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”
Publishers Weekly

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“pREFR By JOHN W. DOWER

continuum
f #
~ FORMERLY TITLED
INES») 3 GHQ: THE ALLIED OCCUPATION OF JAPAN AND ITS LEGACY
L x — «
 The Allied
Occupation of
Japan
TAKEMAE Eiji

Translated and adapted from the Japanese

by Robert Ricketts and Sebastian Swann
(Formerly titled Inside GHQ: The Allied Occupation
ofJapan and Its Legacy)

Preface by John W. Dower

continuum
@ NEW YORK e LONDON
 2003

The Continuum International Publishing Group Inc

15 East 26 Street, New York, NY 10010

The Continuum International Publishing Group Ltd

The Tower Building, 11 York Road, London SE1 7NX

First published 2002

Reprinted 2002

© Takemae Eiji 2002

This is a substantially revised and expanded version of GHQ,

originally published by Iwanami Shinsho (Tokyo) in 1983.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording,
or otherwise, without the written permission of the publishers.

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Takemae, Eiji, 1930-

The Allied occupation of Japan. Formerly titled Inside GHQ : the Allied occupation ofJapan and
its legacy / by Eiji Takemae ; translated and adapted from the Japanese by Robert Ricketts and Sebast-
ian Swann.
p. cm.
Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 0-8264-6247-2 (alk. paper) ;
1. Japan—History—Allied occupation, 1945-1952. 2. Japan—History—1952—I. Ricketts,
Robert. II. Swann, Sebastian. III. Title.

DS389.16 .T35 2001

952.04'4+—de2 1
Aa: 00-067643
The Allied Occupation ofJapan ISBN 0-8264-1521-0
 Contents

Illustrations, Maps and Diagrams vii

Abbreviations Xiii

Note on Japanese Names

Acknowledgements XVIii

Preface byJohn W. Dower xix

Introduction

PART I: THE ALLIED VICTORY

1. The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ
2. Occupation: The First Weeks

PART II: ORGANISING THE OCCUPATION a1

3. The Occupational Dynamic I3
4. Inside the Special Staff Sections 146

PART III: EARLY REFORMS Loy

5. The Genesis of Reform 201
6. The Political Reforms 235

PART IV: LATER REFORMS 293

7. Institutional and Economic Reforms 295
8. The Cultural Reforms - 347
9. The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 405

PART V: POLICY SHIFT AND AFTERMATH 455

10. Changing Course 457
11. The Legacy of Occupation 516
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 Illustrations, Maps and Diagrams

Illustrations
1 Emperor Hirohito reviews Imperial Army troops in Tokyo, 8 January 1940
2 Women taking their noon meal in downtown Tokyo’s bombed out ruins
3 During the height of the battle for Okinawa, a US intelligence officer questions
two young survivors of the Imperial Iron and Blood Corps. April 1945
The American uranium bomb ‘Little Boy’ obliterates Hiroshima, 6 August
1945
Less than a month after the atomic bombings, General Douglas MacArthur
descends from the Bataan at Atsugi Air Base, Tokyo, 30 August 1945
African-American GIs stroll down Ginza Boulevard nearly a week after the
first US troops entered the capital, 14 September 1945
Women of the night ply their trade near the Ginza, autumn 1945
Family members queue up to receive food, 15 September 1945
Eighth Army’s main PX in the requisitioned Hattori Tokei Building in Ginza,
22 September 1945
Boys fill a bag with freshly harvested potatoes while their parents barter, June
1947
11 General Headquarters, SCAP. The Dai-Ichi Mutual Life Insurance Building,
Tokyo
12 Australian W. MacMahon Ball, British Commonwealth representative to the
Allied Council for Japan, attends the Council’s second session, 17 April 1946
13 Other Allied representatives to the ACJ: General Kuzma Derevyanko (USSR),
George Atcheson, Jr (US) and General Chu Shih-ming (Republican China),
11 October 1946
14 An end to war. Children cavort on the statues of military heroes removed from
their pedestals to a secluded park, 6 September 1948
15 A Japanese veteran repatriated from Siberia is reunited with his family at Shina-
gawa Station, Tokyo, 1949
16 A WAC contingent disembarks at Yokohama, 18 October 1946
17 British Commonwealth Occupation Forces march through Shimonoseki City in
Yamaguchi Prefecture, southwestern Japan, September 1946
18 The British Commonwealth Occupation Force high command and other
dignitaries attend a ceremonial marching of the colours. Tokyo, 6 August 1945
Vili Illustrations, Maps and Diagrams

19 MacArthur, E. Herbert Norman of the Canadian Mission and Eighth Army

Commander Robert L. Eichelberger at a Canadian diplomatic function, 2 July
1947
20 Diplomatic Section and Government Section officials inspect a polling station
during Japan’s first general elections, 10 April 1946
21 Government Section’s Justin Williams Sr
22 An Ainu chieftain, Miyamoto Inosuke, visits Government Section, 23 October
1947
Pig) General Charles A. Willoughby, GHQ’s intelligence tsar
24 Judges of the International Military Tribunal for the Far East, 26 September
1947
25 Raymond C. Kramer, the architect of GHQ’s super-government, confers with
reparations expert Edwin W. Pauley, 13 December 1945
26 Golda G. Stander, ESS Labour Division official
27 ESS Chief William F. Marquat throws the first ball in Japan’s premier major-
league opening season, 4 April 1948
28 Kermit R. Dyke, first chief of Civil Information and Education Section, holds a
press conference to announce the Shinto Directive, 16 December 1945
Ps) CI&E’s Women’s Information Officer Ethel B. Weed confers with Japanese
women leaders, 9 October 1948
30 The Big Three, Churchill, Truman and Stalin, at Potsdam
31 Koreans celebrate the release of political prisoners in front of GHQ, 15 October
1945
32 Japanese Class A war crimes suspects listen impassively to the tribunal pro-
ceedings
35 “This is the man who beat me.” 27 May 1946
34 Female Socialist'candidate Kat6 Shizue delivers a campaign speech to a crowd of
impoverished Tokyoites, many of them women, in a shantytown near the
National Diet Building, 8 April 1946
35 Japan’s first women parliamentarians take their seats in the Lower House,
16 May 1946
36 Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru, elder statesman and pre-eminent politician of
the Occupation era
37 Members of the Far Eastern Advisory Commission arrive in Yokohama, 9 Janu-
ary 1946
38 Flanked by MPs and Japanese police officials, Emperor Hirohito visits Ogaki
City in Gifu Prefecture, October 25, 1946
 Illustrations, Maps and Diagrams ix

39 From riches to working garb. The former Prince Kaya Tsunenori and his wife
sell ice cream from a small shop, 31 July 1948
40 Female law-enforcement officers on parade after graduating from the police
academy, Tokyo, 27 April 1947
4] Communist firebrand Tokuda Kyiichi delivers an oration at the first May Day
celebration of the postwar era, 1 May 1946
42 Food May Day, May 19, 1946: a mass demonstration in front of the Imperial
Palace
43 A despondent Ti Yashiré after announcing cancellation of the general strike
planned for 1 February 1947
44 Socialist leader Katayama Tetsu confers with two top advisers, 17 April 1947
45 Ex-Prime Minister Ashida Hitoshi engages in banter with journalists as he
prepares to enter the Tokyo Prosecutor’s Office to answer corruption charges in
the Showa Denko scandal, 12 December 1948
46 Farmers read a community bulletin board announcing the start of the land
reform in Saitama Prefecture, 24 June 1947
47 George D. Stoddard and Pearl A.Wanamaker of the US Education Mission visit
the Nagata Elementary School in Tokyo, 15 March 1946
48 Eileen R. Donovan consults with Nanbara Shigeru and members of the
Committee of Japanese Educators
49 Children resume school in an outdoor classroom, 25 September 1945
50 Imperial Army troops worship at Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo a few months before
the Kwantung Army’s occupation of Manchuria, 24 April 1931
51 Children gather to watch a portable kamishibai paper-lantern show, 1 Septem-
ber 1948
52 “Come, Come Everybody’: Hirakawa Tada’ichi broadcasts an English-language
programme at NHK, 1 February 1946
53 A Japanese sanitation team dusts with DDT observed by Military Government
health officials
54 General Crawford F. Sams directs a spraying operation to prevent the spread of
Japanese encephalitis in Tokyo’s Shiba-Shirogane area
a3 Plainclothes police apprehend a homeless boy, who will be placed in an
orphanage
56 War orphans vie for a living as shoeshine boys on the streets of Tokyo, 5 May
1947
57 Helen Keller is introduced to a man with a seeing-eye dog, 3 September 1948
58 An Ainu woman in traditional headdress casts her vote in the general elections
of April 1946
59 An Okinawa peasant tills her land under the shadow of an American aircraft
 Illustrations, Maps and Diagrams

60 Former members of a Korean children’s ‘volunteer’ labour corps await repatri-

ation, 19 October 1945
61 Diplomatic Section Chief William Sebald greets George F Kennan at Haneda
airport, 1 March 1948
62 Korean pupils, teachers and parents march on the Hyogo Prefectural Office,
Kobe, 24 April 1948, to protest the forcible closure of Korean ethnic schools
63 Koreans surround the governor of Hyogo Prefecture, 24 April 1948
64 Japanese police backed by US armoured personnel carriers and tanks arrive to
suppress the Tohé strike, 20 August 1948
65 Members of the National Railway Workers Union stage a sit-down hunger strike
in downtown Tokyo, 19 December 1949
66 Workers at Mitsui Heavy Industries’ Sagamihara plant outside of Tokyo repair
war-damaged US tanks, c. 1950
67 Japan’s new National Police Reserve on review, 25 August 1950
68 General Matthew B. Ridgway, fresh from the fighting in Korea, lands at Tokyo’s
Haneda Airport to relieve General MacArthur, 15 April 1950
69 Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru shakes hands with John Foster Dulles after
signing the Japan—US Security Treaty, 8 September 1951
70 Japan regains its independence, 28 April 1952
71 Bloody May Day, 1 May 1952
72 Crown Prince Akihito woos commoner and Christian Shéda Michiko on the
tennis courts of the mountain resort Karuizawa, 28 July 1958
73 Okinawans in Ginowan City, enraged at the rape of a schoolgirl by three US
servicemen, take to the streets to demand justice and a reduction in American
forces, 21 October 1995
74 With the 1999 revision of the Equal Employment Opportunity Law, office
workers for Mitsui Marine Life Insurance shed their obligatory company uni-
forms and come to work in casual attire
75 Kayano Shigeru, Upper House Diet member, sits in the Niputani Documenta-
tion Centre in Biratori Township, Hokkaido, recording Ainu epic poems
(yukar). 11 February 1998
76 On Japan’s 65th May Day, foreign labourers, many of them undocumented,
demonstrate alongside Japanese workers, 1 May 1994

Maps and Diagrams

1 The Japanese Empire and the Asia-Pacific War
2 A ‘paper bomb’ prepared by Japanese-American psychological warfare specialists.
3 The Kuril Islands
 Illustrations, Maps and Diagrams xi

Joint Chiefs of Staff blueprint for a zonal occupation (16 August 1945) and
Japanese prefectures in the main islands
The machinery of the Occupation of Japan from the Far Eastern Commission
through SCAP to the Japanese people, December 1948
Organisation of Eighth Army Military Government Headquarters, January
1946
Military Government in Japan, January 1946—July 1948
The dual structure of the Occupation (January 1946)
seGHQ, SCAP, 31 December 1947
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9A General MacArthur and an aide leave GHQ as a crowd of Japanese and Ameri-
can GIs look on in awe, December 7, 1945
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 Abbreviations

AAF Allied Air Forces (SWPA)

ABCC Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission (US)
ABDA American-British-Dutch-Australian Supreme Command
ACC Allied Control Council (Germany)
ACJ Allied Council for Japan (Tokyo)
ACJ American Council on Japan (US)
AFL American Federation of Labor
AFPAC United States Army Forces in the Pacific (also USAFPAC)
AG Adjutant General’s Section (SCAP)
AIB Allied Intelligence Bureau (SWPA)
ALF Allied Land Forces (SWPA)
ANF Allied Naval Forces (SWPA)
ANPO Japan—US Security Treaty
ANZUS Australia-New Zealand—United States
ARO Alien Registration Ordinance (Japan)
ATIS Allied Translation and Interpreters Service (SWPA/SCAP)
BCOF British Commonwealth Occupation Force
BCW Biological and Chemical Warfare
BRINDJAP British and Indian Troops — Japan
CAC Country and Area Committees (US State Department)
CAD Civil Affairs Division (US War Department)
CAS Civil Affairs Section (SCAP)
CASA Civil Affairs Staging Area (CAD)
CATS Civil Affairs Training Schools (CAD)
CCD Civil Censorship Detachment (SCAP)
CCS Civil Communications Section (SCAP)
CHS Civil Historical Section (SCAP)
CIA Central Intelligence Agency (US)
cic Counter-Intelligence Corps (SCAP)
CID Civil Intelligence Division (SCAP)
CI&E Civil Information and Education Section (SCAP)
CINC Commander-in-Chief
clo Congress of Industrial Organisations (US)
CIS Civil Intelligence Section (SCAP)
CIS Counter-Intelligence Section (SCAP)
CLO Central Liaison Office (Japan)
xiv Abbreviations

CPC Office of the Civil Property Custodian (SCAP)

CTS Civil Transportation Section (SCAP)
DAC Department of the Army Civilian (US War Department)
DPRK Democratic People’s Republic of Korea
DRB Deconcentration Review Board (US)
DS Diplomatic Section (SCAP)
EROA Economic Recovery in Occupied Areas (US)
ESB Economic Stabilisation Board (Japan)
ESP Economic Stabilisation (Dodge) Programme
ESS Economic and Scientific Section (SCAP)
EST Eastern Standard Time (US)
FEA Foreign Economic Administration (US)
FEAC Far Eastern Advisory Commission (Allied Powers)
FEC Far Eastern Commission (Allied Powers)
FECOM Far East Command (US)
FRUS Foreign Relations ofthe United States (US State Department)
G3 Intelligence Section, General Military Staff (SCAP)
GARIOA Government Appropriation for Relief in Occupied Areas (US)
GAS General Accounting Section (SCAP)
GDP Gross Domestic Product
GHQ General Headquarters (as in GHQ/SWPA, GHQ/
AFPAC, GHQ/SCAP, GHQ/FECOM)
GPA General Procurement Agent (SCAP)
GS Government Section (SCAP)
HCLE Holding Company Liquidation Commission (Japan)
IDS International Defendants Section (SCAP)
IDS Information Dissemination Section (AFPAC)
WD Institute of Infectious Diseases (Japan)
ICFTU International Confederation of Free Trade Unions
IMTFE International Military Tribunal for the Far East (Allied Powers)
IPS International Prosecution Section (SCAP)
IRAA Imperial Rule Assistance Association (Japan)
JCP Japan Communist Party
JCS Joint Chiefs of Staff (US)
JERC Japan Education Reform Council
J] Force New Zealand Expeditionary Force — Japan (also Jayforce)
Le Japanese Language Council
JNR Japan National Railways
JSP Japan Socialist Party
JWPC Joint War Plans Committee (JCS subcommittee)
KORYU Korean-Ryukyus Division (SCAP)
LDP Liberal Democratic Party (Japan)
LS Legal Section (SCAP)
 Abbreviations

MAS US-Japan Military Support Agreement

MG Military Government
MGS Military Government Section (AFPAC)
MGT Military Government Teams (US Army)
MISLS Military Intelligence Service Language Schools (US)
MITI Ministry of International Trade and Industry (Japan)
MP Military Police (US)
MS Medical Section (FECOM, SCAP)
NATO North Atlantic Treaty Organisation
NAVJAP Naval Activities Japan (US)
NIH National Institute of Health (Japan)
NHK Nihon H6s6 Kyokai (Japan Broadcasting Corporation)
NLP Night-Landing Practice
NKVD People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs (former Soviet
Union)
HNMA History of the Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation (GHQ/
SCAP)
NPR National Police Reserve (Japan)
NRS Natural Resources Section (SCAP)
NRWU National Railways Workers Union (Japan)
NSC National Security Council (US)
OSS Office of Strategic Services (US)
OWI Office of War Information (US)
PAG Petroleum Advisory Group (SCAP)
PH&W Public Health and Welfare Section (SCAP)
PIO (PRO) Public Information (Relations) Office (SCAP)
POLAD Office of the Political Adviser (SCAP)
POW Prisoner of War
PPS Policy Planning Staff (US State Department)
PRC People’s Republic of China
PRJ Political Reorientation ofJapan (GHQ/SCAP)
PSD Public Safety Division (SCAP)
PWB Psychological Warfare Branch (SWPA)
PWC Postwar Programmes Committee (US State Department)
PX Post Exchange (US military)
RAA Recreation and Amusement Association (Japan)
REB Reconstruction Finance Bank (Japan)
RG Record Group (US National Archives)
ROC Republic of China
ROK Republic of Korea
Reparations Section (SCAP)
RTO Railway Transport Office (SCAP)
RYCOM Ryukyus Command (FECOM)
Xvi Abbreviations

SAG Scientific Advisory Group (US)

SBI Special Investigation Bureau (Japan)
SCAJAP Shipping Control Authority for the Japanese Merchant Marine
(US Navy)
SCAP Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers
SCAPIN SCAP Index
SDF Self-Defence Forces (Japan)
SFE Subcommittee for the Far East (SWNCC)
SOFA Status of Forces Agreement
SRS Statistical and Reports Section (SCAP)
SWNCC State~War—Navy Coordinating Committee (US)
SWPA Southwest Pacific Area (Allied Powers)
TMD Theatre Missile Defence (US)
TS Territorial Subcommittee (US)
UN United Nations
USAFFE United States Army Forces in the Far East
USAFMIDPAC _ United States Army Forces in the Middle Pacific
USAFPAC (see AFPAC)
USAFWESPAC United States Army Forces in the Western Pacific
USAMGIK United States Army Military Government in Korea
USAOS United States Army Services of Supply
USCAR US Civil Administration of the Ryukyus
WAAC Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps
WAC Women’s Army Corps
WAVES Women Accepted for Voluntary Emergency Service
WFTU World Federation of Trade Unions
 Note on Japanese Names

Within the text the East Asian convention is followed for Japanese (Chinese and
Korean) names, with the surname first, then the given name.
 Acknowledgements

‘The Japanese Empire and the Asia—Pacific War (Figure 1, pages 12-13) from
Charles Scribner's Sons (Mikiso Hane, Japan: A Historical Survey, 1972, pp. 532-33)
“The Kuril Islands’ (Figure 3, page 82) from Clarendon Press, Oxford (John J-
Stephan, The Kuril Islands: Russo-Japanese Frontier in the Pacific, 1974, p. 10).
 Preface
John W. Dower

Massachusetts Institute of Technology

In much of the contemporary world outside Japan, World War II in Asia seems both
long ago and yet strangely, almost perversely, recent. Great global turmoil and trans-
formation has occurred since Japan surrendered over a half century ago, while those
who remember the war personally are rapidly dwindling in number. Yet despite the
gulf of time and the passing of intimate witnesses, the image of Japanese atrocities in
occupied areas and against prisoners of war remains vivid. These images have,
indeed, drawn renewed attention in both Asia and the West in the last several
decades. What are we to make of this?
There are good reasons for the renewed fixation on Japan’s war record. The
conservative élites that have governed Japan with but passing interruption since the
end of the war have never offered an unqualified and sustained apology for their
country’s wartime aggression and atrocities; there has been no formal counterpart to
the German government’s acknowledgement of Nazi depredations. Prominent Japa-
nese, including Cabinet members, deny specific atrocities such as the Rape of Nanjing
with almost metronome-like regularity, and until a few years ago government-
certified textbooks sanitised treatment of the war years. It is only in the last few
decades, moreover, that certain Japanese war crimes which the victors themselves
chose to cover up have come to public attention. The murderous scientific experi-
ments conducted on prisoners by “Unit 731’ in Manchuria are one such horror; the
sexual enslavement of young women, mostly Koreans, to service the Emperor's sol-
diers and sailors is another. The brutalisation of prisoners, etched in acid in the
collective memories of American and British Commonwealth veterans, never made a
deep impression in a country absorbed with its own suffering and awed by the vigour
and power of the Caucasian conquerors. These troubling attitudes and incidents
have provoked anger and apprehension outside Japan. Beneath the country’s
ultra-modern fagade, it is asked, have basic institutions and attitudes really changed?
That, in essence, is the underlying question addressed in this book; and the answer
Takemae Eiji gives is a strong, but still qualified, yes. The horrors of the war years
attract and repel us, the evasions of postwar Japanese neo-nationalists rightly alarm
us — but the extraordinary and enduring changes that defeat brought to Japan are
seldom well remembered or appreciated outside the defeated country itself. For six
and a half years following its unconditional surrender (from August 1945 to April
XX Preface

