Commentary

Despite differences, human spirit
has much in common

by Don Cunningham

One of the first things a visitor to Japan notices is the apparent differences between Western and Asian cultural behavior and attitudes. Japanese drivers ride on the left side of the road. Japanese women present delightfully decorative chocolate treats to men on Valentine's Day. There are simply far too many dissimilarities between our respective modern societies to list in a few paragraphs. The dissimilarities increase dramatically when comparing lifestyles from the perspectives of different time periods.

My undergraduate students often seem to focus their attention on the often rather unusual aspects of Edo period lifestyles. For myself, I am a die-hard fan of chambara, a popular genre of both Japanese television and film more properly referred to as jidai-geki (historical or period dramas). The customs of Edo's early residents depicted in these entertaining episodes frequently seem rather exotic, maybe even a bit bizarre, in contrast to my normal, everyday routines and modern-day Western style conventions.

The fascination of any historical study for me, though, is frequently not found so much in learning about the incongruities of the period under examination, but in appreciating that many aspects of human behavior are apparently unaffected by the calendar. This realization that we share many common human values with our ancestors is a real cultural treasure worth finding.

While in Japan last year to do some research, I had an opportunity to interview Nawa Yumio, the current headmaster of Masaki-ryū Manrikigusari-jutsu and Edo Machikata Jutte-jutsu and a well-known author of several books regarding Japan's feudal era. The 92-year-old former teacher still often serves as a technical consultant for various movies and television dramas set in the Edo period. During a pleasant afternoon in his Tokyo apartment, he openly shared many of his personal insights on this historical era.

One area of particular interest to me was the establishment and responsibilities of early firefighting units in the capital city of Japan. Most buildings were constructed of wood and paper and there were many fires. In fact, fires were so common, they were known as Edo no hana (flowers of Edo). After more than 100,000 perished (nearly one-quarter of the city's population) in the Meireki fire in 1657, government administrators engaged townsmen as firemen and organized them into local units. The work was so dangerous, though, only the lowest classes of Edo’s population—the homeless, the unemployed, former criminals, and so on—were willing to become firefighters.

Their firefighting techniques were primitive by today's standards. Whenever a fire broke out, the firemen, known as hikeshi, were mainly concerned with containing the damage and preventing the flames from spreading. The hikeshi, many of them experienced in the construction trades, would quickly tear down a burning structure and any surrounding houses or buildings to create firebreaks.

Within their ranks were several other specialist positions. The firefighting unit members also included matoi-mochi (banner holders), hashigo-mochi (ladder holders), and hira (runners and porters) for carrying equipment. Helpers known as gaen cleared roads, dispersed crowds, and held back bystanders.

At one point, I asked Nawa sensei about the matoi, a sort of firefighting unit's standard or flag still often featured today in festival parades. Frequently seen leading street processions, the matoi consists of many strips of either very thick paper or soft cloth strung from a single pole. I had heard the matoi was more than just a unit banner and was somehow employed in fighting fires.

Nawa sensei explained how the firemen would use a hand-operated pump to soak the matoi strips with water, then station themselves on peaks of nearby buildings or frequently even on the rooftop of the burning structure. The banner holders would then spin the matoi by twisting the pole back and forth. Burning embers rising in the heated air would either be trapped in the matoi and extinguished by the water-drenched strips or be pushed back to the source by the gusts created by the spinning strips.

Standby banner holders would line up on the roof peak behind the one turning the matoi. Should he succumb to smoke inhalation or heat from the fire below, the next in line would replace him. As each individual banner holder collapsed and fell from the roof, another would assume responsibility for spinning the matoi until the firemen working below extinguished the fire.

As he described the responsibilities of these feudal-era firemen, I was struck by how their dedication to duty and self-sacrifice paralleled the same traits so vividly demonstrated by the New York City police and firefighters in the aftermath of the terrorist attack on the twin towers of the World Trade Center. Like their Edo-period counterparts, they had bravely rushed into harm’s way to assist the innocent victims, many of them sacrificing their own lives in their valiant efforts.

It is good to respect and to cherish our personal cultural differences. The diversity of Japanese and Western cultures is minor, though, when compared with the disparity between our modern world and life during the Edo period.

A part-time university lecturer and full-time graduate student, Don Cunningham has written two books on Edo period history. Both by Charles Tuttle Publishing, the first, Secret Weapons of Jujutsu, is currently in print and the second, Taiho-Jutsu: Law and order in feudal Japan, is scheduled to be released early next year.