logo
Whatever happened to the samurai?

Whatever happened to the samurai?

The samurai were a preeminent class defending Japan for centuries. But as the Tokugawa shogunate ushered in an era of stability, the need for them faded, forcing these warriors to find a new way of life. Brother-in-arms This 19th-century illustration depicts the legendary samurai Honda Tadakatsu on horseback after his victory in the Battle of Mount Komaki in 1584. Tadakatsu was one of Tokugawa Ieyasu's main collaborators in his fight for the shogunate.
The samurai, Japan's celebrated lineage of warriors, emerged in the Heian period (794-1185), when the rise of their status enabled them to mingle with the refined nobility living in the then-capital of Heian-kyō (Kyoto). Samurai fought in the Ōnin War and during the period of unrest that followed. From then on, the bushi, as the samurai were also called, made their mark on Japanese history with their exceptional fighting prowess, becoming emblematic of Japanese culture.
The high point of samurai history is often associated with the Tokugawa shogunate, also known as the Edo period (1603–1868), a time of peace, prosperity, isolationist policies, and cultural growth. This is the most studied era of Japanese history and the period in which novelists, filmmakers, and comic book creators tend to place their samurai characters. However, far from being the zenith of samurai culture, this period marked the beginning of the end of the samurai, or at least as the warrior caste they'd been during the previous centuries.
(This cunning Japanese shogun outlasted his rivals to found his dynasty) Adapting to peace
Once the Tokugawa regime was established after the conquest of Ōsaka Castle in 1615, Japan enjoyed a period of peace, disturbed only by a few peasant revolts. The last major insurrection was the Shimabara Rebellion (1637–1638), which originated in a village on the island of Kyushu in the southwest of the archipelago. It was sparked by excessive taxation and the persecution of Japanese converts to Christianity. The leader of the uprising, Amakusa Shiro, perfectly exemplified the paradoxes of this new era. He was a Christian samurai capable of bringing together the warlike bearing of the bushi with the ideals of salvation, transmitted by the Jesuit evangelists who'd arrived in Japan in the 16th century. The uprising was brutally put down by government troops, with the help of cannons provided by Dutch merchants who'd settled in the archipelago. Built in the 16th century, this fortress was the main stronghold of the Toyotomi clan, which maintained its resistance against the armies of Tokugawa Ieyasu. The capture of the castle in 1615 led to the unification of Japan under the Tokugawa shogunate
With the revolt crushed, Iemitsu, the third Tokugawa shogun, decided to slam shut the gates of the country to all foreign influence and impose a self-isolating, draconian policy of control, the Sakoku. Iemitsu's measures guaranteed more than two centuries without war in Japan. The downside was that the samurai were rendered obsolete. Tens, even hundreds of thousands, of samurai whose forebears had been waging war for centuries, suddenly had to find new ways to survive outside the army. An 18th-century guard from the hilt of a Japanese katana sword.
Even in this new context, there were samurai who continued to demonstrate their swordsmanship in duels and exhibitions. The most famous of these was undoubtedly Miyamoto Musashi (1584–1645). Scholars are divided over whether or not he, as a teenager, participated in the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600, one of the last major conflicts before the Tokugawa shogunate. In any case, Miyamoto was left without a lord to serve and devoted himself to developing his own technique of combat with two swords: the wakizashi (short sword) and the katana (long sword). He showed off his skill in nearly 70 duels, all of them ending in victory for him and many with the death of his opponent. Before he died Miyamoto wrote a martial arts treatise that is well-known today: Gorin No Sho (The Book of Five Rings).
(These 3 samurai women were some of history's most legendary warriors) Swordsmen
In the mid-17th century, duels were banned and the use of swords was allowed only in self-defense. Faced with this restriction, the samurai resorted to provocations and insults so that their opponents would attack first. A samurai could then be justified in defending himself. Many samurai perfected the technique of iaijutsu, unsheathing their katanas at lightning speed before the opponent was able to land a blow. Iaijutsu derived from the martial art kenjutsu but soon became more popular. The samurai created a large number of dojos (martial arts schools) in which an aesthetic style of combat developed. These 19th-century illustrations show rōnin (masterless, wandering samurai) armed with a spear, or yari, and a daisho (pair of short and long swords). Scala, Florence (Bottom) (Right)
