time? I think not..." I will get to it soon, I hope, but for the time being I'm going to stop promising anything on a timeline. My presentation for the Chinese Military History Society mini-conference hasn't quite been as easy to put together as I thought. (Gee, a paper written 2 years ago needs to be updated and revised to incorporate subsequent research and concepts? Who knew?) Of course, part of that is me playing around with video elements in the presentation because I'm a nerd, but in addition to crazy work circumstances, my "free" time has been put into that. I promise I'll link the presentations (if I can) after the conferences in March.

Other thoughts:

In the realm of "nothing is ever actually new."Skulking in Holes and Corners examines an early quote he came across that wounding the enemy is better for rendering them ineffective than killing them. I thought it was interesting, and it made me wonder if this was ever a thought in Japanese premodern warfare. Prior to the Sengoku, probably not, as you wanted to take a head as proof you'd killed the enemy, and it's kind of hard for a head-removal to be merely a "fleshwound." Still, as the Sengoku progressed and armies got larger, I wonder if the medical system grew and taxed the resources of commanders. Coming from a modern, American perspective, it's hard to even imagine not doing everything possible to give medical aid to wounded soldiers in order to save their lives, but this is a reminder that perhaps people in different cultures and different times saw things differently. For much of history human life has been pretty cheap, after all.

More soon...I hope. As I said, no promises.


Giving Up the Myths, Part I

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Something came up on the way to Tanegashima.

Today I will start reviewing a book on Japan's use of firearms. However, it won't be Lidin's book on the introduction of guns by Europeans in 1543. I will get to that, but I've decided to do this first, as the book in question is somewhat of a precursor to Lidin's work--one that sadly, some people think actually has academic validity.

The subject of Noel Perrin's Giving Up The Gun: Japan's Reversion to the Sword, 1543-1879 came up over on the Samurai Archives discussion board, and there was one particular discussant who was unsatisfied with every criticism thrown at the book. When told why it was not a book to recommend, he asked if those saying so had read it; when told yes, he asked for us to show him what was wrong with it. When two academic reviews by respected Japan-focused historians (Conrad Totman in the Journal of Asian Studies, May 1980, and David Waterhouse in Monumenta Nipponica, Winter 1979) were posted in their entirety, the defender countered by saying "does having a PhD make them special?" (The answer, obviously, is no, as Perrin also had a PhD and taught--English literature--at Dartmouth. What makes Totman and Waterhouse "special" is that they are experts in the field of Japanese history. Which apparently was enough for Perrin himself to use Waterhouse as one of his sources...) Since no one was going line by line through Perrin's book, it was not good enough for this individual to accept it as valid criticism.

And so, I volunteered to do so. Not because the opinion of this one person matters much in the grand scheme of things--OMG SOMEONE ON THE INTERNET IS WRONG! No, it's because, quite honestly, I hate what this book by Perrin has done, which is to provide a "source" for people who want to believe romantic, yet silly, notions of Japanese samurai turning their noses up at guns. It would be easy to ignore it, as most of the Japanese history community has done. In Japan, for instance, the Japanese edition of the book was published with a disclaimer in it, stating that the book was "not based on historical events." The book is an anti-nuclear weapons manifesto, masquerading as a history book. The author himself admits he isn't an expert on Japanese history, and can't even read Japanese. And yet, somehow, people not only read this, but I've seen academic presentations where allegedly intelligent individuals are citing his book as a source in their research. This should not be, yet it is.




And so, I will be going through breaking down the entire thing, cover to cover. It's the least I can do, since Perrin's zealous defender saw fit to mail me a copy of it. I've read it before--three times, in fact, the most recent being during my research at the University of Hawai'i. However, since I can't quote it line by line, it wasn't good enough for me to merely give my opinion. I'm sure that what I write here will be discounted on some other rationale, so, as I said, this review is not to convince one man. No, were it as simple as that I'd simply pick a few quotes from the book, post them on the discussion board with an explanation of how they are incorrect, and be done with it.

However, I've been inspired by this review over at the Society for Military History blog by Bret Holman, dissecting a recent book which attempts to rationalize Mussolini. As Holman writes:

I recently came across what appear to be two bad books from what are two good publishers. There’s nothing particularly unusual about that — these things happen, a lot of books get published on military history and they can’t all be good. But it turns out that the author of these books is even more questionable than the content. I worry that, having got this far and established a track record, he will be able keep convincing publishers to look favourably upon his work.
Unfortunately, Perrin wrote his book in 1979; the vision Holman has for the book he looks at has already come true for Perrin. Not that my writing a blog post will do anything about this. It's hardly like because I post my thoughts here, suddenly Perrin's book will burst into flames and be erased from the collective consciousness. But things have to start somewhere--and if I can put my thoughts down here, then when I come across someone in the future who buys into the fantasy, it will be all the easier to point out Perrin's flaws.

But I'm putting the cart before the horse--before I can roundly condemn this book, I suppose I must start evaluating it. So, let's begin with the description on the inside cover of the jacket.

There is an old saying "You can't turn back the hands of the clock." This conclusion, often applied to technology, has a ring of finality about it. After all, was there ever a time when technology was turned back? The answer is "Yes--Japan 1543-1879." During this period, Japan prohibited all manufacture of firearms and gunpowder. And it wasn't that the Japanese never learned how; they were extremely proficient in the use of guns. It was just that somehow guns did not sit well with the culture--and for once, it was decided to put culture first.

This is an altogether fascinating book, fascinating because Noel Perrin is a consistently good storyteller and because this story has few parallels in modern history.

Noel Perrin is a teacher, writer, and farmer. He was a Guggenheim Fellow and a Fulbright Professor at Warsaw University, Poland, in 1970, and is currently Professor of English at Dartmouth University. He has written four previous books. For the past fifteen years, he has subsisted handily on a Vermont farm.
 From the first paragraph, we can see three things:

1. The author (or, rather, the publisher) states that Japan prohibited all manufacture of firearms and gunpowder from 1543 to 1879.

2. It is asserted that it was not lack of knowhow, but choice, because the Japanese at one point knew well how to use guns. Considering they were introduced by the Portuguese in 1543, and Point #1 says they were banned from 1543 to 1879, that must have been a very small interval of proficiency indeed.

3. Guns didn't fit in with Japanese culture, and "culture" won out over efficient means of killing mass numbers of the enemy on the battlefield.

Let's remember these for later.

Next, we learn that Perrin is a "good storyteller"--high praise, I guess? Is this a story, or is this a book on history? Hmm.

Finally, we see that he's a teacher, writer, and...farmer? A professor of...English. Which has nothing to do with the subject of the book. Also, he has lived on a farm for 15 years. Is this relevant?

Actually, it is--when you get further into the book's argument. But we'll leave that for the moment.

Incidentally, the jacket design is by Sheryl White. Apparently, in Sheryl's mind, Japanese dressed as big amorphous blobs, with faces that look like current internet memes. Maybe the samurai has a "true story, bro!"



 Opening to the dedication, we see the following:
For Mishima Yukio, no pacifist, but a long-time hater of guns. 
So, he's dedicated his book to a right-wing extremist who attempted to overthrow the Japanese government by enlisting the aid of the Self Defense Force, and ritualistically disemboweled himself when that failed. Sure, he was also an author and at one time dated the current Empress Michiko, but the choice of dedication is hardly inspiring confidence in Perrin's research at this point. And we haven't even gotten to the table of contents.

