Latest / The History of Portugal: The Small Nation That Built a Global Empire — Fexingo History / The Portuguese Arrival in Japan: Nanban Trade and Cultural Clash
Transcript
- Lucas: So we've talked a lot about Portugal's empire across Africa, India, and Brazil, but today I want to go somewhere completely different: Japan. The story of how Portuguese traders and missionaries ended up on the other side of the world is one of those accidental encounters that changed both civilizations. Luna: Wait, accidental? I thought they sailed there on purpose. Lucas: Not exactly. In 1543, three Portuguese merchants were on a Chinese junk heading from Siam to China when a storm blew them off course. They ended up on the tiny island of Tanegashima, off the southern coast of Japan. That was the first recorded contact between Europeans and Japan. The locals were fascinated—especially by the arquebuses the Portuguese carried. Luna: So the first thing the Japanese noticed was the guns. Lucas: Absolutely. The local daimyo, Tanegashima Tokitaka, bought two of them and ordered his swordsmiths to reverse-engineer the design. Within a few years, Japanese smiths were mass-producing better-quality firearms than the Portuguese originals. And this happened right in the middle of the Sengoku period—Japan's era of civil war. So guns spread like wildfire through the warring states. Oda Nobunaga, the great unifier, used massed arquebus formations to devastating effect at the Battle of Nagashino in 1575. Luna: So the Portuguese basically gave Japan the technology to win its own civil war. Lucas: In a way, yes. But the Portuguese weren't just arms dealers. They also brought Christianity. In 1549, the Jesuit Francis Xavier arrived in Kagoshima, the first Christian missionary to Japan. He was shocked by how receptive the Japanese were to his message—they were curious, educated, and had a sophisticated culture. Xavier wrote home saying he'd never met a people so eager to hear about God. Within decades, there were hundreds of thousands of Japanese converts—Kirishitan, they were called. Luna: Why were the Japanese so open to Christianity? I mean, they had their own religions. Lucas: Several reasons. First, the Sengoku period had destabilized traditional Buddhist institutions, so people were looking for new spiritual anchors. Second, the Jesuits were smart—they learned Japanese, adapted to local customs, and presented Christianity as a kind of moral philosophy rather than a foreign imposition. And third, there was a practical angle: daimyo who converted often got access to Portuguese trade goods, especially the highly profitable silk from China. The most famous Christian daimyo was Omura Sumitada, who converted in 1563 and later granted the Jesuits the port of Nagasaki. Luna: Nagasaki became the center of the Christian community, didn't it? Lucas: Exactly. In 1571, Omura Sumitada officially opened Nagasaki to Portuguese ships, and it quickly grew from a small fishing village into a bustling port city. The Jesuits even built a cathedral there—the Church of St. Paul, modeled after the one in Macau. For a while, Nagasaki was the main gateway between Japan and the outside world. The Portuguese brought Chinese silk, gold, and porcelain, and they took back Japanese silver, which was incredibly valuable in China. The Macau-Nagasaki route became one of the most lucrative trade routes in the Estado da Índia. Luna: So everyone was getting rich. But it couldn't last, right? Lucas: No, it couldn't. The first signs of trouble came under Toyotomi Hideyoshi, the warlord who succeeded Nobunaga. At first, Hideyoshi was friendly to the Portuguese—he even built a massive ship, the San Buena Ventura, with Portuguese help to trade with Macau. But in 1587, he suddenly reversed course. He issued an edict expelling all missionaries, accusing them of destroying Shinto and Buddhist temples and of interfering in politics. There's a famous story that a Spanish ship captain, trying to impress Hideyoshi, showed him a map of the Spanish Empire and boasted how the king of Spain ruled so much land. Hideyoshi asked, 'How did he get all that?' The captain supposedly replied, 'First the missionaries come, then the soldiers follow.' That may have sealed the Jesuits' fate. Luna: So Hideyoshi saw Christianity as a Trojan horse for colonization. Lucas: Exactly. And he wasn't entirely wrong. The Spanish had done exactly that in the Philippines. Hideyoshi's suspicions deepened after the San Felipe incident in 1596, when a Spanish galleon wrecked off the Japanese coast and the pilot reportedly boasted about colonial conquests. Hideyoshi ordered