1952), Japan was occupied by the victors and subjected to one of the most audacious
exercises in social engineering in history. Substantive reformist policies were intro-
duced at virtually every level of society. Even after the Cold War intervened and the
reformist ardour of the victors waned, it proved impossible to set back the clock.
In the decisive, initial stages of the Occupation, these reformist policies were
commonly referred to under the overarching rubric of ‘demilitarisation and dem-
ocratisation’. The country was to be permanently disarmed. The ‘will to war’ was to
be eradicated by dismantling authoritarian structures and promoting liberal ideals
through the legal and educational systems, the media and a broad spectrum of grass-
roots organisations. Although not all of the early reforms survived intact, their overall
durability was ruefully acknowledged by Yoshida Shigeru, the dominant conservative
politician of the early postwar period, whose own cabinets were forced to introduce
much of the enabling legislation for the victors’ agenda. “There was this idea at the
back of my mind’, Yoshida observed when recalling his tenure as prime minister,
‘that whatever needed to be revised after we regained our independence could be
revised then. But once a thing has been decided on, it is not so easy to have it altered’.
There were two major reasons why Japanese conservatives found it impossible to
undo all that the victors had done. The post-surrender reforms were embedded in a
truly massive web of law. And, more important, unlike Yoshida and his old-guard
cohorts, millions of Japanese genuinely welcomed the conquerors’ so-called revolu-
tion from above. How all of this unfolded is the subject of this enlightening book.
Like the war itself, the significance of these developments is contested ground in
Japan today. With varying levels of vehemence, most conservatives denounce the
occupation as an exercise in cultural imperialism and ‘victor’s justice’ that under-
mined the very spirit and traditions of the country. Liberals and leftists, on the other
hand, argue that the victors liberated the populace from a repressive state structure
and allowed indigenous aspirations for peace and democracy to flourish — only to turn
conservative and anti-reformist once Cold War considerations came to influence
Japan policy. No one, however, denies that the peculiar circumstances of the defeat
and occupation profoundly changed the political, economic, social, cultural and
ideological contours of the land.
Professor Takemae.is uniquely qualified to guide non-Japanese through these
labyrinthine developments. Fifteen years old when his country surrendered, he
experienced as a teenager both the blackest years of the war and the headiest years of
postwar idealism. As a young adult, he watched with dismay as the United States
turned its back on reformism, aligned with the country’s most conservative leaders
and devoted itself to rebuilding Japan as a subordinate military and economic Cold
War partner. In the 1960s, when hitherto classified materials began to become more
accessible, especially in US archives, Professor Takemae emerged as one of the pion-
eer scholars of ‘occupation studies’. By the 1970s, he was the acknowledged dean of
such scholarship in Japan, helping to orchestrate an impressive range of historical
research that has continued to the present day. What we have here in /nside GHQ is
not merely a grand overview of the victors’ agenda in defeated Japan, but also a
 Preface xxi

compelling example of how the Occupation legacy is evaluated by someone who

truly embraced the early ideals of demilitarisation and democratisation. In this book,
readers encounter a Japanese counter-voice to the war apologists and conservative
critics of the Occupation-era reforms.
As Professor Takemae points out, these early postwar developments were full of
ironies. The relatively beneficent nature of the Allied Occupation stood in sharp
contrast to the oppressive policies the Japanese themselves adopted in the areas they
had occupied throughout war-torn Asia. It stood in contrast, indeed, to the emperor-
system authoritarianism under which the Japanese themselves had lived until then.
(It took the conquerors to empower the Emperor’s erstwhile ‘subjects’ with the rights
and privileges of being ‘citizens’ under a strikingly progressive new constitution that
came into effect in 1947.) For many Japanese, ‘defeat’ became synonymous with
‘liberation’.
This was but the half of it, however, for the conquerors’ reformism was neither
evenly nor steadfastly extended. Professor Takemae takes care to note how, in its own
peculiar ways, Japan came out of the war and ensuing occupation as one of the
‘divided’ countries of the postwar world. Out of strategic considerations, the Ryukyu
archipelago, dominated by Okinawa, was excluded from the reformist agenda and
turned into a de facto American military colony — while, to the north, the Soviet
Union seized four small islands off Hokkaido that had traditionally been part of
Japan. These territorial issues plague Japan to the present day, as does the divisive
formal as well as informal discrimination against ‘minority’ groups that went largely
unrectified after the defeat.
Reformism also was undermined by the very modus operandi of the American-
dominated Occupation, which often tended to reinforce rather than break down
authoritarian and hierarchical ways of thinking and acting. Strictly speaking, the
Japanese remained under military governance for over six years after World War II
ended. The conquerors operated through a strict command structure that culmin-
ated in General Douglas MacArthur, the Supreme Commander for the Allied
Powers. They brooked no criticism. They practised censorship and encouraged self-
censorship. They were more comfortable dealing with Japanese bureaucrats than
with elected legislators. Inside GHQ provides us with an unusually intimate and
detailed analysis of the structure, personnel and all-embracing mission of this super-
government. As can easily be imagined, it was not a perfect model of ‘democracy’ in
action.
For many idealistic Japanese like Professor Takemae, the most traumatic develop-
ment of the period of occupation was not the radical reform agenda, but rather the
abandonment of that agenda by the United States beginning around 1947. In Japa-
nese parlance, this Cold War change of direction is known as the ‘reverse course’. It
took many forms. Radical trends in the labour movement were quashed. Plans to
bring additional accused top-level war criminals to trial were abandoned. Anti-trust
policies aimed at promoting serious economic democratisation were jettisoned.
Beginning in 1949, the purge apparatus that had been used to deny public office to
xxii Preface

individuals associated with militaristic and ultra-nationalistic organisations was

turned against the political left. Within a year, this ‘Red Purge’ in the private as well
as public sector had swept more than 20,000 union members, teachers, journalists,
broadcasters, filmmakers and the like out of their jobs. By 1950, the inevitable
counterpoint to the Red Purge had begun, as individuals formerly purged for their
wartime associations began to be ‘depurged’ and return to public life. In this milieu,
the civilian Old Guard personified by Yoshida Shigeru soon consolidated its position
as America’s new Cold War subalterns in Japan — and, indeed, in Asia.
While these developments placed obvious strains on the ‘democratisation’
agenda, however, they did not and indeed could not unravel the basic legal and
institutional reforms that had been introduced in the first two years of defeat.
Professor Takemae’s comprehensive survey of these early reforms helps us understand
why they proved so resilient as a whole, for it conveys how dense and pervasive this
new infrastructure was. Nor did the ‘reverse course’ succeed in choking off popular
support for the initial reformist ideals. On the contrary, such support now veered in a
new (and truly ironic) direction among liberals and leftists in particular: it became
associated with criticism of the America that had abandoned its original political
idealism.
The single most dramatic reversal in Occupation policy was the repudiation of
demilitarisation, and it is with this volte-face that we return to the issues of war and
remembrance with which this preface began. Early on (and fully consistent with
wartime Anglo-American pronouncements), Japan’s armed forces were demobilised,
virtually all military matériel was destroyed and the Imperial Army and Navy minis-
tries were abolished. Unarmed pacifism was put forward as an ideal by which a
disgraced Japan might hope to regain international trust and even admiration. In its
most famous expression, pacifism was enshrined in the preamble of the new 1947
Constitution and stipulated as a binding covenant in ‘Article Nine’, the famous ‘no
war’ provision. As Professor Takemae makes clear, there was from the outset some
ambiguity in the phrasing of Article Nine. Nonetheless, it was generally understood
that the constitutional ban on armaments excluded even the maintenance of
weapons for self-defence. As late as the opening months of 1950, for example, Prime
Minister Yoshida was> still telling the legislature that Japan would rely on inter-
national guarantees for its security and (in a nice metaphor from feudal times) ‘not
employ even two swords’.
To a war-weary people who had seen most of their major cities devastated in air
raids, and close to 3 million military and civilian compatriots killed, this extreme
vision of ‘demilitarisation’ held considerable appeal. In July 1950, almost immedi-
ately after the outbreak of the Korean War, the pacifist dream was shattered. Under
strong US pressure, Japan took its first step in postwar rearmament. At roughly the
same time, in planning for the eventual restoration of sovereignty, the conservative
government agreed to allow the United States to retain control of Okinawa and
maintain an indefinite military presence throughout the nation’s main islands.
Before the Occupation ended in 1952, Japan had been transformed into a junior
 Preface XXili

military partner of the United States — while the ‘Peace Constitution’ remained
unrevised.
As Professor Takemae’s incisive summary of post-Occupation developments
reveals, time has not dissipated the tensions inherent in the circumstances under
which Japan regained independence. Remilitarisation and the Constitution have
become emblematic. The former symbolises a departure from early postwar ideals, a
step back in the direction of the pre-surrender era. Hardly surprisingly, the conserva-
tives who most vigorously support rearmament also tend to be the strongest deniers
of Japan’s ‘war responsibility’ and the most outspoken critics of the ‘excesses’ of the
initial Occupation reforms, including the new Constitution. On the other hand,
the fact that the 1947 Constitution survived without change to the end of the
century is testimony to the continuing popular appeal of the initial vision of “demil-
itarisation and democratisation’. These are contradictions within the body politic of
contemporary Japan. They pull against one another. They coexist, and in their
coexistence breed sophistry and cynicism.
Yet these tensions and internal struggles also remind us how greatly contemporary
Japan differs from the Imperial state that ran amok prior to its defeat in 1945.
Although Japan has engaged in steady remilitarisation under the eagle’s wing ever
since 1950, and now possesses one of the most powerful conventional forces in the
world, this remains rearmament in a box. The country is still without an army or
navy ministry, still without an overpowering military-industrial complex, still firmly
subordinated to US grand strategy and denied autonomous decision-making. It has
posed no military threat to its neighbours since the war ended, nor is it likely to do so
in the future.
Indeed, the anomalous nature of this posture of ‘subordinate independence’
within the Pax Americana is, particularly to Japanese conservatives, one of the most
intractable and vexing legacies of the Occupation. Every advance in military capabil-
ity and redefinition of ‘defensive’ perimeters provokes cries of “creeping militarism’
from neighbouring Asian powers as well as from critics within the country. Every
claim that Japan cannot perform certain military missions (such as sending combat
troops against Iraq at the time of the Gulf War) is met with derision from erstwhile
allies in the West, including the United States. Conservatives chafe at the perception
that Japan remains a gelded superpower, merely ‘half a state’, little more than an
unusually successful ‘mercantile nation’. Their frustration at being unable to engage
in ‘normal’ patriotic activity feeds the neo-nationalism that unsettles many observers
today.
Professor Takemae’s signal accomplishment lies in conveying the broader milieu in
which these contemporary controversies have arisen. His country, he demonstrates, is
far from a perfect democracy. It is a strong and viable one, however, and the early
ideals of peace and democracy that inspired victor and vanquished alike in the wake
of World War II still play a conspicuous role in defining the parameters of political
debate. It is fair to say that the conjunction of disastrous war, defeat and occupation
shaped Japan more profoundly than any other single experience in the country’s
xxiv Preface

twentieth-century history. And it would be difficult to find a better balance sheet of

the positive and negative legacies of that experience than the one Professor Takemae
gives us in the pages that follow here. His is a sober and critical analysis — and at the
same time a striking exploration of how greatly his country has changed since those
terrible years when Imperial Japan went on its rampage.
 Introduction

Nearly two decades have elapsed since Inside GHQ: The Allied Occupation ofJapan
and its Legacy was first published in Japanese.’ In that interval, the Cold War has
dissipated, and with it the fierce US—Soviet rivalry that defined, and distorted, the
postwar world order. As one menace has receded, however, another has taken its
place. The devastating terrorist assaults of 11 September 2001 on the United States
portend a new era of ideological and military confrontation, this time between the
West and the poorest parts of the Muslim world. This crisis threatens to aggravate a
host of post-Cold War tensions: nuclear proliferation, the glaring imbalance between
developed and developing economies, regional and inter-ethnic conflicts and human
rights abuses. As the world community calls on Japan to play a greater role in re-
solving these problems, the strength and resiliency of the democracy we have built on
the ruins of World War II is being put to the test.
Can the nation meet this challenge? Japanese society is beset by seemingly intract-
able contradictions. Having at last achieved economic parity with the West, we
appear to have lost our sense of national purpose and lack a coherent vision of the
future. Conservative politicians have long demanded the revision of our US-inspired
‘Peace’ Constitution, despite strong popular support for its war-renouncing Article
Nine. Today, Self-Defence Forces, illegal under that Constitution, operate in the
Middle East in the name of international peace-keeping. In the wake of the recent
attacks on the United States, at Washington’s insistence, Tokyo has despatched
armed military units to provide logistical support for US forces in Afghanistan. More
than half a century after the Asia-Pacific War, however, we have yet to fully acknow-
ledge our responsibility for that earlier conflict and make honest amends to the
countries we invaded and colonised, leading our neighbors to view any foreign
military role for the country with deep suspicion. Domestic problems also abound.
Japanese justly pride themselves on their democratic freedoms, but even now, open
criticism of the Emperor and political dissent in general are not readily condoned.
Nor as a society do we easily accommodate ethnic and cultural minorities.
On 8 September 2001, Japanese celebrated the fiftieth anniversary of the signing
of the San Francisco Peace Treaty that ended the Allied Occupation of Japan (1945—
52), our postwar point of departure. This milestone affords a useful vantage point
from which to reassess the era of defeat and occupation and its legacy of change, both
to measure how far we have come as a nation and to consider the direction in which
we wish to continue. That review is the ambitious task I have set for myself in this
substantially revised and enlarged English edition of Inside GHQ.
The Allied Occupation, despite its lustre of reform and the sense of national
xxvi Introduction

renewal it instilled, remains a difficult period for many Japanese to come to grips
with, It is the only time in our history when national sovereignty was compromised
by another power. For eighty months following its surrender in 1945, Japan was
at the mercy of an army of occupation, its people subject to foreign military control.
Our external affairs were conducted by the American conqueror, not the Foreign
Ministry. Japanese could not leave the country without special permission, which
was extended only to the privileged few. Restrictions were imposed on internal
migrations for the first three years, limiting freedom of movement and domicile. For
four years, American soldiers ran the nation’s postal system, and in the early phase of
occupation, stringent information controls prohibited Japanese from communicat-
ing freely with the outside world via the mails, telephone and other media. Inside the
country, too, personal letters, telecommunications, radio, press, films, photographs,
song lyrics and phonograph records were monitored and censored systematically.
Even news of events in the outside world was carefully filtered and managed. Criti-
cism of Occupation policy or the Allied Powers was strictly forbidden. Moreover,
Japanese were constrained, under threat of fine and imprisonment, to cooperate with
their foreign overlords when ordered to do so. This affront to the national pride is
difficult to forget and, for many, to forgive completely.
It is therefore an enduring and piquant irony that this temporary but degrading
loss of autonomy also liberated the nation from an authoritarian régime that had
suppressed the basic civil and political liberties of its own citizens and savagely
invaded and oppressed its neighbours. In this brief span of time, the United States,
acting for the most part alone, dramatically rewove the social, economic and political
fabric of a modern industrial state, resetting its national priorities, redirecting its
course of development. ‘Occupation control’, imposed in the name of democratisa-
tion, became a byword, and a new concept in the law of nations.
Kawai Kazuo has characterised this period as Japan’s ‘American interlude’.*
Whether this interregnum was perceived as short or long, of course, depends on how
and where one experienced it. For Japanese in the home islands, the six years and eight
months passed quickly enough; few young people now even recognise the term
shinchagun (roughly, “advancing garrison force’), a euphemism for the army of
occupation. Okinawans, excluded from the postwar reforms, had to wait twenty-
seven years to regain their freedom but today continue to bear the brunt of
the US military presence in Japan. Koreaninhabitants of Sakhalin, still under
Russian occupation, continue to await the day of liberation, as do Japan’s ‘invisible’
minorities: disenfranchised ethnic Koreans and Chinese, indigenous Ainu and the
former ‘outcaste’ Buraku people, all of whom suffer from social and institutional
discrimination that Occupation reforms failed to address adequately. Migrant
newcomers from the developing world inherit these problems unresolved.
The era of transformation also failed to bring closure to the thousands of Japanese
children abandoned in China after the war, many of whom as adults are now seeking
to reunite with parents and siblings in Japan; to the Aibakusha victims of the atomic
bombings; or to war-bereaved families. Some blame the Allied Powers for these
 Introduction xxvii

tragedies, for the humiliation of defeat and occupation continues to rankle, and
many Japanese remain ambivalent about this chapter in their history. It is easy to
forget that loss of empire and the atomic bombings, like the army of occupation,
were an inevitable consequence of Japan’s wartime behaviour, and that the Allies’
primary goal was to eliminate the possibility of Japan’s ever again engaging in naked
aggression. For this, all Japanese can only be grateful.

MacArthur's Headquarters
The history of GHQ, the organisation that implemented the postwar reforms, begins
with the Pacific War (1941-5). Short for General Headquarters, the acronym came
into wide use in the US military during that conflict and appears to have gone out of
vogue not long afterwards. For historians, GHQ evokes the decade of war and Allied
occupation. For Japanese, it is synonymous with more than six-and-a-half years of
postwar Allied — predominantly American — rule. The term also is associated closely
with the military career of General Douglas MacArthur (1880-1964), who com-
manded US Army forces in the Pacific and Far East during the war and later directed
the Occupation as Allied Supreme Commander.’
GHQ was a generic designation for the various commands MacArthur held dur-
ing the war. In April 1942, he established the General Headquarters, Southwest
Pacific Area (GHQ/SWPA) in Melbourne, Australia, unifying under his leadership
Allied forces in the region for a general counter-offensive against advancing Japanese
forces. In April 1945, as Allied armies prepared to invade the Japanese home islands,
American units were reorganised and placed under a single command: General
Headquarters, United States Army Forces in the Pacific (USAFPAC, abbreviated
hereafter as AFPAC). Located in Manila, GHQ/AFPAC became operational in
June.’ In early August 1945, MacArthur created a Military Government Section
(MGS) inside AFPAC headquarters to handle non-military affairs in the areas under
Allied control. In October, MGS became the core around which he built General
Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (GHQ/SCAP), the
organisation responsible for conducting the Occupation. Many of GHQ/SCAP’s top
officials were trusted staff officers who had served with MacArthur in the Pacific.
A crucial but generally overlooked feature of the Occupation is its dual structure.
Most Japanese mistakenly believe that there was only one General Headquarters. On
30 August 1945, upon arriving in Japan, MacArthur promptly transferred GHQ/
AFPAC from Manila to Yokohama south of Tokyo. With the creation of GHQ/
SCAP in Tokyo on 2 October, two headquarters organisations came into existence
side by side. GHQ/AFPAC had jurisdiction over US forces in the Far East and, at the
outset, about 430,000 mainly American troops in Japan. GHQ/SCAP, run initially
by approximately 2,000 American bureaucrats, was responsible for the civil adminis-
tration of occupied Japan. SCAP formulated basic policy in line with pre-surrender
US position papers, which derived their authority from the Potsdam Proclamation of
26 July 1945. AFPAC’s primary military contingent in Japan, Eighth Army, super-
vised the implementation of SCAP programmes at the local level. As commander in
XXVili Introduction

chief of both organisations, MacArthur controlled the destinies of over 74 million

Japanese, including in the early months of occupation more than 2 million Koreans
and Formosans, and the acronym GHQ/SCAP became synonymous both with the
autocratic but charismatic general and with his headquarters staff.
MacArthur's command constituted “an elaborate Army super-government’ which,
although nominally under Allied control, took its orders from Washington.” The
Supreme Commander exercised broad discretionary powers in implementing Occu-
pation policy, however, and often seemed a power unto himself. In principle, Occu-
pation directives were enforced indirectly via the Japanese government, but
MacArthur’s staff often resorted to a combination of threat and persuasion to ensure
compliance. To facilitate the task of administering Japan, GHQ/SCAP established a
complement of special civil staff sections to oversee specific areas of government.
Numbering about a dozen, these non-military groups were created to duplicate, in
structure and function, specific Japanese ministries and agencies. As old objectives
were met and new needs arose, the duties of the special staff sections were modified.
Some groups were reorganised or abolished and, occasionally, new ones created.
In Japan, the conventional wisdom is that GHQ programmes were executed by
inexperienced junior officers with few real qualifications for their work. The nation’s
first postwar education minister Maeda Tamon complained that ‘Many of those who
carried out the occupation administration of education were persons of extremely
limited knowledge and experience in the field.’ This sentiment was echoed by Kawai
Kazuo in an influential book on the Occupation. Japanese educators, he asserted,
had little use for the idealistic American reformers of lesser background and experi-
ence.° That view is patently wrong. Many military officers held advanced academic
degrees and had received up to a year’s intensive training in civil administration and
the Japanese language at leading American universities. Moreover, SCAP recruited
talented civilian experts to help run the special sections and assist in policy imple-
mentation. Thus, unlike GHQ/AFPAC, a strictly military command, GHQ/SCAP
contained large numbers of non-uniformed specialists.
The competence and formal training of SCAP personnel varied, but by and large,
the civilian Occupationaires were people of outstanding character and merit. They
included former civil servants, financiers, labour consultants, lawyers and other pro-
fessionals. PhDs abounded. Many of these experts were in uniform when the war
ended and took positions in the Occupation in order to complete their service in
Japan. Many remained on the job or rejoined MacArthur’s headquarters after being
discharged from active duty — at nearly double the salary. From 1946, SCAP relied
primarily on non-military specialists to staff its huge bureaucracy; the ratio of civilian
to military personnel for most of the Occupation was about four to one. Animated by
a reformist zeal that was sometimes excessive, many travelled to Tokyo to put their
New Deal philosophy into practice. Others came because they could not find com-
parably attractive work at home. Some had a genuine interest in Japan and its culture,
and there were the usual adventurers and carpetbaggers, but most possessed administra-
tive skills and expertise in some field vital to the tasks of military government.
 Introduction xxix

An overwhelming majority of MacArthur’s staff were Americans, although a few

Australians, British and nationals of other countries could be found in specialised
positions. The vast majority also were Caucasian and male, and the Occupation itself
projected an unmistakable aura of white superiority reflecting the power relations
governing not only victor and vanquished but also white and non-white occupier.
This unstated and generally unexplored assumption has cast a long shadow over the
contributions to the reform process made by Japanese Americans and women. Simi-
larly, the role of African Americans has yet to be studied seriously. The Eighth Army,
which remained segregated for most of the Occupation, included the largest all-black
unit in the US Army, and black Americans were stationed across Japan. The same
assumption also has obscured the role of Japanese civilians — the typists, translators,
researchers, artists, expert advisers and myriad assistants —- who performed SCAP’s
day-to-day work and accounted for more than 40 per cent of all GHQ personnel. In
the prefectural Military Government Teams assigned to oversee the reform process at
the grass roots, Japanese staff outnumbered the Americans, and here, many indeed
were better educated than their superiors. Without the enthusiastic cooperation of
these men and women, the work of occupation would have ground to a jarring halt,
and yet little is known about them.
Unlike Germany and Korea, where divided Allied jurisdictions led to divided
countries, in Japan proper, the United States alone exercised supreme control, and no
artificial divisions were imposed on the four main islands. There, Occupation gov-
ernance, conducted through existing political institutions, was indirect and relatively
liberal. The first home terrain to come under foreign occupation, however, was Iwo
Jima in the Ogasawaras, captured in mid-March 1945. The Ogasawaras were fol-
lowed by the Kerama archipelago in the Ryukyus, which fell on 26 March, and
Okinawa Island, which Allied forces had secured by 23 June. Unlike the main
islands, these ‘minor’ territories were placed under direct US military administration,
the antithesis of the democratic régime introduced in Japan proper.
Between late August and early September 1945, Soviet forces invaded and occu-
pied southern Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands north of Hokkaido. Soviet rule
there in some ways paralleled the military régime that GHQ/AFPAC established on
Okinawa, which remained in US hands until 1972. In both the Kurils and the
Ryukyus, civil rights were sharply curtailed or denied altogether, and life was much
harsher than on the mainland, where the occupier’s presence was muted. In this
sense, the occupation of Japan was divided, or at least semi-divided. Today, the four
southernmost Kuril islands — the so-called Northern Territories — remain under
foreign control, although in the wake of the Soviet collapse, Russia has indicated a
willingness to negotiate the future of certain of these territories. And in Okinawa,
now a part of Japan, the US military presence continues unabated despite intense
local opposition.
Historians also are prone to overlook the role of other Allied soldiers in Japan. The
British Commonwealth Occupation Force (BCOF) included more than 40,000
troops from Australia, Britain, India and New Zealand. Indian soldiers were British
Xxx Introduction

subjects until India won its independence in 1947. During their short tenure, these
colonial troops performed vital functions and gave the Occupation a cultural dimen-
sion that remains little studied. Led by an Australian, the multi-ethnic BCOF was
composed of Gurkhas, Maoris, Scots, Sikhs, Welsh and half a dozen other ethnic
groups and included Animists, Christians, Hindus and Muslims. Stationed in
Shikoku and southwestern Japan, the Commonwealth contingent accounted at the
height of its strength for nearly one quarter of all Occupation troops.