Next, we have three quotes:

Alas! Can we ring the bell backwards? Can we unlearn the arts that pretend to civilize and then burn the world? There is a march of science; but who shall beat the drums for its retreat?
--Charles Lamb

You can't turn back the hands of the clock.
-- Erle Stanley Gardner

I am not of course suggesting any reform; for we can no more go back from poison [gas] to the gun than we can go back from the gun to the sword.
-- Lord Dunsany. 
If this is a book about the Japanese use of guns, one would be hard-pressed to see it at this point. So far, the theme is one of technological advance, and whether or not it can be altered. But I've been told that isn't what this book is about by an ardent defender of the book, so....

FOREWORD

This book tells the story of an almost unknown incident in history. A civilized country, possessing high technology, voluntarily chose to give up an advanced military weapon and to return to a more primitive one. It chose to do this, and it succeeded. There is no exact analogy to the world's present dilemma about nuclear weapons, but there is enough of one so that the story deserves to be far better known.
I'm interested, as we go further, to see what documents he finds that contain evidence of a decision to choose to give up guns. Did the Tokugawa Shogun confer with his council of elders, and he was able to get a copy of the meeting minutes? Also, let's note that the "world's present dilemma about nuclear weapons" is in the first paragraph of the foreword.

To follow the story, the reader needs to know a very little bit of Japanese history.
 Yet if the reader knows more than a very little bit, he or she will realize Perrin does not.

Perrin concludes a fanciful and grandiose description of Japanese society, in European terms (They had knights and chivalry and stuff!), with "it [Japanese society] did not have guns." and a footnote, in which he says "Purists will object to this statement." Yes, since as his footnote points out, Japanese were familiar with gunpowder weapons well before 1543. The Mongols used primitive bombs and rockets, called the same word--teppo (not "tetsuho" as Perrin says, which is an incorrect reading)--just like the arquebus that appeared later. "Modern" guns may have been introduced as early as the 1460s, by a Ryukyuan official in Kyoto who shot one off as part of a procession, or in 1510, when a "teppo" was presented to the Hojo daimyo in the Kanto area. But, Perrin tells us, Stephen Turnbull says that the Portuguese brought the first "real firearms". Oh, Dr. T says so! It must be true!! My feelings on Turnbull aside, what this footnote ignores is that the question of the first gun is unimportant--what the Portuguese brought in 1543 was the knowledge of how to make guns and gunpowder for them, which enabled large-scale production (and trade).

Guns arrived in 1543, Perrin writes, and they were widely adopted and used for the next 100 years. But didn't the jacket say they were banned from 1543 on? Perrin needs better jacket editors, I guess. Next he goes on a bit about the history of the Europeans in Japan, with the Portuguese and Spanish being kicked out for allegedly trying to conquer Japan, and then the Dutch being confined to "Deshima" (Dejima), and so therefore not able to observe what was going on in the country...to include not "what happened about guns." (p. X)

Perrin next summarizes the Sengoku period, which is simple enough--warring states warred. What bothers me (p. xi) is his footnote to explain Japanese naming conventions:

*These names are backward by Western standards. In Japan, until 1868, the family name came first, and what we call the first name came last. Odo, Toyotomi, and Tokugawa are surnames; Nobunaga, Hideyoshi, and Ieyasu are first names. Since 1868 there has been a gradual though never complete conversion to Western name-order.Japanese first and last names looking much alike to Western eyes, the possibilities for confusion are numerous.
Those inscrutable Asians and their backwards names!!

Confusion for WHOM? Only for Perrin, as far as I can tell. His first sentence here is rather demeaning--are Western name standards at some higher end of a name-development spectrum, and Japanese names (or any other of the many cultures that use family name first, such as the Chinese) are "backwards" and therefore less developed? I realize he's trying to say they are in reverse order, but his words betray his ignorance. "Odo" is a misspelling of "Oda". And if the Japanese have gradually converted to a Western name order, they have gone about it very gradually indeed, as in my near decade of working in Japan, the only time I ever saw Japanese people give their names in "Western" order was when they were speaking to Westerners in English, and even then that was only occasionally. There is no "conversion" to using "Western" name order. The only time one would see Japanese give their names regularly as "given name, family name" is when publishing books or articles in English. Perrin's last sentence takes the cake though. "Oh, Japanese names are so confusing!" Well, no--not if you have studied Japanese and spent time around Japanese people. The names are no more difficult to decipher than American or European or any other name, if you take the time to learn. They're actually pretty consistent in the conventions for family names and given names. All this paragraph tells me is that Perrin is woefully ignorant of basic cultural facts. And yet, he wants to comment on Japanese "culture".

That's it for Part I. Yes, I haven't even gotten into the book yet. We'll get to that, tomorrow I hope. A Perrin apologist would likely consider my criticisms to this point unfair for not getting to the actual text. My response: if I have this much to be critical about already, can there be high hopes for the text? We shall see.

Giving Up the Myths, Part II

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Moving into the actual book, we continue our look at Noel Perrin's "Giving up the Gun". My first impressions are here. For the background, etc., read that first and then return here.

So, to review what we learned from the cover, foreword, and so forth:

1. Perrin is self-admittedly not an expert on Japan or Japanese history, and borders on orientalizing in his incorrect descriptions of aspects of CURRENT Japanese culture, much less anything historical. I'm afraid of what we will find going forward.

2. Perrin's focus isn't on the facts of Japanese history at all; he clearly approaches the subject from an anti-nuclear weapons perspective, and is looking for an analogy to justify his stance. That he cherrypicks facts to support his view shouldn't be surprising to anyone who reads the Foreword alone.


Anyways, moving on...

Chapter One

Perrin begins (p. 1) with a description of a US surveying mission commander's comments on his visit to the island of Tanegashima in 1855, shortly after Perry's celebrated (depending on your view) "opening" of Japan the previous year. We'll ignore the whole "opening" misconception and stick to the specific subject here.

Perrin quotes this passage from Commander John Rodgers:

"These people seemed scarcely to know the use of firearms," he noted in his report to the Secretary of the Navy. "One of [my] officers caught the Japanese word for gun with which a very learned man was displaying his knowledge to his companions. It strikes an American, who from his childhood has seen children shoot, that ignorance of arms is an anomaly indicative of primitive innocence and Arcadian simplicity. We were unwilling to disturb it."
He then proceeds to tell us how CDR Rodgers was "almost as Arcadianly simple as the Tanegashimans themselves," by proclaiming that this was an "acquired innocence, not a primitive one." He's right in pointing out the irony that the islanders Rodgers  observed were the descendants of those present when the Portuguese landed in the same place in 1543, bringing the first Western-style firearms mentioned in textual sources. He spends considerable energy telling us how Rodgers could not have known much about Japan at all from contemporary Western sources, citing examples of vague and misleading encyclopedia entries available at the time. Perrin's point in all this is to show that Rodgers could not have known that the Japanese at one time used guns on a prodigious scale, only to turn "back to swords and spears." (p.5)

Perrin, in his lack of knowledge and experience (he's not even a historian, after all) falls into the same trap with Rodgers' words that he points out. Yes, of course Rodgers did not know much about Japan--so why should Perrin take Rodgers' description as evidence that there was any "acquired innocence"? The officer mentioned caught the word for gun (presumably teppô) in the conversation between the two Japanese; based on that one word, are we to assume that this was one learned person explaining the entire concept of what a gun was to his counterpart? Could it not have just as easily been one person describing to another that these weapons carried by the American foreigners were teppo, just like those that they were familiar with, but much more advanced?

Of course the Japanese here had never seen the type of modern guns carried by the American Navy personnel. That is in no way an indication that they had no conception of what guns were. Rodgers, as Perrin points out the lack of knowledge available to him, can be excused for this; Perrin, however, cannot.