The dramatic change in the status of the samurai was reflected in the emergence of the rōnin; this was the name given to samurai who were left without a master. The Japanese word rōnin means 'men of the waves' and evokes an aimless wandering and a sense of being untethered, like floating leaves on the water. A romantic idea of the Japanese warrior par excellence soon grew around the figure of the rōnin; they were seen as mavericks who could perform all kinds of feats. This ideal was best embodied in the figure of Miyamoto Musashi. However, Miyamoto was an exception. In reality most rōnin tended to be sword-wielding vagabonds, their need to survive forcing them to accept unglamorous jobs such as bodyguards, enforcers, or simply laborers. A daimyo (feudal lord or land-holding master) accompanied by his warriors is about to set off for Edo (modern-day Tokyo) in a norimono (palanquin). The photograph was taken around 1867, just before the Meiji Restoration, which would end the feudal Tokugawa shogunate and force a westernization of Japanese society. Musée Guimet/RMN-Grand Palais Edo thrives
Meanwhile, in the city of Edo (today's Tokyo) everything seemed to be flourishing. Businesses and services grew year over year, creating a rich and populous city that impressed the few foreign visitors who came to Japan. Among these was the German physician and naturalist Engelbert Kaempfer, who claimed in the late 17th century that Edo was 'the center of the world.' The city's prosperity was largely because of a law that required feudal lords to live in Edo for six months of the year, maintaining their entire court of samurai and other servants there.
(The real history of Yasuke, Japan's first Black samurai) The mood of Edo at night is captured in this 19th-century painting.
Many rōnin also flocked to Edo. Some of them founded organized gangs that operated on the margins, practicing extortion and running prostitution rings. Over decades, these groups adopted increasingly complex codes and hierarchies, based on a distorted vision of Bushido, the samurai code. This gave rise to what would later become known as the yakuza, the Japanese mafia, made up of families comparable to samurai clans. The weapons, tattoos, and clothing of its members made the yakuza immediately recognizable and instilled fear among the common people. This was analogous to the way the bushi had identified themselves by carrying the daisho (traditional pair of swords comprising a long-bladed katana and short-bladed wakizashi) and displaying their family crest (kamon). Yakuza members would amputate sections of their own fingers (in an imitation of hara-kiri, suicide by disembowelment) as an honorable punishment if they ever made a mistake. A yakuza, the term for gangster, is depicted in this 19th-century illustration with his body covered in tattoos. Precarious economic situation
The samurai who did manage to remain in the service of a daimyo, or feudal lord, had to accompany him during the annual season he was obliged to spend in the capital. There, they received a minimal stipend in exchange for sporadic administrative or surveillance work on the master's estate. Since the code of their class prohibited them from making investments or engaging in any commercial activity, the economic situation of these samurai was often precarious. It wasn't uncommon for them to spend the day drinking in taverns and hiring prostitutes in Yoshiwara, Edo's pleasure district. They often ended up in debt to members of the city's emerging merchant bourgeoisie. Many samurai of ancient lineage even sold their katanas to pay for the mizuage (deflowering) of a maiko (apprentice geisha), a ceremony that was in fashion at the time. But not all samurai fell into this kind of debauchery. A samurai (far right) walks through the pleasure quarter of Edo with a maiko (apprentice geisha) on his arm, in this 19th-century woodcut by Hishikawa Moronobu.
There were also those who became notable personalities in the world of the arts. A case in point is that of Matsuo Bashō (1644-1694), one of the greatest haiku poets in Japanese history. He was the son of Matsuo Yozaemon, who had belonged to an old samurai family. As a young man Bashō began to serve the firstborn of the Todo clan, but his literary talent enabled him to distance himself from the military field. In the realm of painting, Watanabe Kazan (1793-1841), whose family was loyal to the daimyo Tahara, combined the traditional Japanese painting style ukiyo-e with European-style realism and shading (namban). Almost equally subversive in technique was the artist Kawanabe Kyōsai (1831-1889), considered one of the fathers of manga. Wandering poet Matsuo Bashō converses with two roadside tea drinkers in this 19th-century print in ukiyo-e style, which depicts subjects from everyday life. The family of Matsuo Bashō, the most famous poet of the Edo era, were samurai. But he had a simple peasant lifestyle growing up in the domain of the Todo clan, owners of Iga castle, between the ancient capitals of Nara and Kyoto. At an early age, Matsuo began serving the master of the castle, which gave him the opportunity to take up poetry. After the death of his master, Bashō moved to Edo, where he made a name for himself as a poet, working particularly in the genre of the haikai, which, under his influence, evolved into haiku. This poetic form comprises three lines, the first and last lines having five syllables and the middle line seven syllables. Through this precise format, Bashō sought to capture moments of nature. The haiku, then known as a haikai, had been seen as a popular amusement, but Bashō instilled in it a meditative power:
