Going Undercover, Warring States Style
Some clever espionage in medieval Japan, and nary a ninja in sight
So, last time around I introduced the epic historical chronicle An Unofficial History of Japan (Nihon gaishi), the complete translation of which I’m pretty close to finishing. Part of the reason I wanted to introduce the Gaishi here, as part of our ongoing discussion of ‘ninja’ lore, is that it provides us with a ready-made (though not necessarily comprehensive) overview of warfare in medieval Japan. That overview includes a lot of mentions of espionage, sabotage, and assassination operations, precisely the kind of stuff that the historical shinobi are supposed to have specialized in. There’s value, therefore, in looking at these accounts and seeing how well - or how poorly - they fit with the view of medieval warfare we might expect from reading the usual coterie of ‘ninja’ writers.
To give the conclusion in advance, what we see in the pages of the Gaishi is for the most part a fairly poor fit for the ‘ninja’ hypothesis. One of the biggest issues is that major warrior houses all seem to have been quite capable of planning and executing their own covert operations in-house, using their existing vassals to do the job. This model seems to account for the vast majority of the Gaishi’s mentions of what we might call sneaky warfare, and its prevalence raises the question of why a warrior clan would bother hiring outside specialists in the first place if - as seems to be the case - they were fully capable of taking care of business themselves.
On a related note, if you’re still holding on to it, you’ll want to drop the idea that ‘ninja’ were necessary because there were some kinds of ‘dishonorable’ tactics that the samurai class weren’t willing to use. That’s total bullshit; as I’ve noted previously, absolutely nobody in Warring States Japan had any real problem with assassination, suborning enemy vassals, trickery, ambush, betrayal, etc etc. It’s notable that the earliest ninjutsu writers, such as Itō Gingetsu and Fujita Seiko, both seemed to believe that ninjutsu-sha were a part of most major warlords’ conventional military structure rather than being outsiders or mercenaries. Both writers had some major problems as historians, but their view seems more supportable than the post-60s hypothesis that there were independent ‘ninja clans’ clearly distinguishable from other social groups of the time period.
Anyway, enough talk. Let’s look, then, at a case of military espionage that took place in eastern Japan around the year 1540, the height of the Warring States period.
The Uesugi Clan: Pride Before a Fall
The background to what we’re about to discuss here is the rise of the Later Hōjō clan in the Kantō region in eastern Japan, roughly equivalent to modern-day Tokyo and its surrounding conurbations. Coming more or less out of nowhere, by 1550 or so the Later Hōjō had seized control of much of the Kantō region from the previous incumbents, namely the eastern branch of the Ashikaga Shogunate and their hereditary deputies the Uesugi clan.1
The Ashikaga Shogunate proper was based in Kyoto, but from the mid-14th century onward the Kyoto Shoguns hit upon the idea of posting a junior member of their clan in the eastern Kantō as well, the better to keep the peace in other parts of Japan. This Kantō Ashikaga deputy would be known as the Kantō kubō, the Lord-General of the Kantō. Most of the Lords-General of the Kantō were assisted in their rule by advisors from a specific local warrior clan, the Uesugi, who came to be hereditary holders of the office of Chief Officer of the Kantō (Kantō kanrei).2 This meant that the Uesugi wielded a lot of power themselves, particularly if the Lord-General wasn’t terribly interested in the day-to-day minutiae of governance - which, as it turned out, happened quite a bit. To make matters even more unstable, the Uesugi themselves had also splintered into different rival branch factions. The two most prominent Uesugi factions, named after districts in the city of Kamakura where they had their residences, were the Yamanouchi Uesugi and the Ōgigayatsu branch, and neither of these got on well.3 In fact, at various points during the early 16th century, they were engaged in open warfare with one another.
The Later Hōjō: Not Incompetent
Into this stepped the warrior Hōjō Sōun, a descendant of the Ise clan, one of the vassal clans of the Kyoto Shogunate.4 Sōun was an exceptionally canny operator; perceiving that the divisions in the existing clans of the Kantō were an opportunity, he worked first with the support of the Imagawa clan in Suruga Province, then proceeded to slowly take over quite a bit of the southern Kantō region, starting with the Izu peninsula and then expanding northward to Sagami Province. Aware of the infighting within the Uesugi clan, Sōun threw his support behind the Yamanouchi branch against the Ōgigayatsu, expecting that this would weaken both and he could clean up afterward. That was more or less what did happen, though Sōun died before he could see the full glory of the Later Hōjō dominion over the Kantō, and his work would be carried on by his sons and grand-sons.
