Japanese actions were also harming relations with the European powers. The occupation of strategic bases in the South China Sea–Hainan Island, off the southern coast of China, in February 1939, then, a month later, the uninhabited Spratly Islands, a remote archipelago several hundred miles still further south–gave an indication of Japan’s intention to extend her influence southwards. The islands were nominally Chinese possessions, but the move was plainly of concern to Britain, France and the Netherlands, each possessing colonial interests in the region.25 The Dutch colonial regime in the East Indies responded by reducing imports from Japan. Britain and France were further alienated by a Japanese blockade of their concession in Tientsin in June. Soon afterwards, Japanese forces became involved in serious clashes with Soviet troops, arising from skirmishes near Nomonhan, in the north-west of Manchukuo, on the border with Outer Mongolia. The outcome was a notable military setback, and a warning to Japan not to underrate the Red Army. By the time the fighting ceased, with a truce in mid-September, the Kwantung Army had lost around 17,000 men.
One possible way out of the growing international isolation would have been to form an alliance with Germany. Influenced by Ribbentrop, Hitler’s regime had in early 1938 reversed its earlier backing for China, and voiced its support for Japan.26 The presumption that Japan would win the war in China, and her fervent opposition to the Soviet Union, were important determinants of the change of policy. Recognition of Manchukuo in May followed as a tangible indicator of the new German position. But, wary of alienating the western democracies by casting in their lot with Nazi Germany, the Japanese government avoided overtures to convert the Anti-Comintern Pact into a full alliance. Since in practice Japan did nothing to reduce the antagonism with the west, but avoided cementing closer ties with Germany, the diplomatic isolation continued. It worsened dramatically towards the end of August 1939 with the announcement of the sensational Nazi–Soviet Pact. In an instant, Japan saw her only powerful would-be friend in Europe in alliance with her arch-enemy to the north. Marquis Kido Koichi, a leading courtier and soon to become the Emperor’s closest counsellor as Lord Privy Seal, recorded in his diary that he was ‘astonished at this extremely treacherous act’.27 In bewilderment at the ‘inexplicable new conditions’ in Europe, the Japanese government resigned en bloc.28 A few days later, Europe was at war.
The European war inevitably affected Japan, despite her neutrality. Some, both in the army and in the civilian government, favoured a reversal of previous policy by seeking a pragmatic arrangement with the Soviet Union, as Germany had done. They presumed the moment for a new world order, overthrowing the previous dominance by the European democracies and the United States, was dawning. The major powers in Europe were likely to be Germany, Italy and the Soviet Union. It was in Japan’s interests, they argued, to ally herself with both Germany and the Soviet Union. As regards the war in China, an alliance with the Soviet Union, it was suggested, could eliminate Soviet supplies to China.29
Advocates of a new policy towards the Soviet Union still remained, however, in a minority. Dominant opinion in the government preferred an attempt to improve relations with the United States, conscious that the European war might bind America and Britain more closely together. But since Japan was unwilling to make any serious concessions in her demands on China, this course promised little success. In fact, American policy towards Japan was hardening. Increased aid to China was seen as a way of weakening Japan and reducing the possible threat in the Pacific.
China remained, therefore, the linchpin. As long as the war with China continued, Japanese resources and manpower would be stretched to the maximum. And deteriorating relations with the United States posed a sharp threat to the oil and scrap metal necessary to continue the war. But as long as Japan remained wedded to her territorial conquests and domination, there could be no end to the war, therefore no improvement in relations with the United States, and no diminution of the continued threat to raw materials. With the United States fully backing Chiang Kai-shek and the Japanese government supporting Wang Ching-wei’s puppet regime, the impasse was set to continue. This was the position when Hitler’s conquest of Denmark and Norway in April, then the overrunning of Holland and Belgium in May, culminating in the remarkable victory over France in June, transformed the scene in Europe. With only Britain, of the major belligerent powers, still withstanding Hitler–and that, apparently, likely to be of short duration–the Japanese government saw new opportunities to resolve her own problems.