Perrin next moves into a description of Japan's first supposed encounter with guns. This is the story of the three (two?) Portuguese traders who show up and show Lord Tanegashima Tokitaka, the daimyo of the island, their magical new weapon. I won't criticize too deeply on the details here; Perrin gives us a commonly accepted version of the story, and just because specialists debate different interpretations and versions in the primary textual sources like the Teppô-ki, the Tanegashima Kafu, and the Peregriniçam doesn't mean Perrin should be expected to wade through these. As we have noted, he couldn't if he wanted to. Most importantly, this is backstory, and not crucial to his argument other than establishing how Japanese received the art of shooting and gunsmithing.

Next Perrin notes (p. 8) the spread of firearms, to the extent that Oda Nobunaga could place an order for 500 of them in 1549. "By 1560, the use of firearms in large battles had begun (a general in full armor died of a bullet wound that year), and fifteen years after that they were the decisive weapon in one of the great battles of Japanese history." (pp. 8-9). I'll ignore the reference to Nagashino for now; as with the Tanegashima story, Perrin can't be held accountable that most of the literature in English on Nagashino is wrong. What bothers me is the first part of the statement--guns were used in Japanese warfare way earlier than 1560, and saying that their use "begun" based on the fact that a general was killed by a bullet in that year ignores quite a lot of other poor souls dispatched by guns prior to that point. The Shimazu were using guns in battles in the 1540's (not surprising, since they were the overlords of the Tanegashima where guns "arrived"), and guns of some type and origin were used in 1548 at the Battle of Uedahara. Perhaps a more charitable reviewer would write it off to poor phrasing, but poor phrasing like that leads to inaccuracies being perpetuated.
All this represents what would now be called a technological breakthrough. As present-day Japanese writers like to point out, the Arabs, the Indians, and the Chinese all gave firearms a try well ahead of the Japanese, but only the Japanese mastered the manufacturing process on a large scale, and really made the weapon their own. (p. 9)
 Since Perrin doesn't provide a citation for this, I don't know who these "Japanese writers" are. But it's hardly surprising that writers of one nationality would try to point out they were "more advanced" than those of other nationalities. Apparently these writers are unaware of Maharatha Confederacy cannon foundries in India, Arab gunsmithing, and the fact that the Chinese are where gunpowder weapons originated in the first place. Sadly, it seems Perrin is unaware of these things as well.

Perrin next leads into a description of Japan at the time of the introduction of guns with a passage from St. Francis Xavier noting the preoccupation with military matters common amongst the Japanese. Hardly surprising that in a time of chaotic warfare with little centralized authority, the members of a society took a keen interest in weapons and warfare.  On p. 10, Perrin notes the high-level of technological sophistication by the Japanese and the abundant copper and steel shipped all over the globe "just as Japanese electronic equipment is now." Summary of the next few pages is that Japan produced significant raw materials, and also excelled in refined goods such as paper; the larger point is that this is no primitive society here. Perrin is certainly right in that regard. On p. 13, he tells us that Japan was the premier exporter of weapons in the "Far East," and explains how wonderful Japanese swords were, using period European witnesses that attest to their superiority to their own blades. Next Perrin quotes population statistics to tell us that Japan was a healthily booming country, tells us of the Buddhist "universities" and high interest in artistic matters which show Japan was an educated to a higher standard than their European counterparts. None of this is at all eyebrow raising to anyone familiar with Japanese history, but apparently Perrin felt it necessary to establish that Japan was not like many other countries that Europeans encountered during this period. One point of annoyance is the footnote on p. 17:

Certainly this [that Japan had higher rates of literacy than European countries] was how it struck the Japanese. They could hardly believe how widespread illiteracy was among their visitors. In fact they found our ancestors fairly simple in most respects. The earliest Japanese account of the three original Portuguese adventurers is typical. The Japanese chronicler wrote in a superior way, "They eat with their fingers instead of with chopsticks such as we use. They show their feelings without any self-control. They cannot understand the meaning of written characters...."
First of all, "our" ancestors? Is everyone reading this book a descendant of Portuguese traders? If so, I guess I was not the intended audience, as that is not my own heritage. But more important is the conclusion he draws from the statement "they cannot understand the meaning of written characters..." How is it surprising that a Portuguese trader did not understand Japanese or Chinese written text? The Japanese author here of course describes this as a negative trait, since anyone educated in Japan at the time would be able to read characters. That does not, however, mean that the Portuguese could not read at all; what basis would a Japanese observer have to understand that? While it is well documented that Japan had a high rate of literacy, and most European countries of the time did not have nearly the breadth of literacy, it troubles me that Perrin would draw such sweeping conclusions from this statement, or rather use this statement in support of those conclusions. Were I to write something like this, my favorite professor at UH would have written in the margin "well, no #%@$!" It's blindingly obvious that the Portuguese wouldn't have been able to read Chinese characters.

On p. 18-19, Perrin gives an anecdote of poetry saving the life of a feudal lord condemned to death. Who this Lord Tameakira was is not made clear. The footnote cites George Sansom's "Japan and the Western World". Knowing Sansom, it likely came from one of the gunkimono, the so-called "war tales" which describe warfare of the Medieval period much like the Song of Roland, for example, in Europe. While Sansom and some of the older generations of historians based much of their history on these texts, most historians writing now view them with a skeptical eye as romantic idealism rather than factual accounts of events. Early historians like Sadler and Sansom accepting the gunkimono as factual bases for their work is unfortunately how a lot of the idealized orientalist/nihonjinron mythology of Japan as "unique" came to be. Is Perrin at fault for using it? No, like other points I can't fault him; however, it points to his own interest in romanticizing Japanese history to fit his agenda. I don't have that particular Sansom book, so if anyone can provide me the reference it would be appreciated.


We will stop there for now, and get into Chapter Two in a few days.

Conferencing Time!

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Hello everyone--it's been a pretty busy few weeks at work, and I'm now at Day 1 of the Society for Military History conference. Preparing two papers for that (a paper for the Chinese Military History society today, and then one on Saturday in the regular SMH sessions) has taken up a lot of my time as well. My apologies, and I promise to get back to my dissection of Mr. Perrin sometime next week, along with conference reports of all the military history madness here in New Orleans. Last night I had the pleasure of dining with Dr. Peter Lorge of Vanderbilt, and Dr. Elisabeth Kaske of Carnegie Mellon, who is on my panel for this morning. Here's how it looks:

8:45-10:15   Panel One: Demythologizing Asian Warfare

Andrew R. Wilson (U.S. Naval War College),
"The Three Myths of the Sanbao Eunuch: Re-conceptualizing the Voyages
of Zheng He"

Nathan H. Ledbetter (U.S. Army),
"Reifying the Barricades: Historiography Issues in the Study of the
Battle of Nagashino (1575)"

Elisabeth Kaske (Carnegie Mellon University),
"Is there a Counter-history of the Hunan Army?"

It was a quite educational and enjoyable time. Probably the first time I've had dinner with someone I cite in my papers!

Anyways, to tide you over I'm going to put up a couple of papers I did for classes at UH. The first I did for Dr. Lonny Carlile in his Asian Security Cultures class. He was kind enough to let me take a crack at applying IR theory (specifically, neo-realism and liberalism) to the Sengoku Period. The result was fun to do, and let me use a lot of the extra material I'd come up with for the Nagashino papers, but just couldn't work in. The second paper I did for Dr. Patrice Flowers in her Japanese Politics course--again, my professors were so accommodating to let me tackle Sengoku period work from a modern perspective. For that paper, I continued my thoughts from the first paper, extending to a look at domestic pressures and constructivism. I'm just throwing these up here for now, so if the formatting is off when I cut and paste, well...sorry.