Japan’s Asia-Pacific War

Whar social pathology propelled Japan on its course of aggression, leading to defeat
and occupation by foreign armies? The Asia—Pacific War’ did not begin with Pearl
Harbor but with the Japanese invasion and occupation of Manchuria in 1931, an
act that earned Tokyo international opprobrium, prompting it to withdraw in anger
from the League of Nations, The creation of the puppet state of Manchukuo in
March 1932 under ‘Henry’ Puyi, the last Qing emperor, was merely the latest in a
series of colonial adventures that began in the late nineteenth century as Japan
embarked on its forced march into the modern era. Manchukuo was added to a
colonial empire that already included Okinawa (1879); Formosa (1895); the Kwan-
tung Leased Territory (Port Arthur and the Liaodong Peninsula) in southern Man-
churia (1905); southern Sakhalin (1905); Korea (1910); and the Pacific Mandates
(1919),
In 1937, the Imperial Army launched a full-scale invasion of China. The Rape of
Nanjing by the Tenth Army and the Shanghai Expeditionary Force that followed in
late 1937 and early 1938 as Japanese forces drove south stunned world opinion by its
savagery. For two-and-a-half months, Japanese troops under General Matsui Iwane,
Commander of the China Theatre Headquarters, rampaged, engaging in an orgy
of rape, pillage, arson and murder in which hundreds of thousands of Chinese
reportedly were killed.* Japan’s bellicose South Manchurian garrison, the Kwantung
Army, moved westward out of Manchuria, overrunning most of Inner Mongolia by
the autumn of 1938, In March 1940, as the Kwantung Army engaged in a wider
campaign of annihilation against Chinese and Korean partisans in Manchuria and
northern China, Imperial forces established a puppet régime in the old southern
capital of Nanjing under Wang Ching-wei, a Nationalist leader who had defected
from Chiang Kai-shek (Jiang Jieshi)’s Republican ranks, The Japan—China Basic
‘Treaty of November 1940 recognised the Wang régime as the sole legitimate govern-
ment of China,
Two years earlier, in November 1938, Prime Minister Prince Konoe Fumimaro
had called for a ‘New Order’ in Asia, justifying Japanese aggression in China as
necessary to combat the twin evils of Western imperialism and Communism. In
December of that year, Konoe created the Asia Development Board to administer
political, economic and cultural policies towards China. Japan’s attempt to impose
by armed might a hegemonic New Order uniting Asia in a single political and
economic bloc under Imperial rule — euphemistically expressed in such slogans as
 Introduction XXXi

‘the eight corners of the world under one roof’ (that is, the world unified under the
Japanese Emperor, hakko ichi’u) — made a wider Asiatic and Pacific war inevitable.
Since the late 1930s, ultra-nationalist officers had insisted dogmatically that alli-
ance with the Axis nations and military expansion into Asia were Japan’s only hope
of countering an attempt by the Western powers to encircle the country, sever its
lifeline to oil and other natural resources and strangle the economy. To bolster its
diplomatic position, Japan deepened its links with the Axis alliance through the
Anti-Comintern Pact of 1936. Tokyo officially cast its lot with Germany and
Italy following the signing of the Tripartite Pact in September 1940, one year after
Hitler’s armies had rolled across Poland igniting World War II. As in the case of
Germany and Italy, Japanese leaders believed their nation had been wrongly denied
its fair share of colonial spoils in the ‘post-imperialist’ world order that emerged
from the ashes of World War I.” They demanded a redistribution of wealth and
power in Asia commensurate with Japan’s industrial and military might. This
imperial ambition was clothed in the ideological garb of divine mission and spiritual
destiny but rested on a shrewd practical calculation: by allying with Germany, the
probable victor in the coming European conflict, Japan could assert hegemony over
British, Dutch, French and Portuguese possessions in Southeast Asia after the retreat
of the West European powers. Paradoxically, however, only some kind of under-
standing with Japan’s major rivals in northern Asia and the Pacific, the Soviet Union
and the United States, would free its hand in the south. The inconsistent and
ultimately self-defeating policy of reaching an accommodation with Moscow
and Washington while attempting to undercut their interests in Asia was, as one
historian phrases it, ‘more opportunistic than dogmatic and more ambiguous than
systematic’.'°
Militarily, this strategy required a major shift in emphasis. Since the Bolshevik
Revolution, Imperial General Headquarters had pursued a northern policy that
targeted the Soviet Union as Japan’s primary enemy. During the 1930s, some 500
armed clashes erupted between Japanese and Red Army troops along the Soviet—
Chinese frontier, some of them raising the prospect of war. In May 1939, Kwantung
Army units engaged Mongolian forces at Nomonhan (Khalkhin Gol) on the border
between Japanese-controlled Inner Mongolia and the Mongolian People’s Republic
(‘Outer’ Mongolia). At the Mongolians’ request, Soviet troops intervened in June,
and by August, Soviet armoured units, aircraft and flamethrowers had routed the
poorly mechanised Kwantung Army at a cost to the Japanese of 20,000 dead and
missing. Entire divisions suffered casualties in excess of 70 per cent, and more
than 3,000 were taken prisoner. In August, Moscow and Berlin signed a non-
aggression pact, forcing Tokyo to accept a diplomatic settlement to this ‘four-
month-long small war’. Japan’s devastating defeat led military planners to focus their
energies on a southward expansion."
By early 1941, however, events seemed to be developing in Japan’s favour. Ger-
many had overrun most of Europe, and Britain was under attack by air and sea while
the United States watched from the sidelines. On 25 April 1941, Tokyo and Moscow
xxxii Introduction

ratified a five-year Neutrality Pact pledging mutual non-intervention in the case of

attack by a third power. Negotiated by Konoe’s Foreign Minister Matsuoka Yosuke,
the architect of Japan’s Tripartite agreement, the Pact could be renewed automatic-
ally, barring prior notification to the contrary, by either side. Nearly three months
later, on 22 July 1941, the Nazi war machine stormed across the Soviet border in a
massive display of armed might. With Great Britain and the Soviet Union expected
to succumb to the Nazi onslaught, Japan now had only the United States to reckon
with in the Pacific.
Washington, however, viewed Japanese aggression in China as an attempt to ter-
minate American influence throughout Asia and responded with economic sanctions.
In July 1939, the United States signalled its intention to terminate Japan’s Most
Favoured Nation status and subsequently outlawed the export of scrap metal. These
first shots in what would become a ‘cycle of mutual provocation’ reinforced the
determination of Imperial General Headquarters to turn to Southeast Asia as a source
of raw materials.'* In late July 1941, following the Imperial Army’s march into
southern French Indo-China (with the support of France’s collaborationist Vichy
régime), Britain, the Netherlands and the United States froze Japanese assets. For
Tokyo, the final blow fell on 1 August 1941 when Washington embargoed oil exports.
To ordinary Japanese, these events confirmed the militarists’ claims of ‘ABCD’
encirclement by the Americans, British, Chinese and Dutch. The assertion that
Japan’s advance into China and Southeast Asia was an act of self-defence was an
egregiously self-serving argument that carried little weight outside of this country.
Yet, as Assistant Secretary of State Dean Acheson later recalled, the United States
badly misread Japanese intentions and the ‘incredibly high risks’ General Tojo
Hideki would incur to protect his country’s perceived interests: “No one in Wash-
ington realised that he and his régime regarded the conquest of Asia not as the
accomplishment of an ambition but as the survival of a régime. It was a life-and-
death matter to them. They were absolutely unwilling to continue in what they
regarded as Japan’s precarious position surrounded by great and hostile powers.”
To Americans, Japan was another fascist power bent on world domination. And
on the surface, the country indeed displayed similarities with the dictatorships that
had evolved in Germany and Italy. The doctrine of racial supremacy, the inculcation
of militarist and corporatist values and the glorification of war and territorial con-
quest had much in common with Nazism. Many military leaders, bureaucrats and
politicians embraced the Japanese variant of national socialism, and the economy was
dominated by a handful of monopoly capitalists eager to profit from military adven-
tures. Society was tightly regimented, and the people were denied basic civil liberties
and subjected to rigid police controls. The education system was geared to produce
obedient subjects ready to lay down their lives for the Emperor.
Although Japan was an authoritarian society, it was not totalitarian, however, and
its social and political structure differed in important ways from that of its German
and Italian allies. In October 1940, Prince Konoe, prime minister for a second time
from July of that year, dissolved the country’s labour unions and political parties into
 Introduction xxxiii

Photo 1, Emperor Hirohito, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Armed Forces, reviews
Army troops at the Yoyogi Training Grounds in Tokyo, 8 January 1940 (Kyodo).

a mass super-organisation, the Imperial Rule Assistance Association (IRAA), which

was designed to consolidate the Imperial Order at home. His primary aim, however,
was to create a civilian counterpoise to the pro-war militarist cabal around General
T6j6, who replaced the Prince as premier in October 1941. In 1942, Tojo intensified
the military’s efforts to recast this patriotic association in the mould of the Nazi Party
and its auxiliary groupings, but the IRAA never attained the same degree of
cohesiveness as its German and Italian counterparts. The Imperial Diet (Parliament)
continued to convene throughout the war, although under the circumscribed
conditions dictated by the national emergency. Nonetheless, about 30 per cent of
Diet members refused to seek the endorsement of T6j6’s expanded IRAA in the
1942 general elections and yet managed to win seats. Many of these politicians were
purged by the victors after the defeat, but some, including right-wing Socialists,
would continue to play prominent roles in postwar political life.
XXxiv Introduction

Unlike Germany, Japan’s wartime political structure was characterised by insti-

tutional continuity and stability; the same functionaries who had served the state in
peacetime served it just as loyally in time of war.'* Moreover, Japan’s leadership was
collective. The Emperor stood at the apex of the government and military establish-
ment, a position enshrined in the 1890 Meiji Constitution, but did not rule directly.
He leaned heavily on a group of senior statesmen and former premiers, the Genro,
who had played a salient role in the nation’s political life through the 1930s.
Although devoid of any legal or even formal status, the Genré intervened in all major
political decisions, advising the Emperor and mediating between Throne and gov-
ernment. After the 1930s, the Jishin, a strategic council consisting of living former
prime ministers, assumed this vital function. Real influence was wielded by political
and military factions close to the Court who ruled in the Emperor’s name. Power was
not concentrated in one man or institution, however, and, as a wartime American
writer observed, General TOj6 never enjoyed the influence wielded by a Roosevelt or
Churchill, let alone a Hitler or Mussolini.’? Tojo led not by virtue of his personal
charisma but because of his military rank and multiple Cabinet posts (in October
1941, on his accession as prime minister, he simultaneously headed the Ministries of
Foreign Affairs, Home Affairs and War).
Moreover, the Japanese leadership was divided, its national socialists leaning in two
opposing directions. Ultra-nationalist ‘go-fast’ imperialists in T6jd’s Control Faction
(Toseiha) found themselvesat odds with the “go-slow’ social reformers in the military
and bureaucracy, the so-called Imperial Way Faction (Kodoha), which shared Konoe’s
vision of reconstructing Japan and revitalising the Imperial Order from within. Some
‘reconstructionists’ espoused Socialist ideals, earning them the derisive nickname
‘Red fascists’ or “emperor-system Communists’. Several of the brightest young radi-
cals found a home on the Cabinet Planning Board, which Konoe had created in 1937
to coordinate civil and military war planning at the highest level of government and
rationalise the war economy (in early 1941, seventeen young bureaucrats would be
arrested under an anti-subversion law for their ‘left-wing progressive’ ideas).'°
Imperial General Headquarters, too, pursued a divided strategy. Until its devastat-
ing setback at Nomonhan in 1939, the Army had prepared to fight a continental war
against the Soviet Union, not a war of attrition against Western armies in Southeast
Asia. With sufficient reserves of petroleum and other war matériel to last at best two
years, the Army General Staff shifted to a southern strategy of assuring access to the
region’s raw materials as a base for future expansion. Under Admiral Yamamoto
Isoroku, the architect of Japan’s Pacific strategy, the Imperial Navy argued instead for
a series of lightning maritime offensives designed to disorientate and demoralise the
Western adversary and secure an early truce on terms favourable to Japan. Tojo and
the Army were responsible for the decision to go to war, but they were not privy to
the details of the planned attack on Pearl Harbor, a strictly Navy operation. Respon-
sible directly to the Emperor, not to the Cabinet, the Imperial high command as a
whole later withheld from the government — and even from its own Army and Navy
ministers — negative information about the progress of the fighting.
 Introduction XxXxV

Hirohito alone seemed to stand above these internal rivalries. Although the mon-
arch did not have operational control, he was informed of all military decisions taken
in his name, supported them, helped shape strategy, second-guessed command
decisions and occasionally intervened in field operations. Presiding over the dozen or
so Imperial Conferences convened between 1938 and 1945, he rarely spoke and
never initiated strategy, but his presence was the enabling factor that held together
the fissiparous tendencies represented there.
Many critical war choices were suggested, however, not by paramount leaders but
by middle-ranking military officers, whose views percolated upward through the
hierarchy via a process of consensus-building, eventually congealing at the top as
policy. The crucial decision leading to war was taken at the Imperial Conference of
2 July 1941, when the government and military high command endorsed the estab-
lishment of a Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere in Asia and agreed to advance
southwards, preparing for hostilities with the Anglo-American alliance should nego-
tiations fail. When Britain, Holland and the United States suspended oil exports to
Japan in August of that year, it was mid-echelon staff officers who insisted that war
with the Allies was inevitable unless such restrictions were removed by a specific date.
Their position, formulated in an Imperial Navy policy document, was adopted by
the Imperial Conference of 6 September 1941, which set a deadline for war with
Great Britain, the United States and Holland, barring a change in Allied policy by
October.’”
Hirohito expressed reservations about declaring war, and Konoe, convinced he
could overturn the Conference’s decision in time, intensified negotiations with
Washington in hopes of finding a modus vivendi. On 5 November, another Imperial
Conference set early December as the date Japan would go to war. On 26 November
(Eastern Standard Time), US Secretary of State Cordell Hull issued a set of 10
conditions which Japanese leaders read as a de facto ultimatum. The so-called Hull
Note called for abrogation of the Tripartite Pact, a non-aggression accord with the
Allied Powers and the withdrawal of all military forces from China (including Man-
churia) and French Indo-China. The Note was the point of no return. On 7 Decem-
ber, Japanese aircraft attacked the US Pacific Fleet headquarters at Pearl Harbor.
Their objective was to prevent a flanking action against Japanese troops then deploy-
ing rapidly across Southeast Asia. The strike, a contingency action planned by
Admiral Yamamoto who personally had hoped to avoid war with the West, had been
in preparation since early 1941."8

The legacy ofImperial conquest

From late 1941, as Japanese armies pushed relentlessly into Asia, they put Western
forces in the region to rout. This stunning victory over seemingly invincible
European-led colonial armies enabled Japan to portray itself as a liberator of
oppressed peoples, emphasising ties of blood and colour despite its own record as a
colonial oppressor. Such rhetoric was potent medicine in a region where, as one
historian has pointed out, roughly 500,000 British dominated 350 million Indians
XXXxvi Introduction

and 6 million Malayans; 200,000 Dutch colonists ruled 60 million Indonesians;

20,000 French soldiers and administrators controlled the lives of 23 million
Indo-Chinese; and a few tens of thousands of Americans lorded it over 13 million
Filipinos."” By mid-1942, a series of spectacular battlefield victories left Imperial
forces in control of vast areas of Asia and the Pacific.
The vision of easy success was to prove ephemeral, however. Japan’s leadership had
no grand design for waging war, nor a backup plan for extracting itself from a
quagmire should retreat become necessary. In addition the uneasy coalition of civilian
and military leaders who ruled the country disagreed on the war’s overall objectives.
By 1943, Japanese troops were on the defensive throughout the Pacific. Factions
unhappy with T6jd’s conduct of the war deposed the General in July 1944 as the
Imperial Army and Navy reeled from a string of strategic defeats. T6jd was replaced
by General Koiso Kuniaki, Governor General of Korea. In April 1945 with Allied
troops invading Okinawa, Koiso ceded the leadership to Admiral Suzuki Kantaré, an
ageing hero of the Russo-Japanese war.
Japan also was ill-prepared to assume the burdens of a pan-Asian empire, with its
leaders lacking even a rudimentary understanding of the region. It was only in
September 1938 that the Cabinet Planning Board established the East Asian
Institute (Téa Kenkyijo) to acquire basic knowledge about the ethnic composition,
ecology and socio-economic conditions of China, Southeast Asia and the Pacific.
Politico-military planning lagged even further behind. The establishment of the Asia
Development Board in December 1938 enabled Tokyo to begin coordinating policy
towards China, but a comparable administrative organ was not created for all of Asia
until late 1942 (see below). On 25 November 1941, shortly before Japan’s invasion
of Southeast Asia, the Military Command and Government Liaison Council pub-
lished a hastily conceived scenario for military occupation entitled ‘Guidelines for
the Administration of the Southern Occupied Territories’. The Guidelines laid down
three principles of military government: pacification, the acquisition of natural
resources and military self-sufficiency. Independence movements were to be encour-
aged but as a secondary objective to be pursued only after these larger goals had been
achieved.”° ;
Military governments subsequently were installed in the territories under Japanese
control, but these worked through local-level civil administrations staffed by
indigenous officials. Japanese civil affairs specialists from the Home Affairs Ministry
and other government agencies in Tokyo were despatched to supervise the local
bureaucracies. The Imperial Army, on the other hand, drew its military adminis-
trators largely from China, Korea and Manchuria. The Kwantung Army and Im-
perial forces in Korea had ample experience with the tasks of colonial rule. The
hard-core military cadre sent to administer the Empire’s new Southeast Asian posses-
sions would be referred to contemptuously by local functionaries as the ‘Korea
clique’. Serious friction sometimes erupted between Japanese civilian and military
administrators, but the military reigned supreme, promptly removing both Japanese
and local bureaucrats who objected to its policies.”
 Introduction XXXVii

In August 1942, the Imperial Army set up a local civil government in Burma
under the radical anti-British nationalist Ba Maw, and in August 1943, that country
declared its independence. In October of the same year, the Philippines established a
republic under Japanese tutelage, and in December, the Provisional Government
of Free India led by Subhas Chandra Bose was created in Singapore. In the East
Indies, too, Mohammad Hatta, Sukarno and other nationalists collaborated with the
Japanese, who pledged eventual independence to the Dutch colony. In Malaya, Japan
utilised the existing British civil administration, jailing British officials and replacing
them with local subordinates who underwent ‘re-education’ and civil affairs training
in Singapore. The Imperial Army helped establish and train the Indian National
Army and the Burmese Independence Army. In Malaya, it created the Malay Volun-
teer Army and, in the Dutch East Indies, the Army for Defenders of the Homeland.
More than 350,000 young Asians joined these regular armies, and some 180 officers
received formal military instruction in the Japanese metropolis. Local paramilitary
and vigilante groups also were formed to assist indigenous police forces, which the
Japanese military retained and placed under its control.”
To oversee this vast empire, in November 1942, Tokyo created the Greater East
Asia Ministry, which absorbed the Asia Development Board and usurped important
Foreign Ministry functions, prompting Foreign Minister Togo Shigenori to resign
in protest. In October 1943, the new Ministry brought nationalist leaders from six
‘independent’ nations to Tokyo to attend a Greater East Asia Council. There,
Burma, China (Wang Ching-wei), Japan, Manchukuo, the Philippines and Thailand
formally inaugurated the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere (the Provisional
Government of Free India attended as an observer). In British Borneo, the Dutch
East Indies, British Malaya and other areas rich in petroleum, rubber, tin and
bauxite, however, Imperial forces pursued a policy of ‘permanent control’, although
here, too, they were forced to adopt the expedient of indirect rule. In Malaya,
for instance, the Imperial Military Government formulated a three-pronged policy
(October 1942) of using ‘native princes’ (sultans) as military governors, secur-
ing adequate petroleum stocks and restricting the political influence of local
Chinese.”’ Chinese were repressed, and their merchant class was bled dry by
forced financial ‘contributions’. Japanese military administrations proved adept at
manipulating popular hatred of European colonialism and exploiting inter-ethnic
antagonisms.
By shattering the mystique of Western supremacy, discrediting the old colonial
élite, promoting younger Asia-orientated civil and military leaders, and encouraging
national languages such as Tagalog and Indonesian, the Japanese interregnum proved
a major catalyst for the postwar upsurge of national independence movements. The
Imperial Army’s harsh repression of civilian populations everywhere, and its
imposition of ‘Japanisation’ (forcible assimilation) programmes, however, quickly
disabused many anti-colonialists of their illusions. In schools, children were taught
Japanese, forced to sing the Japanese national anthem while facing towards Tokyo
and perform acts of obeisance before veiled portraits of the Emperor. People were
XXXVIii Introduction

compelled to observe the Emperor's birthday and other Japanese festivals, visit
shrines and bow to Japanese officials. A Japanese-style family registration (koseki)
system was set up, and local neighbourhood associations (tonari-gumi) were created
for mutual surveillance. Political rights were sharply curtailed and disobedience
was punishable by death. Military rule often was brutal. Following the capture of
Singapore in February 1942, Imperial forces arrested 70,000 Chinese and massacred
tens of thousands in reprisal for alleged acts of resistance. As the mask of pan-
Asianism slipped, revealing the arrogant master-race thinking behind it, the Japanese
‘liberator’ seemed no better, and in some ways even worse, than the Western colon-
iser. Among the Asian élite, sham independence generally was recognised for what it
was. As one historian has expressed it, ‘[t]o be féted in Tokyo did not quite make up
for having one’s face slapped in Rangoon or Manila’.”*
Under Japanese rule, tens of thousands of Indonesians, overseas Chinese and
Malays were drafted as ‘labour recruits’ (rémusha) and made to perform onerous
corvée duties for the occupant. Between 80,000 and 100,000 women, predomin-
ately Koreans but including other nationalities as well, were pressed into servitude in
military brothels throughout Asia, only to be abandoned or killed later by retreating
soldiers.” Enemy civilians and prisoners of war suffered inhuman treatment in
internment centres in China, Borneo, Burma, the Dutch East Indies, Hong Kong,
the Philippines, Malaya, Thailand and Indo-China. Korean ‘auxiliaries’ were mobil-
ised to work in these camps, carrying out the orders of their Japanese superiors under
threat of extreme sanction.”* The Draconian measures Japanese garrisons introduced
in the territories they occupied afford a stark contrast with the beneficent policies
Japan’s Allied conquerors followed after the war, and even to those Japan itself had
adopted in its earlier wars on the Eurasian continent.” During the conflict, some-
where between 10 and 15 million Chinese are thought to have perished. About
4 million Indonesians reportedly died from war and occupation as well as an
estimated 30,000 Dutch and other European inhabitants. Some 100,000 Filipinos
perished in the Battle of Manila alone, and as many as 100,000 Malays are believed
to have died under Japanese occupation. In French Indo-China, from 1944 to 1945,
between 1 and 2 million people starved to death in famines aggravated by Japanese
economic policies and forcible rice requisitions, and a similar disaster in Bengal
claimed 1.5 million victims. India also reported some 180,000 war deaths. Fighting
in the Pacific claimed the lives of 100,000 Americans, 30,000 Australians and 10,000
New Zealanders.”
The war brought disaster to Japan as well, where nearly 3 million people —
almost 4 per cent of the population — died of war-related causes. At the conflict’s
end, Japan’s major cities were charred ruins, and some 10 million people hovered
near starvation. The prompt repatriation of 6.6 million soldiers and overseas
Japanese compounded the nation’s distress. One quarter of Japan’s physical struc-
tures had been destroyed, including more than a third of its industrial machine tools,
and 82 per cent of all shipping had been sunk or disabled. Industrial output stood at
a mere 10 per cent of the prewar level. Agricultural production had fallen to 60 per
 Introduction XXxix

cent, and real wages to 30 per cent. The total damage inflicted was the equivalent of
25 per cent of the national wealth.” The devastation wrought by Allied bombing
was extensive but not total, however. Japan’s rail network, hydroelectric structures
and two thirds of its heavy industrial base remained intact, providing a modest
foundation on which postwar recovery could begin.