Where we are in 1540, as our Gaishi episode begins, is that the still-influential Uesugi clan is led by Uesugi Norimasa, of the Yamanouchi Uesugi branch.5 The main problem for the Uesugi is that their lord Norimasa, as the Gaishi portrays him, is a fool:
As Uesugi Norimasa was both arrogant and lazy, his favored vassals Kanno Nobukata and Uehara, Assistant Master of the Armories, took over the functions of government for themselves, ensuring that the governance of Norimasa’s domains advanced their own personal interests more often than not. Norimasa, for his own part, did little more than lose himself in banqueting and carousing, keeping a harem of several dozen dancing-girls. Norimasa’s actions served to set the tone throughout all of his domains, and nobody paid any further attention to military matters. Norimasa was always dismissive of the Ise clan [i.e. Later Hōjō], saying, “They are but a minor house; what can they possibly do to us?”
The only one concerned by this state of affairs was a Uesugi house elder by the name of Nagao Igen.6
Luckily for the Uesugi, then, they do have at least some men who understand the situation. This elder Nagao Igen then comes up with a fairly clever ruse to gain some inside intelligence on what the Later Hōjō might be doing:
In the years leading up to this there had been two men by the name of Honma and Inomata who had shown great merit in battle as Uesugi infantry commanders. When Uesugi Norimasa had assumed his position as clan head, he had issued an order that no-one within his domain was to hunt deer. The favored Uesugi vassals Kanno and Uehara had violated this prohibition, but no official dared to denounce them for it. Honma and Inomata’s fiefs were very close to those of Kanno and Uehara, and so Honma and Inomata often hunted alongside them. But then someone denounced Honma and Inomata for violating the prohibition on hunting, as a result of which the two were stripped of their lands and forced to seclude themselves in their residences.7
Nagao Igen is smart enough to realize that Honma and Inomata’s being in the doghouse is actually an opportunity.8 He summons the two and suggests that they use their situation as cover to go and spy on the Later Hōjō, led at this point in time by Hōjō Ujiyasu.9 Like I said earlier, you’ll need to drop any ideas you might have had about undying samurai loyalty, because Honma and Inomata’s cover is basically to approach the Later Hōjō and say, “Look, our boss is a dick. Can we come and work for you instead?”:
Honma and Inomata duly went to the Hōjō castle-town of Odawara and submitted a petition through the Hōjō’s trusted retainers the Tame clan, which said: “Uesugi Norimasa, Lord of Yamanouchi, spurns those who are loyal and embraces sycophants. We have come here because we have been branded as criminals. Even if we were to be pardoned, we no longer wish to serve Norimasa; we ask instead to serve Lord Ujiyasu.”10
The ruse works; the two are accepted into Hōjō service and given infantry-man positions, although the Hōjō, being pretty sharp, are careful not to trust them too much. The spies Honma and Inomata are competent enough to maintain their cover for about a year, after which they return to the Uesugi and present a report, the gist of which is: We might have a problem here:
“We have closely observed Hōjō Ujiyasu’s character. He is resolute, composed, and steadfast, and none can tell what he may be thinking. He is well versed in both the hard and the soft arts; at times he reads scholarly books, while at other times he trains himself in the use of sword and spear. He treats each man with equal respect and the courtesy due to his station, and conducts himself with the greatest solemnity. […] Ujiyasu’s subordinates view him with both love and awe, and every one of them would gladly die for his sake. By contrast, almost every one of the Uesugi military commanders is secretly in communication with Ujiyasu; there are only nine men who are not.”11
This is, in many respects, a masterful intelligence operation; Nagao Igen manages to create an almost bullet-proof cover for Honma and Inomata as ill-used and disgruntled vassals, a cover which has the major advantage of being true. Honma and Inomata are then able to operate for a year without their cover being blown, and gather a lot of useful intelligence, not least that the vast majority of the Uesugi’s own military commanders have reached out to the Later Hōjō themselves and are therefore of uncertain loyalties.
This report reaches Uesugi Norimasa, who does finally appear to understand the threat posed by the Later Hōjō and begin to get his affairs in order. However, as has been known to happen in modern times, a intelligence assessment becomes subject to political influence. Norimasa’s two corrupt vassals, who stand the most to lose from Norimasa taking an active role in Uesugi affairs again, come up with a hit-piece to counter Nagao Igen’s warning:
“Hōjō Sōun was a mere beggar from Ise who had to rely on the strength of the Imagawa to take Izu Province. His descendants are thus the progeny of a pauper from a minor province, and are quite beneath our notice, yet certain elders of our clan view him with an awe and fear that is entirely unwarranted. This is indeed laughable. […] Nagao Igen trembles in fear at these descendants of beggars, and sends out spies to try to find out what they are doing. Why did he not stop to reflect on how we would become a laughing-stock in the neighboring provinces? As for Honma and Inomata, they disobeyed your orders and were held to account for their crimes; if you take them back into your service so rapidly, everyone will say that the Uesugi have no men of real talent. What we have heard is that Hōjō Ujiyasu is fond of poetry composition, enjoys the company of foolish young men, and knows nothing of the ways of war.”12
This counter-assessment is laughably, catastrophically wrong, since Hōjō Ujiyasu is in fact an extremely competent military commander. He proves this five years later in 1545, taking on and defeating a combined force of both branches of the Uesugi, Yamanouchi and Ōgigayatsu, a shattering blow from which the Uesugi in the Kantō never recover.
