In 1543, a storm-tossed Chinese vessel brought Portuguese traders to the shores of Japan, marking the first direct contact between Japan and the West. What followed was an age of cultural collision, technological transformation, and religious upheaval. This episode explores the first encounters between Japanese warlords and Portuguese merchants, the adoption of firearms, the explosion of global trade fueled by silver and silk, and the arrival of Francis Xavier and the Jesuit missionaries. Through storytelling and historical insight, we trace the seeds of trust and betrayal, belief and resistance, that would shape Japan’s centuries-long struggle with foreign influence and the haunting silence that followed.
📜 Full Episode Transcript
Strangers from the West
Hey everyone, welcome back!! I know, I know—you’ve been eagerly awaiting Episode 2, and here we are... finally. After Episode 1, we sort of took a little detour with Episodes 1.5 and 1.75. Call them the 'bonus features' or maybe 'the extended cut that nobody asked for but absolutely needed.' Either way, we’re finally ready to dive back in to our storyline.
So here we are: The year is 1543, and a Chinese ship carrying some rather lost Portuguese traders lands on the shores of Tanegashima after a storm. Picture it: a small island in Japan, a group of Europeans fresh off the boat, and nobody speaks the same language. It’s not exactly the perfect setup for a smooth introduction.
Japan, at the time, was in the middle of the Sengoku period—a century-long civil war, where everyone was trying to out-swordfight everyone else. And then, out of nowhere, the Portuguese show up with their shiny muskets and fancy silk. What could possibly go wrong? Well, as it turns out, everything—depending on your point of view—but the arrival of the Portuguese would end up changing Japan’s future in ways that no one could have predicted. So let’s dive into this fascinating and somewhat awkward first encounter between Japan and the West.
This is Episode 2 - Strangers from the West
As I alluded to before… at the time of the Portuguese arrival, Japan was in the throes of the Sengoku period, a century-long civil war that had fractured the country into warring domains. Regional warlords vied for power, and in the chaos of this fragmented political landscape, the Portuguese brought with them new opportunities: trade, technology, and religion.
For Japan, trade quickly became essential. The Portuguese were the first Europeans to reach Japan, and they introduced an array of goods that fascinated the Japanese elites: firearms, silk, and even exotic animals like peacocks. But it was the matchlock musket, in particular, that revolutionized Japan and as we described in episode 1.75, Warlords like Oda Nobunaga eagerly adopted this new weapon. Muskets changed the nature of warfare in Japan, giving Nobunaga and others a crucial advantage over their rivals. Nobunaga’s famous victories at Okehazama and Nagashino were largely due to his strategic use of firearms, which allowed him to cut through the traditional power structures of samurai warfare.
As the Portuguese and Japanese began trading, it quickly became apparent that both sides had something valuable to offer. For the Portuguese, Japan’s wealth, particularly in silver, was essential. European markets, and their the lucrative trade with China, relied heavily on silver to maintain balance. Japan's abundant silver reserves made the country an attractive partner. But the relationship wasn’t only about silver; Japanese luxury goods, including lacquerware and finely crafted ceramics, were in high demand among European elites… as we will soon see…
…In a meeting aboard a Portuguese trading ship docked at Tanegashima, João Pereira, a Portuguese merchant, sat across from a representative of a local daimyo. The room was filled with samples of goods: delicate silk, elegant ceramics, and several muskets. As they spoke, a chest of silver coins sat open between them, its contents gleaming in the soft lantern light.
João, eyeing the chest of silver, leaned forward with a confident smile. “This silver,” he said, tapping one of the coins, “flows like water through Europe. Our markets, and even those in China, crave it. Your mines could satisfy that hunger.” He slid a coin across the table as if offering a glimpse of untapped potential. “And in return,” he gestured toward the musket lying on the table, “we offer you power—power that could reshape your wars. These weapons are unlike anything your rivals possess.”
The Japanese official, though intrigued, remained cautious. He examined the musket carefully. He turned the weapon over in his hands, studying it closely. “With these, a man could change the course of a battle in a matter of moments.”