an old pond
a frog jumps into
the sound of water
Matsuo left Edo to settle in a cottage in the countryside. During those years, he also made various trips around Japan, which inspired many of his most celebrated haiku. Officials and bureaucrats
Some samurai rose to positions of power in the courts of the Tokugawa shoguns—not as warriors, but as ministers and bureaucrats. This was the case of Kira Yoshinaka (1641-1703), who became a kōke, a master of ceremonies managing high-level events. Daimyo Asano Naganori assaulted Kira during a disagreement and was then forced to die by seppuku, also known as hara-kiri, as punishment. This led to the infamous vendetta waged by the 47 samurai. After Asano's suicide, the samurai who'd been in his service converted into rōnin, then waited more than a year for the best moment to assassinate Kira and avenge their master. They were then condemned to commit hara-kiri.
Paradoxical as it may seem, the triumph of the most important samurai in the history of Japan, shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu, marked the beginning of the decline of his own caste. The bushi code lost much of the meaning it had in earlier times, while an idealized image of the samurai emerged describing a phenomenon that had never existed. In the 19th century, as Japan felt its integrity threatened by the English, Russians, and Americans, there was an attempt to shake off the old-fashioned, purist ideology of the warrior and instead mix it with one of nationalism in the service of the emperor. Today something of the samurai essence remains in Japan, whether in the militaristic tradition, in the activity of the yakuza, or in deeply rooted values such as discipline and artistic sensibility. I resolved to see the moon over the mountains of Kashima Shrine this autumn. I was accompanied by two men, a masterless samurai and an itinerant monk. The monk was dressed in robes as black as a crow... Off he strutted, thumping his staff, alone in the universe... I, however, am neither a monk nor a man of the world; I could be called a bat—in between a bird and mouse!
— Matsuo Bashō, Kashima Journal Nostalgia for the old ways of the samurai An 1864 portrait of a samurai by Felice Beato
The Hagakure is an 18th- century compilation of the reflections of Yamamoto Tsunetomo, a high-ranking samurai official. The collection, later translated into English, is a kind of handbook and ethical code of the samurai at a time when its warrior values were no longer seen as relevant. Having pursued a career as a scholar, a warrior, and a librarian, Yamamoto became a Buddhist priest and retired to the woods where he noted the thoughts that were later compiled into his masterpiece. Evocative of his woodland surroundings, Hagakure is translated either as 'in the shade of the leaves' or 'fallen leaves.' It recalls with nostalgia a time when samurai were true warriors willing to die at any moment. He writes extensively on how to approach death, show obedience to one's master, and be serene in adversity. A few examples of the many aphorisms are included in the following translation of Hagakure by William Scott Wilson. The original work also criticizes young samurai for abandoning the old ways. The emphasis on devotion and bravery follow the ideals of the old bushi—a far cry from modern samurai, whose role lacked the same need for discipline. OBEY THE MASTERIf one were to say in a word what the condition of being a samurai is, its basis lies first in seriously devoting one's body and soul to his master. And if one is asked what to do beyond this, it would be to fit oneself inwardly with wisdom, humanity, and courage... Intelligence is nothing more than discussing things with others. Limitless wisdom comes from this. Humanity is something done for the sake of others, simply comparing oneself with them and putting them in the fore. Courage is gritting one's teeth.
BE PREPARED TO DIE This is the essence of the Way of the Samurai: you must die anew every morning and every night. If you continually preserve the state of death in everyday life, you will understand the essence of Bushido, and you will gain freedom in the Way. Your whole life will be without blame, and you will succeed in your calling.
EMBRACE ADVERSITY When meeting calamities or difficult situations, it is not enough to simply say that one is not at all flustered. When meeting difficult situations, one should dash forward bravely and with joy. It is the crossing of a single barrier and is like the saying, 'The more the water, the higher the boat.'
THE YOUTH OF TODAY During the last 30 years customs have changed; now when young samurai get together, if there is not just talk about money matters, loss and gain, secrets, clothing styles, or matters of sex, there is no reason to gather together at all. Customs are going to pieces.
—Extracts from Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai, translated by William Scott Wilson A 19th century woodcut of a samurai This story appeared in the May/June 2025 issue of National Geographic History magazine.
Orange background