The Allied reforms

Allied policy towards post-surrender Japan was strongly coloured by revulsion at its
wartime transgressions and the jingoist ideology that had legitimised imperialist
expansion. The victors were determined to extirpate the social values that had fed
aggression and ensure that Japan would never again pose a military threat to its
neighbours, To effect this sweeping transformation, GHQ/SCAP initiated in the
early months of occupation an unprecedented régime of social engineering that
began with a thorough-going programme of demilitarisation. The Imperial Army
and Navy were disarmed and demobilised, the professional military establishment
was dissolved and suspected war criminals were arrested and placed on trial. Indus-
trial disarmament followed as factories involved in military production were razed,
shut down or scheduled for reparations. Early measures were pre-emptive and
designed to police and punish those responsible for the war. Virtually overnight,
SCAP swept away the repressive infrastructure that had supported the prewar police
state. The dreaded Special Higher Police was disbanded and the Peace Preservation
Law of 1925, notorious for its suppression of civil liberties, was revoked. Occupation
authorities also purged military, government and business leaders as well as teachers,
media executives and medical doctors from their wartime positions, a kind of
moral and ideological disarmament.
Early punitive reforms, however, also were intended to liberate, and subsequent
positive policies designed to democratise built on these. Political, economic, adminis-
trative, social and cultural reforms were boldly constructive, even radical. The polit-
ical project drew much of its inspiration from the US Bill of Rights, New Deal social
legislation, the liberal constitutions of several European states and even the Soviet
national charter. In 1946, GHQ proposed a new constitution that transferred sover-
eignty from the Emperor to the people in an attempt to depoliticise the Throne and
reduce it to the status of a state symbol. Included in the revised charter was the
famous ‘no-war’, ‘no arms’ Article Nine, which outlawed belligerency as an instru-
ment of state policy and the maintenance of a standing army. The 1947 Constitution
also enfranchised women, guaranteed fundamental human rights, strengthened the
powers of Parliament and the Cabinet, and decentralised the police and local
government,
During the war years, nearly 90 per cent of Japanese industrial capacity had been
allocated, directly or indirectly, to military production. GHQ buttressed its liberal-
isation campaign with a programme of economic democratisation. This was
designed to restructure Japanese capitalism by demilitarising production, decentralis-
ing and decompressing the economy, eliminating paternalism in the workplace and
xl Introduction

restoring, a basic level of production, To achieve these goals, SCAP strengthened

workers’ rights and encouraged a free labour movement, dissolved the zaibatsu cartels
that had dominated the pre-1945 economy, and implemented a far-reaching land
reform that virtually eliminated the institution of tenancy. Finally, through a series of
social and cultural reforms, the Occupation attempted to eradicate the Imperial
family-state ideology that had fostered chauvinistic values and military aggression.
The education system was decentralised and restructured to instill democratic ideals,
and centralised control of the mass media was abolished to allow free expression.
To further weaken the Imperial institution and bolster liberal government, SCAP
dismantled the system of State Shinté and instrumented a strict separation of state
and religion, At the same time, MacArthur's staff liberated Japan’s medical and
health-care systems from military control and thoroughly reorganised them in one of
the unsung success stories of the Occupation.
It is a truism that democracy cannot be imposed ‘from above’. Yet most Japanese,
and particularly the nation’s youth, disillusioned by defeat and weary of the priva-
tions and suffering of the war years, embraced the Occupation reforms with relief
and genuine enthusiasm. Of course, the wartime leadership and intellectuals who
had glorified militarism resisted change, and many of those who finally accepted the
new régime did so grudgingly and from expedience. Conservatives manoeuvred to
dilute many SCAP reforms, or to reinterpret them in ways that preserved and
enhanced bureaucratic authority. ‘The ethnic rights of Korean and Formosan minori-
ties, for example, were not protected, and these former colonial subjects were largely
excluded from the purview of reform, as were Okinawans. GHQ also failed to
act decisively to eliminate social discrimination against other groups, such as the
indigenous Ainu and the Buraku minority.
A dynamic tension quickly arose, however, between Occupation edict and
persuasion on the one hand and Japanese initiative on the other, and while the
relationship between occupier and occupied clearly was unequal, mutual collabor-
ation produced salutary and lasting results, In some instances, Japanese surprised
General Headquarters by pressing for reforms that did not exist in US law and went
well beyond what MacArthur's staff was prepared to grant. Revisions to the Civil and
Criminal Codes, women’s rights guarantees, the labour reforms, land redistribution,
the reorientation of education and the health and welfare reforms, in particular, were
implemented, and in some instances proposed, by forward-looking Japanese
men and women who used SCAP to advance their own reformationist goals, long
suppressed by the old régime. Initially, they were aided in this task by government
insiders, whose more conservative thinking advocated limits on change but nonethe-
less acknowledged its inevitability.” There was, in short, a powerful surge of creative
energy ‘from below’ without which the occupier's reform projections could not have
been realised, ‘The thesis of Japan's democratisation ‘from above’, while accurate
enough in some respects, has prevented a fuller appreciation of the diverse and
imaginative ways in which Japanese from all walks of life sought to utilise the
Occupation to reassert control over the destiny of their communities and the nation.
 Introduction xli

It was the active engagement of the majority that enabled the Occupation’s ambi-
tious new order to take root and flourish. Ironically, towards the end of the Allied
tenure, this innovating impulse would bring large segments of the public into open
conflict with the American benefactor.
The Occupation was not the simple experiment in democracy it is often portrayed
to be. With the intensification of the Cold War, SCAP reined in its reform initiatives.
From late 1947, US priorities shifted perceptibly from liberal social change to
internal political stability and economic recovery. Demilitarisation and democratisa-
tion lost momentum and then seemed to stall. Economic deconcentration, for
example, was left uncompleted as GHQ responded to new imperatives. American
authorities encouraged business practices and industrial policies that have since
become sources of contention between Japan and its major trade partners, notably
the United States. Key administrative and education reforms were partially turned
back. General Headquarters violated some of its own labour principles, which it now
found constricting and inconvenient. At the same time, the government, at SCAP’s
instigation and with its active collaboration, began to suppress the peace movement
and other popular initiatives, preventing these from playing a more prominent, and
perhaps decisive, role in hastening full democratisation.
The Red Purge of 1949 and 1950 epitomised this downshifting of gears, known
popularly after 1950 as the ‘reverse course’. During this period, MacArthur’s head-
quarters directed the indiscriminate dismissal of thousands of workers in the public
and private sectors, many of them anti-Communists, for alleged left-wing sympa-
thies. The Americans were assisted in this endeavour by old-school ‘reform bureau-
crats’, men (and a few women) of some vision ensconced in key middle-echelon
jobs, who accepted change as necessary but were determined to contain it within
limits manageable by the state and big business. The Japanese political élite lent this
movement the full force of its authority, and conservative lawmakers and business-
men applauded the return to pragmatism. This unholy alliance attempted to con-
strict the ideological parameters of Japanese democracy, violating the spirit, and
sometimes the letter, of the postwar reforms. After 1950, with war raging in Korea
and McCarthyism rampant at home, SCAP no longer defended what it had preached
so fervently a few years earlier; only those philosophies it found acceptable would
be permitted to compete in the marketplace of ideas. From that point forward, the
responsibility for completing the early reform agenda and bringing democracy to
fruition would rest on the shoulders of ordinary Japanese outside the corridors of
power.

The historical significance of the Occupation

The nature and significance of the Occupation reforms remain subjects of intense
debate both in Japan and abroad. Scholars using ‘modernisation’ as an analytical
tool have emphasised the continuities between prewar and postwar society, asserting
that the Occupation accelerated changes that were latent or already in train. This is
the position taken by many Western researchers, but some Japanese students, too,
xlii Introduction

share this view. A prominent Japanese historian, for instance, writes that while demo-
cratisation policies improved ‘the rather illogical systems’ of the prewar period,
ultimately, they simply transferred ‘old wine into new bottles and did nothing much
to change the way things were done’.*’ Other observers, the author included, have
stressed the discontinuities, emphasising the dissociative impact of the postwar
reforms on Japan’s prewar social structure and cultural traditions.
It is true that some reform programmes displayed striking parallels with pre-
defeat projects for change, and that GHQ officials borrowed — sometimes unknow-
ingly — from the agendas that progressive-minded Japanese had advanced in the
1930s and now formulated once more in the heady, hope-charged months follow-
ing the defeat. Labour and land reform proposals, for instance, had been submitted
to the Imperial Diet before and even during the war. Similar attempts were made to
reorganise the zazbatsu and the school system. Soon after the war’s end, the gov-
ernment outlined plans for a partial reformation of the bureaucracy, welfare
administration and the electoral, land-tenure and education systems. These initia-
tives, however, largely were designed to forestall more radical action by Allied
authorities. Nothing in pre-surrender Japan could have prepared the nation for the
sea change that the Occupation brought about. The wartime shortage of labour, for
instance, had led large numbers of women into the workplace. This indubitably was
the point of departure for later struggles to achieve gender equality, but the postwar
women’s movement signalled a qualitative shift away from the stance taken by
war-era feminists, many of whom had collaborated with the military régime. While
endogenous input was a necessary ingredient in the formula for change, it was not
sufficient of itself.
A particularly strong case for the continuity thesis is the virtually uninterrupted
prestige and influence enjoyed by the bureaucracy after the war. One of the trenchant
ironies of the Occupation is not only that the most liberating postwar reforms were
imposed by foreigners but that they were implemented by many of the junior and
mid-level functionaries who had managed the affairs of empire during the war. GHQ.
purged its ranks but never completely broke the power of this central control appar-
atus, whose inbred conservatism tended to fetter the reform process as the Occu-
pation progressed. GHQ attempted to turn this machine to its own use rather than
dismantle it, seeking allies among officials who had supported labour and welfare
reforms in the 1920s and 1930s in an effort to protect industrial capitalism from its
own worst abuses. In their 40s at the time of surrender, a number learned English
quickly and became adept at working with the American occupier. These so-called
social or reform bureaucrats would support MacArthur’s headquarters in its turn to
the right, using GHQ’s anti-Communism as a foil to achieve their own paternalistic
agenda.
And yet the Allied reform programme provoked a decisive rupture with many
institutional values and practices of the past. This is true not only of the retributive
or ‘negative’ reforms, such as the elimination of the military caste and the police
state, but also of GHQ’s positive endeavours, especially the guarantee of basic civil
 Introduction xliii

liberties, women’s rights, the labour and land reforms, and the revolution in health
and welfare, none of which could have been completed without direct and forceful
intervention on the part of MacArthur’s headquarters. This disjunctive moment left
an indelible imprint on postwar society that cannot be adduced solely from earlier,
often feeble and piecemeal attempts at institutional streamlining.
In a sense, the attempt to plot the evolution of postwar Japan in terms of the
vectors of continuity/discontinuity is simplistic, for implicit in this debate is a ques-
tion of time frame. In the long sweep of history, say several centuries, the Occupation
appears less significant, but in terms of the past half century or so, its reform object-
ives and projections determined in significant measure the character and direction of
postwar social change. This transformation would have been impossible without the
overarching authority of the Supreme Commander, In the absence of an Allied
military presence, the constitutional order we enjoy today could not have evolved.
Conservatives argue that this order was imposed at gunpoint. Perhaps, but we should
remember that, as Christian Socialist Katayama Tetsu once commented in defence of
the Constitution, it was imposed on reactionaries, not the people, and that most
Japanese recognised that singular fact.
Of course, Occupation policies were not uniform; their force and direction varied
with time and place. Nor were they equally successful. The first six to eight months
had the greatest impact on democratisation. During this brief period, the authority
of Japan’s wartime rulers had reached its nadir and popular support for reform was at
its pinnacle, In other words, in the heat of popular enthusiasm, conditions were ripe
for reshaping the ‘substance’ of traditional Japanese institutions under the hammer of
SCAP fiats. After the first two years, however, countervailing forces emerged both
within General Headquarters and within Japan’s ruling establishment that muted
many of the achievements of the early months, restoring some degree of continuity
with prewar society. In general, the Occupation began on a very high note and then,
after 1947, went steadily downhill, a subject that is examined in the final section of
this book. Today, more than half a century later, our understanding of these events is
still incomplete, and basic research remains to be done.” It is my hope that the
present volume will inspire younger scholars to delve deeper into the history of this
short but remarkable era to shed fresh light on our ‘post-modern’ predicament.

The English edition

Inside GHQ is the story of how these reforms came about, of the organisation that
was created in October 1945 to implement them and of the remarkable men and
women who staffed it.’ To a lesser extent, it is also the story of the Japanese who
cooperated with the Occupationaires, both reform-minded individuals who em-
braced MacArthur’s liberalising project and conservatives of various stripes. Part I
traces the origins of MacArthur’s headquarters to the closing days of the Asia—Pacific
War. Part II details the organisation of GHQ and introduces the leading military and
civilian experts who ran the Occupation. Parts II] and IV examine the reforms
themselves, their genesis and the complex interplay between the American and
xliv Introduction

Japanese officials who enacted them. Part V describes the fate of those projects as US
objectives in Japan shifted rightward in response to Cold War pressures, culminating
in the outbreak of a shooting war on the Korean peninsula, and considers their
relevance for Japanese society today.
The present work differs substantially from the original monograph in several
respects. Since Inside GHQ was published in Japanese in 1983, a number of seminal
studies of the Occupation have appeared in Japanese and in English, and I have tried
to incorporate their insights into these pages. The basic themes developed in the
original remain pertinent today, but I have broadened the analytical framework and
considerably enriched the historical narrative. Explanatory information also has been
added for the benefit of readers unfamiliar with contemporary Japanese history.
These changes have entailed writing a new introduction, reorganising and expanding
the original materials and adding a chapter on the welfare reforms and minorities and
a concluding essay on the Occupation legacy. In the process, the number of chapters
has grown from four to eleven.
I observe East Asian practice and transcribe Japanese, Chinese and Korean names
giving the surname first, personal name last (an exception are Japanese American
names, which are given in Western order). In English-language works, Japanese
name order follows the preference of the author. Nationalist Chinese names are
rendered in Wade-Giles romanisation, other Chinese names and_ place
names in pin yin. Japanese dates fall one day later than in the United States and
Europe and are used for events occurring in East Asia. Macrons are employed over
long vowels in Japanese words to indicate correct pronunciation, exceptions being
well-known place names and terms that have entered the English language. The
original monograph did not include endnotes. In this edition, relevant Japanese and
English sources are cited, but relatively inaccessible primary references have been
kept to a minimum in order to avoid further encumbering an already burdened text.
Because I lost my sight in the 1970s, I have presumed on the generosity of many
people in completing this project. I am especially indebted to Matsuno Masako,
Naité Kazuko (deceased) and Tanaka Kaori, my talented assistants at Tokyo Keizai
University. Sasamoto Yukuo, Takano Kazumoto and Miura Yoichi helped organise
the original data, took dictation and prepared the chronological tables, bibliography,
glossary of acronyms and index for the Japanese version. Members of the Kokubunji
and Machida Volunteer Readers groups served as my eyes. Mr Sasamoto and Ms
Tanaka also read with me the many drafts of the English version.
Former GHQ officials offered valuable insights into Occupation history through
personal interviews. They include Robert Amis, W. MacMahon Ball, William K.
Bunce, Valery Burati, Theodore Cohen, John K. Emmerson, Beate Sirota Gordon,
Benjamin Hazard, James Hoover, Charles L. Kades, William Karpinsky, Arthur R.
Menzies, Jack P. Napier, Alfred C. Oppler, Mark T. Orr, Crawford F. Sams, Elliott
R. Thorpe, Cecil G. Tilton and Justin Williams Sr.
I gratefully acknowledge the kind cooperation of Hoshi Ken’ichi of the National
Diet Library, Tokyo; Okiyama Nobuko and Oi Fumiko of the American Center,
 Introduction xlv

Tokyo; Morimatsu Toshio of the Military History Department, National Institute of

Defense Studies, Tokyo; Fujishiro Manae of the Library of Congress, Washington
DC; Frank J. Shulman of the McKeldin Library, University of Maryland; and
Okuizumi Eizaburd of the Japanese Section, University of Chicago Library. Eric
A. Saxon provided invaluable assistance in locating materials relating to the British
Commonwealth Occupation Force.
I also wish to express my gratitude to Tokyo Keizai University’s Academic Publica-
tion Fund for providing a grant to offset the costs of publishing a work of this length.
Finally, I am especially indebted to Robert Ricketts and Sebastian Swann for their
painstaking care in translating and adapting this work from the Japanese and to Mr
Ricketts for enlarging it, under my direction, to encompass recent scholarship, in-
cluding research on minorities. Mr Ricketts also undertook the formidable tasks of
reorganising, revising and editing the manuscript and compiling end notes. I express
my warmest thanks to John W. Dower and Sugiyama Chihei (deceased), who read
the English version and made numerous suggestions for its improvement; to Ian H.
Nish who also kindly read and commented most helpfully on the text; to Joe B.
Moore for skilfully editing the penultimate draft of chapter 4 and making percep-
tive comments on chapter 7; and to Lonny E. Carlisle, who reviewed an early version
of chapters 8 and 10. Brian Southam of The Athlone Press graciously arranged for
publication of the English edition, displaying quite remarkable patience and tact at
the many delays in producing a final typescript. I also thank Caroline Wintersgill
and Jeremy Albutt of Continuum International Group for their very enthusiastic
support. My wife Atsuko deserves special mention for her constant devotion, wise
counsel and energetic assistance at all stages of the work.

Takemae Eiji
Tokyo
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 PART I

The Allied Victory

 CHAPTER 1

The Pacific War and the

Origins of GHQ

AMERICAN PROCONSUL

On 30 August, 1945, General Douglas MacArthur, Supreme Commander for the

Allied Powers, descended from his aircraft, the Bataan, and stepped onto Japanese
soil at Atsugi Air Base some 32 kilometres west of Yokohama. Wearing a Filipino field
marshal’s cap, his trademark corncob pipe in hand, he was met by Eighth Army
Commander General Robert L. Eichelberger and a handful of staff officers who had
preceded him. ‘Melbourne to Tokyo was a long road’, he told the welcoming party,
‘but this looks like the payoff’. On MacArthur’s orders, there was no Japanese recep-
tion party at the airfield; Japan was a defeated nation, and the General’s arrival
marked the start of six-and-a-half years of military occupation.’
MacArthur’s improbable journey began in early 1942 at Bataan and Corregidor in
the Philippines, then under siege by Japanese troops. On 22 February, President
Franklin D. Roosevelt had ordered the General to leave his forces and proceed to
Melbourne to organise the US counter-offensive against Japan in the Pacific. Accord-
ingly, MacArthur, his family and personal staff who would form the nucleus of a new
headquarters departed Corregidor on the night of 11 March, nearly two months
before the fall of the island fortress. After a perilous escape by PT boat through nearly
1,000 kilometres of Japanese-held waters, the General reached Mindanao, where his
party boarded a B-17 Flying Fortress and made the five-hour flight to Australia. At
Adelaide Station, MacArthur told reporters with characteristic aplomb, ‘I came
through and I shall return.’ He arrived in Melbourne on 21 March and in late
April formally took charge of General Headquarters, Southwest Pacific Area, the
integrated Allied command in Australia.
Nearly three-and-a-half years of savage warfare were to pass before a bomb-
devastated, prostrate Japan, its war industries shattered and its major cities in ruins,
finally surrendered on 15 August 1945. On that day in mid-August, as the guns fell
silent, MacArthur radiated relief that the butchery was over and hailed the challenge
of building a new future. In a message of that date to President Harry S. Truman, the
newly appointed Supreme Commander waxed eloquent, declaring the Far East to be
‘inexpressibly thrilled and stirred’ by the end of the war and pledging to do every-
thing possible to work along ‘the magnificently constructive lines you have conceived
for the peace of the world’.
By the time he reached Tokyo, MacArthur already had established a brilliant
4 The Allied Victory

military career. Born in 1880 in Little Rock, Arkansas, he graduated from the élite
US military academy at West Point in 1903 with the highest grades ever recorded there.
After a first tour of duty in the Philippines, he served as military aide to President
Theodore Roosevelt and in 1914 participated in the US occupation of Vera Cruz,
Mexico. During World War I, MacArthur became deputy commander of the 42nd
‘Rainbow’ Division and after the armistice was assigned to occupation duty in the
German Rhineland, where he commanded a zone extending south of Bonn to
Koblenz. From 1919 to 1922, he was Superintendent of West Point, after which he
returned to the Philippines. In 1930, at age 50, MacArthur became a four-star
general and the youngest Army chief of staff in US history. Two years later, in 1932,
he earned notoriety by ordering his troops to forcibly evict 20,000 World War I
veterans and their families, the Bonus marchers, who had squatted in makeshift
camps in Washington DC demanding payment of their service bonuses. MacArthur
justified this repressive measure by dismissing the Bonus march as the work of
Communist agitators.
MacArthur’s interest in East Asia dated from his father Arthur’s tenure as Military
Governor of the Philippines (1900-1). General Arthur MacArthur was a Civil War
hero who had later distinguished himself in the ‘Indian Wars’, the bloody annihila-
tion campaigns waged against Native Americans in the late nineteenth century.
While serving in the Philippines, Arthur MacArthur suppressed with extreme cruelty
a major insurrection led by the nationalist revolutionary Emilio Aguinaldo against
US colonial rule (US troops introduced forms of torture that would be revived by
Japanese occupiers some 40 years later). Douglas arrived in Manila in 1903 shortly
after receiving his commission, and in 1905 he and his father toured Japan and the
Far East on a military survey. In all, the young MacArthur was to serve four tours
of duty in the Philippines. In 1935, he returned as military adviser to that country
and in mid-1936, at the request of Commonwealth President Manuel L. Quezon,
became Field Marshal of the Philippine Army. In 1937, he resigned his US commis-
sion to reorganise the Philippine armed forces and prepare the islands, which he
considered a vital Asian asset, for a presumptive attack by Japan. In July 1941,
President Franklin D, Roosevelt recalled MacArthur to active duty, incorporated the
Philippine Army into anew combined American-Filipino force christened US Army
Forces in the Far East (USAFFE), and placed the General in command.’
Four years later, on 15 August 1945, the day of Japan’s capitulation, Roosevelt’s
successor President Truman formally appointed MacArthur Supreme Commander
for the Allied Powers and ordered him to direct the postwar occupation of the
defeated enemy. The General was assigned this heavy responsibility largely because he
was US Theatre Commander when the war ended, but his sixteen years of experience
in Asia and his role in the American occupation of the German Rhineland after
World War I also recommended him for the job. MacArthur’s task was awesome. He
was to democratise a nation of some 74 million ruled by militarists and, in US eyes,
fanatically committed to a totalitarian ideology. To discharge that duty, he was
granted unusual authority. As Supreme Commander, the General ‘outranked’ the
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 5

Japanese prime minister and even the Emperor, widely revered as a living deity.
To the Japanese, he loomed larger even than President Truman. As Theatre Com-
mander, MacArthur’s authority encompassed the Philippines, the northern Pacific
and Korea, leading one historian to dub him ‘the last of the great colonial overlords’.*
His Olympian stature earned him the sobriquets of “blue-eyed shogun’ and ‘Japan’s
saviour’, and the nation’s pre-eminent postwar premier, Yoshida Shigeru, called him
the ‘great benefactor’. MacArthur came to personify the Occupation not only to the
Japanese but to the world at large.