João nodded, recognizing the subtle shift in negotiation. “Precisely,” he said. “Imagine what a man like your daimyo could do with an army equipped with these.” He let the thought linger, knowing that in the chaotic world of the Sengoku period, even the slightest advantage could tip the balance of power….
…It wasn’t just about war, though. As trade grew, Portuguese merchants began shipping Japanese lacquerware and ceramics back to Europe, where they became prized possessions among the wealthy. The Japanese were quick to realize that this trade could benefit them in more ways than one. Not only were they acquiring valuable goods and technologies, but they were also establishing themselves as a player in the growing global economy.
As the Japanese official carefully placed the musket back on the table, he looked at João with a measured expression. “Perhaps,” he said, “this is the beginning of a profitable partnership—for both of us.”
…Later, as, upon returning to their ship the Portuguese merchants gathered together to discuss their next steps… they understood that silver was their ticket to wealth—not just in Japan but through their trade with China. João Pereira leaned over a large map of East Asia, tapping his finger on the silver mines of Japan.
“This silver is our key,” João said “Japan has more silver than they can use themselves, but for us, it’s priceless. The Chinese demand it for silk, porcelain, and tea—the very goods that will fetch a fortune back home in Lisbon.” He traced a line from Japan to China on the map. “We can take Japan’s silver, move it into China, and from there, control the flow of goods into Europe. It’s the perfect system.”
Pedro Alvares nodded thoughtfully, but his expression remained cautious. “Yes, but the Japanese are not fools,” he said. “They are using silver as their bargaining chip, they want what we can offer—muskets, silk, even exotic animals. They’re eager for trade.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “We must be careful not to reveal how much we need their silver, or they may raise the price too high.”
João smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Let them think they’re in control,” he said. “As long as they keep giving us silver, we’ll continue to offer them what they want—muskets to fight their wars and silk for their nobles… the weather here is outright oppressive!! It wont be long before we’ll get these people addicted to silk!! It’s hard to bear the humidity nd heat in the summer here without it… he spat.
But it’s our silver that opens the doors to China, and with it, we’ll dominate the trade routes.”
On the other side of the trade relationship, the Japanese leaders were discussing the potential benefits of their new trading partners. The daimyo and his advisors gathered in a private chamber, considering their strategy.
Takashi, the daimyo’s chief strategist, was the first to speak. “These Portuguese bring us what we need,” he said, holding up a musket. “Firearms, silk, luxuries that we cannot produce ourselves. In exchange, we give them our silver—something we have in abundance.” He placed the musket back on the table, his eyes sharp with calculation. “We must continue this trade. The silver is worth far less to us than the weapons and goods they bring.”
Another advisor, older and more conservative, nodded in agreement. “We control the terms,” he said. “They are desperate for our silver to fuel their trade with China, but we must not allow them to think they hold any power over us. As long as they give us what we need, we will continue this exchange. But we must be vigilant—if they become too dependent on our silver, we can tighten the noose.”
The daimyo remained silent for a moment, considering the words of his advisors. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm but decisive. “We will trade with them on our terms. Silver for muskets, silver for silk. They believe they are gaining the upper hand by taking our silver, but in truth, it is we who benefit. Let them think they are the masters of this arrangement—while we use their goods to strengthen our position.”
As trade between Japan and the Portuguese developed, it became clear that both sides stood to gain tremendously from the relationship. For Japan, the arrival of the Portuguese brought more than just foreign technology like muskets—it opened the door to valuable luxury goods, particularly silk. At this time, Japan produced silk but not at the scale or refinement of China, whose silk was considered the finest in the world. The Japanese elite were eager for Chinese silk, using it as a marker of status and prestige. Thus, by trading their abundant silver for silk, Japan gained access to a new level of luxury that their own industry couldn’t yet match.
For the Portuguese, Japan’s silver was a critical key to their broader trading ambitions in Asia. Silver was highly sought after in China, which used it to fuel its economy. By obtaining Japanese silver, the Portuguese could buy Chinese silk, porcelain, and other goods, which were in high demand back in Europe. This triangular trade not only benefited Japan and Portugal but also helped link the economies of Europe, Japan, and China in ways that reshaped global commerce. As both sides became increasingly dependent on one another’s resources, they became part of a growing network of global trade, setting the stage for the modern economy.
