ResearchPod Summary
Takeshi Matsumae investigates the origins and development of the Japanese myth of the descent of the Heavenly Grandson, Hononinigi. While many scholars have historically interpreted this myth as evidence of a foreign invasion—specifically the 'horserider theory' suggesting northern invaders brought these traditions to Japan—Matsumae challenges this view. By analyzing various versions of the myth found in the Kojiki, Nihon shoki, and other ancient documents, he argues that the story is fundamentally a ritual myth tied to the Daijo-sai (the Grand Food Tasting Festival) and the annual Niiname-sai harvest rites.
Matsumae posits that the myth developed in four distinct stages. Initially, it was a simple harvest ritual where the deity Musubi (a spirit of fertility) and his son, the rice spirit, were honored. In this early form, the deities were not even named. Over time, as the harvest festival grew into a grand national event, the names Takami-musubi and Hononinigi became fixed.
Crucially, Matsumae argues that the solar goddess Amaterasu was not part of the original myth. Her inclusion, along with the 'three sacred regalia' and the five clan chieftains, was a later development occurring between the sixth and seventh centuries. During this period, the Yamato court adopted the concept of rulers as 'children of the sun' from Korean kingdoms and elevated Amaterasu to the status of the Imperial family's primary ancestor. The complex, often contradictory narrative found in the Kojiki is, according to Matsumae, the result of syncretizing these older, local rice-fertility myths with the newer, state-sponsored worship of Amaterasu.
This study shifts the focus of Japanese mythology from a search for historical 'invasion' events to an understanding of how state ideology and religious ritual shape national narratives. By identifying the myth as a product of internal ritual evolution and later political adaptation, Matsumae provides a framework for understanding how the Yamato court constructed its divine legitimacy. It highlights that the 'myth of the descent' was not a static historical account, but a living tradition that was continuously reshaped to serve the evolving needs of the Imperial state.
[[RP_SECTION:origins-of-the-myth|Origins of the Myth]]
Sam: The foundational myth of the Japanese state—the descent of the Heavenly Grandson Hononinigi—is essentially a ritual script for an ancient harvest festival that was later retrofitted with imperial genealogy. That is the primary finding of Takeshi Matsumae in his 1983 analysis of the Kojiki and Nihon shoki chronicles.
Alex: So the creation myth isn't a historical account of a divine arrival, but a repurposed agricultural ceremony? [[RP_SECTION:textual-stratigraphy-analysis|Textual Stratigraphy Analysis]]
Sam: That's the argument. The key evidence lies in the textual stratigraphy of the Nihon shoki. The Kojiki version is heavily embellished with political regalia and imperial attendants, but the most primitive version describes Hononinigi simply as a baby wrapped in a coverlet. That coverlet—the ofusuma—maps directly to the ritual seats used in the Daijo-sai harvest festival, which symbolize the death and rebirth of the fertility deity.
Alex: So the baby isn't just a character detail. It's a functional piece of ritual equipment that survived the political rewrite.
Sam: Exactly. Think of the myth as a document with tracked changes left on. The original was a harvest ritual—a rice spirit descending to ensure crop fertility. The imperial lineage, Amaterasu, the five clan chieftains—those are all later insertions, probably added in the sixth or seventh century to legitimize the Yamato court. And the tells are right there in the text: whenever Amaterasu appears, the regalia and the clan deities appear alongside her. They are a package deal.
Alex: So the inconsistencies between the different versions aren't scribal errors. They are chronological layers—the seams where distinct traditions were stitched together. [[RP_SECTION:agrarian-ritual-connections|Agrarian Ritual Connections]]
Sam: That is the central claim. Matsumae points specifically to the awkward transition between the Oshihomimi and Hononinigi descent stories in the Kojiki. That discontinuity is where the older agrarian layer and the newer political layer fail to fully integrate. Strip away the Amaterasu additions, and you are left with the ritual logic of the Niiname Matsuri—the annual harvest festival—intact underneath.
Alex: And the Daijo-sai is the inaugural, most elaborate version of that same festival?
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Sam: Right. The Niiname Matsuri is the annual iteration; the Daijo-sai is the grand version performed at the start of a new reign. Matsumae's argument is that the Hononinigi descent was originally a mythic enactment of this ritual cycle. The newborn wrapped in the ofusuma mirrors the ceremonial seat used for the fertility deity—the imagery of death and rebirth that is central to the agrarian calendar.
Alex: What about the Amaterasu substitution specifically? In the earliest accounts, who is actually sending Hononinigi to earth? [[RP_SECTION:solar-deity-substitution|Solar Deity Substitution]]
Sam: Takami-musubi—an ancient fertility deity, not Amaterasu. Amaterasu only enters the narrative later, likely as the Ise Shrine's influence grew and the court needed a solar divine ancestor to match the prestige of Korean state-building models. The Paekche Kingdom was sending sophisticated administrative concepts to the Yamato court by the sixth century, including the idea of the sovereign as a solar deity's descendant.
Alex: So the myth is a hybrid—indigenous agrarian rite at the base, imported political theology layered on top. [[RP_SECTION:political-theology-layers|Political Theology Layers]]
Sam: That's Matsumae's model. He points to what he calls the "five division system" in the mythic structure, which mirrors administrative practices from Paekche. And he frames this not as cultural imposition but as diplomatic exchange—the court deliberately patching existing harvest rituals with prestigious foreign concepts to consolidate authority. The solar genealogy gave the Yamato court a claim that resonated with the regional powers they were trying to absorb.
Alex: Which is why the imperial regalia—the mirror, the sword, the jewels—read as political additions rather than original ritual objects.
Sam: Precisely. In the primitive stratum, none of that is present. The regalia belong to the later update, not the original core. What Matsumae is doing, methodologically, is using internal textual inconsistency as a stratigraphic tool—the same way an archaeologist reads disrupted soil layers. The myth's contradictions are the data, not noise to be explained away.
Alex: That reframes the whole interpretive problem. Scholars who tried to reconcile the versions into a single coherent narrative were actually smoothing over the evidence.
Sam: That's the implication. The palimpsest structure is the finding. You have the original agrarian layer—localized, practical, tied to the rice cycle—and then the political meaning is entirely rewritten on top of it while the ritual logic is preserved, because the harvest festivals themselves continued to be performed. The Daijo-sai is still conducted at imperial accessions today. The ceremony outlasted the myth's original meaning, and the myth was rewritten to keep pace with the state that performed it.
Alex: So what Matsumae is really showing is that the foundation of the Japanese imperial tradition rests on a much older, much more localized agricultural practice—and the divine genealogy is the later construction, not the other way around. [[RP_SECTION:implications-for-state-narratives|Implications for State Narratives]]
Sam: That is the load-bearing claim. And it has broader implications for how we read state-founding narratives generally. The political theology that presents itself as primordial is often the most recent layer. The older, messier, more practical ritual underneath is what actually persisted. Matsumae's analysis of the Kojiki is a useful reminder that when a state tells you where it came from, the more interesting question is usually what it was before it needed to say that.
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