（なぜ日本最古の女神は妊婦だったのか）
An outdoor replica of a Jōmon-era flame-style clay vessel displayed on a stone pedestal in a green park, surrounded by lush trees.
Introduction
When we think of ancient goddesses, many imagine the graceful Venus statues of Europe—symbols of feminine beauty carved in marble. But long before Venus, in the forests and villages of prehistoric Japan, people created clay figures of women with swollen bellies, broad hips, and tender curves. These were not idols of beauty alone, but guardians of life.
The Jōmon people, who flourished in Japan from about 14,000 to 300 BCE, lived in a world where childbirth was perilous and every new life was a miracle. To protect mothers and unborn children, they shaped thousands—perhaps millions—of small figurines known as dogū. Most were intentionally broken and buried, perhaps as offerings, embodying the hope that the figurine would take on danger as a substitute, ensuring the safety of mother and child.
Discoveries of the Jōmon Goddesses
Three iconic Jōmon clay figurines from prehistoric Japan: the Jōmon Venus with rounded hips and breasts, the Jōmon Goddess with a swollen belly and strong curves, and the shakōki dogū with goggle-like eyes and ornate decoration.
Archaeologists have uncovered more than 15,000 clay figurines across Japan, and scholars estimate that as many as 30 million may once have been created during the Jōmon period. These dogū range from tiny palm-sized charms to statues nearly half a meter tall.
Among the most famous is the so-called “Jōmon Venus,” discovered in Nagano Prefecture, dating back nearly 5,000 years. With rounded hips, pronounced breasts, and a softly swollen belly, she is unmistakably a figure of motherhood. Even older is the “Jōmon Goddess” from Yamagata Prefecture, standing 45 centimeters tall, her powerful curves radiating fertility and life.
Other iconic examples include the “shakōki dogū,” or “goggle-eyed figurines,” with their strikingly exaggerated eyes and ornate decoration. While some have speculated fancifully about alien visitors or ancient robots, archaeologists now see them as part of the same tradition: figures centered on fertility, pregnancy, and protection.
One striking pattern connects nearly all of these finds: complete figurines are exceedingly rare. Most dogū were discovered deliberately broken and buried in pieces across a site. This suggests that they were never meant to be permanent statues, but rather offerings—sacrificed in place of mothers and children, carrying away danger into the spiritual world.
Interpreting the Pregnant Goddesses
Why were so many of these figurines shaped like pregnant women, only to be broken and buried? One compelling interpretation is known as the “substitute mother theory.” In this view, the dogū were created to embody the expectant mother, then ritually shattered so that the figurine would “take on” the risks of childbirth in her place.
Childbirth in the Jōmon period was fraught with danger. Without modern medicine, complications could be fatal for both mother and child. The desperate hope for safe delivery transcended words; it demanded ritual. By breaking the figurine, families may have believed they were sending the danger away into the spiritual realm, leaving the real mother and child unharmed.
This interpretation also explains why most dogū have distorted or stylized faces. If the likeness were too realistic, the gods might mistake the figurine for the actual woman. Instead, the figures were deliberately abstract, marked with symbolic patterns, and then returned to the earth as offerings.
Such practices reflect a culture that valued life profoundly. Rather than resorting to human sacrifice, as was common in many ancient societies, the Jōmon people offered clay substitutes. In their worldview, a figurine could stand in for a human being, sparing real lives while still fulfilling spiritual obligations. This suggests a society built on reverence for life, where women—the bearers of new life—were especially honored and protected.
A Culture Without Weapons, but Rich in Bonds
Perhaps the most astonishing fact about the Jōmon period is not only the abundance of figurines, but the absence of weapons of war. Across tens of thousands of archaeological sites throughout Japan, excavations reveal arrowheads and stone tools—but their size and shape suggest they were used for hunting small animals or processing food, not for killing other humans.
While bows and arrows certainly existed, the evidence shows they lacked the power and design to be effective against people. This sets the Jōmon apart from many ancient civilizations that rose and fell through conquest. Instead, their material culture was centered on daily life, ritual, cooperation, and beauty.
What did they leave behind instead of swords or spears? Countless ornaments, bracelets, and necklaces, often buried with women. Many appear to have been gifts from men to the women they loved, tokens of affection worn even into the grave as declarations of eternal union.
They also left traces of tenderness: clay vessels pressed with the footprints and handprints of children, preserved like keepsakes of lives too short. These artifacts tell us that even in an age when average lifespans were no more than twenty-four years, people longed to treasure connection and memory rather than conquest.
The pregnant goddesses of clay, the ornaments of love, the imprints of children—all whisper the same truth: Jōmon Japan was a culture that sought harmony instead of dominance, resonance instead of conflict. In a world where sacrifice often meant the destruction of life, the Jōmon people chose to preserve it, offering substitutes of clay rather than human flesh. Their legacy invites us to imagine a society where bonds, not battles, form the foundation of civilization.
Conclusion – Harmony and the Legacy of the Jōmon Goddess
The Jōmon goddesses remind us that civilization can be built not on conquest, but on care. Where many ancient societies offered human lives to their gods, the Jōmon offered clay figurines—substitutes that carried danger away so that real mothers and children might live.
At the heart of this practice lies a profound truth: women, as bearers of new life, were seen as sacred. Their role was not diminished or subordinated but honored, protected, and woven into the spiritual fabric of society. Even Japan’s highest deity, Amaterasu, is a goddess, embodying this reverence for the feminine.
This ancient perspective invites us to reconsider the way we live today. Modern debates about gender often frame men and women in opposition, as if equality could only be won through conflict. The Jōmon legacy offers another vision: men and women not as rivals, but as partners—different in roles, yet equal in dignity, bound together to nurture family, community, and future.
For over ten thousand years, the Jōmon cultivated a culture of resonance rather than rivalry, harmony rather than domination. Their goddesses, pregnant and powerful, still speak to us across millennia: life is sacred, cooperation is strength, and the true measure of a society lies not in its weapons, but in how it cherishes those who give life.
【Author’s Note】
Reading through the story of the Jōmon goddesses, I felt a quiet warmth. These figurines, shaped as pregnant women and then broken and returned to the earth, speak not of conquest but of protection. They embody a culture that sought to preserve life rather than sacrifice it.
The Jōmon legacy reminds us that women were honored as sacred, men and women were seen as partners rather than rivals, and society was built not on weapons but on bonds and beauty.
To me, the Jōmon goddesses are still whispering across millennia: “Cherish life. Protect one another. Build harmony instead of conflict.” Perhaps their message is not only ancient, but urgently needed today.