During this time, Japan had limited direct access to Chinese trade due to political restrictions and regional conflicts. The Chinese Ming Dynasty had adopted a policy of restricting foreign trade, particularly with Japan, because of ongoing piracy and diplomatic tensions. These restrictions, often referred to as the haijin or "sea ban" policy, were put in place to curb the activities of pirates (known as wokou), many of whom operated from the Japanese coasts. As a result, direct trade between Japan and China was officially prohibited for long periods.
This situation created an opening for intermediaries like the Portuguese, who had established themselves in key trading ports such as Macao. The Portuguese filled the gap by acting as middlemen, using Japanese silver to purchase Chinese goods like silk and porcelain and then transporting these goods to Japan, Europe, and other parts of Asia. In this way, the Portuguese played a crucial role in connecting the isolated Japanese and Chinese markets, taking advantage of the restrictions that prevented direct trade.
Additionally, the early interaction between Japan and the West was also about ideas. Alongside traders came missionaries, eager to spread Christianity to this distant land…
…In 1549, Francis Xavier stood at the bow of the Portuguese ship as it glided into the tranquil waters of Kagoshima's harbor. The sight before him was foreign and arresting—towering green-clad mountains surrounded the bustling town, alive with merchants, fishermen, and townspeople. Yet for Xavier, the beauty of the land was but a backdrop to his purpose. His thoughts were fixed firmly on his mission—to bring the message of Christ to a people who had never heard His name.
As the ship docked, Xavier turned to his companions with a look of calm... "Today, we enter a land untouched by the Word," he said. "The Lord has willed us to come here, and these souls have not yet seen His light. We must bring them the salvation they do not yet know they need."
They stepped off the ship and into the bustling streets of Kagoshima, and almost immediately, Xavier was struck by the elegance and order of this distant land. The Japanese people moved with grace and purpose, their robes finely woven, their faces marked by calm intelligence. This was no savage land, no uncivilized people. It was a place steeped in culture, tradition, and religion—far from the image he had held of distant lands.
Later, as they settled into their quarters, Xavier penned a letter to a fellow Jesuit back in Europe. "The people of this country," he wrote, his mind racing with thought, "are the best I have ever encountered in all our travels. Their desire for knowledge is profound and extraordinary, unlike any other nation. They show great courtesy and kindness, and they possess an intelligence that is, in truth, remarkable."
But not all was easy. The teachings of Christ were alien to the Japanese, and their deeply rooted beliefs in Buddhism and Shintoism proved to be a formidable challenge. The bonzes—their religious leaders—quickly grew suspicious of Xavier's message, seeing it as a threat to their power and influence. Opposition was fierce, and many openly mocked the new faith.
One day, as Xavier sat with a group of curious nobles, discussing the faith, one of them, Lord Anjiro, spoke up. "Why should we abandon the beliefs of our ancestors for a god we have never heard of?" he asked, his tone polite.
Xavier responded "Because," he said, "the Lord of Heaven is not a god of one land or one people. He is the Creator of all things, the ruler of the stars, the earth, and all who dwell within it. His love and mercy are for all men, and through Him, there is eternal life."
To his surprise, some of the nobles, including Anjiro, seemed intrigued. "Tell me more of this Christ," Anjiro said. "If He is truly as you say, perhaps there is something in His teachings worth considering."
Xavier's heart lifted. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. Over time, more and more Japanese began to convert to Christianity, drawn not only by the promise of salvation but by the schools and hospitals the Jesuits established, the education they offered, and their connections to Western trade.
Yet the resistance from the bonzes only grew stronger as the number of converts swelled. They saw their influence wane as more and more Japanese began to question the old ways. In a letter home, Xavier expressed both his admiration and his frustration: "These people," he wrote, "are so intelligent and so noble, yet their hearts are bound by the chains of their ancient beliefs. Still, I have faith that the grace of God will soften even the hardest of hearts."
