（建武の中興──権威と権力、そして天皇という問い）
The Kenmu Restoration was more than a failed attempt at reform; it revealed the fragile balance between authority and power in Japan’s political tradition. At its center stood Emperor Go-Daigo, whose resolve to restore direct rule exposed both the enduring strength and the inherent limits of the imperial institution.
Portrait of Emperor Go-Daigo, depicted in traditional court robes with regal ornaments, symbolizing his role at the center of the Kenmu Restoration in 14th-century Japan.
Introduction: Why the Kenmu Restoration Matters
The Kenmu Restoration (1333–1336) was one of the most dramatic yet short-lived attempts to reshape Japan’s political order. After the fall of the Kamakura Shogunate, Emperor Go-Daigo sought to restore direct imperial rule. But his effort soon collapsed, leading to the creation of the Ashikaga Shogunate and the long division of the court into Northern and Southern lines.
At first glance, this may seem like just another episode of power struggle in medieval history. Yet the Kenmu Restoration continues to raise a deeper and uniquely Japanese question: What is the role of the Tenno?
The word Tenno is often translated as Emperor. But in truth, the Tenno is not an emperor in the Western sense—a supreme monarch who directly wields political power. Rather, the Tenno has historically stood above political power, serving as the source of legitimacy for those who govern, while dedicating their own role to prayer for the peace and well-being of the people. This distinction between Tenno and Emperor is crucial for understanding why Go-Daigo’s attempt at direct rule created such tension.
The Kenmu Restoration matters not only because it altered the course of Japanese history, but also because it exposes the enduring dilemma at the heart of Japan’s political tradition: What happens when the Tenno steps down from authority into power?
2. The Fall of the Kamakura Shogunate
The Kamakura Shogunate (1192–1333) lasted for 141 years, the first warrior government in Japan’s history. Its collapse has often been explained in textbooks by a simple claim: that the shogunate could not reward its warriors after the Mongol invasions of 1274 and 1281. Yet this explanation is misleading. In fact, the shogunate survived for more than half a century after the invasions. Its real weakness lay elsewhere—in the system of inheritance.
Kamakura warriors practiced tanwake, the equal division of property among all sons. At first, this seemed fair. But the results were catastrophic over the generations. A family that began with land sufficient to support 100 people would, in the second generation, divide it into 50 and 50. By the third generation, it would be 25 each. By the fourth, 12.5. By the seventh generation, each heir would have only enough to feed one or two people. By the eighth, the holdings would be too small to sustain even a single household.
Given that a generation turned over roughly every twenty years, this meant that within about 140 years, warrior families lost the economic base that sustained them. And indeed, the Kamakura Shogunate collapsed in its 141st year. History, in this case, followed arithmetic.
The consequences were devastating. Warrior households that had once commanded large domains became impoverished and unable to support their retainers. By 1297—just four generations in—the shogunate had already issued the Tokusei edicts, canceling debts in a desperate attempt to relieve their vassals. But debt relief could not repair the structural flaw. With the economic foundations of the warrior class eroded, the legitimacy of the government itself crumbled.
This logic of tanwake—the “division of fields”—was later remembered with bitter irony. In Japanese, the word tawake eventually came to mean “foolishness.” To divide the land was to destroy both the house and the nation. The fall of the Kamakura Shogunate, then, was not simply a story of military defeat but of systemic failure, built into the very way families passed down their land.
3. Go-Daigo Tenno and the Dream of Restoration
When the Kamakura Shogunate finally collapsed in 1333, Emperor Go-Daigo seized the moment. Unlike many of his predecessors, he was not content to remain a symbolic source of legitimacy. Deeply conscientious and determined, he believed it was his responsibility to take direct command of government. This effort came to be known as the Kenmu Restoration.
Go-Daigo declared that the land should return to the ancient ritsuryō system of “public land and public people” (kōchi kōmin). In theory, this was a bold attempt to heal the divisions that had torn warrior households apart. He envisioned a society in which all land was held as public, and the Tenno himself guided political order. The very name “Kenmu” suggested his intention: to “establish the age of the warriors” on a renewed foundation.
Yet Go-Daigo’s dream carried a hidden contradiction. By taking the reins of government directly, the Tenno descended from the role of transcendent authority into that of political power. In Japanese tradition, the Tenno had never been a ruler in the sense of a Chinese emperor or a European monarch. The Tenno was meant to stand above politics, conferring legitimacy but not wielding power. By breaking this boundary, Go-Daigo risked transforming the Tenno from a source of authority into an absolute monarch—something alien to Japan’s political culture.
Still, Go-Daigo’s sense of duty cannot be dismissed. Faced with the chaos of a collapsing warrior order, he acted out of genuine concern for the people’s suffering. His personal resolve and moral courage drew loyal supporters such as Kusunoki Masashige and Kojima Takanori—figures remembered in Japan for their integrity and sacrifice. The tragedy was that his idealism collided with a deeper principle of Japanese governance: the separation of authority and power.
4. Authority vs. Power: The Core Dilemma
The Kenmu Restoration highlights one of the deepest tensions in Japan’s political tradition: the distinction between authority (ken’i) and power (kenryoku). In most civilizations, the ruler embodied both. A Chinese emperor, a European king, or even a modern president was at once the source of legitimacy and the wielder of power. Japan, however, followed a different path.
