Musuhi: Where Myths Begin
Once again this year, I was able to traverse the Japanese archipelago, conducting my own independent inquiries. As is my custom, I pursued several themes simultaneously, but the one I placed particular weight upon was the quest for the origins: How, truly, were the Japanese myths recorded in the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki born? Japanese mythology was, for a very long time, a tradition transmitted solely through oral recitation. In ancient times, beginning with the lore of a tribe in a single locality, these stories became stratified during the process of forming composite tribes or organizing into clans.
The binding together of these disparate tribes is symbolized in mythology primarily through marital relations. However, one must not succumb to the error of viewing this as a literal narrative of who wed whom; it is, rather, a symbol of alliances between different groups. While there were likely various patterns to these unions, a distinct form becomes visible when multiple foreign tribes cooperated to sublimate into a single, larger tribal dimension: rather than elevating a god from the lore of one specific tribe, they created and established a completely new god. This was likely born of necessity; to elevate the god of a specific tribe would disrupt the communal power balance, rendering peaceful governance impossible.
In other words, the more complex the intermingling of different tribes became, the more they avoided clinging to existing deities—which would invite conflict—and instead, to maintain a stable equilibrium of power, they first created a new god under a shared rite. Through this intriguing method, they realized a peaceful governance. What is most fascinating is that, premised on the lineage of this newly created god, the respective gods of the composite tribes were set into the genealogy in a reverse direction. By “reverse direction,” I do not mean the linear progression of time from grandparents to parents to children; rather, the genealogy was designed to project retroactively into the past.
This may appear arcane, but to articulate it simply: suppose there were four tribes. Into the lineage of the god created jointly by these four tribes—whether as children, descendants, or ancestors—the gods worshipped by each individual tribe were retroactively incorporated. This made it possible for the traces of the composite tribes to be firmly embedded within the genealogy of the single, jointly created god. I believe this groundbreaking invention enabled highly stable governance and became the wellspring that allowed for continuous expansion. This had already begun as a major current from the middle of the Jomon period.
Such examples are innumerable within the mythology. While the myths place immense importance on divine genealogy, there is simultaneously a problem. After all, the fundamental myths we can reference today—the Kojiki (compiled in 712) and the Nihon Shoki (compiled in 720)—are Japan’s oldest extant books, yet they were established in the first half of the 8th century. It is undeniable that they possess a heavily political and state-centric image, assembled under the new rulers of a very new era.
Indeed, the existence of the husband-and-wife sovereigns who governed this new era—the 40th Emperor Tenmu (reign: 673–686) and the 41st Empress Jito (reign: 690–697)—becomes crucial. It was during the era of these two sovereigns that myths, traditions, and legends were unified and established within a single canon, causing the lineage of Japanese gods to divide into two.