II
Japan by 1940 was neither a democracy nor a dictatorship. Perhaps factionalized authoritarianism–not the contradiction in terms that it might at first sight seem to be–could serve as an abstract label. But it conveys little of the complexity and convoluted character of governance as it had developed since the beginning of constitutional rule in 1889 and as it had been transformed in the 1920s and 1930s under the impact of mass politics, domestic turbulence, diplomatic pressures and war. The popular image of a monolithic system of rule under the command of the Emperor greatly distorts reality.30
The system of government that had emerged in the late nineteenth century, as Japan was rapidly modernizing, retained strong oligarchic and bureaucratic traits. The constitution of 1889 looked to Europe (and particularly Germany) for its models. It established a parliament comprising an elected House of Representatives with three hundred seats and a House of Peers consisting of five hundred titled court, government and military officials. At the same time, the Emperor held–at least in theory–full personal power. As in Germany, government ministers were appointed by the Emperor and were responsible to him, not to parliament. Frequently, they were not drawn from the political parties. Of notable significance, the military General Staff were specifically granted an independent ‘right to supreme command’, and were responsible directly to the Emperor. Parliament, elected at first by only about 1 per cent of the population, was able to pass legislation and to approve or veto the state budget, but it could exercise only weak controls over the executive powers of the government and the military. The old oligarchic families, owning much of the country’s land and wealth, retained great influence.31
Even so, once instituted, mass politics and constitutional representation were unstoppable. As in Europe, they grew in importance, particularly after the First World War. Political parties, the more conservative Seiyukai and the more liberal Minseito, came to represent the vast majority of voters: all males over 25, following a franchise reform of 1925. But communist, socialist and fascist ideologies, imported from Europe into a Japanese setting, also found supporters as economic crisis, social unrest and political violence (which saw the assassinations of two prime ministers and other prominent figures in government and business alongside a number of leading intellectuals in the early 1930s) afflicted interwar Japan.32 Reflecting the domestic turbulence, governments were unstable and of short duration, with fifteen changes of Prime Minister between November 1921 and June 1937.33
The impact of the ‘Manchurian Incident’ after 1931 and the rapid recovery from the Depression, mainly through major state stimulation of steel, chemical and construction industries and a huge expansion in the military budget (taking up three-quarters of government expenditure by 193734), was to curtail the role of parliamentary parties and pluralist politics. Governments now usually had a majority of Cabinet members representing no political party.35 Above all, the influence of the military grew sharply. Once the war in China had begun, better coordination of the civilian and military input into decisions became necessary. In late 1937, two types of meeting, Liaison Conferences and Imperial Conferences, were instituted to try to achieve this.
Liaison Conferences were held every few days and, in foreign affairs, effectively supplanted the Cabinet, which now mainly dealt with domestic matters. Key members of the Cabinet–the Prime Minister, Foreign Minister, War Minister and Navy Minister, and occasionally other ministers whose expertise was specifically required–joined the army and n
avy chiefs of staff and their deputies from the Supreme Command. The meetings took place in a small conference room. Participants sat in a circle of armchairs around the Prime Minister. No one, however, presided in any directive sense, and discussion tended often to be diffuse, a feature of a specifically Japanese way of using often oblique language in a lengthy process of edging towards a decision in which great emphasis was attached to unanimity.36 For a while, the Conferences were discontinued and replaced by Four-or Five-Minister Conferences involving merely leading government ministers. The problem of lack of coordination returned. The absence of the chiefs of staff proved an inevitable handicap, and the Liaison Conferences were re-established in 1940.
