Kites and Tradition
A modest solution for forgotten hobbies
When’s the last time you flew a kite?
Kiting has fallen out of favour almost at the same rate that wind power has taken hold of the energy market. While kites are a classic childhood toy that first emerged as a vehicle for war, they have since been discarded by society. I think a lot of the appeal of kites disappeared when actual flight became possible.
The purpose of kites seems to be a little aimless these days. Kites are occasionally popular as art pieces—or, kites are admired as a “wow that’s a big kite” and can be taken as beautiful objects. However, even if displayed triumphantly as a centrepiece, is it truly fulfilling its Aristotlean purpose if it’s unable to fly?
Little thought has been given to the humble kite’s plight. Apparently there are “bigger problems” than how the kiting industry is faring. Well no more. I have a solution for you and it draws from a classic Japanese town tradition.
Kite Fight
Yes, the way to preserve culture is violence. Let’s address what a kite fight is. It is an annual event found in Niigata Prefecture, a town known as Shirone. No, this isn’t a guise to assaulting the eponymous bird of prey. The Giant Kite Battle or tako-kichi matsuri’s name name is a play on the word "tako," translating to "octopus" and "kite," combined with "kichi" meaning "crazy" and "matsuri" meaning "festival."
Given it’s a festival celebrating tradition, I guess we should consider what that tradition entails. Legend has it starting around 300 years ago during the Edo period on the banks of Shirone’s Nakanokuchi River. Apparently, during the heyday of kiting, some fool in East Shirone crashed their kite across the river and damaged the crops. West Shirone was mighty unhappy and thought the only appropriate response was revenge and violence. Issued through kites. They decided to crash their own kites across the river for some eye-for-an-eye justice?
Despite this clear inability to communicate, more sensible people somehow saw a good idea in the midst of the revenge kiting. They continued to practice kite warfare, and this has somehow become the iconic Shirone export three centuries on. Now every June, tourists gather to watch tako-kichi matsuri.
So what actually happens in a CRAZY KITE FLIGHT?
It’s a team sport because, well, it’s more fun and inclusive that way. Our two teams are positioned on either side of the Nakanokuchi River mimicking the ricefield-destroying ancestor kites. Giant kites are created yearly by master kite-makers, and often symbolise town heroes such as local samurai.
There are two kite styles used in this battle. The one that steals headlines is the very large rectangular Odako kite that requires an entire batallion of 40-50 participants to properly fly. It are these which take centre-sky when observers come to watch the battle.
The Battle
The actual clash of the Odako kites is reminiscent of another less-celebrated tradition. Tug of War. In this instance, the tugging only occurs once the two opposing sides make contact. So for the first period of the festival, the rival teams are co-operating to first get their kites airborne, then to have the two kite strings entangle to initiate the “Hug of War”.
From here it is the community who egg on the teams to destroy the other kite, chanting a familiar festival cry “wasshoi, wasshoi”. Side note, I believe this very popular chant is used to keep rhythm, like a voice-activated drumbeat. While immense teamwork and strategy must be involved in maneuvering the kites, the games sure looks like a lot of extreme pulling. Victory is finally declared when the losing teams kite string breaks, letting their kite float to the heavens.
We’ve discussed the first type of kite, but there are often hundreds of the second style of kite, rokkaku-dako. These great kites aren’t what we imagine, assuming we have a conservative 4-sided Western-style kite mindset. These are hexagonal in shape and described as a “fighter kite”, designed for much smaller one-person led teams to hold and battle. While still bearing classical designs (with a larger team to design and build the kite), this is a more practical way for invested parties to join in kite warfare.
The rokkaku-dako battle seems to be a free-for-all, where every warrior gathers in the same field and last kite still flying wins!
Evolution of traditions
Keen observers will note that none of this really resembles the original story of accidental kite vandalism. Like many traditions, the purpose of this is to get a community excited and to maintain old craftsmanship. In fact, I may have misled you when specifying Shirone as the bastion of kite festivals. While it is the largest and most famous, there are dozens of rokkaku-dako festivals during the summer season across Japan.
In fact, the Japanese kite fighting community isn’t even limited to Japan. The Japanese Embassy in Washington DC has hosted official annual kite fights since 1968. Interest in kiting seems to have sustained itself even after humans learnt to fly in planes. How do these seemingly obsolete hobbies maintain such devoted fans?
Bringing kites back
My theory is threefold.
Community is fun. Yes, it’s cliché, but imagine you’ve got your entire town and thousands of tourists chanting at you to break someone else’s kite. There’s nothing more that you want than to win that kite fite. Having a community committed to whatever hobby, no matter how seemingly trivial, is the central method to rescuing it.
Violence (Competition) is fun. Its like Battle Royale, except that kites get hurt and not people. Providing the chance to compete and see players who are passionate about the activity ensures that new participants have a relatively easy gateway into the hobby.
Spectacle is fun. This appeals to tourists and those who don’t feel like they are ready to properly participate. If all that’s needed is cheering “wasshoi”, it allows for the casual observer to come to a town and remark “look at all those pretty colours”.
In describing these three mechanisms in keeping people engaged with kiting, I think it’s broadly applicable to all traditions that don’t have an obvious appeal to the younger generation. My feeling is that increasingly obscure crafts and traditions are important in sustaining a cultural link to the past. Yet no one is going to learn the intricacies of a fading craft, at least not without a few fun hooks to make the tradition enjoyable for all. Other old people hobbies like model trains, or yo-yos, could learn from this and introduce more spectacle to keep their hobbies filled with excited fans.
We can all learn from Shirone on how to keep a tradition lively. This post is written to celebrate the success and evolution of kiting, if only to inspire generations to forgo the drone in favour of the humble (giant) kite. Everyone has a niche interest that they want shared with future fans, and at Hidden Japan we’ll explore them all!