Every year around 3rd February, a peculiar ritual unfolds across Japan. Families gather in their homes, temples fill with crowds, and the air becomes filled with flying soybeans as people shout “Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!”, “Demons out! Fortune in!” This is Setsubun, one of Japan’s most beloved seasonal celebrations, a festival that blends ancient beliefs about purification and protection with joyful, sometimes chaotic traditions that have endured for centuries.
Setsubun literally means “seasonal division,” and originally referred to the day before the beginning of each season according to the traditional lunar calendar. However, over time, the term came to specifically designate the day before Risshun, the beginning of spring in the old calendar. In modern Japan, this typically falls on 3rd February, though occasionally on 2nd or 4th February depending on astronomical calculations. Spring’s arrival held particular significance in traditional Japanese culture as the time when the new year truly began, making this Setsubun the most important of the four seasonal transitions.
The roots of Setsubun stretch back over a thousand years to the Heian period (794-1185), when the Chinese practice of Tsuina was adopted by the Japanese imperial court. Tsuina was an elaborate ritual performed to drive away evil spirits and misfortune at the turn of the year. Court officials would don fearsome masks and parade through the palace, eventually being “driven out” by arrows or peach wood. This ceremony was believed to purify the space and protect inhabitants from malevolent forces that might be especially active during seasonal transitions, liminal times when the boundary between worlds grew thin.
Over centuries, Tsuina evolved into the more accessible practice of mamemaki, bean throwing, that characterises modern Setsubun. The choice of beans carries deep symbolism. Soybeans, roasted until hard, were believed to possess spiritual power. The word “mame” (bean) sounds similar to the word meaning “demon destroyer” in Japanese, creating a linguistic connection between the humble legume and protective power. Additionally, the popping sound beans make when roasting was thought to frighten evil spirits.
The mamemaki ritual follows a specific pattern, though regional variations exist. Traditionally, the male head of household or the family member born in that year’s zodiac sign takes responsibility for throwing the beans. Some families designate one person to wear an oni (demon or ogre) mask, while others imagine the demons lurking outside doors and windows. The bean-thrower then tosses roasted soybeans while chanting the protective formula: “Oni wa soto! Fuku wa uchi!”
The enthusiasm with which this is performed varies dramatically. Some households conduct quiet, reverent scattering of beans. Others, especially those with young children—embrace gleeful chaos, with beans flying everywhere as children shriek with delight and adults playfully chase each other. This spectrum of observance, from solemn to joyful, reflects Setsubun’s dual nature as both spiritual practice and family entertainment.
After driving out the demons, participants eat roasted soybeans corresponding to their age, or age plus one for the coming year. This act of consuming the beans that have absorbed protective spiritual power is believed to bring good health and fortune. Given that some elderly participants might struggle to eat dozens of beans, many simply eat a symbolic number instead. The practice reflects broader Japanese beliefs about the spiritual properties of food and the body’s connection to cosmic forces.
Another increasingly popular Setsubun tradition is eating ehomaki, thick sushi rolls consumed in a highly specific manner. This custom originated in Osaka’s merchant culture but has, through aggressive commercial promotion, spread nationwide since the 1980s. The prescribed method involves eating an entire uncut roll in complete silence while facing the year’s lucky direction (determined by the zodiac calendar). Speaking during consumption supposedly allows fortune to escape. The seven ingredients traditionally included in ehomaki represent the seven gods of fortune, though modern variations include countless filling combinations.
Temples and shrines across Japan host public Setsubun celebrations that can be spectacular affairs. Famous locations like Sensoji Temple in Tokyo and Yasaka Shrine in Kyoto draw enormous crowds for their mamemaki ceremonies. These events often feature celebrity guests, sumo wrestlers, actors, politicians, or local personalities, who throw beans (and sometimes individually wrapped candies or small prizes) from elevated stages to eager crowds below. The scramble to catch these blessed items becomes intense, with participants believing that catching them brings special luck.
The oni figure central to Setsubun merits deeper consideration. In Japanese folklore, oni are fearsome creatures, typically depicted with horns, wild hair, tusks, and carrying iron clubs, dressed in tiger-skin loincloths. They represent various forms of misfortune, illness, and malevolent forces. Yet oni are complex figures in Japanese culture, not purely evil but rather embodiments of chaos and disruption that exist outside social order. During Setsubun, they become useful metaphors for whatever troubles people wish to expel, disease, bad luck, personal failings, or general misfortune.
Some temples and regions actually welcome oni rather than driving them away, reflecting Buddhism’s emphasis on compassion even toward demons. At certain temples, Setsubun rituals include feeding oni and guiding them toward enlightenment rather than violently expelling them. This gentler approach demonstrates how Buddhist philosophy has influenced Japanese folk practices, adding layers of meaning beyond simple exorcism.
Children particularly love Setsubun, though for different reasons than adults. Schools often organise mamemaki activities where teachers or older students dress as oni and “attack” the school, with children bravely defending their classroom by throwing beans. Department stores and shopping centres create oni-themed attractions. The combination of mild scariness (oni masks can be genuinely frightening to small children) and empowerment (children get to throw things and “defeat” demons) makes Setsubun psychologically satisfying for young participants.
The commercialisation of Setsubun, particularly around ehomaki, has generated criticism. Convenience stores and supermarkets produce massive quantities of these sushi rolls, often resulting in significant food waste when demand is overestimated. The aggressive marketing of what was originally a regional custom as a “national tradition” has struck some observers as manufactured tradition driven by commercial rather than cultural interests. Nevertheless, many Japanese have embraced ehomaki eating as a fun addition to Setsubun observances, demonstrating how traditions continually evolve.