So with that, here's Paper #1: Enjoy!




Domain as State:
The Sengoku Daimyo Seen Through International Relations Theory


Introduction
            In this paper, I examine the daimyo domain as an independent state actor in the international system of Sengoku Period Japan (1477-1603). I first define the daimyo realm as an independent state and examine the validity of this conception. Following that, I examine which theoretical concepts (realism, neoliberalism, constructivism, Balance of Power, and Hegemonic Stability) accurately describe daimyo state behaviors. I then examine what “security” meant to the daimyo during the Sengoku period. I find that the daimyo of the Sengoku Period demonstrate the entire range of theoretical behaviors, with the daimyo of the earlier Sengoku leaning towards realist anarchy, but daimyo in the later Sengoku subordinating their individual autonomy to a hegemonic power in return for guaranteed security.

Defining the Daimyo State
In order to analyze daimyo behavior as state behavior in international relations theory, we must begin by defining the “state”, and then determined whether or not daimyo domains fit the description.  The Montevideo Convention on the Rights and Duties of States (1933) provides the following requirements for statehood: 1. a defined territory; 2. a permanent population; 3. a government; and 4. a capacity to enter into relations with other states.[1]This is known as the “declarative theory” of state sovereignty.[2]Thus some form of ruling body as “government” exhibits internal and external sovereignty, or control over domestic policy and relations with entities outside of the defined territorial and population boundaries of the state.
Daimyo Domain as State
Prior to the Ônin War (1467-1477), the Ashikaga Shogunate functioned as an overarching “national” government that controlled the provinces through their regional deputies, or shugo. Owing their regional power to their appointments by the Shogun in Kyoto, shugo necessarily were drawn into the conflict amongst various factions within the Ashikaga government. This focused their attention away from the provinces, as they fought a war of annihilation in the center which culminated in the effective dissolution of centralized “national” control, though the Ashikaga would continue as shoguns in name for another one hundred years.[3]In the absence of strong central authority, regional leaders began to consolidate power in their own hands. Regardless of whether they were shugo who managed to maintain local control, shugo underlings who usurped their masters’ positions, or local notables who completely overthrew any remnants of central power structures, these new daimyo established control over the local warriors and cultivators, ruled territory on their own authority, and came to be the dominant political entity of 16th century Japan.[4]
The collapse of the center meant that as long as a daimyo overcame local opposition, there was no external mechanism that could challenge his control. Daimyo could carve out small but geographically contiguous territories that were easily administered and defended.[5]Their physical location within their domain, rather than the absentee control practiced by estate owners, governors, and shugoin the past, led to tighter land control, stronger control over the local warrior bands, and stronger independent domains.[6]In other words, they demonstrated control over a territory defined by their ability to control it militarily, with a population of cultivators and warriors underneath their control; this demonstrates the first two conditions of declarative state sovereignty.
The daimyo also served as head of state for his domain, forming a “government” to control and administer his territory. “State-building” took place as daimyo created their own laws and administrative systems to maximize the economic resources and preserve the peace within their territories.[7]This concentration of power at the local level led to a “conglomeration of tightly organized regional units that were politically independent.”[8]These domains were effective enough as administrative units that they remained basis of government administration until the end of the Tokugawa Shogunate. [9]Thus we see daimyo governance of the domain fulfill the third condition of declarative state sovereignty.
            The collapse of central control meant there was no higher “national” (meaning Japan-wide) authority to which a daimyo owed any meaningful allegiance or obedience, even if imperial and shogunal institutions did not cease to exist completely. The daimyo in the provinces could, and did, simply ignore them. Rather than attempt to use their local power bases to influence “national” politics, the daimyo recognized that “national” politics ceased to exist.[10]The daimyo became the highest level of authority in whatever territory upon which he could impose his will. “National” politics only resurfaced later in the period as a legitimating device for daimyo that had gathered enough power to seek hegemony, a topic we will return to later. In the absence of central authority, the daimyo determined his relations with other daimyo independently. Daimyo made the decisions to go to war, to declare peace, to enter alliances, or to begin trade agreements. Relations with other states, the fourth condition for being a state, fell under their purview.
By fulfilling the criteria for state sovereignty (1. a defined territory; 2. a permanent population; 3. a government; and 4. a capacity to enter into relations with other states), daimyo indeed behaved like independent political states. This observation was shared by the daimyo of the sixteenth century themselves; daimyo conceptualized themselves as independent political entities rather than parts of a coherent archipelago-wide whole. Ravina points out that the word “kokka” (国家), which in modern Japanese is used to describe the centralized state, was used by daimyo to refer to either their territorial domains, or their family and retainers.[11]Indeed, daimyo would appeal to “national” security and the “good of the domain” in order to mobilize retainers and peasants alike for both war and development projects.[12]Though they retained a shared cultural identity with other locales, the individual daimyo domain demonstrably developed as independent political entities, or states, in the aftermath of the Ônin War.

Framing Daimyo State Behavior in International Relations Theory[M1] [NL2] 
            In the last twenty-five years, the end of the Cold War has contributed to the diffusion of international politics to a more regional level. Local and regional dynamics give states greater latitude in shaping their immediate environments, which were in effect frozen during the bipolar competition of the Cold War.[13]The same could be said of the state system in 16th century Japan.[14]With the collapse of the the Ashikaga Shogunate as a central normalizing structure, regional and local powers were free to utilize whatever means necessary and available to create their own independent localized states, and to build those states through internal controls and external relations with their neighbors, who were doing the same thing. As the century progressed, certain daimyo successfully subdued their regional neighbors, and made attempts at international (as defined by the daimyo domain state being the “national”) hegemony. We shall now look at the theoretical frameworks most commonly used in American discourses of International Relations Theory: Realism/Neo-realism, Neo-liberalism, and Constructivism, and see which of these we can identify within the Sengoku period, and which, if any, we can use to generally describe the period. Following this, we shall look at the period to determine whether a realist Balance of Power theory or a theory of hegemonic/hierarchical stability is most applicable.