the execution of 26 Christians—mostly Japanese converts and a few Franciscan missionaries—in Nagasaki. They became known as the Twenty-Six Martyrs of Japan. Luna: That's brutal. But the real crackdown came under the Tokugawa shogunate, right? Lucas: Yes. Tokugawa Ieyasu, who unified Japan after the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600, was initially pragmatic. He wanted trade, so he tolerated the Portuguese and even allowed the English and Dutch to set up trading posts. But he also started restricting Christianity—banning it entirely in 1614. The persecution intensified under his successors. Christians were forced to trample on fumi-e—images of Christ or the Virgin Mary—to prove they had renounced their faith. Those who refused were tortured and killed. Luna: And that led to the Shimabara Rebellion. Lucas: Exactly. In 1637, a rebellion broke out in Shimabara, a domain where peasants were heavily taxed and many were Christians. The rebels, led by a teenage boy named Amakusa Shiro, were mostly Christians fighting for religious and economic freedom. They held out in the ruined Hara Castle for months against a massive shogunate army. The rebellion was crushed, and an estimated 37,000 rebels and sympathizers were killed. After that, the Tokugawa shogunate cracked down even harder. Luna: And that's when they closed the country. Lucas: Pretty much. In 1639, the shogunate expelled all Portuguese traders and missionaries. The only Europeans allowed to stay were the Dutch, who were confined to the tiny artificial island of Dejima in Nagasaki Bay. The Portuguese were banned under penalty of death. That began Japan's sakoku period—two centuries of near-total isolation. The only contact with the outside world was through the Dutch and a limited Chinese trade at Nagasaki. The Portuguese Empire, which had brought Christianity and trade, was completely shut out. Luna: It's amazing how much changed in just a hundred years. From accidental arrival to total expulsion. Lucas: And the cultural impact lingers. You know, the Japanese word for bread, 'pan', comes from the Portuguese 'pão'. Tempura is believed to have originated from Portuguese 'peixinhos da horta'—battered vegetables. And the Japanese word for tobacco, 'tabako', also comes from Portuguese. The Nanban period—that's what the Japanese call it, meaning 'Southern Barbarians'—left a lasting mark on Japanese language, cuisine, and even art. There's a whole genre of Nanban art showing Portuguese ships and exotic-looking foreigners. Luna: I always thought tempura was Japanese, not Portuguese. Lucas: It's one of those things that got so fully absorbed that people forget its origins. But the Portuguese influence on Japan was incredibly deep, even if it was short-lived. And in a way, the story of Portugal in Japan is a microcosm of the whole Portuguese Empire: bold exploration, incredible cultural exchange, but also violence, misunderstanding, and eventual collapse. It's a reminder that no empire lasts forever, but the connections they forge often outlive the empires themselves. Luna: Speaking of connections that last—this episode is brought to you by our listeners. And honestly, if this story was worth a coffee to you, that's all we ask. You can find us at buy me a coffee dot com slash fexingo. Lucas: It really does help keep the show ad-free and independent. So if you've been enjoying these deep dives into Portugal's history, consider throwing a few bucks our way. It means a lot. Luna: Yeah. Now, back to Japan—one thing I've always wondered: what happened to the Japanese Christians who survived the persecution? Lucas: They went underground. For over two centuries, a hidden Christian community, the Kakure Kirishitan, kept their faith alive in secret. They used Buddhist statues that looked like the Virgin Mary, prayed in hidden rooms, and passed down oral traditions. When Japan reopened in the 19th century, missionaries were shocked to find tens of thousands of hidden Christians who had preserved their faith for generations without priests or scriptures. It's an incredible testament to the enduring impact of that first Portuguese encounter. Luna: That's remarkable. So even after the empire was gone, the faith remained. Lucas: Exactly. And that, to me, is the most powerful legacy of the Portuguese in Japan. It wasn't just about trade or guns. It was about people—missionaries, merchants, samurai, and peasants—whose lives were changed by an accidental meeting on a tiny island in 1543. That's the kind of history that makes you think about how random, how fragile, and how profound these cross-cultural encounters can be.