Try Our AI Features

Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:

Comments

No comments yet...

Related Articles

The Best Ground Chicken Recipes, According to Eater Editors
The Best Ground Chicken Recipes, According to Eater Editors

Eater

time2 hours ago

  • Eater

The Best Ground Chicken Recipes, According to Eater Editors

If there's one thing I keep in my freezer at all times, it's ground chicken. It might seem kind of boring — reminiscent of the ground-chicken-and-broccoli diets of protein bros — but ground chicken is surprisingly versatile (and, yes, leaner than beef and pork). It can be thrown into spaghetti, stir-fried into rice bowls, or added to mapo tofu. You can even turn it into a salad with tons of fresh herbs, like larb. Here are Eater editors' favorite recipes for using up that pack of ground chicken that you undoubtedly also have stowed away in your freezer. Namiko Chen, Just One Cookbook If I'm being honest, my go-to application for ground chicken is meatballs: these basic ones from Smitten Kitchen, any sort of tsukune (Japanese izakaya-style meatballs), or experimenting with new recipes (these had promise earlier this week, though I found the accompanying greens a little one-note). But I'm going to shout out a recipe that involves even less work than meatballs: soborodon. This colorful, simple donburi (or rice bowl) makes good use of ground chicken's delicate flavor; I love the speediness of the recipe for a weeknight meal (and I usually have the ingredients on hand), and the color balance of the dish adds visual appeal. It also makes a terrific next-day bento. — Missy Frederick, cities director Kaitlin Leung, The Woks of Life Mapo tofu is traditionally made with pork, but sometimes when I have the craving for this spicy, numbing dish — and only have a pound of ground chicken in the freezer — I use chicken instead. It still works! For me, the highlight of this recipe is the doubanjiang (spicy chile bean sauce) and the Sichuan peppercorn; the rest I've adapted with great success. Silken tofu is preferred, but I've used firm in a pinch and, again, the animal protein can be switched around (or omitted entirely!). The whole dish comes together in half an hour which is why it's on constant rotation in my household. — Kat Thompson, associate editor, Eater at Home José R. Ralat, Texas Monthly I have a strongly held belief that all lighthearted social gatherings could be improved by the addition of queso fundido, a Mexican dish of melty Oaxaca cheese, charred onions and vegetables, and often, a shower of still-sizzling chorizo sprinkled over the top. The only catch? Some members within my extended, blended family have a tenuous relationship with spice. That's why I sub ground chicken, seasoned with Ancho chile powder, smoked paprika, garlic powder, and a little dash of ground white pepper to bolster the many layers of smoky heat without relying on prohibitively hot peppers like serrano or jalapeño. Ground chicken's versatility allows it to replace its more fiery counterpart without losing all sense of the dish's original taste or identity. — Jesse Sparks, senior editor Kris Yembanroong, Night + Market Cutting back on carbs can be fun if you ignore pseudoscience (looking at you, Mr. Brady). Night + Market is one of my favorite stops in LA, and after my first visit, I knew we had to procure Kris Yenbamroong's cookbook, which provides an outstanding overview of larb. Yenbamroong states that once you master the ground chicken version, you unlock other possibilities. You can alter the heat and flavorings, like graduating from the pedestrian ground red pepper flakes you'd use on pizza to grinding red Thai chiles instead. That alone is enough to liven up ground chicken breast. The timing and order of mixing ingredients play key roles in this deceptively simple, high-reward dish; pay attention to that, and make sure you've got fresh cabbage or lettuce and the rest of your pantry ingredients beforehand, and this quick, light meal will be aces, even on a weekday. — Ashok Selvam, regional editor, Eater Midwest Dan Pelosi, NYT Cooking Dan Pelosi of Grossy Pelosi fame is known for his approachable recipes. This recipe is a prime example: it's just ground chicken, an egg, Parm, panko, and pesto. The results? Well, to stay with the alliteration theme, let's call them perfectly pleasant. You mix everything into a bowl, shape the meatballs, and throw it all into the oven for 10 minutes, though the air fryer works well too. The pesto adds lots of flavor for little work. There's a reason everyone loves Grossy Pelosi! — Bettina Makalintal, senior reporter Dining In With Eater at Home Highlighting the people, products, and trends inspiring how we cook now Email (required) Sign Up By submitting your email, you agree to our Terms and Privacy Notice . This site is protected by reCAPTCHA and the Google Privacy Policy and Terms of Service apply.