Conservative reformer
To his staff, MacArthur, then 65, was known affectionately as the ‘Old Man’ or the
C-in-C (Commander-in-Chief, pronounced ‘sink’). To Americans he was a war hero,
then a legend. An April 1946 Gallup Poll gave the General higher public approval
ratings than either President Truman or Winston Churchill, and by 1948, he felt
confident enough to contemplate running for president. Despite his ambitions,
however, MacArthur failed to form an organisation, formulate a coherent platform
or woo the Republican Party’s powerful financial élite. As a former Occupation
official later suggested, MacArthur’s passionate commitment to a programme of
revolutionary political and social reform no doubt alarmed influential conservative
Republicans.’ Ultimately, poor planning, the absence of a solid base of support and
the General’s inability to return home to campaign in the primaries doomed his
candidature. Nonetheless, this hidden personal agenda made MacArthur hypersensi-
tive to US public opinion for the duration of the Occupation.
MacArthur cultivated his aloof, imperious image to maximum effect. If the Japa-
nese saw in him a saviour, he saw in himself a Caesar or Napoleon, once citing
the Roman conquest of Gaul as the only example of a successful military occupation
that compared favourably with his own. He interpreted his mandate broadly, some-
times working behind Washington’s back, often reinterpreting policy directives to
suit his own designs. Isolating himself from ordinary Japanese, the Supreme Com-
mander met very few officials more than once, conferring mainly with the premier
and the Emperor, with whom he talked many times (he met Hirohito every six
months and saw Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru on 75 occasions). MacArthur
worked seven days a week, including holidays, commuting between the Dai-Ichi
Building and the Embassy in a black 1941 Cadillac that he had obtained from a
Manila sugar baron. He never toured Japan and left the country only twice before
the Korean War, once in 1945 to Manila and again in 1948 to Seoul to attend
independence ceremonies. The General abhorred staff meetings and remained
inaccessible to most of his subordinates. There was no telephone in his office, and
only his personal aides and Brigadier General Courtney Whitney could see him
without appointment. Harbouring a deep distrust of the media, MacArthur did not
hold his first official press conference as Supreme Commander until March 1947. In
the course of the Occupation, he ordered several journalists expelled for their liberal
reporting.
6 The Allied Victory

The wartime staff MacArthur brought with him to Japan was fanatically loyal,
taking ‘ludicrous care’, as a historian has phrased it, ‘that only the rosiest reports
of the progress of the Occupation should reach the outside world’. The slightest
criticism of GHQ was akin to sacrilege. ‘He was a man’, wrote one of his lieutenants,
‘who suffered as much at the hands of saccharine admirers as he did from his sternest
critics.’ The reverse side of MacArthur’s vulnerability to public opinion was a fierce
distrust of higher authority that extended to his Commander-in-Chief, President
Truman, who took an equally jaundiced view of MacArthur’s grandstanding antics.
In June 1945, an irate Truman castigated the General in his diary as “Mr Prima
Donna, Brass Hat, Five Star MacArthur’, calling him ‘a play actor and a bunco man’.
Relations between the two would grow increasingly strained during the Occupation,
culminating in MacArthur’s dismissal in April 1951, at the height of the Korean
War, for insubordination.°
MacArthur’s personal life was equally reclusive. Ensconced in the US Embassy,
which he referred to as the ‘Big House’, he lived with his second wife Jean (née
Faircloth), whom he had married in 1937, and his young son Arthur. Jean’s life
revolved around her husband, but she reviewed parades on US and Allied holidays,
did duty as titular head of the American Girls Scouts and Red Cross and generally
saw more of Tokyo and Japan than Douglas. She busied herself with restoring to the
Big House some of its former comforts while son Arthur ‘played with family pets
{four dogs], idolised John Wayne, was an eager Cub Scout, read “Joe Palooka”, and
drank Coke and ate B-29burgers in the PX’. Outside the manor, he was treated like
royalty, photographed with Crown Prince Akihito and saluted by Japanese police-
men. Also living in the Embassy compound but in separate quarters were military
assistants Faubion Bowers, Lawrence E. Bunker, Sidney L. Huff and his Australian
wife, and the General’s wartime physician Dr Roger O. Egeberg (later replaced
by Lieutenant Colonel C. C. Canada). Completing this extended Anglo-American
ménage was son Arthur’s governess, Englishwoman Phyllis Gibbons, who had been
with the family since Manila days. On the bottom rung of the MacArthur hacienda
were the usual Asian house servants and field hands. The material needs of the
household were met by Japanese maids, grounds keepers and cooks proficient in both
Western and Japanese cuisine. Two long-term employees attended to the General’s
personal wants, a Filipino houseboy and Loh Chiu, a Cantonese amah (whom the
General insisted on calling Ah Cheu) who had joined the family in Manila in the late
1930s.”
Behind the General’s remoteness lay an unshakable belief in his own judgment, in
his personal destiny and in the innate superiority of American values and civilisation
over those of the ‘Orient’. Such overweening self-confidence betrayed a smug pater-
nalism beneath which lurked a racialist impulse. Assistant secretary Bowers remarked
that MacArthur often engaged in monologues out loud for the benefit of all present,
assuming that ‘everyone within his hearing was white, gentile and a sepulcher of
silence. This was never written out en toutes lettres, but we all were amazingly Anglo-
Saxon and Protestant’. Once, in a florid tirade, he cursed the President ‘as that
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ i:

Jew in the White House’. When the astounded Bowers asked to which president he
was referring, the General replied brusquely, “Truman. You can tell by his name.
Look at his face .. .”* In 1947, MacArthur warned that a lengthy occupation might
cause the occupying forces to ‘assume a dominant power complex pointing to the
illusion of a master race’. But the General himself was not immune from such
phantasies. In 1948, during lunch with a visiting US scientific mission, he spoke
about ‘the veneer of civilisation over the Jap’ and asserted that “With an Oriental, we
know that he is out to rob us and to agree to something as long as it suits them [sic].
We are then on guard. We should treat the Russians the same way.’ In 1951, after his
dismissal by Truman, he told the US Congress that the Japanese ‘in spite of their
antiquity measured by time, were in a very tuitionary condition. Measured by the
standards of modern civilisation, they would be like a boy of twelve as compared with
our [Anglo-Saxon] development of forty-five years.”
MacArthur believed that America, with its ‘advanced spirituality’, had a civilising
mission to perform, a moral obligation to free the Japanese people from ‘the enslave-
ment of feudalism’. Japan was ‘the world’s great laboratory for an experiment in the
liberation of a people from totalitarian military rule and for the liberalisation of
government from within’.'° A devout Episcopalian, MacArthur’s pronounced evan-
gelic streak fuelled a determination to Christianise Japan — a goal that Washington
policy-planners and many of his own staff viewed with faint enthusiasm.
Despite his aloofness and vanity, MacArthur possessed a radiant charisma that
could charm even fierce critics who met him face-to-face. The General was a spell-
binding speaker, frank and disarming, who could make his delivery with great inten-
sity and conviction. During a visit to Japan in 1947, the head of the American Civil
Liberties Union Roger N. Baldwin was forced to revise dramatically his personal
assessment of the Supreme Commander. Before encountering MacArthur, Baldwin
had thought him simply a puffed-up ham actor. After his interview, he exclaimed
incredulously, “Why, that man knows more about civil liberties than I do’. Such was
the effect MacArthur sometimes produced on people." Although a harsh taskmaster,
he inspired in his staff a fierce devotion, and three high-ranking career officers in key
Occupation posts would follow him into retirement in mid-1951: Crawford E. Sams,
Courtney Whitney and Charles A. Willoughby.
Politically, MacArthur has been characterised as “essentially an old-fashioned pat-
riotic populist’,’? an outlook that enabled him to deal impartially with people of very
different political persuasions. Two of his military assistants, Bonner F. Fellers and
Lawrence Bunker, for example, were dyed-in-the-wool ultra-rightists. Brigadier
General Charles Willoughby, SCAP’s intelligence chief, was a firm believer in
aristocratic privilege, not democracy. The conservative but moderate Whitney of
Government Section, MacArthur's closest adviser, was in many respects the opposite.
MacArthur also valued the counsel of the ardent New Dealers on his staff, such
as Charles L. Kades (Government Section) and Theodore Cohen (Economic and
Scientific Section) and occasionally consulted E. Herbert Norman, the left-leaning
Canadian scholar and diplomat assigned to Tokyo for most of the Occupation. This
8 The Allied Victory

ideological flexibility gave the Supreme Commander an immense advantage in har-

nessing a vast military organisation to the tasks of civilian government. It also helps
explain how, as one Occupationaire later expressed it, ‘a politically ambitious anti-
New Deal general [could] enforce an essentially New Deal programme’.’
MacArthur formally inaugurated his Tokyo headquarters on 2 October 1945, but
the organisational antecedents of GHQ stretch back to July 1941 and the creation
of the US Army Forces in the Far East. Headquartered in Manila and led by
MacArthur, the USAFFE consisted of American and Filipino troops. Its readiness,
and the mettle of its commander, were quickly put to the test.

WAR IN THE PACIFIC

The Japanese blitzkrieg

On 26 November 1941 (Eastern Standard Time), the day US Secretary of State
Cordell Hull delivered his list of 10 demands to the Japanese ambassador in Wash-
ington, the Imperial Navy’s First Air Fleet under Admiral Nagumo Chiichi set sail
for Hawai'i from Hitokappu Bay on Etorofu Island in the southern Kurils. Nagu-
mo’s orders were to attack the US Pacific Fleet anchored near Honolulu but to
return to port should Japan—US negotiations bear fruit. The next day, 27 Novem-
ber, the US high command, unaware of Japan’s war plans, radioed all commands in
the Pacific that negotiations with Japan had reached an impasse and warned: ‘If
hostilities cannot repeat cannot be avoided the United States desires Japan commit
the first act’. In the early days of December, the Japanese Embassy began burning
codes and sensitive documents. On Friday, 5 December, Washington reportedly
picked up one of Tokyo’s ‘war imminent’ signals, a weather broadcast (“West Wind,
Clear’) indicating a break in relations with Great Britain. (It is a matter of contro-
very whether Japan’s so-called winds’ code for an impending rupture with the
United States, ‘East Wind, Rain’, was ever sent.) On Saturday, 6 December, the
Japanese Embassy in Washington received the T6j6 Cabinet's 14-point response to
the so-called Hull Note. The document was to be decoded, typed in diplomatic
format and presented. to the State Department by 1 pm on Sunday, 7 December.
The crucial Point 14, however, was not a formal declaration of war nor even a
suspension of diplomatic relations; it simply stated that it now was ‘impossible to
reach an agreement through further negotiations’. Tokyo had specifically ordered
Ambassador Nomura Kichisaburé to prepare the lengthy document in the strictest
secrecy without using an Embassy typist. As a result, Nomura’s skeleton crew was
unable to meet the deadline, and the aide-mémoire was not delivered to Hull until
2 pm Eastern Standard Time (EST) the next day, even as the Japanese raid on Pearl
Harbor was unfolding. Imperial General Headquarters would not formally declare
the existence of a state of war with the United States and the British Empire until
4 pm EST."
That Sunday morning at 7:55 am (Honolulu time), the first wave of 350 Japanese
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 9

dive-bombers, torpedo planes and fighters launched from Imperial Navy carriers had
hit Pearl Harbor without warning. Within two hours the Japanese attack force
had sunk or heavily damaged 21 US Navy ships, destroyed or incapacitated 323
aircraft, killed more than 2,400 American servicemen and wounded nearly 1,200.
Several hours after the devastation of Pearl Harbor, Imperial Army aircraft raided
northern Luzon, the Philippines’ main island, quickly destroying on the ground
MacArthur’s fleet of B-17s at Clark Field near Manila. Within three days, US Army
Air Forces planes there had been put out of action. On 10 December, Lieutenant
General Honma Masaharu’s Fourteenth Army landed on Luzon. Following the
arrival of the main body on 22 December, it inflicted a string of lightening defeats on
the USAFFE. The Japanese Expeditionary Force seized Manila on 2 January, 1942.
American and Filipino troops, 110,000-strong, retreated to the Bataan Peninsula and
Corregidor, a fortified island at the mouth of Manila Bay due south of the Peninsula,
where they faced the combined onslaught of 192,000 Imperial Army and Navy
forces. Following MacArthur’s reassignment to Australia in March, General Jonathan
M. Wainwright took charge of the USAFFE.
The Philippine Army, Scouts and Constabulary accounted for 85 per cent of the
78,000 troops in Major General Edward P. King’s Luzon Force on Bataan. Among
the Force’s 11,800 American soldiers was a large contingent of Mexican American
Caballeros from the New Mexico National Guard who had been assigned to the
Philippines in August 1941 because of their knowledge of Spanish. They were
among the last troops to surrender, and many died in the battle for Bataan and its
tragic sequel.’ By early April, King’s command had been cornered and was facing
annihilation. Despite orders from General Wainwright to continue resisting, he
capitulated on 9 April. Honma’s troops lacked the logistical support needed to
contain and move some 75,000 prisoners-of-war. Colonel Tsuji Masanobu directed
his men to drive the starving and exhausted ‘battling bastards of Bataan’ on foot
through dense jungle under a hot tropical sun from the Mariveles air field to Camp
O'Donnell some 100 kilometres away. Japanese soldiers obeyed Tsuji’s orders to
show no mercy and herd their charges brutally at bayonet point (a rare few, in
individual acts of courage and compassion, attempted to mitigate the harsh treat-
ment by sharing their own rations with the captives). Accurate casualty figures do
not exist, but more than 600 Americans and between 5,000 and 10,000 Filipinos are
thought to have died during the Bataan Death March, many shot, bayoneted,
decapitated or clubbed to death for trivial offenses. Disease and starvation took
an even heavier toll. Of King’s Luzon Force, 2,000 to 3,000 managed to join
Wainwright’s main contingent on Corregidor or escaped into the jungle. On
7 May, Wainwright himself was compelled to surrender Corregidor and the entire
Philippine command, producing one of the greatest military debacles in American
history. The USAFFE disintegrated, and small groups of Filipino and American
combatants made their way into the mountains to organise guerrilla operations
against the Japanese invader.'®
As General Honma launched his initial attack on the Philippines in early December
10 The Allied Victory

1941, Imperial forces occupied Bangkok and simultaneously struck Hong Kong,
Malaya, Singapore, Guam and Wake Island. The British, Canadian and Indian
defenders of Hong Kong capitulated quickly, as did the tiny US Marine garrison on
Guam, On 10 December (local time), Japanese fighters attacked and sunk the pride
of the British Far East Fleet, the battleship HMS Prince of Wales and the battle cruiser
HMS Repulse, in the Gulf of Siam. Nearly 3,000 troops died in the assault, marking
the worst British naval calamity of the war. By January 1942, Imperial forces had
secured all of the Malay Peninsula but Singapore. On 15 February, General Sir Arthur
Percival, badly out-manoeuvred, unconditionally surrendered Singapore and its
garrison of 85,000 Australian, British and Indian troops to General Yamashita
Tomoyuki’s army of 30,000, The fall of the ‘City of the Lion’ shattered the citadel of
British power in the Far East, isolating British forces in India and Ceylon.
On 18 February, the carrier fleet under Admiral Nagumo that had savaged Pearl
Harbor struck the main Allied supply base at Darwin on Australia’s north coast,
prompting Australians to consider evacuating the northern part of the continent.
Canberra prepared to abandon the north and west to defend the “Brisbane Line’, the
area east of a perimeter running from Brisbane to Melbourne. In early March, British
and Indian troops withdrew from Rangoon, and Dutch forces surrendered Java,
giving Imperial soldiers control of the Dutch East Indies and its oilfields. In April,
Nagumo’s flotilla chased British warships out of the Bay of Bengal, sinking several in
the process. By May 1942, Japan’s southward blitzkrieg was more or less completed,
and its armies held a vast expanse of territory that stretched from the Aleutians in the
North to Burma in the southwest to the Pacific islands north of Australia in the east.
In addition to Korea, Manchuria and Formosa, the Greater Japanese Empire now
encompassed Hong Kong, the Philippines, Thailand, Burma, Indo-China, British
Malaya, the Dutch East Indies, British Borneo, the Pacific islands (Marianas,
Carolines, Marshalls, Gilberts and Solomons), the Bismarck Archipelago and New
Guinea (see Fig. 1). It seemed only a matter of time before the Empire added India
and Australia to its acquisitions, as well.'”

The Allied counter-offensive

Allied policy towards Japan was hammered out step-by-step in a series of summits
that began with the Washington (‘Arcadia’) Conference of late December 1941,
which produced an Anglo-American accord on grand strategy. On 1 January 1942, at
the height of the Conference, the representatives of 26 associated states signed a
statement of principle, the ‘Declaration of the United Nations’, laying the ground-
work for a concerted Allied response to Axis aggression worldwide. The heart of the
Declaration was the Atlantic Charter, an eight-point programme of peace aims that
Churchill and Roosevelt had enunciated in mid-August 1941, and the Four Free-
doms that Roosevelt had enumerated in a speech before Congress in January 1941:
freedom of speech and religion and freedom from want and fear. (On the basis of the
Declaration, in the autumn of 1944, Britain, Nationalist China, the Soviet Union
and the United States would meet again in Washington at Dumbarton Oaks to draft
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 1]

the general principles of the United Nations, and in April 1945, some 50 nations
would gather in San Francisco to found the new world organisation.)
The Arcadia Conference also agreed to establish the Allied Combined Chiefs of
Staff, from which the US Joint Chiefs organisation would evolve. ‘The Allied Chiefs
pursued a Europe-first strategy but made provision for the formation of an American-
British-Dutch-Australian (ABDA) Supreme Command in the Far East. Created on
15 January 1942, the ABDA was headquartered in Java and placed under British
General Archibald Wavell, with Lieutenant General George H. Brett of US Army Air
Forces as his deputy. Nationalist Chinese leader Generalissimo Chiang Kai-shek
(Jiang Jieshi) was named Supreme Allied Commander in China, Thailand and Indo-
China. ‘To coordinate Allied war aims, the Pacific War Council was established in
London, and shortly afterwards, an identical body was created in Washington to
harmonise views on military strategy. The two Councils operated in tandem for the
duration of the war, but the ABDA was short-lived. The fall of Singapore in mid-
February, the Allied defeat in the Battle of the Java Sea later that month and the
beginning of the British withdrawal from Burma sealed the fate of the first Com-
bined Allied Command, which was dissolved on 25 February. With New Guinea
and Australia menaced by advancing Imperial troops, Canberra, Washington and
Wellington prevailed on London to relocate Allied headquarters to Australia."
In the meantime, in February, the US Joint Chiefs had yielded to Army pressure
and appointed MacArthur Commander-in-Chief of US Army Forces, Pacific, con-
ferring on him a status commensurate with that of Admiral Chester Nimitz,
Commander-in-Chief of the US Pacific Fleet, In March, with the concurrence of the
Combined Chiefs, the American high command divided the Pacific into two great
theatres, the Southwest Pacific Area (SWPA) under MacArthur in Australia and the
Pacific Ocean Areas (POA) = North, Central and South Pacific — under Nimitz in
Hawai’i.'” On 18 April 1942, the Combined Chiefs established an integrated Allied
Supreme Command in Melbourne, christening it General Headquarters, Southwest
Pacific Area (GHQ/SWPA). MacArthur was designated to lead SWPA’s Allied Land,
Naval and Air Forces and plan and coordinate the counter-attack against Japan.
Australia and the Netherlands played a prominent role in the new multi-national
force, which also included elements from Nationalist China, the Philippines and
New Zealand.”
As head of SWPA, MacArthur chose his general staff almost exclusively from the
officers of the now defunct US Army Forces in the Far East who had fled with him
from Corregidor in March 1942. These hand-picked men included Colonel Spencer
B. Akin, Chief Signals Officer; Colonel Hugh Casey, Chief Engineering Officer;
Colonel William FE Marquat, Chief Anti-Aircraft Officer; Lieutenant Colonel
Richard J. Marshall, Deputy Chief of Staff; Colonel Richard K. Sutherland, Chief
of Staff} and Colonel Charles A. Willoughby, head of SWPA intelligence (G-2),
Known as the ‘Bataan Crowd’, this tightly knit clique would remain inseparable from
the General throughout the war, often accompanying him in his four-engine C-54,
nicknamed the Bataan. Others of MacArthur's in-group, such as Colonel Courtney
12 The Allied Victory

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14 The Allied Victory

Whitney and military secretary Major Bonner Fellers, who had served with the
General in Manila, joined him in Australia at a later date. Most of these officers
subsequently would play key roles in the occupation of Japan.!
On 20 July 1942, MacArthur moved GHQ/SWPA from Melbourne in the
south to Brisbane on the east coast in order to quash talk of abandoning northern
Australia. The continent, he announced, would be defended in New Guinea. Allied
headquarters were established in Brisbane’s Australia Mutual Provident Insurance
Building on Queen Street. At this time, the General also regrouped the American
forces under his command. He reorganised the US Army in Australia, renaming it
the US Army Services of Supply (USASOS), and appointed SWPA’s Deputy
Chief of Staff, Lieutenant Colonel Marshall, to head it. MacArthur’s primary
American tactical unit was I Corps, which he entrusted to Major General Robert
Eichelberger, a West Point career officer who joined SWPA in August 1942.”
Eichelberger’s I Corps initially was assigned to SWPA’s Australian First Army under
Sit John Lavarak.
In February 1943, MacArthur reconstituted the US Army Forces in the Far East
(USAFFE), placed it under Chief of Staff Richard Sutherland and positioned it one
block away from SWPA headquarters. USAFFE took over the administrative func-
tions of the USASOS service and supply group. At the same time, MacArthur
established Alamo Force as an independent command under GHQ/SWPA but
assigned it administratively to USAFFE. The core of Alamo Force was the recently
formed US Sixth Army led by Lieutenant General Walter Krueger. Eichelberger’s
I Corps had been attached to Krueger’s command, and a bitter rivalry soon
developed between the two leaders.”? Thus, by early 1943, MacArthur stood astride
two organisations, GHQ/SWPA and GHQ/USAFFE. Moreover, SWPA’s chief of
staff and deputy chief of staff did double duty as commanders of the two American
organisations, USAFFE and USASOS. This dual structure of interlocking control
also would characterise the General’s civil and military commands in occupied
Japan.
GHQ/SWPA was responsible for that part of the Pacific southwest stretching
from Australia, New Guinea, the Bismarck Archipelago and the Solomon Islands to
the Dutch East Indies (excluding Sumatra) and the Philippines. The theatre was too
vast, however, for SWPA to mount effective counter-operations unaided. Indeed, the
Allied command would be hard pressed to defend even Australia from a full-scale
Japanese assault. Any SWPA offensive would hinge on the ability of US Navy units
under Admiral Nimitz to divert Japanese forces into the Central Pacific and keep
vital military supply routes open between the United States and Australia. In these
inauspicious beginnings, MacArthur began plotting campaigns in New Guinea and
the southwestern Pacific,