By the time Francis Xavier left the shores of Japan in 1551, the foundations of a faith had been laid, though its permanence in that alien soil was anything but certain. Xavier, the Spanish Jesuit whose mission had carried him to the edge of the known world, had met with challenges that would have daunted a lesser man.
Japan, with its rich traditions of Buddhism and Shinto was unlike Europe. And yet, in the short span of two years, Xavier's evangelical fervor and spirit had managed to plant the seeds of Christianity—a foreign faith in a land fiercely proud of its own spiritual and cultural heritage.
Xavier had come with high hopes, buoyed by the early successes of the Portuguese traders who had made contact with Japan. He believed that Japan could become a stronghold of the Catholic faith in Asia, much like the colonies in the Americas. Yet, the reality was more complicated. Japan was a country fractured by civil war, and its ruling class was wary of outsiders. It was only through Xavier's extraordinary tenacity and his shrewd political acumen that he managed to win a hearing in the court of the daimyos.
By converting a few powerful figures, Xavier believed he could secure a foothold for the Church in Japan. And in this, he was not mistaken. For while the number of converts in his lifetime was modest, the groundwork had been laid for something larger. When he departed Japan, leaving behind a fledgling community of Christians, no one could have predicted the explosive growth that would follow. By the end of the century, despite the shifting political winds and the looming threat of suppression, the number of Christians in Japan had swelled to over 300,000!!
Yet, the Jesuits' work went beyond evangelism. As in other mission territories, the Jesuits sought to engage with the local culture and language… to understand it deeply… to spread their message effectively. To that end, the Jesuit missionaries compiled the Nippo Jisho in 1603, a Japanese-Portuguese dictionary that would become one of the most comprehensive linguistic resources available for Europeans at the time. This dictionary contained over 32,000 entries, providing a tool not only for religious instruction but for broader cultural exchange. For many years, the Nippo Jisho was the only dictionary of the Japanese language in Europe, bridging the linguistic gap between the two worlds and cementing the Jesuits’ role not just as missionaries, but as scholars of the cultures they encountered.
But if Xavier's story was one of hope, it was also one of foreboding. As in so many moments of history, the forces of reaction were gathering even as the seeds of change were being sown. The Tokugawa shogunate, which would rise to power in the early 17th century, would see in Christianity not just a religion, but a threat to the established order. The persecution that would follow—brutal, systematic, and merciless—would nearly extinguish the faith that Xavier had brought. But even then, the story of Japan’s Christians was far from over. In secret, they would carry on their beliefs, waiting for a day when they could worship openly once again.
…The small village on the rocky coast of Nagasaki had grown accustomed to whispers. Whispers of fear, whispers of faith. The air was thick with the scent of the sea and with the quiet prayers uttered under one's breath… prayers that could get one killed. In the candlelight of a dim hut, a small group gathered around an old man, his face etched with lines of age and sorrow. His hands clutched a small, wooden cross, a relic of a time when their faith was not hunted. His voice was soft but carried the weight of generations.
“Our faith is a flame,” the old man began, his voice wavering yet resolute, “small, but it cannot be extinguished.”
One of the younger men, Hideki, looked at him with doubt clouding his eyes. “But how can we keep the flame alive, Ojii-san?” he asked. “The Shogunate...they are everywhere. If we are caught, it will not just be death—they will make an example of us. They have already burned others. They have already crushed the crucifix beneath their feet.”
The old man’s gaze hardened, his voice growing stern. “They think they can destroy us, Hideki, but they do not understand the strength of the heart. Faith, like water, finds a way to flow, even through the smallest of cracks. Remember what Father Ferreira told us before he was taken: ‘He who stands firm to the end will be saved.’” He paused, allowing his words to sink in.
A chill ran through the room at the mention of Father Ferreira. The priest had been one of the last foreigners to come before the Tokugawa shogunate had shut Japan's doors to the outside world. After years of persecution, Ferreira had been forced to step on a fumie—a bronze image of Christ—publicly renouncing his faith. His betrayal had shaken them all.