US Osprey makes emergency landing in Japan, officials say

time5 hours ago

US Osprey makes emergency landing in Japan, officials say

TOKYO - -A U.S. CV-22 Osprey made what Japanese officials called an emergency landing Thursday at Hanamaki Airport in northeastern Japan, about 300 miles north of Tokyo. Airport officials say the tilt-rotor aircraft touched down safely after reporting a mechanical issue mid-flight. The U.S. Air Force said the craft made a "precautionary landing" during a flight from Misawa Air Base to its home base, Yokota Air Base. No injuries were reported. Operations for commercial flights continued as normal. Video from Japanese broadcaster NHK shows the aircraft taxiing to the apron where uniformed personnel could be seen on top of the aircraft, near the center, inspecting the aircraft. Japan's Defense Ministry says it has dispatched staff to the site and is in contact with U.S. forces. The landing came six days after another U.S. Osprey set down in Akita Prefecture for a safety inspection, according to Japanese officials. That aircraft remained on the ground for over seven hours. A U.S. military public affairs officer described the Thursday incident as a "precautionary landing." The V-22 Osprey has been involved in several incidents in recent years, including a crash off Yakushima, in southern Japan, in 2023 that killed eight and grounded the fleet for months. Cullen Drenkhahn, a 1st lieutenant serving as a public affairs advisor for the 353d Special Operations Wing Kadena AB, told ABC News, "I can confirm a U.S. CV-22 Osprey conducted a precautionary landing today at Iwate Hanamaki Airport at 9:45 a.m." "The landing was executed safely and in accordance with policies. An assessment is ongoing to gather additional information. No injuries or damages occurred. There were no interruptions to airport operations," Drenkhahn said. "The aircraft is assigned to the 353rd Special Operations Wing and was flying from Misawa Air Base to its home base, Yokota Air Base. He added, "No further information at this time. the safety of our pilots and aircrew, as well as the men and women of Japan is our foremost priority."

Growing up, I called myself Chinese. A high school project helped me understand the difference.
Growing up, I called myself Chinese. A high school project helped me understand the difference.