Spy Hard
I like this particular episode from the Gaishi, first and foremost, because it’s a fun story; the internal machinations within the Uesugi camp are fairly amusing, and help to give a sense for why the clan was ultimately pushed out of the Kantō by the upstart Later Hōjō. But I also like it because it provides an example of covert operations in Japanese warfare that never comes within a hundred miles of a ‘ninja’; on the contrary, Honma and Inomata’s cover is plausible precisely because they are known to be warriors in service to Norimasa (i.e., ‘samurai,’ although again I acknowledge the looseness of the term during this period), and that status is the same thing that they use in order to carry out their intelligence functions. As we’ll see a couple of times in the next few posts, this ruse of pretending to defect from one warlord to another was not all that uncommon; we’ll see it in a week or so providing a path for a fairly spectacular assassination involving the ancestors of the first Tokugawa Shogun Tokugawa Ieyasu.
I want to acknowledge, by the way, that Nihon gaishi itself is not necessarily a reliable source. Its author, San’yō, was not very selective or critical about the material he included in his history, so it’s entirely possible that the episode I just related is partly fictional or heavily embellished. The way Honma’s story in particular ends is a bit too novelistic for my liking - he’s ultimately killed in battle, but not before cursing Norimasa as “a benighted lord” and asking his Hōjō opponent to promise to serve Ujiyasu well. The account of Honma and Inomata’s spying mission is not unique to Nihon gaishi - I’ve found it in at least one other 19th century history as well - but I am not completely sure yet what San’yō’s original source was. My guess is probably the chronicle Five Generations of the Hōjō Clan (Hōjō godaiki, compiled 1614, pub c. 1659), but I’m on the road right now and don’t have access to the necessary materials to confirm.
Embellished it may be, but Honma and Inomata’s story still rather backs up the point I made at the beginning of the post, that most medieval warrior clans probably wouldn’t have needed to hire ‘ninja,’ even if ‘ninja’ had existed as the pop image generally portrays them. I find it much more productive, in fact, to suspend the notion of ‘ninja’ from these kinds of discussions, to start with the textual sources and see what is actually going on, rather than using a 20th century interpretive device that may or may not fit the events in question.
So, that’s what I’d like to do for the next post. We’ll take a look at a couple of cases of assassination in medieval Japan, one of which involved the ancestors of the first Tokugawa Shogun Ieyasu, and which - unlike the vast majority of supposed ‘ninja’ actions - actually succeeded.
Later Hōjō 後北条; Uesugi 上杉.
Kantō kubō 関東公方; Kantō kanrei 関東管領.
Yamanouchi 山内; Ōgigayatsu 扇ガ谷.
Hōjō Sōun 北条早雲 (?-1519).
Uesugi Norimasa 上杉憲政 (1523-1579).
Original kanbun text: 憲政驕惰。嬖臣菅野信方。上原兵庫。專其政。政多偏私。憲政獨耽遊宴。蓄舞妓數十人。國內成風。不復問武事。常微伊勢氏曰。彼小家耳。何能爲。老臣長尾意玄獨以爲患。This text and below is from Nihon gaishi kōgi (Kōbunsha, 1914), vol. 2, pp. 438-442.
Original text: 先是。本間某。井俣某。以卒長有戰功。憲政之嗣立也。令管內。禁射鹿。菅野上原犯禁。吏不敢告。本間井俣邑其傍。相雜射獵。乃爲人所告。失邑屏居。
No clear dates of birth or death are available for Nagao Igen, Honma, or Inomata.
Hōjō Ujiyasu 北条氏康 (1515-1571).
Original text: 二人赴小田原。因多目氏請曰。山內公疏忠近佞。臣等獲罪至此。縱令得免。不願仕也。願得仕君公。
臣等熟視氏康爲人。沈毅不測。剛柔兼濟。時而讀書。時而自用刀槍。能等禮節。威重自持。[…] 故其下畏而愛之。人人自奮。願爲效死。而上杉將士。皆陰通款。其不通者九人而已。
早雲。伊勢丐兒也。倚今川氏之力。以攘伊豆。小國賤人之裔。何足爲慮。而我諸老過畏怖之。甚可笑也。[…] 而瞿瞿然丐兒子孫是怖。遣間諜詗消息。獨不顧隣近之嗤乎。本間井俣背旨獲罪。而遽復用之。世謂上杉氏無人也。臣聞。氏康喜歌詠。比頑童。不知武事。
Fiction or not, I think there is an interesting piece of information here. The fact that they are using an opportunity. This opportunity could only be exploited if Honma and Inomata were the ones going undercover as spies. It could not have been done by just anyone. To be able to use opportunities like this, any warlord would have had to trust their retainers to do this kind of work. Both be willing to do it and competent to do it.