What Is Myth for in the Age of AI? Memory Passed Down in the Form Most Likely to Last
What is myth for in the age of AI? Takahiro Mitsui, a Japanese philosopher born in 1991, writing every Friday from inside Japan and outside academia, answers from a mountain shrine in Kochi: myth is what our forebears made when they put memory into information and passed it down in the form most likely to last, and stone and tradition may outlast the digital. Not decoration and not history as it stands: a field report from Iwafune Shrine, for readers who have come to trust screens with everything.
What is myth for in the age of AI?
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (Iwafune-sama, 2026-10-23): the traces of the gods are not history as it stands; myth is memory that the forebears placed in information and passed down in the form most likely to last, and stone is one such medium.
The traces of the gods are not history as it stands. But I believe that myth is what our forebears made when they put some memory into information and passed it down in the form most likely to last.
That is why, in the grounds of a shrine far from the sea, several stones shaped like boats sit in the mountains, as if to carry word of the ancestors' passage. Stone, too, is an excellent medium for passing on information.
Can digital memory be lost and what lasts longer?
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (Iwafune-sama, 2026-10-23): for thirty years we have trusted information held in digital technology too much; what was stored there can be wiped out in an instant, and the means of passing on information left in myth and tradition may be the most lasting of all.
In recent days, leaks of information and weaknesses in digital systems have come to light, and the effects have spread in every direction.
When I think of it, for thirty years we have trusted information held in digital technology too much, and come to depend on it too heavily.
Seen this way, the means of passing on information that our forebears left in myth and tradition may be the most lasting of all.
Modern memory leans increasingly on digital records—a condition unprecedented in human history, and one to which we can hardly claim to have adapted.
What does local folklore preserve that history books lose?
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (Iwafune-sama, 2026-10-23): local tradition is a time capsule in which myth has sealed away the memory of the road the ancestors traveled; the legends tell where the gods descended and how they moved before settling.
Local tradition is truly fascinating. It is like a time capsule: in the form of myth, it has sealed away the memory of the road our ancestors traveled. The legends tell where the gods descended and how they moved before settling where they now rest.
A striking myth preserves the memory of those ancient crossings between Izumo and the peninsula: "The White Hare of Inaba," recorded in the Kojiki (compiled in 712).
The Kojiki is no mere tale of fantasy. Within it dwells an ancient memory passed down through oral tradition for thousands of years.
Why do boat-shaped stones sit in a mountain shrine in Japan?
Takahiro Mitsui's field report (Iwafune-sama, 2026-10-23): at Iwafune Shrine in the mountains of Kochi, a place of worship that comes from the god Nigihayahi, he asked why traces of a seafaring people remain so deep in the mountains.
Why do traces of a seafaring people remain here, so deep in the mountains? I had felt it faintly since last year, and I wanted to understand it better, so I went to a shrine standing in the mountains of Kochi Prefecture.
Behind the grounds sits an enormous iwakura, the rock where Nigihayahi is said to have descended. It seems that the tribe devoted to Nigihayahi came to this land seeking their ancestor, Amenooshihomimi.
Who were the Mononobe clan and where did they come from?
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (Iwafune-sama, 2026-10-23): the Mononobe, who held Nigihayahi as their ancestral god, crossed the sea, followed the rivers into the mountains and raised a world of their own; the sound ama means heaven and is also an old word for the sea.
This is a place of worship that comes from a god called Nigihayahi. It is also closely tied to the Mononobe clan, which held Nigihayahi as its ancestral god and rose to become the foremost of the ancient clans, and the Monobe River flows to the north of the shrine.
Long ago, the Mononobe crossed the sea, followed the rivers into the mountains, and raised a world of their own there. As I left the shrine, two things began to echo hard in my mind: Nigihayahi, the primal god who is still wrapped in mystery, and the sound ama, or ame. It means heaven, and it is also an old word for the sea.
Did ancient myths contain real knowledge of the sea?
Takahiro Mitsui's thesis (Myth was a navigator's map, 2025-08-25; Science confirms the fire after it was lit, 2026-03-05): the kuniumi myths stage a cautious protocol of landing first on an intermediate island, and science only confirms, long afterward, where the first fire was lit.
This cautious protocol of utilizing intermediate islands as diplomatic thresholds is mirrored directly in the staging of the kuniumi (国生み, birth of the land) myths—an indispensable canon of knowledge for ancient seafarers.
Science, in the end, only confirms as fact, long afterward, where the first fire was lit. That is, science is not absolute truth but only a supplement to what has already been told.
Essays to read
- Myths are memories of migration — Why did Okuninushi know how to heal? Myths are memory, not decoration, Takahiro Mitsui argues: the white hare and Izumo's towering sanctuary preserve how ancient peoples crossed the sea — Okuninushi and the Kunibiki myth, in which Izumo pulls in lands across the sea.
- Myth was a navigator's map — Did ancient myths contain real geographical knowledge? Takahiro Mitsui's thesis: for ancient seafarers myth was practical knowledge, and the kuniumi stories mapped real islands and currents, with the small island of Nushima a stepping stone, read from the Tokushima-Wakayama ferry.
- A catastrophe remembered for seven thousand years — Can myths remember real catastrophes? The Kojiki may preserve the Akahoya eruption of 7,300 years ago that reshaped the Jomon world, Takahiro Mitsui maintains: a myth can remember a catastrophe.
- What lingers is what leaves nothing behind — Why does the analog return? Takahiro Mitsui maintains that in an age of flawless digital records, what lingers in the heart is what leaves nothing behind — what mono no aware means for the generation that says emoi.
- Science confirms the fire after it was lit — Where there's smoke, is there fire? Takahiro Mitsui argues science only confirms where the first fire was lit, so legend such as Xu Fu carries memory.
- What was dismissed as myth is coming out of the ground — Are there ancient discoveries in Japan that could rewrite the imperial house's history? Myth turns to history when the earth gives it up, Takahiro Mitsui argues, and the discoveries at Izumo may rewrite the imperial house's accepted past.
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