Business Insider

time2 days ago

  • Business Insider

Growing up, I called myself Chinese. A high school project helped me understand the difference.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Ginny Wu, 32, a Taiwanese-American UCLA graduate living in Taiwan. Her words have been edited for length and clarity. For my dad's generation, the American dream was about building a better future for their kids. My uncle was the first in his family to get a green card. He eventually sponsored his siblings, including my dad, to leave Taiwan and move to the US. I was born and raised in the States, and never expected that, decades later, I'd end up moving in the opposite direction — back to Taiwan, where their journey had begun. I grew up in a small town Both of my parents are from Taitung, a rural county in southeastern Taiwan. My paternal grandpa was the county magistrate there, and my grandma ran a rice mill business. My dad moved to America in the late 1970s. A job opportunity brought him to Santa Clara, before he moved to Anaheim and then Texas, where he co-ran a motel and even managed an emu ranch. He traveled back to Taiwan to get married, and in 1988, my mom joined him in the US. I was born and raised in Norco, a small, rural town in Southern California. My dad loved the countryside and bought a house there. The town wasn't very diverse, and I was often one of just a few Asian kids in my class. I feel fortunate that I never really experienced racism growing up. At home, we spoke Mandarin. I hated studying the language as a kid, but now I'm grateful — I use Mandarin every day. An assignment changed the way I view identity Growing up, I didn't think much about what being Asian actually meant. I'd say I was Chinese — partly because we spoke it at home, partly because that's what teachers checked on school forms. That changed in high school, when I started the International Baccalaureate program. I wrote my extended essay on how Japanese colonization shaped Taiwanese identity. None of my previous history classes had covered that Taiwan was occupied by Japan for 50 years — my parents never went through it in depth either But the topic hit home. It helped explain why my dad said Japanese phrases before meals, and why my parents used Japanese loanwords without realizing. Exploring the Japanese influences helped me make sense of it all. Exploring that influence deepened my understanding of Taiwan's story, and my own. That essay planted a seed. A few months after graduating from UCLA with a degree in economics, I was hired by Northrop Grumman, an aerospace and defense company. Over the next four years, I worked as a financial analyst in a professional development program rotation. In my last rotation, I pivoted to a different track, taking on a role as a business process analyst in aerospace systems. Despite having a stable job, I started to feel boxed in. I'd never lived anywhere else, and I wanted to see what life outside Southern California could be like. The first move That desire led me to join Anchor Taiwan, a one-month startup immersion program, in 2018. I took time off work to attend, and it changed everything. Experiencing Taiwan as an adult, without my parents and surrounded by peers, helped me imagine building a life here. By the end of the year, I'd quit my job, packed up, and moved to Taipei. I didn't have a job lined up at first. I enrolled in Mandarin classes while job hunting and eventually landed a role at Taiwan Startup Stadium. That was my entry point into the local tech world. When I told my parents I was moving, my mom wasn't thrilled. Having grown up during financially unstable times in Taiwan, she valued career stability and didn't love the idea of me quitting. But she also knew I hadn't felt fulfilled. While they weren't exactly enthusiastic, they were supportive. I was lucky to have extended family in Taiwan — I stayed at my aunt's place while getting settled. I also applied for full Taiwanese citizenship so I could vote and now have my Taiwan ID. Taipei reshaped me I used to be a homebody, like my parents, but the city has drawn out a more social, spontaneous side. My closest friends are mostly locals who speak incredible English, and I feel more connected to my extended family than ever. Work-wise, the transition's actually been smoother than I thought. I'm not at a traditional local company, though — I've heard those can be pretty hierarchical and intense. Taipei has pushed me out of my bubble in the best way. It's clean, convenient, and safe. I walk or bike alone at night without a second thought. I take the bus to work, meet friends for dinner or to go rock climbing, and sometimes jog around the track near my office. Of course, there are things I miss about the US. My parents — now in their 70s and 80s — are still there, and they've never visited me in Taiwan. But I used to get anxious about the smallest things, like mailing a package or ordering a meal. Now, I navigate life in a new language, in a system I didn't grow up in. I've built something from scratch, and that feels like home. I dream of launching a business here one day.

DOWNLOAD THE APP

Get Started Now: Download the App

Ready to dive into a world of global content with local flavor? Download Daily8 app today from your preferred app store and start exploring.
app-storeplay-store