At the Bottom: Slaves and Base People

Episode Narrative

In the unfolding tapestry of Japan's early medieval era, the 7th century stands as a pivotal moment. This was a time when the Ritsuryō legal system emerged, profoundly shaping societal structures. Modeled after the Tang codes of China, it imposed a clear division between the “ryōmin,” or "good people," and the “senmin,” known as "base people." This latter classification encompassed a range of marginalized groups — household slaves, or nuhi, government servants, and outcasts. The implications of these social categories were deep and lasting.

Household slaves were not mere laborers; they were legally recognized as property. Their value was dictated by their capacity to serve aristocratic families and government offices. Often bought and sold, they lived in a world devoid of personal freedom, bound by the whims and commands of their owners. The lives of these nuhi were characterized by rigorous domestic and agricultural toil, their sweat contributing to the well-being of the elite while they themselves remained invisible, their efforts unacknowledged.

Moreover, penal laborers, known as zōnin, inhabited a dark corner of this social hierarchy. Comprised of criminals or prisoners, these men and women bore the burden of forced labor, often enduring harsh conditions while working on public projects. Roads, irrigation systems, and even palace constructions rose from their labor, yet they remained shackled not just by physical restraints but by a legal framework that stripped them of dignity and autonomy.

While some nuhi could attain freedom through the rare gift of manumission — usually as a reward for loyal service — this was an unlikely fate for most. Ownership dictated their lives, and freedom was a distant dream. The moments of liberation were few and far between, founded more on the unpredictability of a master’s favor than on hope or ambition.

The senmin class also embraced a diverse array of entertainers, artisans, and craftspeople — individuals whose skills were essential yet stigmatized. Leatherworkers, butchers, and morticians found themselves caught in a web of societal taboos, deemed unclean by the spiritual standards of Buddhism and Shinto. These occupations carried the weight of societal disdain, leading to a paradox where those providing vital services were essential yet ostracized.

Despite their low status, these base people were the backbone of urban centers. They fueled the daily functioning of cities, temples, and aristocratic estates. The irony lay in the elite's reliance on their labor, even as they looked down upon them. The Ritsuryō system sought to regulate the movement of people, mandating that households be registered and laborers be accounted for through periodic censuses. Still, enforcement of these rules proved uneven, particularly beyond the confines of city life where the power dynamics became more complicated.

By the 8th century, the power of the imperial court came to rest in Nara, later shifting to Heian-kyō. Here, a stark divide began to deepen, one that separated the affluent urban elite from the struggling rural commoners. Aristocratic households maintained sprawling estates, known as shōen, which relied on an often blurred distinction between free laborers and those bound as serfs or slaves. Economic pressures reshaped realities; many peasants found themselves chafing against the constraints of de facto serfdom, slaves in all but legal status.

Amidst this tumult, entertainers thrived, roving between provinces as sarugaku performers, acrobats, and musicians. Living on the margins of society, they experienced the tumult of economic fluctuation. Yet their talents found a stage at court and religious festivals, a testimony to the resilience and creativity that thrived even in adversity.

Meanwhile, Buddhist monasteries evolved into significant landowners, employing both free and unfree labor. They also became sanctuaries for escaped nuhi, offering refuge to those seeking to escape the chains of servitude. These religious institutions, intertwined with daily life, played a critical role in shaping social landscapes.

The Heian period, which stretched from 794 to 1185, marked the emergence of private armies and the gradual rise of a warrior class, known as the bushi. However, during the earlier centuries of 500 to 1000 CE, military roles remained ancillary to the administrative functions enforced by the Ritsuryō system. In this complex tapestry of power dynamics, the status of women in lower classes remained low. Despite their limited legal rights, there were instances where widowed or unmarried women could inherit property or manage households, allowing for a flicker of agency amidst overwhelming societal constraints.

Daily existence for those categorized among the senmin was arduous. Life revolved around hard physical labor, restricted mobility, and pervasive social exclusion. Yet amid these challenges lay opportunity — the potential for advancement through specialized skills or the patronage of those higher up the social ladder. Such opportunities were seldom afforded to most, yet they offered glimmers of hope in a world where many labored in the shadows.

Stigmas attached to certain occupations extended well beyond the 7th century, reverberating through time and helping to shape Japan’s outcast communities, known as the burakumin. These communities bore the brunt of societal disdain, solidifying divisions that cast long shadows over the lives of those trapped within them.

Quantitative data on slave populations remains scarce, veiled in the mists of history. However, existing records suggest that slaves represented a small fraction of the total population, concentrated primarily in urban centers and on the estates of the elite. Their existence was one of hardship, yet even within these constraints, certain individuals managed to carve out spaces for cultural influence. Skilled artisans and entertainers experienced moments when their crafts and performances captivated the very society that marginalized them.

The intricate dynamics of this society, marred by inequality and sustained by intertwined fates, prompt reflection on humanity’s enduring struggle against entrenched hierarchies. At the heart of this narrative is a stark question: what does it mean to be at the bottom? As we examine these lives shaped by labor, stigma, and resilience, we are confronted not only with the harsh realities of the past but also with the continuation of these struggles in our own times.

The journey through Japan's early medieval society serves as a mirror, reminding us of the complexities of human existence. The mix of aspiration and limitation, dignity and degradation, echoes through the annals of history. Thus, as we close this chapter on the lives of slaves and base people, we are left to ponder the legacy of their struggles, both in the context of their time and in the social fabric of the present day.

In every corner of our world, the stories of those considered “other” reveal enduring truths about society, identity, and the search for dignity. What choices lead to the forging of a person’s fate within the grand design of history? The answers may lie not only in the chronicles of the past but within our own hearts, guiding us in the ever-unfolding narrative of humanity.