Theoretical Framework:
Realism & Neo-realism[15]:
Realism, and its current incarnation neo-realism, is one of the dominant strains of international theory. Realism contends that the international system is anarchic because there is no higher authority that can guarantee security. A state’s security becomes its own responsibility, gained through “self-help”, or independent action.[16]Security is defined as the preservation of political autonomy, or independence as a state.[17]As every state within the system is concerned with the problem of survival as its highest priority, the political norm is one of conflict between states each competing to increase their military, political, and economic position relative to the others in order to best guarantee autonomy.[18]Power is the currency of state security, and expansion leads to hegemonic power, which guarantees the most security for a state since it is significantly stronger than any competitor.[19]Realist theorists consider this behavior rational, and assume it to be universal across space and time.[20]
Because of the inherently competitive nature of the international system, realists see security as a zero-sum game. One state’s gains in security necessarily come at the expense of the other states: what makes state A stronger makes state B weaker, at least in comparison to state A.[21]Military power is stressed as the most important form of power, as it consists of the principal threat, and principal means of counteracting a threat, to security.[22]However, realists concede that other means of gaining security are important as well. Alliances or coalitions can augment self-help, and help to manage the costs of maintaining security. However, realists consider these temporary arrangements; today’s ally may be tomorrow’s foe if the situation changes and conflict becomes more profitable than peace for either side.[23]Because security is a relative concept, states engage in “balancing behavior”: when one state becomes too powerful and approaches hegemonic status, other states will band together to balance the power of the stronger state and prevent it from establishing hegemony. Alternatively, weaker states may choose to “bandwagon”, aligning themselves with the stronger state if they feel that by balancing they would be unduly endangered.[24]Balancing and Hegemony will be key concepts I explore later.
Liberalism & Constructivism[M3] [NL4] :
            Neo-liberalism and Constructivism provide two opposing schools of thought to realism. In a neo-liberal conception of international relations, cooperation between states is possible under an institutional framework, because institutions alter the conceptions of state self-interest by introducing a non-state variable.[25]The United Nations, for example, can provide a regulating framework for state behavior that encourages cooperation rather than full competition. Where interests of different states coincide, they will cooperate. Institutions can help define these state interests differently; if, for instance, an international organization can guarantee a state’s existence, a state may sacrifice actions it would have taken in its best individual interests in order to remain a part of the international organization that guarantees its security.[26]  An example of this would be a current state abiding by nuclear arms restrictions, despite the fact that possession of nuclear arms may increase its military power relative to its neighbors.
            Constructivism takes a post-modern approach to international politics by recognizing that anarchy and other international conditions are social constructs, created and accepted by the international community on the basis of historical understanding and culture.[27]The international system is composed of known practices, which limits the options available to states to those their history and culture deem possible.[28]“Culture defines choices”.[29]Further, identity is an important factor to Constructivists, as identity concepts such as “nation”, race, religious unity, etc. are seen to have influence on state behavior and can be state core values equal to or greater than the desire for political independence. Constructivists argue that because of conflicting notions of identity within a state, the realist assumption of states as cohesive units does not hold, and this internal conflict must be accounted for in international behavior.[30]The state could, in fact, be an “oppressor” that denies its constituent peoples security, and for a constructionist, only a regime with the consent and support of the people has legitimacy.[31]Liberalism and Constructivism give us the concept of the “community security system”, in which a state’s “national identity and national interest become fused with those of the community of states.”[32][M5] [NL6]  Force is no longer an option for dispute resolution, as it would isolate a state from the rest of the international community. As Alagappa observes, each state cooperates because the security of others ensures the security of that state, and political survival is no longer an issue.[33]Therefore, a community security system is an international system in which competition and conflict are counterproductive to the interests of the member states. This is completely counter to realist assumptions that competition is the inherent behavior of all states.
Realism and Liberalism/Constructivism During the Sengoku Period
Not surprisingly, we can observe all of these phenomena during the Sengoku period. As stated previously, the collapse of the central polity led to system anarchy across the archipelago, wherein independent daimyo states gathered local power and struggled against each other for survival. Survival, as discussed in the earlier section, was the highest priority of the daimyo. The best way to guarantee survival was to seek regional hegemony, placing oneself in a better economic, strategic, military, or political position than one’s daimyo neighbors. A daimyo’s army was his primary instrument for security, and subjugation or destruction of rivals was the surest method of overcoming them. Hence daimyo enacted domestic policies (land surveys, reorganization of vassal bands) that maximized military capability. When military strength alone could not guarantee a strong position, daimyo formed alliances and coalitions to counterbalance threats. These alliances were functional, despite whatever cultural veneer or historical precedent was claimed in their creation, and were discarded in accordance with realist precepts as soon as their functionality ceased. The Takeda, Hôjô, and Imagawa of eastern Japan famously inter-married their houses together in a tripartite alliance in the 1550’s; this seemingly strong compact was quickly vacated when circumstances changed upon Imagawa Yoshimoto’s death in 1560. The Takeda and Hojo both abandoned the agreement and invaded the lands of Imagawa Ujizane, Yoshimoto’s weak heir. Oda Nobunaga used his alliance with Saito Dôsan of Mino Province as a pretext to invade Mino when Dôsan’s son, Yoshitatsu, overthrew his father. Asai Nagamasa reneged on his alliance with Oda Nobunaga, his brother-in-law, in 1570 when the latter attacked another ally of Nagamasa’s, Asakura Yoshikage.  The Asai and Asakura formed a coalition that included the militarily powerless but symbolically important Shogun Ashikaga Yoshiaki, the Pure Land Buddhist sects adherents of the Ishiyama Honganji Temple, the warrior monks of the Enryakuji Temple just northeast of Kyoto, and Takeda Shingen, a powerful warlord in central eastern Japan, to balance and defeat the increasingly hegemonic power of Oda Nobunaga as the latter pacified central Japan. Tokugawa Ieyasu famously formed an alliance with Oda Nobunaga, essentially bandwagonning with a stronger power in order to secure his protection against other threats.[34]All of the elements described by realist thought appear to be present in the Sengoku period; perhaps the Sengoku is best described by realist theory.
            We can, however, also observe liberal and constructivist behavior at work in the Sengoku system. Early in the period daimyo relations tended towards the realist model, with states competing regionally for survival. However, as the century progressed and some daimyo amassed significant power, some of the constructivist and liberal concepts can be observed, and others cannot. The daimyo of Japan and their samurai retainers all consisted of the same cultural group, with the same historical and cultural background. Identity played a limited role in daimyo state actions, contrary to Constructivist assertions. Had the peasantry become more politically active and attempted class struggle, identity along class lines could have become a point of contention, but this did not happen. However, culture and custom did limit daimyo state options, especially as daimyo grew more powerful. The question has often been asked, for instance, why Oda Nobunaga or Toyotomi Hideyoshi or Tokugawa Ieyasu (or even their historical predecessors in archipelago-wide power, the Ashikaga and Kamakura shoguns) did not simply abolish the Imperial system and claim the throne for themselves; while there are a variety of answers that have been more eloquently stated than I can here, constructivist views would tell us that custom and history constructed a situation in which the thought of supplanting the Imperial line did not occur to them, and was not necessary for the exercise of central political power.
            The constructivist concept of “community security” and neo-liberal cooperation under an institutional framework also seems, at first glance, to be ill-equipped to explain Sengoku daimyo behavior. There was obviously no United Nations-type collective organization that could guarantee security to constituent daimyo members. However, towards the end of the 16thcentury, Toyotomi Hideyoshi rose to control the country through what Mary Elizabeth Berry has called a “federation”[35]of daimyo. I will discuss his hegemony over other daimyo states in the next section, but Berry essentially argues that the daimyo accepted reduced independence underneath Hideyoshi’s leadership in return for a guarantee of security and control over their own domains. I believe it is instructive to see Hideyoshi not as a “national” ruler, but as the embodiment of an institutional control on daimyo “international” behavior. Berry asserts that various daimyo turned to Hideyoshi as a defense against more immediate threats. Submission to Hideyoshi guaranteed survival and confirmation of lands as held—in other words, the status quo was assured. Daimyo gave up the possibility of archipelago-wide hegemony of their own, but that appears to have been a small price to pay for security guaranteed by the hegemon in their international system. Two examples illustrate this in action. The Ôtomo, a regional power on the island of Kyushu, had depleted themselves in a war with one rival, the Ryûzoji, and were about to be destroyed by another, the Shimazu. They appealed to Hideyoshi for help, and he used this pretext to invade Kyushu and impose his control over the island. However, rather than destroy the local powers, Hideyoshi reached settlements with them that guaranteed their survival, even if it meant surrender of some territory and regional hegemonic ambition. Even the Shimazu, faced with Hideyoshi’s superior military strength, negotiated for this form of secure peace. In the second example, the Hôjô family of the Kanto region (present day Tokyo area) refused to submit to Hideyoshi’s control. Hideyoshi led a coalition of daimyo to destroy the Hôjô in 1590. While the daimyo under Hideyoshi were likely motivated somewhat by the fear that failure to provide forces might mean they were next on the list of Hideyoshi’s targets, it is also important to note that they mobilized to enforce the group submission to Hideyoshi’s international institution. The Hôjô were destroyed not by Hideyoshi’s personal army, but by the collective militaries of the daimyo underneath Hideyoshi’s leadership. Toyotomi Hideyoshi provided an institutional framework under which the daimyo states of Japan could maintain internal control and independence in their own domestic affairs, but also guarantees of security vis-à-vis their daimyo state peers. In essence, Hideyoshi became the focal point of a community security system.
Sengoku Japan: Realist Anarchy or International Construct?
            The early Sengoku period, from the end of the Ônin War until the rise of Oda Nobunaga and Toyotomi Hideyoshi as national hegemons, appears to contain all the elements of realist international relations theory. However, the daimyo reached a point at the end of the Sengoku period where acting in concert under the aegis of a central institution (Hideyoshi) to ensure the security and domestic independence of their state appeared in the best collective interest of all states within the system, fitting with neo-liberal/constructivist concepts of community security. Also, cultural and historical norms helped construct the forms which the centralizing institution would take. The advent of nuclear weapons in the twentieth century increased the destruction of total war to a scale unacceptable for modern states to endure, and so international institutions were created in order to provide forums for state cooperative interaction and dispute resolution without recourse to war. Similarly, sixteenth century warfare in Japan had increased in destructiveness due to the increase in army size, domainal economic production, and the introduction of firearms, and the daimyo saw in Hideyoshi an acceptable “international” institution in which they could all collectively guarantee their security. In other words, Sengoku Japan cannot be considered purely realist, but must be understood to contain elements of neo-liberalism and constructivism.