An early turning point

From the start, the US Navy and Army held very different views about waging war
on Japan, While the Navy called for the blockade and bombardment of the Japanese
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 15

homeland based on pre-1941 contingency planning (War Plan Orange), the Army
called for a full-scale invasion on the ground. The inter-service rivalry that developed
between SWPA and POA intensified as the war progressed, with the Army and Navy
running separate campaigns, competing for human and material resources and vying
for overall control of Allied strategy. Priority initially was given to the Navy. The
architect of the Navy’s Pacific strategy was Navy Chief of Staff Admiral Ernest J.
King, who insisted that the Japanese be pressed hard at every opportunity through
aggressive amphibious operations.
In early May 1942, as US forces in the Philippines went down to crushing defeat,
Nimitz’s Pacific Fleet intercepted a Japanese flotilla in the Coral Sea. The Imperial
Navy was escorting troops from Rabaul, the main Japanese staging area in the
Southwest Pacific, around the eastern tip of New Guinea for an assault on Port
Moresby, jumping-off point for an invasion of Australia. The US carrier force man-
aged to stop the Japanese but at considerable cost to itself. In June, Nimitz decimated
an Imperial carrier group heading for Midway Island, handing Japan its first major
defeat of the war and thwarting the plans of Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku, Com-
mander of the Combined Japanese Fleets, to seize the strategic Midway base (so
serious were Yamamoto’s losses that not even General T6jd Hideki was given a full
account of the disaster). In August, US Marines landed on Guadalcanal in the
Solomons and doggedly battled desperate Japanese defenders until February 1943,
winning another major victory.
Guadalcanal had been preceded by a less celebrated but equally significant tri-
umph in Papua, southeastern New Guinea, the target of a major Japanese ground
offensive launched in the summer of 1942. In mid-September, SWPA’s Australian
7th Division finally stopped the Japanese attack directed at the Papuan capital of Port
Moresby. Entrenched at Buna on Papua’s northeastern coast, Imperial troops had
scaled the precipitous, cloud-shrouded heights of the Kokoda Trail linking Buna
with Port Moresby and been turned away a mere 50 kilometres from the capital. In
November, MacArthur ordered I Corps Commander Robert Eichelberger, to capture
the Japanese beachhead, telling him simply, ‘I want you to take Buna, or not come
back alive.’ In early January 1943, Australian and American soldiers in Eichelberger’s
Buna Force finally overwhelmed the Japanese defenders. ‘Bloody Buna’ handed
Japanese ground forces their most serious defeat since the 1939 rout at Nomonhan
(Khalkhin Gol) on the Manchurian-Mongolian frontier. As Nomonhan had put an
end to Imperial Japan’s northern strategy, so Buna brought to naught its plans for a
general assault on Australia.”
These successes represented an early turning point in the war, which the Imperial
Navy had expected to win by mid-1942. Japan now was on the defensive. The
Midway and Buna—Guadalcanal victories had foiled Japanese efforts to cut Allied
supply routes and facilitated SWPA operations in the East Solomons and New
Guinea. US naval advances in the Pacific enabled MacArthur to bring forward the
timetable for SWPA’s Elkton Plan, a five-stage advance up eastern New Guinea to
the huge Japanese command centre at Rabaul on the northern tip of New Britain. In
16 The Allied Victory

early February 1943, B-25s wiped out a Japanese convoy carrying reinforcements to
New Britain in the Battle of the Bismarck Sea, allowing SWPA forces to isolate
General Imamura Hitoshi, the conqueror of the Dutch East Indies. In November, the
8th New Zealand Division captured Treasury Island and US Marines stormed Bou-
gainville, nearby strongholds in the Solomons, tightening the circle around Rabaul.
By March 1944, Imamura’s 100,000-strong garrison had been completely cut off by
air, land and sea from other Imperial forces in the region and effectively immobilised.
At SWPA headquarters, a series of plans dubbed Reno and Musketeer were
developed with the conquest of the Philippines as their ultimate objective. The
Philippines lay midway between Japan and resource-laden Southeast Asia. With a
large, generally pro-American population, the archipelago also offered an ideal sta-
ging ground for a sustained Allied attack on the Japanese home islands. The Reno
Plan, completed in February 1943 and amended four times thereafter, called for a
combined Army-Navy operation employing a strategy of ‘leap-frogging’ across the
Pacific, beginning in New Guinea and the East Solomons and proceeding northwest
towards the Philippines. Capturing a few key enemy strongholds and isolating
Japanese troops on the remaining islands would accelerate the Allied drive and
minimise casualties. The Musketeer Plan, a continuation of Reno V, plotted the
capture of Leyte, a strategic island in the heart of the archipelago, from which
Allied forces could launch an assault on Luzon, retake Manila and end the Japanese
occupation.” Landings at Leyte Gulf were slated for 20 December 1944 and at
Lingayen Bay in northwestern Luzon for 20 February 1945. Continued Allied
successes in the Pacific would enable military planners to bring these dates forward
by a full two months.

OBJECTIVE: THE PHILIPPINES

The Philippines under Japanese occupation

On 2 January 1942, the day Japanese expeditionary forces seized Manila, General
Honma Masaharu issued a proclamation liberating the Philippines from American
rule. The Imperial Army’s purpose, he told the Filipino people, was ‘to emancipate
you from the oppressive domination of the USA, letting you establish “the Philip-
pines for the Filipinos” as a member of the Co-Prosperity Sphere in Greater East Asia
and making you enjoy your own prosperity and culture’. Japanese authorities under-
took an extensive administrative reform of the government and ‘reorientated’ the
education system to erase Western cultural influences. As part of the education
reform, English, the language of instruction under the Americans, was banned, and
Japanese and Tagalog were taught in public schools alongside Philippine history. In
September 1943, a new Constitution was promulgated, and on 14 October, José P.
Laurel declared a Japanese-sponsored Republic. Despite Laurel’s militant national-
ism and his efforts to ease the hardships of occupation for the common people, it was
clear to most Filipinos that his was a puppet régime whose days were numbered.”®
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 17

After the fall of Corregidor in May 1942, USAFFE survivors had taken refuge in
the mountains where they organised guerrilla resistance to the Japanese occupation.”
These soldiers were soon joined by Filipino partisans, whose ranks swelled as the
people realised that Imperial troops had come not to liberate them from American
domination but to impose on them a new colonial empire. On 3 January 1942,
General Honma issued a proclamation decreeing death to anyone who disturbed
the public tranquility or resisted Japanese forces in any manner. Military Police
(Kenpeitai), two Filipino historians have written, ‘began a career of wanton disregard
of human lives. Houses with unregistered radios were raided and their occupants
maimed and thrown into the dungeons of Fort Santiago, where inhuman punish-
ments were meted out to them as daily exercise’. The people lived in constant
fear of arrest and torture. Rape was common and degrading treatment a common
occurrence. ‘A Filipino was slapped for not bringing his residence certificate with
him. He was slapped for not bowing properly to the sentry. He was slapped for not
being understood by a Japanese sentry. He was slapped for having a face the Japanese
did not like.’
By late 1942, scattered guerrilla groups had established radio contact with GHQ/
SWPA in Brisbane. Japanese forces answered peasant-based partisan operations with
terror tactics, including the execution of local leaders, but Filipino franc-tireurs
resisted tenaciously and gradually integrated their dispersed commands. Freedom
fighters eventually established parallel military and civilian rule in the areas they had
liberated, and Manuel Quezon, president of the US-backed government-in-exile,
accorded these official recognition. Guerrilla military and administrative successes
combined with the savagery of Japanese counter-insurgency operations destroyed
any lingering popular support for the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere and its
innovative cultural reforms. By mid-1944, virtually the entire populace was cooperat-
ing with guerrilla forces, which American estimates placed at 270,000.”
Gathering intelligence on the Philippines was the job of the Allied Intelligence
Bureau (AIB), which MacArthur had established in July 1942. The AIB was placed
under Australian Military Intelligence Chief Colonel C. G. Roberts, with an
American, Colonel Allison Ind, as his deputy. In July 1943, mounting anti-Japanese
guerrilla activity prompted the AIB to create a Philippine Regional Section in its
Brisbane headquarters. Colonel Courtney Whitney, a Manila lawyer and MacArthur
intimate from prewar days, was picked to head the new organisation, which worked
under Colonel Ind’s supervision. Charged with improving communications between
SWPA and the guerrilla movement, the Section inserted coastal watchers, intelli-
gence operatives and radio teams into the Philippines via submarine and set up an
underground railway enabling agents to link up Maquis units.
AIB support heralded a new phase in the Filipino struggle. Until then, coordin-
ation between partisan groups and SWPA headquarters had been haphazard, and
radio contact with SWPA’s G-2 Intelligence Section was sporadic. With the estab-
lishment of two-way communications, SWPA and the resistance could synchronise
operations, and plans were laid for a guerrilla-led insurrection to coincide with the
18 The Allied Victory

Allied invasion of the islands. In the meantime, Filipinos in the United States,
allowed to register for the draft in 1942, answered the call to arms with enthusiasm.
Some 7,000 were mustered into the First and Second Filipino Regiments and sent to
Australia for special combat training. Many of the agents the AIB infiltrated into the
Philippines were Filipinos of the 1st Reconnaissance Battalion. When US troops
landed in the Philippines in October 1944, Filipino Americans joined up with
Maquisards behind enemy lines and fought side by side to liberate their homeland.”
During this period, the Filipino resistance developed various propaganda and
psychological warfare techniques that the Allies subsequently would adapt for use
in ‘psywar’ operations against Japan proper. In June 1944, as preparations for the
invasion intensified, MacArthur created the Psychological Warfare Branch (PWB),
SWPA and assigned his military secretary, Major Bonner Fellers, to direct its oper-
ations. Fellers was convinced that Allied propaganda could succeed only by telling
the truth. At the same time, he directed the PWB to avoid direct criticism of the
Emperor, who was to be portrayed as a victim of the militarists and used to achieve
peace. Japanese military documents suggest that this approach was surprisingly
effective in spreading doubt and disaffection among the rank-and-file as Japan’s
battlefront position grew desperate.*!

The secret intelligence war

Other groups also were active in Allied intelligence as US forces island-hopped
towards the Philippines. Native Americans from the southwestern Navajo (Diné)
tribe were used in the field as “Code Talkers’, relaying messages encrypted in their
unwritten Athapascan tongue to elude Japanese listeners. Some 3,600 Navajos were
under arms during World War II, 500 of them Marines. Of the latter, a total of 420
were assigned to the Marine Signal Corps and trained as Code Talkers at a special
intelligence school at Camp Elliott north of San Diego (later moved to Camp
Pendleton). The Japanese never cracked the code, which was used effectively on
Pacific battlegrounds. At Iwo Jima, for instance, most Marine operations were
directed and monitored in Navajo, and Navajo radio networks laboured around the
clock, making a major contribution to the American victory there.”
Second-generation Japanese Americans (Nisei) attached to the Allied Translation
and Interpreters Service (ATIS) also played a crucial intelligence role. Most of the
33,000 Nisei who fought in World War II served in Europe, but several thousand
were assigned to ATIS and other Pacific commands. ATIS was established in Sep-
tember 1942 in Brisbane under the Inter-Allied G-2 Staff, and in October, the
‘pirate-featured’ Colonel Sidney F. Mashbir, an American intelligence officer with a
fluent command of Japanese, was named to head it.** The Service’s duties included
clandestine surveillance, code-breaking, map-reading, radio interception, order-of
battle-analysis, interrogating prisoners of war and culling information from the
diaries, letters, memorabilia and other personal effects of enemy dead. A particularly
vital contribution to this effort was made by Nisei who had been born in the United
States, and therefore were American nationals, but who had gone to school in Japan
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 19

and returned home before the outbreak of war. With their intimate knowledge of
Japanese customs, geography, regional dialects and even military training, the Kibei
(‘returnees’) proved invaluable.
In the early phase of the war, ATIS personnel studied at the Military Intelligence
Language School at the Presidio in San Francisco. By virtue of their birth on
American soil, second-generation Japanese Americans were US citizens. They under-
went intensive language training as families and friends on the West Coast were
being rounded up and incarcerated in de facto concentration camps. In February
1942, with anti-Japanese hysteria sweeping the country, President Roosevelt had
issued Executive Order 9066 directing the massive ‘relocation’ of some 120,000
US-born citizens of Japanese descent, first-generation immigrants — barred by law
from naturalising — and Aleut islanders to internment camps in remote areas of
Arizona, Arkansas, California, Colorado, Idaho, Utah and Wyoming. (Pressured by
Washington, Latin American governments also rounded up citizens of Japanese
ancestry and shipped them to the camps.)
Following the evacuation, the Military Intelligence Service Language School
(MISLS) was transferred to Camp Savage, Minnesota (in 1944, it would move to
nearby Fort Snelling, and in late 1945, to the Presidio of Monterey). About 1,500
Caucasians and a few Chinese and Korean Americans went through the programme,
but the overwhelming majority of trainees, some 4,500, were Nisei. Since the Select-
ive Service had classified Japanese Americans as enemy aliens, the Language School
initially had to rely on volunteers. Many of the first students were Hawai’ian Nisei,
who were not subject to internment. Later, large numbers were recruited directly
from the camps. The MISLS eventually turned out more than 6,000 linguists of
whom 3,700 were assigned on detached service to more than 130 organisations in
the Pacific Theatre, including the Allied Intelligence Bureau, ATIS, Joint Intelligence
(Central Pacific Ocean Area), Pacific Military Intelligence Research Section and the
Psychological Warfare Branch. Nisei linguists not only suffered discrimination in the
ranks but ran the risk of being mistaken for the enemy and shot by their own side,
and white soldiers routinely were assigned as bodyguards to protect them.” Imperial
forces considered the Nisei to be Japanese nationals, and capture meant certain
execution as traitors.

Paper bombs’ and acts of valor

The Japanese Americans in ATIS cooperated with Feller’s PWB in developing psywar
posters, leaflets and newspapers, which were air-dropped on enemy positions. For
instance, Lieutenant Taro (“Tom’) Tsukahara, a native Californian and propaganda
officer with MacArthur’s staff in Brisbane and later Manila, worked closely with
Japanese prisoners of war to produce convincing propaganda tracts urging Imperial
troops to cease fighting. While many were designed to sow doubt and despair, others
contained such messages as “Today’s foes may be tomorrow’s friends’, or “We respect
Japan’s military valor’. These ‘paper bombs’ emphasised the inevitability of defeat
while assuring the Japanese that the victors did not seek revenge.”® Ironically, while
20 The Allied Victory

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Figure 2. A ‘paper bomb’ prepared by Japanese-American psywar specialists. The text reads:
‘If the war continues, it will bring certain destruction to the Japanese homeland. The longer
the conflict lasts, the greater the task of rebuilding the country afterwards, and Japan will have
lost its former power forever. Throwing one’s life away for the State is easily done. Real loyalty
means working hard to end the fighting and create a new nation.’

Gls demonised the enemy they were seeking to annihilate, ATIS and the PWB were
engaged in an effort to understand and communicate with the Japanese as human
beings. Fellers and other psywar experts later would apply the insights they gained
through these operations to the task of democratising postwar Japan.
The wartime activities of Japanese American linguists were highly regarded.
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 21

Colonel Willoughby, MacArthur’s G-2 chief, once boasted that a single ATIS
language expert was worth one infantry battalion. He estimated that Japanese
American linguists saved a million American lives and shortened the war by two
years. White officers who signed the intelligence reports often took credit for these
exploits, and it was not until the opening of US archives many years later that the
contribution of Nisei soldiers was finally recognised. By September 1945, ATIS had
translated 18,000 captured enemy documents, printed 16,000 propaganda leaflets
and interrogated more than 10,000 Japanese prisoners of war.””
The loyalty of these servicemen was above suspicion, but a sensitivity to their
cultural heritage inspired many to conspicuous acts of bravery and compassion
towards the enemy. Japanese Americans entered bunkers and caves at great peril to
themselves to convince frightened Japanese to surrender or to assist the wounded. In
at least one case, interpreters coaxed terrified enemy soldiers out of the carcasses of
dead army horses where they had burrowed to escape capture. Many former Imperial
soldiers owe their lives to these intrepid individuals.
The courage displayed by Nisei soldiers in minimising enemy casualties stands in
sharp contrast to the savagery displayed by American and Japanese troops in the field.
To Allied soldiers, commented former Leatherneck Eugene B. Sledge, ‘[t]he Japanese
were a fanatical enemy; that is to say, they believed in their cause with an intensity
little understood by many postwar Americans — and possibly many [postwar]
Japanese, as well’. To the Japanese, Allied troops were animals devoid of morality or
honour. With both sides possessed by a fierce mutual hatred and primitive racialism,
fighting in the Pacific was unrivalled in its sheer wanton brutality. A former US war
correspondent recalled: “We shot prisoners in cold blood, wiped out hospitals, strafed
lifeboats, killed or mistreated enemy civilians, finished off the enemy wounded,
tossed the dying into a hole with the dead, and . . . boiled the flesh off enemy skulls
to make table ornaments for sweethearts, or carved their bones into letter openers.’
Many Gls collected war trophies — ears and gold teeth — sometimes taken from the
wounded. Imperial soldiers killed prisoners, booby-trapped dead comrades, feigned
surrender in order to ambush Allied troops and mutilated enemy corpses. Combat-
ants were driven by a ‘cold, homicidal rage’ and lust for revenge, and both sides
resorted to torture and summary executions. The war, Sledge wrote, ‘made savages of
us all’.** This barbarity would reach a macabre crescendo in the final battles of the
Pacific campaign.

BREACHING JAPAN’S OUTER DEFENCES

The evolution of Allied strategy

In January 1943, a year after the Arcadia Conference, British and American leaders
met in Casablanca where they agreed on a formula calling for the unconditional
surrender of Germany, Italy and Japan. At the Trident summit in Washington in
May 1943, the Allies’ Europe-first strategy was modified as Britain was forced to
22 The Allied Victory

concede the primacy of US policy-making in the Pacific, and the Combined Chiefs
laid plans for an aggressive naval campaign against Japan’s island strongholds. In
August 1943, at the Quadrant Conference in Quebec, Allied military leaders agreed
to'a timetable for the US Navy’s seizure of the Gilberts, Marshalls and Carolines in
the Central Pacific. From 28 to 30 November of that year, at Teheran, Churchill and
Roosevelt conferred with Marshal Josef Stalin for the first time, securing from the
Soviet premier a pledge to enter the war against Japan once Germany had been
defeated. En route to the Teheran Conference, Churchill and Roosevelt joined
Nationalist Chinese leader Chiang Kai-shek at Cairo (23 to 27 November), reiterat-
ing the demand for Japan’s unconditional surrender and affirming Allied intentions
to return all Japanese territories acquired by aggression after the war. The Anglo-
American leadership reached consensus on a final offensive against Japan at the
second Quebec (Octagon) Conference of September 1944. There, the Combined
Chiefs agreed to seek Japan’s unconditional capitulation via a three-pronged strategy
of sea and air blockades of the home islands, intensive air bombardments and a
land invasion. In late January and early February 1945, Allied leaders gathered at
Malta and Yalta. At Yalta, Stalin finalised his promise to enter the war in return for
certain territorial concessions (below). There, the Allies also worked out details
concerning the United Nations Security Council and other UN Charter issues. The
last summit of the war was convened at Potsdam in July, following Roosevelt’s death,
where Churchill, Chiang Kai-shek and the new US President, Harry S. Truman,
served Japan with a final warning to surrender without conditions or face
annihilation.”
Throughout 1943 and much of 1944, however, US Navy and Army strategists
remained at loggerheads over the final attack on Japan. The Navy argued forcefully
for a grand sweep across the Central Pacific. Having already won key victories in the
Pacific, it insisted on a continuation of its deadly combination of coordinated air, sea
and land assaults. In mid-May 1943, Rear Admiral Francis W. Rockwell had directed
a major amphibious attack on the Japanese-held island of Attu in the Aleutians,
which fell on 30 May, restoring the Aleutian chain to US control. The Japanese
garrison of 2,500: went down fighting almost to the man (only 28 prisoners were
taken), however, and more than 1,000 Americans died, a portent of the frenzied
‘atoll war’ that lay ahead. In November 1943, as agreed at Quebec in August,
Admiral William E Halsey’s South Pacific Fleet captured Bougainville in the
Solomons, and a huge armada under Nimitz took Makin and Tarawa in the Gilberts
after a bitter struggle reminiscent in its no-holds-barred ferocity of Attu. Then, from
late January 1944, Pacific Fleet amphibious forces invaded Kwajalein, Wotje and
other atolls in the Marshall chain. In February, Task Force Fifty-Eight bombarded by
sea and air the Imperial Navy’s southern stronghold on Truk in the Carolines, the
rear headquarters of the Japanese Combined Fleet and a key staging area for Japanese
operations in the South Pacific. The Task Force destroyed the naval base there and
isolated the Japanese garrison, neutralising a strategic segment of the Empire’s outer
defence perimeter.”
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 23

Saipan and the fall of Tojo

In mid-June 1944, Nimitz attacked heavily defended Saipan in the Marianas, a key
link in Japan’s ‘absolute national defence sphere’. On the evening of 6 July, Admiral
Nagumo Chiichi, commander of Japan’s Central Pacific Fleet, and General Sait
Yoshitsugu, responsible for the defence of Saipan, radioed their apologies to the
Emperor for the impending defeat and put pistols to their heads. The next day saw
some of the largest suicidal counter-attacks of the war. Retreating north, Imperial
soldiers died en masse in banzai charges, or leaped from high cliffs. These acts of
self-immolation, known in Japanese as ‘shattering the precious jewel’ (gyokusai),
represented the highest tribute a soldier could pay to his sovereign. By the time
Japan’s “Bulwark of the Pacific’ fell on 9 July, almost the entire defending garrison of
30,000 had been killed (a mere 3 per cent were taken prisoner). More than 14,000
Americans, 20 per cent of all US combat troops on the island, also died in the
fighting.*!
Particularly tragic was the plight of Saipan’s civilian population, which included
10,000 Japanese, 2,300 indigenous Chamorros, 1,300 Korean labourers and military
prostitutes and some 900 Caroline islanders. Thousands perished, many shot or
bayoneted to death by Imperial troops as they attempted to surrender to invading
Marines. Large numbers retreated to the towering bluffs at Marpi Point on the
island’s northern tip. Ordered to kill themselves, they faithfully obeyed, two days
after the official end of the fighting, preferring an ‘honourable’ end to the rape,
torture and certain death at the hands of the Americans that Japanese propagandists
had promised. As Japanese-American interpreters positioned offshore pleaded with
the terrified groups of civilians to give themselves up, families clutched each
other and walked into the sea or blew themselves up with hand grenades; others
hurled their children from the heights onto the rocks below and then jumped after
them.”
As US Marines battled their way across Saipan, the US Fifth Fleet under Admiral
Raymond Spruance encountered Admiral Ozawa Jisaburé’s Japanese Combined
Fleet west of the Marianas. In the ensuing Battle of the Philippine Sea (18-20 June),
the Japanese fleet lost one third of its surviving carriers and a majority of its aircraft to
a deadly combination of US carrier Hellcats, battleships and submarines. Zero pilots
were inexperienced, and the air battle became so one-sided that American aviators
grimly dubbed it the ‘Great Marianas Turkey Shoot’. In desperation, some Japanese
sacrificed themselves in suicide dives against US ships, a harbinger of the organised
kamikaze attacks that would become commonplace by the end of 1944. The
engagement, ‘a crushing and fatal defeat’, presaged the end of the naval war in
the Pacific.”
Meanwhile, at SWPA headquarters in Australia, MacArthur was working out
the details of a ground assault on Japan which he intended to launch from the
Philippines. In the spring of 1944, SWPA forces began their long westward drive
towards Manila by attacking Japanese troop concentrations in the Hollandia region
of Dutch New Guinea and nearby islands, which fell in April and May. In June,
24 The Allied Victory