Yet, the old man had a faraway look in his eyes. “Even Ferreira...perhaps he did not fall as deeply as we think. He may have been lost to us, but our faith lives on. What did Christ tell his apostles? ‘Behold, I send you out as sheep in the midst of wolves; so be shrewd as serpents and innocent as doves.’”
The room fell into a tense silence. The image of the Shogun's samurai, with their gleaming swords and cold, impassive eyes, haunted their thoughts. They knew the stories. Stories of entire villages laid waste, entire families torn apart in their refusal to renounce the Christian faith. For decades now, the Tokugawa shogunate had carried out its persecution with ruthlessness.
Hideki swallowed hard. “And if we are betrayed, Ojii-san? If they come for us?”
The old man let out a long sigh, setting the cross down gently before him. “We will endure, Hideki. Even in the darkest of times, we must hold onto what we know is true. When the Shogunate thinks they have crushed us, we will still remain, like the roots of a tree hidden beneath the soil. We may be quiet now, but the day will come when we can stand openly once again. ‘Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.’”
A knock came at the door, startling the group into silence. The flickering light of the candle threw their shadows against the wall, stretching them into ghostly figures. Hideki quickly hid the cross beneath the floorboards, and the others sat still, bracing for what might come.
The door slid open slowly, and a familiar face appeared in the gap. It was Aiko, her breath short from running. “They're coming,” she whispered urgently. “They’ve reached the neighboring village. We don’t have much time.”
The old man nodded solemnly. “Then we must hide the relics, and wait. We have done this before. And we will do it again, until the day when we no longer need to hide.”
The group moved quickly but quietly, each person knowing exactly what to do. They had practiced this routine countless times, hiding their precious symbols of faith—rosaries, crosses, a torn page from a Bible—deep within the earth or behind false walls.
As the sound of hooves echoed nearby, Hideki’s heart pounded. He looked to the old man one last time. “Do you really believe, Ojii-san?” he asked softly, almost desperate for reassurance. “Do you truly believe we will one day be free to worship again?”
The old man placed a gentle hand on Hideki’s shoulder, his voice as steady as a rock. “I believe, my son, because I have seen darkness before. And I have seen the light that follows it. ‘The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.’ Our day will come, Hideki. Perhaps not in our lifetime, but it will come.”
With that, they scattered into the shadows, leaving the candle to flicker one last time before being snuffed out. The sound of approaching soldiers grew louder, but the light of their faith, though hidden, continued to burn, deep in their hearts, waiting for the day when it could blaze brightly once more.
Thus, in Xavier’s departure, we see the beginning of a dramatic, turbulent chapter in Japan’s history. What began with the humble efforts of a lone missionary would soon grow into a complex and often tragic story, one that would forever link the island nation with the tides of global history and the ambitions of an ever-expanding Western world. The Jesuits left behind not just a religion, but an intellectual legacy, symbolized by the creation of the Nippo Jisho, which would forever mark the intersection of Japan and the West.
The first signs of open hostility came with the ban on Christianity in 1614. The shogunate issued a decree expelling all missionaries and ordering the destruction of churches. Christians were forced to recant their faith, and many were subjected to torture and execution if they refused. The persecution reached a fever pitch under the reign of Tokugawa Ieyasu, who sought to eradicate the foreign religion from Japanese soil once and for all.
This era of suppression culminated in Japan’s decision to close itself off from the outside world entirely. The policy of sakoku—national isolation—was implemented in the 1630s, cutting off nearly all foreign trade and interaction, save for a few controlled points of contact with the Dutch and Chinese. Christianity, it seemed, had been successfully purged from Japan.
Or so the authorities thought.
In reality, the faith lived on in secret, passed down from generation to generation by the Kakure Kirishitan—Japan’s "hidden Christians." These hidden believers developed ingenious methods for preserving their faith while blending it with elements of Buddhism and Shintoism to avoid detection. For centuries, they kept the light of their religion burning quietly, waiting for the day when they could once again practice openly.
It would not be until the mid-19th century, when Japan reopened its doors to the West during the Meiji Restoration, that the Kakure Kirishitan would reveal themselves to the world. Western missionaries were astonished to discover small communities of Japanese Christians who had maintained their faith in isolation for over two hundred years!!!.
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