Important decisions reached by a Liaison Conference had to be ratified by an Imperial Conference. The same personnel attended, though were now joined by the President of the Privy Council, and the meeting took place in the presence of the Emperor. Documents registering the decisions of the Liaison Conference lay before the Imperial Conference. They had been prepared by General Staff officers, then circulated to the various ministries for revision and amendment prior to approval by the leading figures in the Liaison Conferences. Now, in front of the Emperor, the Prime Minister and each of the other ministers, then the chiefs of staff, read prepared statements. The Emperor did not usually speak a word, though questions on his behalf were raised by the President of the Privy Council. The Imperial Conference, if largely ceremonial in procedure, was of importance. Once the Emperor felt able to give his sanction to the course of action proposed, thereby legitimating it, the decision was seen as binding on all those present. This made it extremely difficult to alter.37
Decisions, particularly those related to foreign policy and war, did not, then, bear the clear stamp of the individual’s will, as was the case in the German, Italian and Soviet dictatorships. But nor could the central body of civilian government, the Cabinet, decide, as happened in parliamentary democracies. As we have noted, the Cabinet, itself appointed by the Emperor and not dependent upon parliament, could not take key decisions without accommodating (and, increasingly, acceding to) the wishes of the military staffs. And these, responsible only to the Emperor, had wide-ranging autonomy of action. The inclusion in the Cabinet of senior military officers serving as War and Navy Ministers did not diminish this independence. They themselves had the right of direct report to the Emperor if they wished to bypass the Prime Minister. In any case, their responsibilities were chiefly concerned with personnel and administrative aspects of the armed forces. The crucial areas, strategic and operational planning, were the prerogative of the Supreme Command–army and navy chiefs of staff, whose authority derived from the Emperor alone.38
In practice, the military seldom spoke with one voice. Its wishes and demands mainly reflected the often different and competing interests of factions within the army and navy. Ultimately, therefore, decisions on weighty matters of foreign policy arose from ‘group bargaining’–the outcome of ‘inducing coalitions in support of preferred options’. There was extensive discussion, debate and ‘bargaining’–with greater ‘leverage’ deployed by military spokesmen than others–before a decision emerged, almost by a process of osmosis.39 But great emphasis was laid upon the eventual ‘consensus’ behind the decision, which, with the Emperor’s approval, then became effectively sacrosanct.
Whatever the factional differences, variants of weighting, political disagreements or alternative strategies, by 1940 a large degree of ideological consensus had come to prevail among Japan’s power-elites. During the 1930s, arising from the domestic divisions and disunity of the previous decade, and to the backcloth of the ‘Manchurian Incident’ then the China War, a new nationalism had been forged that bears more than a passing resemblance, though in Japanese cultural guise, to contemporary European fascisms. Its ‘spiritual’ focus was the Emperor, as embodiment of the Japanese nation. Its vehicle was militarism.
From the accession to the imperial throne of the 25-year-old Emperor Hirohito in 1926, and especially in the wake of the lavish and spectacular celebrations of his ritual enthronement and ‘deification’ two years later, the cult of the Emperor was elevated to the keystone of the new doctrine. Hirohito’s reign was designated that of the ‘Showa’ Emperor, symbolizing, ironically in the light of what was to follow, the ‘illustrious peace’ of the new era. The reign of his father, Emperor Yoshihito, between 1912 and 1926 (during which Hirohito had acted as regent since 1920) had been associated with westernization and democratization. A sense of national decadence had gained ground as domestic crises beset Japan. Democracy and party politics, as in Weimar Germany, were seen by increasing numbers only to indicate a weak and divided nation. Commitment to the ‘Washington system’ of international politics, the chief beneficiaries of which were seen as the western imperialist powers, merely confirmed the weakness. At its centre, the feebleness was epitomized by the frail and ill figure of the Taisho Emperor (Yoshihito). Hirohito’s reign was portrayed as the inauguration of an era which would revert to and build upon the heroic age of his grandfather, Emperor Meiji, who from 1867 to 1912 had presided over the creation of modern Japan, the great triumphs over China and Russia between 1895 and 1905 and the beginnings of overseas Japanese dominance in east Asia.
The essence of the new nationalist doctrine was the so-called ‘imperial way’ (kodo), which envisaged a Japan returning to the ‘true values’ of the nation’s long (and legendary) history, overcoming the subjugation to western influence and realizing her destiny and mission, as a superior people and culture, to dominate east Asia.40 It offered the justification for naked imperialist conquest whose underlying aim, pared of its dogma, was the elevation of Japan to a great power with lasting domination based upon the securing of raw materials in Manchuria and north China, then throughout south-east Asia. The manipulation of public opinion through heavy propaganda, coupled with the ruthless suppression of open opposition, meant that elite doctrines became transmitted to the population. It was not difficult to whip up nationalist and imperialist fervour during the crises in Manchuria, then China. The manufactured chauvinism then applied its own pressure to the actions of the elites. Perhaps of greatest importance, the values of the new nationalism permeated down into the officer ranks, and from there to the rank and file, of the army and navy. For the most part at lower levels than that of the High Command itself, a leaven of overt, highly aggressive and risky militarism was being formed beneath the ideological umbrella of the ‘imperial way’. By 1940, therefore, nationalist-imperialist ideas had developed into an ideology of supremacy and expansion which, at both elite and popular levels, in the civilian population and, quite notably, in the middle ranks of the military, had become hegemonic. That is to say, whatever operational or tactical differences existed, no other ideology offered serious competition.