Nimitz launched a massive strike against the Marianas in an effort to divert Japanese
attention from MacArthur’s leapfrogging advance. Military planners also hoped that
the capture of strategic Pacific islands inside Japan’s defence perimeter would enable
the US Army Air Forces to mount long-range bombing missions against the Japanese
archipelago itself. In mid-July 1944, Roosevelt flew to Honolulu to consult his top
military commanders. Nimitz proposed bypassing the Philippines and taking For-
mosa as a forward base instead — a long-standing Navy strategy. When Roosevelt
asked MacArthur bluntly, ‘Douglas, where do we go from here?’, the General replied,
‘Leyte, Mr. President, and then Luzon.’ Nimitz concurred, and Roosevelt authorised
MacArthur to proceed with the liberation of the Philippines. The Navy was ordered
to follow up that offensive by seizing Iwo Jima in the Ogasawara (Bonin) Islands and
Okinawa, which would serve as the jumping-off point for a full-scale attack on Japan
proper.
The collapse of Saipan was accompanied by major setbacks for Japan in the
protracted Battle of Kohima—Imphal, an ambitious but doomed attempt to cut off
British and Indian forces in northeastern India and seize Bengal and Assam.
These reverses precipitated the resignation of General Tojo Hideki’s Cabinet
in late July. Lord Privy Seal Marquis Kido Kéichi, although personally aligned with
the pro-war faction around T6jé, helped engineer the General’s departure. Also
pressing for T6jo’s removal were Prince Konoe Fumimaro and Baron Hiranuma
Kiichird, former prime ministers and domestic reformers associated with the
Imperial Way Faction (Koddha), which had opposed the military adventurism of
T6jo’s Control Faction (Téseiha). As senior statesmen, both Konoe and Hiranuma
belonged to the august council of former heads of government, the Jashin. With
TOjé’s resignation, the ‘peace party’ around Konoe began to reassert its influence. A
key backstage peace disciple was former diplomat and Anglophile Yoshida Shigeru,
who held together a loose collection of political ‘moderates’ determined to end the
war but preserve Imperial sovereignty.
On 22 July 1944, Tdjé was replaced by Koiso Kuniaki, a rather obscure Control
Faction member, former chief of staff of the Kwantung Army and current Governor
General of Korea. Koiso was the Emperor’s choice, but he was ill-informed both
about domestic politics and the situation at the front. Doubting the war could be
won, he was anxious to achieve a decisive victory in the forthcoming battle for the
Philippines, paving the way for peace negotiations. To coordinate policy-making
between the military high command and the government, in early August 1944,
Koiso established the Supreme Council for the Direction of the War, which came to
function as a de facto inner war cabinet. The Council consisted of six members: the
Prime Minister, the Foreign Minister, the Army and Navy Ministers and the Army
and Navy Chiefs of Staff. It immediately decided to make peace overtures to the
Chinese Nationalist government in Chungking (Chongqing) in an unsuccessful bid
to free Imperial forces on the continent for the defence of the Philippines and the
homeland. Koiso also struggled to retain Soviet neutrality through a series of secret
diplomatic manoeuvres (below).
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 25

The Saipan debacle also forced the Imperial Army and Navy to coordinate their
efforts and pursue a common strategy for the first time since 1941. Imperial General
Headquarters elaborated plans for a series of ‘victory operations’ (Shd-Go) that
would begin with the repulse of Allied invaders in the Philippines. Should the
Philippine operation fail, plans called for a succession of ‘final showdowns’ that were
in fact a succession of strategic retreats, first to Formosa and the Ryukyus, next to
the home islands (except Hokkaido) and finally to Hokkaido, where the last battle
would be fought. Imperial strategists decided to make their first stand on Leyte
Island, which was declared a tenndzan (literally, “Imperial Mountain’, or decisive
battle). Japan’s civilian and military leaders possessed no comprehensive war plan,
either for victory or for defeat, however. With the steady contraction of Japan’s
‘absolute defence perimeter’, they desperately sought a major battlefield success with
which to lever a negotiated end to the war. On this point both Prime Minister Koiso
and the Emperor concurred. This unrealistic strategy would have appalling
consequences. *°

Strategic bombing
Meanwhile, in the Pacific, Japan’s position was becoming untenable. The loss of
Saipan was followed by the capture of Tinian and Guam in late July 1944. In
September, the Octagon Conference in Quebec called for the aerial bombardment
of the Japanese islands. On 10 October, Allied aircraft struck Naha, the capital of
Okinawa, razing 90 per cent of the city. One month later, the Japanese mainland
would come under attack from powerful B-29 long-range bombers belonging to the
US Twentieth Air Force’s XXI Bomber Command in the Marianas. Allied military
planners expected strategic bombing to destroy Japan’s ‘basic economic and social
fabric’, and the new Super-Fortresses soon attacked its cities with devastating
effect.
Massive air attacks on major population centres designed to destroy civilian mor-
ale represented a new and terrible era in modern warfare. In the 1920s, Brigadier
General William (‘Billy’) Mitchell had attempted to convince the US high command
that the airplane had made the battleship obsolete. MacArthur, too, was a fervent
believer in the potential of air power, and it was at his insistence that the US Army
Air Forces were designated a separate command in 1935. During World War II, as he
and Billy Mitchell had prophesied, control of the air became the decisive factor on
the battlefield. With the escalation of aerial warfare, Axis and Allied air forces alike
targeted civilian populations. In July and August 1943, British and American
bombers levelled Hamburg, creating a fire storm that consumed nearly 45,000 non-
combatants. In early 1945, even more terrible conflagrations engulfed Berlin, Leipzig
and Dresden.
The first American air raid against Japan had occurred early in the war, in April
1942, when 16 two-engine B-25 Mitchell bombers commanded by Lieutenant
Colonel James H. Doolittle lifted off precariously from the carrier USS Hornet in
the western Pacific to launch an audacious surprise attack on Tokyo, Yokohama,
26 The Allied Victory

Nagoya, Osaka and Kobe. Most of the Doolittle raiders escaped to China, where
several were subsequently captured. Although the attack, which targeted military
installations, did little physical damage, the psychological trauma was enormous.
By the autumn of 1944, having cracked Japan’s outer defence shell, the United
States was in a position to deploy continuously a rapidly growing fleet of land-
based, four-engine Super-Fortresses with a range of 5,600 kilometres against
military, industrial and civilian targets anywhere in the enemy heartland. On
17 November, more than 100 B-29s lifted off from Saipan in the first concerted
air assault on Tokyo, bringing the war to the very nerve centre of the Empire. In
January 1945, Major General Curtis E. LeMay, newly appointed leader of the
XXI Bomber Command, proposed to replace conventional high-altitude, daylight
precision targeting of major industrial and military facilities with the low-level,
night-time carpet-bombing of large urban areas. In early March 1945, he substituted
incendiaries for high explosives to maximise damage. His reconfigured payloads
consisted of M-69 cluster bombs, each filled with a volatile mixture of jellied
gasoline, phosphorus and magnesium specially designed to incinerate Japan’s flimsy
‘wood-and-paper’ cities.
On the night of 9 March 1945, more than 300 B-29s took off from Guam on the
first saturation bombing run of the war, transforming Tokyo into a raging inferno
that razed 25 per cent of all buildings in an area of 25 square kilometres. LeMay
later commented grimly that the 84,000 men, women and children killed in the
huge fire storms, or ‘red winds’ (aka-kaze), were literally ‘scorched and boiled and
baked to death’, After the attack, the Japanese leader of a rescue detachment noted
that the surface of Tokyo’s Sumida River ‘was black as far as the eye could see, black
with burned corpses, logs, and who knew what else’. He continued: “The bodies
were all nude ... and there was a dreadful sameness about them, no telling men
from women or even children. All that remained were pieces of charred meat.’ Three
months later, MacArthur’s psychological warfare chief Bonner Fellers wrote in a staff
memorandum that the fire bombings were ‘one of the most ruthless and barbaric
killings of non-combatants in all history’.“” LeMay, however, believed that the
debilitating blitzes on Japan’s population centres would shorten the war, and
Nagoya, Kobe, Osaka and Kure were torched soon afterwards. By the time of Japan’s
surrender, 66 cities had been scourged by the massive air strikes. Nearly 40 per cent
of these urban areas were reduced to ashes and 30 per cent of their inhabitants made
homeless.

CLOSING IN ON THE HOME ISLANDS

The reconquest ofthe Philippines

As the first air attacks on Japan were being scheduled, Washington was outlining a
grand strategy for the final confrontation. On 15 September 1944, the Joint Chiefs
approved MacArthur’s plan to invade Leyte on 20 October. On 29 September, a high-
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 27

Photo 2. Women take their noon meal in the bombed-out ruins of downtown Tokyo. Devas-
tating US incendiary raids beginning in March 1945 reduced much of the capital to rubble.
27 May 1945 (Kyodo).

level military conference in San Francisco drew up detailed plans for the Iwo Jima and
Okinawa campaigns. On 3 October, MacArthur was ordered to bring forward the
invasion of Luzon from 20 February 1945 to 20 December. Nimitz was to start the
Iwo Jima and Okinawa offensives on 1 February and 1 March 1945, respectively.”
In the fall of 1944, just before his big push on the Philippines, MacArthur
regrouped the American units under his command. On 9 September, the General
commissioned the Eighth Army and transferred to its control the 11th Airborne
Division and other units. To the chagrin of Sixth Army Commander Krueger,
Eichelberger was named head the 200,000-man force. With Eighth Army relieving
Sixth Army of rearguard duties, Krueger and SWPA troops fought their way island
by island from western New Guinea to Morotai in the north Molucca Sea. In mid-
September, at MacArthur's insistence, US Navy amphibious forces attacked Peleliu
in the Palaus east of Mindanao, a bloody offensive designed to protect SWPA’s flank
but which probably was unnecessary. In mid-October, victorious US Army and Navy
forces converged in a vast armada off Leyte, and on 20 October, MacArthur landed
at Leyte Gulf on schedule, fulfilling the pledge he had made more than two-and-a-
half years earlier. His arrival was carefully stage-managed for maximum effect.
Wearing aviator glasses and holding his corncob pipe, the General waded ashore
and stepped up to a mobile broadcasting platform. Flanked by the new Philippine
28 The Allied Victory

President Sergio Osmena who had accompanied him, he announced emotionally,

‘People of the Philippines, I have returned.” In fact, the island’s subjugation would
require nearly two months of savage combat.
Imperial General Headquarters had declared Leyte a ‘decisive battle’ linked to the
defence of the homeland, and Navy as well as Army forces were committed to the
fray. As MacArthur staged his landing, Admiral Kurita Takeo left Borneo with a relief
force of five battleships, including the world’s largest warships, the super dread-
noughts Musashi and Yamato, each displacing 63,000 tons, to challenge the US fleet
and disrupt the invasion. The Musashi was sunk en route, forcing Kurita to with-
draw temporarily, but his and other Imperial battle groups rallied to inflict substan-
tial damage on Admiral Halsey’s fleet before unsuccessfully engaging the American
Navy on 23 October in the three-day Battle of Leyte Gulf. Rear Admiral Onishi
Takijiré, Commander of the First Air Fleet, found himself without sufficient air
support to neutralise Allied carriers. On 25 October, in desperation, he activated the
first Special Attack Group (Zokkdtai) composed of young volunteers under orders to
fly their Zeros directly into enemy vessels. The pilots sent on these flights of no
return were called kamikaze, after the legendary “Divine Wind’ that had arisen to
sink an invading Mongol fleet in the late thirteenth century. Kamikaze attacks would
harry Allied warships until the end of the war, claiming the lives of nearly 4,000
Japanese Army and Navy airmen and hundreds of Allied personnel.” The Battle of
Leyte Gulf ended in disaster for Kurita, eviscerating the Imperial Navy and decisively
ending its ability to challenge American control of Pacific waters.
Leyte was the ‘anvil’ from which MacArthur intended to pound the Japanese into
submission in the central Philippines.*' Following the island's pacification in late
December, the General aimed his next hammer blow at Luzon, where Imperial forces
under General Yamashita Tomoyuki, the “Tiger of Malaya’, had dug in for another
‘decisive battle’. On 9 January 1945, Sixth Army rendezvoused with Navy units at
sea for a joint landing at Lingayen Bay in northwestern Luzon. MacArthur personally
directed the fighting against Yamashita’s troops. Krueger’s Sixth Army led the main
drive south from Lingayen to Manila, but Eichelberger also landed Eighth Army
support units at Subic Bay and Nasugbu in the south and pushed northward
towards the capital. By late January, US forces had outflanked the Japanese
defenders and surrounded Manila. Yamashita’s troops were pushed deep into the
fastness of Luzon’s Sierra Madre mountains, where some 100,000 soldiers, contained
and weakened, would wage a bitter fight for survival until the end of the war.
Eighth Army’s 11th Airborne Division under Major General Joseph M. Swing
reached the southern outskirts of Manila and bogged down, just as Sixth Army units
entered the capital from the north. On 7 February, MacArthur announced pre-
maturely that Manila was rapidly being cleared, but hellish fighting in and around
the city dragged on until early March. Holing up inside Intramuros, the old walled
quarter, 20,000 Japanese soldiers and sailors ran amok. There, they tortured and
massacred 1,000 defenceless civilians held hostage in Christian churches before
engaging advancing Allied soldiers in a fight to the death. Filipino editor Carlos
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 29

Romulo later described the spectacle that assailed him upon returning to the old
quarter: ‘I saw the bodies of priests, women, children and babies that had been
bayoneted for sport, survivors told us, by a soldiery gone mad with blood lust in
defeat.’ In all, an estimated 100,000 Filipinos perished in the battle for Manila.»
While Sixth Army secured Luzon, Eichelberger returned to Leyte for mopping
up operations. From late February until mid-August, Eighth Army would be engaged
in bloody campaigns in the central and the southern Philippines. MacArthur ordered
these additional offensives without authorisation from the Joint Chiefs of Staff, who
found themselves forced to accept a fait accompli, approving the operations retro-
actively. MacArthur's intent was to liberate all of the Philippines and protect Filipi-
nos in outlying areas from Japanese reprisals, but Mindanao and the other islands
invaded were of no strategic importance to US military planners. (One historian has
observed that the Pentagon’s failure to rebuke the General would postpone a show-
down, encouraging a larger insubordination six years later in Korea.) Fighting in the
Philippines lasted some 10 months and produced 47,000 American casualties,
including nearly 10,400 battle deaths; Japanese losses were enormous, numbering
some 255,800 killed and wounded. Reflecting in part Allied propaganda successes,
an unprecedented 11,745 Imperial soldiers chose the ignominy of surrender to death
by their own hand.”

lwo Jima
Following the victory of MacArthur’s armies in the Philippines, Nimitz’s Navy con-
verged on Iwo Jima in the Volcanic Islands, a part of the Ogasawara chain. Situated
1,220 kilometres due south of Tokyo, Iwo Jima occupied a position midway between
the Marianas and Honshu, Japan’s largest home island. The only territory in the
Ogasawaras large enough to accommodate airfields, its strategic importance was
immense, and the Japanese high command reinforced its fighter base there as Super-
Fortresses commenced their bombing runs over Japan. Zeros regularly intercepted
the US bombers flying overhead in an effort to disrupt their formations and give
Tokyo early warning of impending raids. Imperial General Headquarters was deter-
mined to defend the island fortress to the last man and in October 1944 stationed
23,000 troops there under Lieutenant General Kuribayashi Tadamichi. Equipped
with tanks, anti-tank weapons, heavy mortars, artillery and anti-aircraft guns, the
combined Imperial Army and Navy garrison built mutually supporting complexes of
pillboxes, gun emplacements and bunkers and honeycombed the island with 18
kilometres of deep tunnels, turning the rocky outpost into an impregnable fortress.
Since Peleliu, Japanese island commands had abandoned frontal attacks and shore-
side defences for an inland strategy of defence in depth that conserved men and
forced the enemy into their well-prepared positions for a one-to-one battle of
attrition.”
Poised for invasion were nearly 250,000 American soldiers, sailors and airmen
aboard more than 800 Navy warships. The Fifth Marine Amphibious Corps, com-
posed of the 3rd, 4th and 5th Marine Divisions and numbering 80,000 men, was the
30 The Allied Victory

assault force. On 19 February 1945, slightly behind schedule, following five weeks of
intense sea and air bombardment that completely refigured Mount Suribachi in the
south, the Navy put ashore an initial 30,000 Marines. On 24 February a Marine
combat patrol ran up the Stars and Stripes on Suribachi’s deformed peak. Associated
Press correspondent Joe Rosenthal’s Pulitzer prizewinning photograph of the event
came to symbolise for the Allies the high price of victory. The vastly outnumbered
Japanese mounted a fierce and tenacious resistance but were slowly flushed from their
positions, and on 17 March, the island was declared secured, although Kuribayashi’s
command bunker continued to fight on for a week. By 26 March, resistance had
ceased entirely, the 23,000-strong force having been virtually wiped out. The garri-
son, Imperial General Headquarters reported, had gone down to ‘an honourable
defeat’. The nearly six-week battle for Iwo Jima saw some of the grimmest fighting of
the war up to that point. The island had to be wrested from the defenders bloody
yard by bloody yard, and the ratio of US casualties (6,000 dead, 25,000 wounded) to
troops committed was among the highest ever sustained by the Marine Corps.”
The Ogasawaras, administratively a part of Metropolitan Tokyo, were the first
piece of Japan’s home territory to fall into Allied hands, and the islands were quickly
placed under military rule. In a narrow sense, the occupation of Japan began here.
The acquisition of Iwo Jima’s airfields enabled the Marines to bring in Corsairs to
protect the Air Force’s B-29s in the air above. Forward air bases and fighter escorts
greatly enhanced the effectiveness of the Super-Fortresses, which now could strike
Japanese targets at lower altitudes and make emergency landings on Iwo Jima for
repairs and refuelling. Indeed, the first damaged B-29 had touched down there on 4
March while the fighting still raged, and more than 2,000 would do so before the end
of the war. LeMay’s XXI Bomber Command subsequently renewed its incendiary
attacks on Japanese cities. With the waters around the Ogasawaras free of Imperial
warships, the US Navy, too, began attacking the main islands from carrier-based
aircraft.
As Japanese attempted to cope with the fiery destruction that rained from the
skies, they tightened their belts and adjusted to near famine conditions. Following
the loss of the Philippines, American submarines intensified their silent campaign,
sending one after another of Japan’s commercial transports to the bottom of the sea,
and the Empire’s southern supply routes contracted sharply. By January 1945,
almost 70 per cent of Japan’s Merchant Marine had been sunk or put out of service,
including nearly 60 per cent of its oil tankers, and sea links south of Formosa had
been severed.** The Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere was being rapidly
dismembered, and its markets and vital trade networks lay in disarray.
The collapse of empire threatened Japan’s economic lifeline, choking off not only
raw materials such as rubber, oil and mineral ores but food staples, cloth and other
basic commodities. Rigid rice rationing and retrenchment measures were introduced,
and the equivalent of soup kitchens were set up in the big cities, but even these
efforts proved ineffectual and eventually were abandoned. In the final months of the
war, the government was exhorting the population to enhance the starch content of
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 31

its diet by consuming processed sawdust and grain husks, and people foraged for tea
leaves, wild grasses, seeds, pumpkin stems, rats, snails, crayfish and snakes. To escape
US bombing raids, young children were evacuated to the countryside where food
was relatively more plentiful, but many middle and high school children were put
to work in factories. Not even a large influx of colonial conscripts from Korea
and Formosa could overcome the critical shortage of labour, now concentrated
in war-related industries. Basic consumer goods disappeared from store shelves.
As malnutrition and illness became widespread, labour productivity slumped and
absenteeism soared. Despair slowly gripped the nation.