Balance of Power vs. Hegemony as Norm
            Systemic Balance of Power
            The Balance of Power theory holds that “a balance of power, defined as multipolar or bipolar distribution of capabilities, is the normal, ubiquitous state of all international systems. Unipolar or hegemonic systems will be inherently unstable, as balancing processes push the system back to bi or multipolarity.”[36]Kaufman, Little, and Wohlforth refine this into the Systemic Balance of Power Theory, in which “hegemonies do not form in multi-state systems because perceived threats of hegemony over the system generate balancing behavior by other leading states in the system.”[37]Realists, consistent with their other conceptions, hold that this is valid across space and time as a historical norm.[38]Because the rise of any significantly stronger power threatens the security of the other states in the system, realists posit that the system will correct naturally as the other less-powerful states will ban together to “balance” the rising power. If there is a multi-polar balance, as during the Cold War, then there is no threat to the states in the system, as the two large states balance each other naturally as they compete for power. If, however, one state reaches a significantly stronger position relative to the rest of the states in the system, that state becomes a threat to the entire system.[39]This causes states to seek balance via alliance against the rising hegemonic power. Some states, either too weak or two close in proximity to the rising hegemonic state, may “bandwagon” by forming an alliance with the powerful state and accepting their second-rank status.[40]However, realist theorists assert that any rising hegemony will automatically lead to balancing efforts by the majority of states within the system, as fear for their independence leads them to counter the rising strength of the leading state.[41]Kaufman, Little, and Wohlforth, however, note that the system must be able to expand (i.e. look outside the system for additional strength to balance the lead state) as a necessary condition for balance, or eventually one state will become too strong to be influenced by the balancing efforts of the others.[42]
Hegemony/Hierarchical System
A contrasting theory to systemic Balance of Power comes from the “English School” of international relations thought. This theory, Hegemonic Stability, posits that “system leadership in the form of a system hegemon or a unipolar distribution of power is the normal ubiquitous state of international systems.”[43]The realist belief in systemic bipolarity or balance is “unnatural”, based on observations drawn completely from the European historical experience, and therefore Eurocentric and not universal as realists believe. Unipolarity, this theory holds, is the historical norm around the world.[44]Hegemony is defined as the condition when the foreign policy of one independent state is constrained by a more powerful state.[45]This hegemony is a form of hierarchy, and so the system is also called Hierarchical Stability. According to the English School, anarchy is not a given, but a point on a continuum with varying levels of hierarchy. Watson (1992) delineates the continuum as consisting of (from weakest to strongest levels of control): anarchy, hegemony, suzerainty, dominion, and empire.[46]When one unit within the system achieves political or military domination over most of the international system, the system is hierarchical.[47]An easily recognized example would be China’s privileged position as the “middle kingdom” in Asia, with periphery states sending tribute and seeking investiture from the Chinese emperor. Hierarchies like this may arise in international societies where one polity serving as leader is the cultural norm[48]; this is consistent with constructivist ideas about the role of cultural and historical precedents in shaping political state actions.
Where realists believe all states aspire to hegemony, the English School points out that balancing, the natural response to hegemonic rise according to realism, may be difficult in situations where multiple states aspire to hegemony. Balancing one hegemonic threat may destroy that threatening state, but at the expense of empowering another state desiring hegemonic power. Further, bandwagoning states not only empower the hegemonic state, but subtract from the power of the balancing effort.[49]Balances form, but inevitably break down due to the difficulty of collective action; the hegemonic power is able to “divide and conquer” those states that stand in its way through intimidation, reward, or force.[50]