From the 7th century onward, the Tenno was understood not as a political ruler but as a sacred authority standing above politics. The Tenno conferred legitimacy on those who governed—whether they were regents, shoguns, or prime ministers—while personally dedicating their role to prayers for the peace of the people. In this way, political power could shift from one hand to another, yet the underlying authority of the Tenno remained unbroken.
Go-Daigo’s attempt at direct rule unsettled this balance. By stepping into the role of ruler, the Tenno blurred the line between authority and power. The result was confusion: to some, the Tenno’s rule promised renewal; to others, it seemed a dangerous departure from tradition. The split within the court—eventually producing the Northern and Southern dynasties—was a direct consequence of this dilemma.
This distinction is not an abstract matter. It is the very reason why the Japanese imperial line has endured for more than 2,600 years, longer than any other monarchy in the world. By separating authority from power, Japan preserved both continuity and flexibility. Governments could rise and fall, but the sacred legitimacy of the Tenno remained constant. When that boundary was crossed, however, as in the Kenmu Restoration, the system itself faltered.
5. The Failure of the Kenmu Restoration
Despite Go-Daigo’s determination and vision, the Kenmu Restoration quickly unraveled. Within just three years, his attempt to restore direct imperial rule collapsed, giving birth to the Ashikaga Shogunate and plunging Japan into the turmoil of the Northern and Southern Courts.
Why did it fail so swiftly? The immediate reason was political opposition. Many courtiers and warriors grew uneasy with the Tenno stepping directly into the role of ruler. For them, this seemed a violation of Japan’s longstanding order: the Tenno as authority, above politics, rather than as a political sovereign. Go-Daigo’s insistence on ruling directly blurred this boundary, and resistance soon mounted.
The deeper reason lay in legitimacy. When the Tenno assumes the position of absolute power, he risks ceasing to be the Tenno in the traditional sense. Instead of remaining the sacred authority that legitimizes rulers, he becomes just another ruler—and therefore subject to rivalry, opposition, and eventual overthrow. This is precisely what happened. Rival factions within the court elevated another line of emperors, creating the split between the Northern and Southern dynasties.
The Kenmu Restoration thus stands as a tragic lesson. It was not a lack of loyalty that doomed Go-Daigo, for he inspired devoted retainers like Kusunoki Masashige to sacrifice their lives. Nor was it simple bad luck. The tragedy was structural: by stepping into power, the Tenno undermined the very foundation that had allowed the imperial institution to endure for centuries. Authority could no longer remain uncontested once it became power.
In the end, the Restoration’s collapse reaffirmed the older principle. Political power could pass from shoguns to regents to ministers, but the Tenno must remain above it, as the unbroken source of legitimacy. Whenever that line was crossed, the system faltered.
6. Lessons of the Taiheiki
The story of the Kenmu Restoration is preserved most vividly in the Taiheiki, a sprawling chronicle compiled in the 14th century. Spanning forty volumes, it covers the fall of the Kamakura Shogunate, the rise and collapse of the Kenmu Restoration, the split between Northern and Southern Courts, and the turbulence of the early Ashikaga era.
To modern readers, the Taiheiki may appear simply as a medieval epic, full of battles, betrayals, and dramatic reversals. Yet Japanese writers have long warned that treating this text as mere material for historical fiction is perilous. The reason is not only the political intrigue of the era, but something deeper: any attempt to retell the Taiheiki forces us to confront the question of what the Tenno truly is.
This is why the period has been described as maddening for novelists. To depict Go-Daigo’s attempt at direct rule is to engage with the paradox of the Tenno—authority versus power. To explain why the court split into two rival dynasties is to acknowledge that the Tenno’s role itself had been thrown into crisis. Without addressing that central issue, the story of the age cannot be understood.
For this reason, the Taiheiki is more than just a chronicle. It is a mirror of Japan’s political philosophy. Its lessons are unsettling: that legitimacy can be shattered if authority and power are confused; that loyalty and sacrifice, no matter how noble, cannot redeem a flawed structure; and that the endurance of the Tenno rests precisely on remaining above the fray of politics.
In this sense, the Taiheiki continues to speak to us today. It warns that when the sacred is drawn too deeply into the struggles of power, both are diminished. And it reminds us that the greatest stability arises not from force alone, but from a shared recognition of authority that transcends power.
7. Conclusion: Light After Darkness
The failure of the Kenmu Restoration was not merely a historical accident. It revealed the fragility of political systems when the boundary between authority and power is blurred. Go-Daigo Tenno’s resolve was real, his loyalty and courage unquestionable. But ideals alone could not overcome the deeper principle that had sustained Japan for centuries: that the Tenno remains authority, while power is entrusted to others.
The Taiheiki closes with an air of darkness—wars unending, rival courts, and loyal retainers meeting tragic ends. Yet Japanese tradition has long carried another story: the myth of Ama-no-Iwato. When the sun goddess Amaterasu hid herself away, the world was plunged into darkness, and demons roamed unchecked. But when the cave was opened and light returned, those shadows were exposed for what they were.
So too with history. The collapse of the Kenmu Restoration brought division and turmoil, but it also forced Japan to confront, more clearly than ever, the true role of the Tenno. Out of darkness came clarity: that legitimacy rests not in force, but in an authority shared and recognized by all.
This is why the imperial line, though shaken, endured. Governments could rise and fall, yet the Tenno remained, carrying forward a continuity unmatched in world history. The lesson is not confined to the 14th century. It speaks to us still: true stability is born not from power itself, but from authority that transcends power, and from the people’s willingness to uphold it together.