The battle of Okinawa

The island of Okinawa, some 96 kilometres long, is the largest in the Ryukyus,
occupying more than half of the archipelago’s land mass. Allied plans for the
attack on Okinawa, code-named ‘Operation Iceberg’, earmarked it as a trial run for
the invasion of mainland Japan. ‘Iceberg’ was conceived primarily as an American
initiative, but at the Quebec Octagon Conference of September 1944, Churchill had
insisted on a supporting role for Britain. The Prime Minister was determined to
assuage the humiliating loss of Singapore in early 1942 and give London greater
leverage in postwar Allied policy-making towards Japan. As a result, a British carrier
squadron, Task Force Fifty-Seven under Vice Admiral Sir Bernard Rawlings, was
attached to the Okinawa invasion group, and in late March, the Royal Air Force was
assigned to fly air strikes against the Miyako and Yaeyama islands in the Sakishima
chain south of the main island of Okinawa.
Nimitz held overall command of the invasion. Responsibility for the amphibious
landings was given to US Fifth Fleet Commander Admiral Raymond Spruance. The
actual assault would be carried out by the III Marine Amphibious Corps, led by
Major General Roy S. Geiger, and the recently designated US Tenth Army under
General Simon Bolivar Buckner, Jr, which included General John R. Hodge’s XXIV
Corps.” Buckner was responsible for all ground forces. With an armada of 1,300
ships and nearly 542,000 battle-hardened airmen, seamen and soldiers (four Army
corps comprising seven divisions plus three Marine divisions), the invasion rivalled in
scale the Allied landing in Normandy a year earlier. It was the largest flotilla ever
assembled in the Pacific. Defending Okinawa were some 110,000 troops of the
Imperial Thirty-Second Army commanded by Lieutenant General Ushijima
Mitsuru. These were augmented initially by the arrival from China and Manchuria
of the 15th Independent Mixed Brigade and the 9th, 28th, 24th and 62nd Divisions.
Prior to the invasion, and against the advice of the Okinawa garrison, however,
Imperial General Headquarters sent the crack 9th Division to defend Formosa and
the Philippines, weakening Japanese defences and causing morale to plummet. Of
Ushijima’s force, about 24,000 belonged to an untested Okinawan home guard
consisting of newly conscripted militia forces and volunteer units.”
Ushijima prepared for a defence in depth, concentrating his troops in the south
whose complex system of escarpments and ridges was ideally suited for battling a
32 The Allied Victory

numerically superior enemy. ‘The Japanese strategy was to lure the invader into these
heavily fortified highland positions, with their bunkers, caves, protected tunnels,
trenches and other defences, and engage him in a fight to the finish at close quarters,
Allied strategists, expecting a defence in force at the water's edge, intended to invade
Okinawa from both sides, cut the island in two at the middle and then divide their
forces, sending I] Amphibious Corps northwards, ‘Tenth Army into the south,
On 26 March, US troops landed in the Kerama islands just off Okinawa to secure
the anchorage there as an emergency repair base and artillery emplacement. As
American forces advanced into the Keramas, the Japanese garrison commander
ordered local inhabitants to hand over all food supplies and prepare to die by their
own hand, Fearing Allied reprisals, old people, women and children dutifully
obeyed, killing each other in a horrible slaughter that portended the larger tragedy to
come, On 28 March, a total of 329 died on ‘Tokashiki, the largest island in the
Keramas, Kinjé Shigeaki, 16 at the time, recalled the incident many years later,
‘Cornered like a mouse in a trap, death was the only option left for us’, he said,
People tried to blow themselves up\with hand grenades, but there were not enough to
go around, and many failed to explode, Kinjd then watched as a middle-aged village
leader snapped a limb off'a nearby tree and ‘turned into a madman’, bludgeoning his
wife and children to death, That act triggered a murderous frenzy in which families
and relatives set upon each other with knives, sickles, cudgels and rocks, Kinjé
recalls painfully; ‘My memory tells me the first one we laid hands on was Mother, . . .
When we raised our hands against the mother who bore us, we wailed in our grief, I
remember that, In the end we must have used stones. ‘To the head, We took care of
Mother that way, ‘Then my brother and I turned against our younger brother and
younger sister, Mell engulfed us there.’ Ultimately, only the villagers obeyed orders to
kill themselves, Military units on the island avoided combat and survived, On islands
where there were no soldiers, there were no group suicides of civilians,”
The Keramas were the second parcel of Japanese home terrain to fall to Allied
forces, On 31 March, the day before the invasion of Okinawa began, Admiral Nimitz
issued US Navy Military Government Proclamation no, 1, The so-called Nimitz
Proclamation formally nullified ‘Tokyo's authority over the island group and became
the legal basis for the subsequent establishment of military government in the
Ryukyus,
As the battle for Okinawa Island commenced, a destroyer force led by the world’s
mightiest battleship, the Yamato, broke out of Japanese waters and headed for Oki-
nawa, ‘The fleet was on a suicide mission, its orders being to plough through the
Allied armada around Okinawa, ground the ships and join Imperial forces in defend.
ing the island, On 3 April, US carrier planes discovered and overwhelmed the Yamato
off the coast of Kyushu, sinking the mammoth vessel and its 2,000-man crew in
scenes cerily reminiscent of the Imperial Navy's destruction of the Prince of Wales
three years earlier.”
On | April, US assault divisions landed at the Hagushi beaches on Okinawa’s west
coast to discover that they were unopposed, On 8 April, however, as Tenth Army
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 6

pushed south, it encountered impregnable Japanese defences. The ensuing battle

raged with horrifying intensity for nearly 80 days. As US soldiers advanced on the
fortified positions where Japanese and Okinawan units had dug in to make a final
stand, the fighting became increasingly convulsed and nightmarish. The main
Japanese position was dug into the heights dominated by Shuri Castle, proud
symbol of the once independent Ryukyu Kingdom. Intensive naval bombardments
finally destroyed the castle, and US forces breached the Shuri Line in late May. The
American breakthrough came after weeks of trench warfare and suicidal assaults and
counter-assaults waged across a no-man’s-land that had become a vast cesspool of
mud, decomposing corpses, human excrement and maggots. US Marine Eugene
Sledge later described the butchery in soul-wrenching detail, characterising it as ‘too
horrible and obscene even for hardened veterans’.°!
The Imperial Army had drafted over 2,000 junior-high and high-school students
between the ages of 11 and 14, formed them into a special youth unit, the Imperial
Iron and Blood Corps, and sent them to the battlefront. With little or no training,
boys were ordered into combat, some armed only with bamboo staves, and over 800
were slaughtered in the fighting. Of some 580 female students between the ages of 15
and 19 formed into nurses’ units, more than 300 met the same fate, including nearly
the entire 220-strong Himeyuri (Maiden Lily) Nurse Corps. Flushed out of caves
where they had established field hospitals and onto high bluffs by Marine flame
throwers, many killed themselves with hand grenades or leaped to their death.
Miyagi Kikuko, one of the few survivors, remembered her disbelief at the sight of
American soldiers pleading with the young women in Japanese to surrender. “We
thought we were hearing the voices of demons. From the time we'd been children,
we'd only been educated to hate them’, she said. “[W]hat we had been taught robbed
us of life... . We never dreamt that the enemy would rescue us.”
Japanese combatants behaved with utter ruthlessness. Imperial troops cut down
civilians who got in their way. Islanders caught speaking their native Ryukyuan
tongue were branded as spies and executed. Since most people over 60 could speak
only the local dialect, hundreds were killed for that ‘offence’ alone. Civilians were
rounded up and used as human shields. Mothers hiding in caves were ordered to
strangle their babies and young children lest their cries betray their position to the
Americans. Soldiers attempting to surrender were shot in the back by comrades. In
the heat of battle, GIs, too, showed no quarter, incinerating with flame-throwers
combatants and non-combatants alike who had taken refuge in caves and vault-like
ancestral ‘turtleback’ tombs. Today, those walls are still scarred with the scratch
marks of Okinawans who tried to claw their way through the rock. People referred to
the maelstrom that ravaged their island as the “Typhoon of Steel’. Even now, that
carnage sears the memories of older Okinawans, and tales of the atrocities committed
by both armies haunt the imaginations of younger generations.”
It took the Americans nearly three months of vicious combat, most of it at close
quarters, to pacify the island. Organised resistance ceased with the ritual suicide of
General Ushijima and his commanders, who disembowelled themselves within yards
34 The Allied Victory

Photo 3. During the height of the battle for Okinawa, a US intelligence officer questions two
young survivors of the Imperial Iron and Blood Corps. April 1945 (Kyodo).

of US lines, on 23 June. Ushijima’s Chief of Staff Cho Isamu, who had ordered
many of the massacres at Nanjing in 1937, followed his leader in death. Five days
earlier, General Buckner, Tenth Army chief and US ground force commander,
had died in an artillery barrage. Some 7,400 Imperial soldiers surrendered, most of
them during mopping up operations. Casualties on both sides were staggering.
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 35

Approximately 100,000 Imperial soldiers, including Okinawan volunteers, and some

150,000 Okinawan civilians — nearly one third of the island’s population — were
killed or unaccounted for. Some 12,500 Americans were dead or missing and another
36,600 wounded. An additional 33,000 were listed as non-battle casualties, victims
of combat fatigue, illness and other injuries.“

Japanese peace initiatives

The invasion of Okinawa compounded the trauma inflicted by the capture of Iwo
Jima and the Philippines. These disastrous defeats toppled the government of
Prime Minister Koiso, whose faltering diplomatic overtures to Nationalist China
and the Soviet Union had come to naught. On 7 April 1945, Koiso resigned and
was replaced by Admiral Suzuki Kantaré, 76, a retired naval hero famous for his
audacity in Japan’s earlier wars against China and Russia. A one-time Imperial grand
chamberlain and currently President of the Privy Council (the Emperor’s ‘think-
tank’ and constitutional watchdog), Suzuki enjoyed Hirohito’s full confidence. As
Japan’s major cities came under renewed bombardment, Lord Privy Seal Kido and
Prince Konoe, both trusted Court advisers, began weighing Japan’s options for
ending the slaughter without compromising the Imperial institution. Both men
feared that the real threat to the Throne was a domestic insurrection sparked by a
Soviet declaration of war (chapter 5).
Japan’s leadership as a whole deeply mistrusted Soviet intentions. Between late
1943 and late 1944, Foreign Minister Shigemitsu Mamoru had approached Moscow
repeatedly in an effort to improve bilateral relations, but these overtures had been
rejected. The first attempt at rapprochement was made in September 1943, follow-
ing the capitulation of Italy, the second in early April 1944 and a third in September
of that year. The final initiative had been authorised by Prime Minister Koiso’s newly
created Supreme Council for the Conduct of the War in July. In September, Foreign
Minister Shigemitsu drafted a list of appeasements designed to secure a pledge of
continued non-intervention. His position paper, “Diplomatic Measures to be Taken
vis-a-vis the Soviet Union’, promised abrogation of the Tripartite Pact; a Soviet
sphere of influence in Manchuria and Outer Mongolia; the transfer to Moscow of
the Chinese Eastern Railway, the central and northern Kurils and southern Sakhalin;
the renunciation of fishing rights in Siberian coastal waters; and permission to use
the Tsugaru Strait between northern Honshu and Hokkaido. Shigemitsu’s ‘Diplo-
matic Measures’ displayed a shrewd appreciation of Soviet national interests and
historical grievances, but Stalin rebuffed his request to send an envoy to negotiate
terms, and the Japanese proposal was never properly conveyed to the Kremlin.”
In early February 1945, Japanese military officials learned that Stalin was plan-
ning to discontinue the Neutrality Pact of 1941. On 5 April, Soviet Foreign
Minister Viacheslav Molotov informed Ambassador Saté Naotake in Moscow
that the Kremlin would not extend the agreement when it came up for renewal in
April 1946. The Japanese government and military high command realised that
if Germany collapsed, Soviet belligerency would make continuation of the war
36 The Allied Victory

impossible, a fact of which Washington was aware through its intercepts of secret
Japanese diplomatic traffic, compiled in daily intelligence summaries code-named
‘Magic’.
The Nazi capitulation of early May prompted the first discussions among mem-
bers of the Supreme War Council on the need for eventual negotiations. In early
June, in the strictest secrecy (not even the Emperor was informed), Foreign Minister
Togo Shigenori brought former premier Hirota K6ki out of retirement and asked
him to open talks with Soviet Ambassador Yakov Malik in Hakone outside of Tokyo.
The Foreign Minister’s primary concern was to negotiate a new neutrality accord,
failing which he intended to request Kremlin mediation with London and Washing-
ton. Hirota came to the meeting armed with the list of concessions Shigemitsu
had compiled some eight months earlier. Japan’s ‘peace aims’ appeared vague
and inconsequential, however, and Malik refused to relay them to Moscow. On
Molotov’s orders, the Soviet envoy broke off discussions in late June.
Until the fall of Okinawa, the Emperor himself had remained fully committed to
the war effort. It was not until 22 June, the day before the Okinawa garrison went
down to defeat, that an Imperial Conference officially sanctioned Tdgd’s peace
initiatives (chapter 5). On 10 July, the Supreme War Council, aware that Allied
leaders would meet soon in Potsdam, attempted to despatch Prince Konoe to the
Kremlin as ‘peace ambassador’. Konoe prepared a peace offering based on the
Shigemitsu concessions but offered to cede the Ogasawaras and Okinawa, as well
(both already under Allied occupation). Busy preparing for Potsdam, Stalin received
this approach with apparent indifference, telling Tokyo to await the outcome of the
Allied summit. Japanese diplomats made similar representations to the Swedish and
Swiss governments but to no effect. On balance, these diverse démarches cannot be
considered serious attempts to terminate the war quickly. Rather, they were delaying
tactics intended to forestall surrender and improve Japan’s bargaining position.”

REORGANISING FOR VICTORY

The creation of USAFPAC

The Pacific War entered its final stage in early 1945, with Allied forces in control of
the Pacific Rim from Southeast Asia to the waters around the Japanese archipelago.
MacArthur’s SWPA command and Nimitz’s Pacific Fleet had effectively severed all
links between Imperial armies in the Dutch East Indies and those in China. Japanese
units remained scattered on islands throughout the Pacific, their situation hopeless.
Soldiers from the Japanese Second, Seventeenth and Eighteenth Armies were trapped
in the Solomons and New Guinea. Fragments of the Sixteenth, Nineteenth and
Thirty-Second Armies were holed up in Borneo where, decimated by malaria and
deprived of food and medical supplies, they engaged in a frantic struggle for survival.
In the Philippines, the Fourteenth Army and the Thirty-Fifth Army had been
overwhelmed by the superior forces of Krueger and Eichelberger. In the Burma/
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ a7

Indo-China Theatre, Imperial soldiers were in full retreat from Admiral Lord Louis
Mountbatten’s forces. About eight Japanese divisions were completely cut off in the
south. As starvation set in, troops resorted to cannibalism.
To speed the invasion of Japan, MacArthur insisted on the creation of a unified
American command in the Pacific. Consequently, on 4 April 1945, the Joint Chiefs
established the US Army Forces in the Pacific (USAFPAC, or AFPAC for short),
transferred most American troops in the region to the new organisation, head-
quartered in Manila, and appointed MacArthur Theatre Commander. The General
was given operational control over all US military forces in the Pacific, with the
exception of the Twentieth Air Force, the Alaskan Command and troops in the
Southeast Pacific. By July 1945, AFPAC’s nucleus consisted of the First Army,
the Sixth Army, the Eighth Army, the Tenth Army, US Army Forces in the West
Pacific, US Army Forces in the Mid-Pacific, the Far Eastern Air Force and some
additional service commands. The Twentieth Air Force and the Pacific Fleet stood by
for joint operations and logistic support. MacArthur now held two commands,
GHQ/AFPAC and GHQ/SWPA, the latter still in Brisbane but consisting
exclusively of Australian and Dutch troops, who were engaging the Japanese in
Borneo and the East Indies.
The Allied Combined Chiefs of Staff discussed a master plan for the invasion
of the Japanese home islands in early February 1945 at Malta, two days before
Churchill and Roosevelt met Stalin at Yalta. The Combined Chiefs estimated that
the Allied offensive against Germany and Okinawa would last until the summer and
that the Japanese would fight on until mid-November 1946. Based on this time-
table, they approved a three-stage invasion plan. Phase One called for the blockade
and bombardment of Honshu and Kyushu by air and sea from bases in the Marianas,
the Philippines and Okinawa in preparation for an invasion of Kyushu. Phase Two
would put troops ashore at Kagoshima and Ariake Bays in Kyushu and step up
pressure on Honshu. Phase Three involved an attack on the Kanto Plain (Tokyo—
Yokohama area) intended to destroy the country’s administrative nerve centre and
industrial base, capture Imperial General Headquarters and eliminate organised
resistance in the capital region. The British Chiefs pressed for a Commonwealth role
in the invasion, and at Potsdam in July, it was agreed that British air, land and sea
forces would participate alongside American troops.”

From ‘Downfall’ to ‘Blacklist’

On 3 April 1945, the US Joint Chiefs ordered MacArthur to coordinate planning of
the final assault with Nimitz. On 8 April, the staffs of the two men met in Manila
and drew up a joint plan code-named ‘Operation Downfall’. The invasion of
Kyushu, dubbed ‘Olympic’, was considered ‘essential to a strategy of strangulation’
and would begin on 1 December, 1945 led by the Sixth Army. The unexpected
fall of Rangoon to British and Indian forces on 2 May and Germany’s surrender
on 8 May, however, prompted the Joint Chiefs to advance the date of the Kyushu
landing (“X-Day’) by one month, to 1 November. ‘Coronet’, the attack on the Kanto
38 The Allied Victory

Plain (‘Y-Day’), was scheduled for 1 March 1946 with landings by the Eighth Army
and ‘Tenth Army at Sagami Bay and by the First Army on the Kujukuri coast in
Chiba Prefecture. Once these beachheads had been secured, US forces would seize
Tokyo, Kumagaya, Yokohama and Chiba in a ‘knock-out blow to the enemy's heart’
that would force capitulation. ‘The Joint Chiefs approved ‘Downfall’ in principle on
25 May 1945 and on 18 June submitted it for scrutiny to America’s top military
leaders and Harry Truman, who had assumed the presidency following Roosevelt's
death on 12 April. In urging Truman to endorse the invasion plan, Army Chief of
Staff General George C. Marshall noted the hazards of a frontal assault on the
Japanese homeland and pointed out that victory might hinge ultimately on a Soviet
declaration of war. Truman consented to the proposed assault on Kyushu ‘as the
best solution under the circumstances’ and authorised the military to proceed with
planning for an invasion of the Tokyo region, as well. The 18 June conference also is
thought to have discussed openly for the first time the possible use of atomic
weapons, then nearing completion under the ultra-secret Manhattan Project.”
With the fall of Germany, Washington began shifting troops, weapons and muni-
tions from the European Theatre to the Japanese front, tipping the military balance
of power in favour of the Allies, Had the invasion proceeded as planned, the result
would have been brutal, crushing defeat for the Empire, but the cost to Allied forces
too, would have been enormous, far greater in fact than American planners could
anticipate in the spring of 1945, Anglo-Saxon air and sea power gave Allied navies an
overwhelming advantage, but Japan’s 1.6 million ground forces outnumbered the
invaders on land.’' On 20 January, Imperial General Headquarters had issued a
general policy directive, “The Decisive Defence Plan for the Homeland’ (Ketsu-Go),
dividing Japan into seven areas, including Korea, where the final battles of the war
would be fought, On 8 April, the high command sent the completed version of
Ketsu-Go to regional field commanders, and one month later, on 8 June, the civilian
and military high command issued a go-for-broke general directive, the ‘Funda-
mental Policy for the Conduct of the War’, which committed the nation to eschew
surrender and fight to a collective death,
In anticipation of invasion, the Imperial Army had reorganised its home defence
forces into the First Army Group (Tokyo and northern Honshu), the Second Army
Group (Kyushu, central and western Honshu) and the Fifth Area Army (Hokkaido,
Sakhalin Island and the Kuril archipelago), Across the country, fighter training units
were being converted en masse into kamikaze suicide squads. By mid-July, Allied
military radio intercepts code-named ‘Ultra’ had confirmed that Japan’s military
leaders were rapidly reinforcing troop strengths in the main islands and concentrat-
ing crack units on Kyushu, which was being massively fortified for a vicious finish
fight. Imperial General headquarters was convinced that a victory in Kyushu was
feasible, By inflicting unacceptable losses on Allied forces there, the high command
believed it would be able to sue for peace on relatively favourable terms,”
The population, too, was prepared for total war. The National Mobilisation Law
of 1938 had authorised the commandeering of all human and material resources
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 39

necessary for the war effort. In late June, with the fall of Okinawa imminent, this was
supplemented by a series of emergency measures. The People’s Volunteer Corps Law
enabled the government to raise local militias and draft all males between the ages of
15 and 60 and females from ages 17 to 40, Based on the Nazi Volkswehr, the Corps
quickly set about mobilising elderly men, women and children, who were armed
with awls and bamboo spears and ordered to fight to the last breath. The Imperial
Diet also passed the Wartime Emergency Measure granting the government broad
state-of-emergency powers. At the same time, the Cabinet enacted the General
Superintenders Ordinance, a contingency plan assuming the collapse of central
authority that divided Japan into autonomous regions to be governed by Superin-
tenders wielding absolute administrative, political and military powers.
As Allied forces approached Japan, the civilian population readied itself for a last
suicidal paroxysm. Socialised for death, Japanese were exhorted to trust in the
Yamato-damashi — the warrior ethic, with its qualities of moral fortitude, loyalty,
personal discipline and spiritual purity. In reality, such sloganeering intensified in
direct proportion to the spread of apathy and doubt among a population now
chronically hungry and approaching physical and psychological collapse. Morale was
deteriorating rapidly and rumours of anti-war acts and even sedition proliferated
Indeed, the nation’s rulers feared that the spectre of defeat might trigger a revo-
lutionary upheaval (chapter 5). But when the final call was sounded, most Japanese
would have rallied to the defence of their native land, prolonging the orgy of violence
and answering the incessant calls of the ideologues for ‘the hundred million shattered
jewels’ (ichioku gyokusai). A ground assault on Japan proper would have spurred
Imperial troops on the Asian mainland to engage advancing Allied forces in a series
of last-ditch battles. The American leadership’s fears of ‘a score of bloody Iwo Jimas
and Okinawas all across China’ seemed well-founded.” In fact, few of Japan’s top
civil or military leaders took their own propagandists seriously, most realising that
a decisive victory was now beyond their grasp. Japan faced annihilation, and yet
ultra-rightists in the government and military, prisoners of the war psychosis they
themselves had created, seemed in their public pronouncements to prefer national
extinction to defeat, leaving realists scant room for manoeuvre.
With ‘Downfall’ near completion, MacArthur instructed his G-3 section to draft
an alternative to the invasion plan should Japan surrender earlier than expected.
The result was ‘Operation Blacklist’, a blueprint for non-belligerent occupation.
Included in ‘Blacklist’ was a contingency plan, ‘Operation Baker’, for the takeover of
Japan’s Korean colony, as well. Finished on 16 July, ‘Blacklist’ was sent to Admiral
Nimitz, on Guam, who compared it with a rival scenario, ‘Operation Campus’, that
his staff had elaborated.” ‘Campus’ was the fruit of Nimitz’s Pacific campaigns,
particularly his victories on Iwo Jima and Okinawa. It called for the Navy and
Marines to seize major ports and coastal installations around Tokyo Bay and other
key shore defences, consolidating beachheads and establishing US authority there
before allowing the Army to move in. ‘Blacklist’, however, assigned the Army the
leading role; the Navy would merely provide logistical support for Gls deploying
40 The Allied Victory

inland. MacArthur vehemently opposed the ‘Campus’ option. Japan still possessed
enormous war potential, he asserted; it would be a strategic blunder not to send in
ground troops first. After careful consideration, the Joint Chiefs endorsed
MacArthur’s view. ‘Operation Blacklist’ called for an occupation force of up to 22
divisions augmented by 2 regimental combat teams and supported by naval and air
units. Three of these divisions were earmarked for Korea. Specifically, Tenth Army
elements would move into Korea, Eighth Army would take northern Honshu and
Hokkaido and Sixth Army would occupy western Honshu, Kyushu and Shikoku.
The plan conferred on MacArthur de facto authority for implementing Allied
post-defeat policy towards Japan and Korea and was to be activated upon Japan’s
acceptance of the Potsdam Proclamation.”
By the time ‘Blacklist’ had been finalised, Japan was being strangled and pounded
by Allied forces. Admiral John S$. McCain’s Task Force Thirty Eight had already left
Leyte Gulf and was steaming towards Tokyo Bay. The US Third Fleet and the British
Pacific Fleet were blockading and shelling Japanese cities along the Pacific coast. On
17 July, as General LeMay’s Super-Fortresses struck smaller urban centres across
Japan, Hitachi was pummelled by a combined Anglo-American naval bombardment,
the first of its kind in home waters. The next day, 1,500 American and British
carrier-based fighters unleashed destruction on Tokyo. On 28 July, aircraft from the
US Twentieth and Far Eastern Air Forces dropped leaflets on targeted cities, warning
the inhabitants of imminent destruction in an attempt to limit civilian casualties.
Residents were given 17 hours to evacuate. By this time, only five of Japan’s major
cities had escaped the air raids unscathed, among them Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

CAPITULATION

America’s ