Osaka’s Merchant Spirit and Today’s Overtourism

From Sengoku Merchants to a Global Visitor Magnet

Yesterday, for the first time in three months, I went out to the area between Namba and Shinsaibashi in Osaka and was astonished to find an unprecedented degree of overtourism. This situation feels as if it has surpassed even pre-pandemic levels, yet there is a significant difference from those times: the drastic decrease in Chinese tourists. Until around 2019, Chinese visitors were the mainstay of overtourism in Osaka, but recently the demographic has dramatically shifted. Now, vast numbers of Western tourists dominate, creating a chaotic environment where it is impossible even for myself to identify exactly which countries they are from. Due to this transformation, local Osaka residents are already beginning to avoid visiting urban areas whose atmosphere has drastically changed. Overtourism has been causing numerous issues worldwide, often described in Japan as “the pollution of the 21st century (21世紀の公害).” While plenty of discussions around related issues such as currency depreciation (yen weakening) already exist, I would like to examine this phenomenon from a unique perspective this time.

First, do readers know exactly why Osaka, the gateway to Kyoto and Nara, became one of the epicenters of overtourism? Several intriguing historical reasons explain this, but here, let’s focus on one particularly fascinating element. Compared to major tourist destinations like Tokyo, historical Kyoto and Nara, ski resorts in Nagano or Hokkaido, or beautiful beaches and islands in Okinawa, Osaka does not have especially distinctive tourism resources. Yet, curiously, Osaka consistently attracts large numbers of travelers. Many visitors now frequently remark that, compared to Tokyo or Kyoto, people in Osaka seem remarkably sociable and approachable. Let’s explore this observation from a historical perspective, which should provide an opportunity to enjoy Osaka differently, not merely as a participant in temporary overtourism.

Not widely known abroad, Japan has a famous saying from the Edo period: “Kyoto takes ten generations, Tokyo three generations, and Osaka just one (京都十代、東京三代、大阪一代).” This means it takes ten generations to be considered a true Kyoto local, three generations in Tokyo (referring historically to Edo people, though now the term is somewhat irrelevant), but only one generation in Osaka. Among these three major historic cities, this clearly illustrates Osaka’s inherently welcoming and open-minded nature. Indeed, people from Osaka are widely known within Japan as significantly more outgoing compared to other regions. Historically, this sociability has deep roots connected to the region’s commercial dominance, though I deliberately speak of this in the past tense because this dominance no longer exists.

Particularly notable is my hometown, Sakai City in Osaka, which during Japan’s Sengoku period (1467-1615, the era of warring states), functioned uniquely as an autonomous city-state—the only one in Japan (alongside another autonomous area, Hirano, also in Osaka). The background to this autonomy was its role as a significant trading hub for foreign ships (Nanban-sen), a major economic center for money and goods, and a hub for producing blades (originally samurai swords) and firearms. Most importantly, the area was home to many highly skilled merchants. These merchants had to exercise great caution when dealing with samurai—warriors known for their pride and military power. Even a small misstep could provoke severe consequences, potentially endangering their lives. Navigating this tension, merchants from Sakai eventually developed strategies to charm these fierce samurai, significantly advancing the culture of tea ceremony as an effective means to close business deals. From this commercial environment emerged Sen no Rikyu (1522-1591), born into a merchant family in Sakai and recognized as the founder of “Wabi-cha” (侘び茶). Unlike the modern, ritualized tea ceremony, tea and merchants were historically inseparable.

Geographical context further illuminates this scenario. Historically, Osaka was divided into three large provinces: Settsu (摂津国), Kawachi (河内国), and Izumi (和泉国), each with distinctly different cultural characteristics. Sakai was strategically positioned at the border of these three provinces, a fact reflected in its very name, as “Sakai” (堺) literally means “border.” It was an area strongly characterized by independent, self-governing tendencies, not belonging entirely to any one province. An important detail to note here is that historical Sakai refers specifically to a small coastal district, unlike today’s much larger administrative area. For samurai, control of Sakai—essential for producing not only indispensable swords but also innovative firearms—was directly connected to achieving national unification. Additionally, the city served as a key distribution point for Western innovations brought by European missionaries, such as globes and telescopes. Indeed, Tokugawa Ieyasu famously utilized a telescope to monitor enemy movements and develop strategies in battle.

However, Sakai’s residents, fiercely independent and commercially astute, consistently resisted domination by any single warlord. Ultimately, Oda Nobunaga, the ambitious daimyo from Aichi Prefecture who stood on the brink of national unification, lost patience with this defiance and forcibly subdued Sakai through military and political pressures. This historical narrative is also depicted in Takeshi Kitano’s recent film “Kubi” (2023), which I recommend for deeper understanding.

Sakai subsequently cultivated numerous unique cultural practices, exerting significant influence by selling cultural goods to Kyoto. This gave rise to the saying, “Everything begins in Sakai (ものの始まりなんでも堺).” However, after succumbing to Nobunaga’s cunning strategies, circumstances rapidly changed. Following Nobunaga, Toyotomi Hideyoshi shifted the seat of power by constructing Osaka Castle near Sakai, strategically aiming to simultaneously control Sakai’s martial production to the south and Kyoto, home to the emperor and nobility, to the north. Ultimately, complete unification under Tokugawa Ieyasu fully incorporated Sakai into the centralized governance. The Tokugawa shogunate, based far east in Edo (modern-day Tokyo), initially allowed relative autonomy in Sakai, recognizing that oppressive rule like Nobunaga’s or Hideyoshi’s would be unsustainable long-term. Eventually, however, the decisive policy of national isolation (sakoku) relocated foreign trade exclusively to distant Nagasaki, severely diminishing Sakai’s commercial significance and initiating its decline.

The final blow to Sakai came during World War II, when massive U.S. air raids turned all of Osaka into scorched earth, erasing the city’s merchant-driven prosperity overnight. Had it not been for these bombings, Sakai might today rival Kanazawa to Kyoto’s north as a major historical tourism hub, a perspective I personally hold. Yet, even wartime devastation could not erase the deeply embedded spirit of the people. After the war, the resilience of Osaka’s merchants quickly reignited the city’s economic growth, transforming it by the early 2000s into Western Japan’s principal city rivaling Tokyo. During this post-war period, many people, particularly from Western Japan (especially Kyushu), migrated to Osaka seeking employment. Due to Osaka’s inclusive atmosphere—aptly captured by the phrase “just one generation”—the city attracted numerous new settlers, including my own grandparents, who migrated during that era.

While this article briefly touches upon the distinctive character of Osaka’s people, if an opportunity arises, I plan to further discuss how this local temperament influenced the city’s approach during the overtourism boom of the 2010s. Particularly because Kyoto lagged significantly behind in this tourism wave.