Did you know that Horyu-ji Temple was initially rejected when it applied for World Heritage status?

Horyu-ji Temple: Over a Millennium of Preservation Through Repair

Horyu-ji Temple in Nara is famous as the "world's oldest wooden structure." It is that famous temple that is always included in elementary school social studies textbooks.

But did you know that there was actually a bit of a struggle when Horyu-ji was being registered as a World Heritage site?

Through this story, I would like to think about the "connection between wood and culture" and the "meaning of passing things down" from the perspective of wood education.

Horyu-ji, application rejected!?

You might think, "Horyu-ji? It's such a famous temple, so why wasn't the application approved?"

However, there was a significant gap between UNESCO and Japan's view of culture.

What UNESCO values is "authenticity." Simply put, this means "being the real thing" and "how much of the original form is preserved."

From UNESCO's perspective, they might say, "A building over a thousand years old? But you've repaired it many times, right? Doesn't that mean it's no longer the original?"

They might argue, "That wood isn't from hundreds of years ago, is it? So even if you call it the 'world's oldest wooden structure,' if it has been repaired, can you really say it's the same as it was in the past?"

...That is quite strict.

The Japanese culture of passing things down through repair

However, Japan's approach to cultural properties seems to be completely different.

For example, at Horyu-ji, wood damaged by rain and wind is appropriately replaced, roof tiles are re-laid, and walls are repainted. Even pillars are restored if they crack.

But this is not done to "destroy the original form." Rather, it is done to "protect the original form."

Behind this way of thinking is a unique Japanese philosophy that "repair is also culture."

The reset and succession of the "Shikinen Sengu"

A similar way of thinking is also evident in the "Shikinen Sengu" of Ise Jingu.

It is a seemingly strange event where a new shrine building is constructed with the exact same shape and dimensions every 20 years, and the deity is moved to it.

It is said that foreigners often ask, "Why go to such trouble?" but this is precisely a "method for preserving culture in its form."

It is not about discarding the old to make way for the new. It is about 'starting over' time and time again to pass on the techniques and the spirit. This is Japan's 'wisdom of continuity'.

The Dialogue Between Horyu-ji and UNESCO

When Horyu-ji was registered as a World Heritage site, this Japanese perspective was clearly explained.

'We repair things when they break. But we do not change their form. We do not change their spirit either. That is the form of our culture.'

At first, UNESCO could not fully grasp this. They argued, 'If it is repaired, it is no longer the "original," is it?' However, the Japanese side persisted in their appeal.

They argued that it is precisely through restoration that the 'essence' is passed down.

After this exchange, in 1993, the 'Buddhist Monuments in the Horyu-ji Area,' including Horyu-ji, were finally registered as a World Cultural Heritage site. This was also the moment when Japan's view on cultural properties was internationally recognized.

Wood does not last forever. But it connects.

Here, I would like to consider the nature of wood as a material.

Wood is alive. While 'alive' is somewhat of a metaphorical expression, even after it is cut and turned into lumber, it breathes, absorbs moisture, and slowly changes.

And because of that, it is also prone to damage. If it is beaten by rain, exposed to the wind, and scorched by the sun, it will eventually crack or rot.

That is precisely why, if you want to preserve something built of wood, 'repair' must be a prerequisite. Conversely, if you make 'repair' a prerequisite, you can preserve wooden buildings for a very long time for future generations.

Preserving a World Heritage Site Built of Wood

The fact that Horyu-ji still exists and is in use today is like a miracle. But that miracle is built upon the effort, wisdom, and techniques of the people who have repaired it over hundreds of years.

'This pillar was replaced during the Edo period.'
'This beam was restored by a carpenter from the Sengoku period.'
There might even be parts mixed in like that.

But even so, the overall appearance of Horyu-ji has not changed. In fact, I believe that the very fact that it has been continuously repaired is its 'history' and its 'culture.'

Not just 'growing' wood, but 'connecting' it

When we talk about 'wood education' (mokuiku), our consciousness tends to focus on things like 'knowing wood,' 'using wood,' and 'growing wood.' Of course, those are important too.

But what the story of Horyu-ji teaches us this time is the importance of the perspective of 'connecting wood.'

Just because it is broken does not mean it is the end.
If it breaks, you can just fix it.
If you fix it, you can connect it to the next generation.

I believe that is what it truly means to "love wood."

Finally—The pride of a "culture of repair"

In its exchanges with UNESCO, what Japan demonstrated was a pride in culture that says, "While things change over time, the spirit remains the same."

Isn't this way of thinking necessary in today's society as well?

Instead of buying something new every time, we should take care of things, repair them, and use them again.

This may apply not only to wood, but also to how we approach objects and how we interact with people.

It is not "bad because it is old," but rather "valuable precisely because we use it while repairing it."

We can receive such thoughts through wood. I feel that Horyu-ji Temple is quietly teaching us that.