There were, of course, those who opposed the new ideological and political trends. The Emperor’s long-standing trusted adviser Saionji Kinmochi, a cultured, old-style liberal-conservative who had earlier in his life spent ten years living in Paris where he studied law at the Sorbonne, was one who strongly counselled preserving close ties with Great Britain and America, favoured coming to terms with Chiang Kai-shek and abhorred the growing proximity to Germany and Italy.41 But Saionji had been born in 1849. He was not only old (he would die before 1940 was out), but, as he realized, out of tune with the dominant currents of ideology. So were some in the army and navy–military politicians such as General Abe Nobuyuki, who served briefly as Prime Minister in 1939–40, and his short-lived successor in office, Admiral Yonai Mitsumasa, or the Foreign Minister in the Abe Cabinet, Admiral Nomura Kichisaburo. Each of these favoured some form of accommodation with the United States and opposed closer relations with the Axis powers, though each also supported Japan’s special rights in Manchuria and northern China and her search for a ‘new order’ in east Asia.42 That they were able to attain high office indicates that significant divisions of opinion on Japan’s future course s
till existed. That they were so quickly ousted from office demonstrates that they could not withstand the dominant political and ideological forces, particularly represented in the middle echelons of the army and navy, which were now driving Japanese politics.
The leading statesman who had emerged–if only as first among equals–from the morass of Japanese politics by the time of the outbreak of the war against China was Prince Konoe Fumimaro, who became Prime Minister for the first time in June 1937, and was to play a central part in the fateful events of 1940–41. Born in 1891, Konoe became, on his father’s death in 1904, the head of Japan’s most prestigious noble family below the imperial house itself, with which it had intimate connections. From his early years, he was groomed for high office and regarded as a rising political star.
Even in his late twenties, he was given a place on the Japanese delegation to the Paris Peace Conference in 1919, at the end of the First World War. Months earlier, as the war was ending, he had publicly expressed views which would remain essentially unchanged and fundamental to his thinking. He was critical of Japanese leaders at the time for accepting unreservedly the peace pronouncements of British and American politicians. He accused them of not perceiving ‘the conscious and unconscious ways in which the democracy and humanitarianism put forward by Anglo-American spokesmen provide a mask for their own self-interest’. The peace proposed, he added, ‘amounts to no more than maintaining a status quo’ that suited the Anglo-American interests. Konoe was presenting a case which would become widespread among the up-and-coming sectors of the Japanese elite, and also among younger officers in the army and navy, that Japan was disadvantaged by being a ‘have-not’ nation. The First World War, argued Konoe, had been ‘a struggle between those nations that benefit by maintaining the status quo and those nations which would benefit by its destruction. The former call for peace, and the latter cry for war. In this case pacifism does not necessarily coincide with justice and humanity. Similarly, militarism does not necessarily transgress justice and humanity.’ Japan’s position, he continued, was similar to that of Germany before the war. He castigated the ‘height of servility’ with which Japanese leaders were ready to accept the League of Nations ‘as if it were a gift from heaven’, when in fact it was a device which would ‘let the powerful nations dominate the weak nations economically and condemn the late-coming nations to remain for ever subordinate to the advanced nations’. If the policies of the Anglo-American powers should prevail through a League of Nations upholding their own interests through maintenance of the status quo, he concluded, ‘Japan, which is small, resource-poor, and unable to consume all her own industrial products, would have no resort but to destroy the status quo for the sake of preservation, just like Germany’.43