Regional variations add richness to Setsubun celebrations. In some areas, people place holly leaves and dried sardine heads at entrances to repel demons, who supposedly dislike their smell. Other regions throw beans made from different grains or have unique chants and rituals. Hokkaido’s Setsubun sometimes involves peanuts in their shells rather than soybeans. These local differences reflect Japan’s regional diversity despite modern cultural homogenisation.
The timing of Setsubun, at winter’s end and spring’s beginning, resonates psychologically. After months of cold and darkness, the promise of renewal and growth brings genuine relief and hope. Setsubun’s purification rituals align with deep human desires to make fresh starts, shed burdens, and welcome better times. The festival acknowledges that transition between seasons (or life phases) can be dangerous or difficult, requiring protective actions to safely navigate change.
Climate change has begun affecting Setsubun’s seasonal symbolism. With warming temperatures, spring’s arrival doesn’t always align neatly with early February anymore. Cherry blossoms bloom earlier, traditional seasonal markers shift, and the agricultural calendar that once governed such observances no longer dictates most people’s lives. Yet Setsubun persists, perhaps because its core themes, purification, renewal, protection, fortune, remain relevant regardless of actual weather patterns.
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Setsubun also reflects Japanese comfort with playfulness in spiritual matters. The sight of dignified adults throwing beans while shouting at invisible demons, or silently consuming enormous sushi rolls while facing arbitrary compass directions, might seem absurd to outsiders. Yet this playfulness doesn’t diminish sincerity. Japanese religious practice often embraces ritual actions that are simultaneously serious in intent and light in execution, avoiding the solemnity that characterises some other religious traditions.
The festival’s accessibility contributes to its endurance. Setsubun requires minimal expense or preparation, just beans and enthusiasm. It doesn’t demand adherence to particular religious beliefs (though Buddhist and Shinto elements inform it). People of all ages can participate meaningfully. In an increasingly secularised Japan where many traditional observances have faded, Setsubun’s combination of fun, family participation, and manageable requirements helps it remain relevant.
Contemporary Japanese society finds Setsubun useful for various purposes beyond traditional spiritual protection. Companies organise mamemaki events as team-building activities. Nursing homes conduct bean-throwing for elderly residents’ enjoyment and gentle exercise. International schools introduce Setsubun to teach foreign students about Japanese culture. The festival’s flexibility allows adaptation to diverse contexts while maintaining core elements.
For Japanese living abroad, Setsubun offers connection to cultural identity. Japanese cultural centres and community organisations worldwide organise Setsubun celebrations, teaching second-generation Japanese about traditions and giving first-generation immigrants moments of cultural continuity. These diaspora observances sometimes become more elaborate or self-conscious than domestic celebrations, as participants explicitly perform cultural identity rather than simply participating in familiar rhythms.
Environmentalists have critiqued Setsubun’s food waste issues, particularly regarding ehomaki but also the beans scattered everywhere. Some families now sweep up beans after mamemaki for composting or bird feeding rather than leaving them scattered. Discussions about reducing ehomaki waste have emerged, with some retailers taking orders in advance rather than producing excess inventory. These adaptations show tradition evolving to accommodate contemporary values around sustainability.
Psychologically, Setsubun serves important functions beyond its ostensible purpose of demon expulsion. The physical act of throwing beans provides cathartic release. Shouting allows emotional expression. The ritual’s chaos offers sanctioned disorder within usually orderly Japanese society. Children learn cultural narratives about good and evil, protection and danger. Families create shared memories. These psychological and social benefits likely matter more than any literal belief in demons or fortune.
The festival’s gender dimensions deserve noting. Traditionally, household heads (typically male) performed mamemaki, reflecting patriarchal family structures where men’s spiritual authority protected dependents. Contemporary practice is more egalitarian, with children or any family member taking the lead. Yet echoes of gendered ritual roles persist, particularly at shrines where male priests typically conduct ceremonies and male celebrities often serve as bean-throwers. This gradual evolution reflects broader (if incomplete) shifts in Japanese gender norms.
As February 3rd approaches each year, supermarkets stock roasted beans in decorative boxes, convenience stores display ehomaki advertisements, and families prepare for another Setsubun. Children anticipate the excitement of throwing beans and perhaps wearing or fleeing from oni masks. Adults appreciate the tradition’s continuity and the excuse for family gathering. Temples prepare for crowds seeking blessings and good fortune.
In a Japan navigating rapid social change, technological transformation, and demographic shifts, Setsubun provides reassuring continuity. The ritual’s ancient roots connect contemporary Japanese to countless ancestors who performed similar actions across centuries. The beans flying through the air carry more than just physical force, they carry cultural memory, communal identity, and the perennial human hope that we can drive away misfortune and welcome blessing through our actions, however humble or playful those actions might be.
Whether observed with solemn reverence or joyful abandon, whether motivated by genuine spiritual belief or simple cultural participation, Setsubun endures because it addresses something fundamental: the human need to mark time’s passage, to acknowledge transitions, to hope for protection and fortune, and to do so in community with others. Every year, as beans fly and demons flee and fortune enters, Japan collectively performs these ancient gestures of hope, and perhaps that performance itself, renewed annually, constitutes the blessing Setsubun promises.
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