            Balance of Power vs. Hegemonic Stability during the Sengoku Period
            Kaufman, Little, and Wohlforth conclude in their study that neither neorealist universality of balance or the English School claim of hegemony as normal are correct in all historical cases, and that systems can exhibit both balance of power and hegemonic stability at different times.[51]Indeed, a look at Sengoku Japan will show both daimyo attempting to balance larger competitors, and also daimyo accepting hegemonic stability. Several coalitions of daimyo states (and non-daimyo state actors) arose in attempts to balance the power of Oda Nobunaga. The Asai-Asakura-Enryakuji-Ishiyama Honganji-Ashikaga Yoshiaki coalition was mentioned earlier in this paper; when that attempt failed, another coalition consisting of the Môri, Takeda (later replaced by the Uesugi after Takeda Katsuyori’s defeat at Nagashino in 1575) and Ishiyama Honganji again challenged Nobunaga’s central control.[52]The multi-decade conflict between the Takeda of Kai and Uesugi of Echigo originated when the smaller daimyo states of Shinano province, located between Kai and Echigo, appealed to Uesugi Kenshin in an effort to counter the invasions of their territory by Takeda Shingen.[53]In the anarchy of the Sengoku period, balancing a threat was, as realists posit, a natural course of action.
            However, as we discussed previously, by 1590 the various daimyo decided to subordinate themselves to the “international institution” of Toyotomi Hideyoshi in an effort to guarantee the security of their domains. The “community security” demonstrated here was made possible by a hegemon to which all states within the system could agree, and is a clear example of “Hegemonic Stability”. The argument could be made that Hideyoshi’s control eventually slid from hegemony to suzerainty or dominion along the relational scale, for he eventually had the power to control daimyo domains and divest or move daimyo from their territory. However, at least initially the daimyo accepted his hegemonic rule with the idea that Hideyoshi would control inter-domainal relations rather than internal domain policies. Once again, we observe that Sengoku Japan demonstrates both realist and counter-realist characteristics.
Comprehending Daimyo Security
            We have identified theories of state behavior from realism and neorealism on one end of the spectrum to constructivism and the English School on the other[M7] [NL8] , and observed examples in the daimyo of the Sengoku period. Elements of each school of thought can be found during the Sengoku period in Japan. However, consistent with realist thought, a daimyo’s first concern was state and regime survival.  As Bender says, all daimyo fought for survival, and some fought for greater power.[54]Under the previous Kamakura and Ashikaga regimes, warfare consisted of factional conflict between members of a distinct warrior class, legitimated under the political aegis of the Imperial system that rewarded the winner as serving “national” interests. Sengoku warfare, on the other hand, was about control over territory and production capability, rather than rights granted by a higher court authority.[55]A Sengoku daimyo therefore had to first secure control of his own domain internally before he could face external existential threats successfully. We shall now look at first internal, then external security concerns shared in common by Sengoku daimyo.
            Domestic Security
            As with any political regime, a daimyo first had to secure his position of leadership within his own domain. First, a daimyo had to eliminate conflicting centers of authority within the territory he was trying to control.[56]As the Ashikaga state crumbled, this meant sweeping away or subsuming the old shugo structure, and we see that some daimyo transitioned themselves from shugo to sengoku daimyo, where others usurped the political power of the prior shugo either from positions within the administrative framework (deputy shugo and the like claiming power for themselves) or from without. As Bender shows in his comprehensive study of daimyo survival patterns through the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the daimyo achieved and maintained local control through effective organization and leadership of his warrior band, sometimes by assuming the titles of the old structure and sometimes by completely destroying it.[57][M9] [NL10]  This is a key point we must understand—unlike a modern state which bases legitimacy on the support of the population at large, a daimyo’s right to rule was legitimated through the support of his warrior retainers. The majority of the “people”, the cultivator peasant class, were not given a voice in the daimyo polity[58]; they were regarded generally as an economic asset as they produced the agricultural wealth of the domain. The provincial warriors were the constituency a daimyo had to keep happy, and he did this through effective tactical leadership in warfare and guaranteeing their material success through developing existing land and acquisition of more through conquest. Failure to do so would result in challenges from within the local warrior cohort, and if another warrior could provide better prospects for domainal success, the daimyo would likely lose his political control to the internal rival.
            Successful territorial development was integral to a daimyo’s success, as it not only provided the resources for military development, but established internal leadership as the norm. Daimyo conducted land surveys in order to accurately assess their holdings and efficiently utilize their resources. As Bender points out, the ability to organize and conduct these surveys had the corollary effect of legitimizing the daimyo as domainal sovereign.[59]The increased agricultural efficiency not only provided more materiel for the daimyo’s military, but also increased the living standards of the peasant cultivator population; while they were not the political constituency of the daimyo state, their happiness and well-being did enable greater economic gains for the daimyo, and prevented possible internal disturbance from hungry peasants. Farris notes that in times of famine daimyo were more apt to conduct military campaigns; this had the two-fold effect of lessening local demand for resources by removing a significant portion of the population from the daimyo’s domain, and increasing the amount of available food based on what the army could capture from enemy territory.[60]Additionally, the cadastral survey system standardized economics across the domain and enabled the daimyo to pay his retainers in commodities (cash or rice) rather than with land stipends. The daimyo controlled land production and the peasant cultivators more directly, and the warrior retainers were cut out of the system. Unlike under the Kamakura or Ashikaga regimes, where retainers were placed in control of land taxation and had incentive to withhold income for themselves, Sengoku daimyo retainers were paid a “salary”. This meant it was in their best interest to ensure all taxes due to the daimyo were collected correctly.[61]Daimyo might negotiate with the Imperial court for titles that further separated them socially from their erstwhile peers in the provincial warrior class, but this simply buttressed the legitimacy gained through effective military and economic action.[62]
            International Security
            Strong control of domainal economics and military strength legitimized a daimyo’s leadership within the territory under his direct control. However, all of these techniques were ultimately designed to strengthen the daimyo relative to outside threats, and a daimyo’s ability to provide protection and security from external aggression to his constituent vassals was a key element of his legitimacy.[63]This domestic strength enabled a stronger stance vis-à-vis other neighboring daimyo states.[64]
            Bender posits that daimyo state survival was largely based on the combination of geographic factors such as location within the archipelago, defensible territory, natural resources, and attitude of neighbor daimyo.[65]Daimyo came into conflict primarily with other daimyo in the same region competing for the territory that had the most resources, defensible terrain, or political meaning.[66]Survival without conflict was possible, but military strength was necessary at the very least as a deterrent to invasion from neighboring daimyo.[67]“Shrewd political maneuvering, wise alliances, and knowing when to compromise instead of fight were most important in determining survival.”[68]It is important to understand that for all daimyo, external security was handled both militarily and politically. Early characterizations of the Sengoku period as simply one of constant warfare between domains ignore the importance of alliance and compromise to daimyo state survival.

Conclusion: The International Relations of Tokugawa Ieyasu
            In the course of this paper, I have demonstrated that daimyo domains can be conceived of as independent state actors, and that their actions can be described through International Relations theories. I came across various examples from different daimyo while researching this topic. The Takeda and Hojo clans both attempted to resist growing hegemonic powers and failed to balance them, resulting in their destruction. The Môri and Shimazu both initially resisted and participated in balancing of hegemonic powers, only to eventually submit once resistance was determined to be futile. The Maeda initially served underneath Oda Nobunaga in a vassal-retainer relationship; Maeda Toshiie, a peer of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, gained some independence and status as a daimyo upon the death of Oda Nobunaga, but accepted the hegemony of Hideyoshi to secure those gains. His son Toshinaga accepted the same relationship with Tokugawa Ieyasu upon Hideyoshi’s death in 1598 and the subsequent Tokugawa victory at Sekigahara, guaranteeing the Maeda continued prosperity as the second-richest daimyo state (aside from the Tokugawa) for the next 250 years.[69]Maeda’s initial status as a retainer of Nobunaga opens up the question of hierarchical states within daimyo domains: early daimyo (and possibly even later daimyo) may have taken the leadership of their vassal bands as an overarching protecting “institution” that protected the local retainer “state” (consisting of village control, perhaps) from predations by others within the same daimyo’s house, much like Hideyoshi would later serve as a securing institution for all of Japan.
However, one daimyo state demonstrated almost every trait of both realist and counter-realist thought through the Sengoku Period. Tokugawa Ieyasu began life in an inherently weak position, as the orphaned head of a minor family in Mikawa Province caught between the Oda of Owari and the Imagawa of Suruga and Totomi Provinces. From very early on, Ieyasu bandwagoned with the stronger Imagawa Yoshimoto against the weaker (but still stronger than Ieyasu) Oda Nobunaga. Balancing Imagawa’s power by joining the Oda would have been suicidal, as the small Tokugawa (called Matsudaira at the time) would simply have been the first sacrifice in any Imagawa invasion. Ieyasu even served as the advance guard for Imagawa Yoshimoto when the latter invaded Oda territory in 1560, but escaped the fate of Yoshimoto, who was defeated and killed in a surprise attack by Nobunaga at Okehazama. With the death of Yoshimoto, Ieyasu reneged on his affiliation with the weakened Imagawa, and formed an alliance with Oda Nobunaga—a move that realists would have applauded. This alliance was initially relatively equal, but as Nobunaga’s power grew and he consolidated control over central Japan, this relationship began to resemble bandwagoning as well. This did not stop Ieyasu from threatening to abandon the alliance when necessary, as he did when faced with invasion by Takeda Katsuyori in 1575. His threat goaded Nobunaga into assisting Ieyasu, and they defeated Katsuyori decisively at the Battle of Nagashino, ending that threat.[70]Ieyasu’s early life and career clearly demonstrate the fundamental concepts of realism—survival as state priority, self-help, balancing or bandwagoning as necessary to ensure survival, and the use of alliances as long as the alliance proves useful.
Ieyasu’s bandwagon arrangement with Oda Nobunaga continued until Nobunaga’s death by assassination in 1582. Ieyasu, suddenly independent, was strong enough to maintain his local control. However, in 1584 he was confronted by the growing power of Toyotomi Hideyoshi, and despite besting Hideyoshi tactically at the Battle of Nagakute (or the Komaki Campaign, as it is also known), he read the change in the Sengoku winds and was among the first of the regional daimyo to accept Hideyoshi’s hegemony. Underneath Hideyoshi, Ieyasu’s security was assured, and he even prospered by receiving the rich Kanto domain around present day Tokyo, a reward for his support to Hideyoshi’s consolidation of hegemonic power. Ieyasu was a key participant in the community security underneath Hideyoshi’s institutional security, as one of the first and most prominent daimyo states to submit to Hideyoshi’s hegemony.
Upon Hideyoshi’s death, however, Ieyasu once again demonstrated realist tendencies: most specifically, the idea that states are always seeking hegemony of their own. Political maneuvering after Hideyoshi’s death allowed Ieyasu to build a new coalition around himself, with which he defeated forces loyal to the Toyotomi heir at Sekigahara in 1600. He was named national hegemon officially in 1603, receiving the title of Shogun from the emperor and filling the vacuum in central authority left by the impotence of the Ashikaga Shoguns 150 years earlier. Ieyasu has at times been characterized as a villain in Japanese history for his craftiness. However, he carefully blended realist, neo-liberal, constructivist, and Hegemonic Stability behaviors to continue the survival and prosperity of his daimyo state, eventually gaining hegemony for his own state after ceding it to another previously.
Tokugawa Ieyasu is representative of the times in which he lived. The Sengoku Period can be characterized as realist anarchy, with daimyo states contending for survival and power. However, the period of warfare came to an end not with the military conquest of other states by a single military power, but by a negotiated construct of hegemonic peace underneath an “institutional” leadership which guaranteed the survival and security of all daimyo domains at the expense of their independence in external affairs. This relationship between an international regulating body and the daimyo states laid the foundation for the Bakuhan relationship between the central Tokugawa government and the provincial domains during the Edo period.



Bibliography:
Alagappa, Muthiah. Asian Security Practice: Material and Ideational Influences. Stanford, California: Stanford University Press, 1998. Print.
Bender, John. E. The Last Man Standing: Causes of Daimyo Survival in Sixteenth Century Japan. Masters Thesis. Honolulu: University of Hawaii, 2008. Web, http://scholarspace.manoa.hawaii.edu/handle/10123/20636, accessed 15 November 2011.
Berry, Mary Elizabeth. Hideyoshi. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press, 1982. Print.
Conlan, Thomas. State of War: The Violent Order of Fourteenth-Century Japan. Ann Arbor: University of Michigan, 2003. Print.
Council on Foreign Relations. “Montevideo Convention on the Rights and Duties of States”  Web. <http://www.cfr.org/sovereignty/montevideo-convention-rights-duties-states/p15897> accessed November 29, 2011.
US Legal.com. Definition of Declarative Theory of Statehood. Web. <http://definitions.uslegal.com/d/declarative-theory-of-statehood/> Accessed 7 December 2011.
Farris, William Wayne. Japan’s Medieval Population: Famine, Fertility, and Warfare in a Transformative Age. Honolulu: University of Hawai’i Press, 2006. Print.
Friday, Karl F. Samurai Warfare And The State In Early Medieval Japan. New York: Routledge, 2004. Print.
Kaufman, Stuart J., Richard Little, and William C. Wohlforth. The Balance of Power in World History. New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2007. Print.
Lamers, Jeroen Pieter. Japonius Tyrannus: The Japanese Warlord, Oda Nobunaga Reconsidered. Japonica Neerlandica. Leiden: Hotei Publishing, 2000. Print
Morillo, Stephen.  “Guns and Government: A Comparative Study of Europe and Japan”. Journal of World History, Vol. 6, No. 1 (Spring, 1995), pp. 75-106. Honolulu: University of Hawai'i Press, 1995. Print
Ôta Gyûichi. The Chronicle of Lord Nobunaga. Leiden, Netherlands: Brill, 2011. Print. Elisonas, J.S.A., and J.P. Lamers, Translators.
Ravina, Mark. “State-Building and Political Economy in Early-modern Japan” The Journal of Asian Studies, Vol. 54, No. 4, (November 1995).Web:  <http://www.jstor.org/stable/2059957> accessed November 23, 2011.
Sadler, A. L. The Maker of Modern Japan : The Life of Tokugawa Ieyasu. Rutland, Vt.: C. E. Tuttle Co., 1978. Print
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Notes & Citations:


[1]Council on Foreign Relations, Web.
[3]Morillo 82, Bender 1
[4]Bender 1
[5]Morillo 90
[6]Morillo 88
[7]Morillo 90
[8]Bender 74
[9]Bender 2
[10]Morillo 83
[11]Ravina 1008
[12]Morillo 91
[13]Alagappa 4
[14]State system—a group of states in which the behavior of each is a necessary factor in calculations of others. Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 6, quoting Bull & Watson 1984.
[15]For convenience sake, I do not differentiate between realism and neo-realism. The key difference, that neo-realism allows for international constructs to become considerations in state security decisions (for instance, the UN’s reaction to a certain course of action influencing the United States’ decision making), does not really apply to 16th century Japan as an international system, as there is no UN or other international organization equivalent. A possible further study looking at non-daimyo institutions (the Imperial court, the Buddhist church) could compare those institutions to the institutions Neo-realism includes; however, that is outside the scope of this paper.
[16]Alagappa 51
[17]Alagappa 39
[18]Alagappa 18
[19]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 8
[20]Alagappa 19
[21]Alagappa 38
[22]Alagappa 39
[23]Alagappa 52
[24]Alagappa 58-59
[25]Alagappa 19
[26]Alagappa 53
[27]Alagappa 19
[28]Alagappa 60
[29]Alagappa 21
[30]Alagappa 34
[31]Alagappa 30-31
[32]Alagappa 55
[33]Alagappa 55
[34]Turnbull 9-16
[35]Berry 4-5
[36]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 18
[37]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 3. It should be noted they are simply describing, not espousing, this theory.
[38]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 4
[39]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 8
[40]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 9
[41]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 5
[42]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 229
[43]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 19
[44]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 20
[45]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 7
[46]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 6, 233
[47]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 7
[48]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 13
[49]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 14
[50]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 232, 245.
[51]Kaufman, Little, & Wohlforth 228
[52]Lamers 72-77, 87-100, 149-156.
[53]Farris 207
[54]Bender 2
[55]Morillo 97, Friday 19-31
[56]Bender 74
[57]Bender 7
[58]This is not to say that they did not on occasion make their voices heard through protest and insurrection. A successful daimyo needed to manage the relationship with his peasants as much as with his retainers.
[59]Bender 76
[60]Farris 194-198
[61]Bender 77
[62]Bender 84
[63]Morillo 89
[64]Bender 76
[65]Bender 5
[66]Bender 12
[67]Bender 72
[68]Bender 7
[69]Bender 91-95
[70]For the details of Tokugawa Ieyasu’s life, see Sadler’s The Maker of Modern Japan, a dated yet comprehensive work; also, GB Sansom’s A History of Japan, 1334-1615.


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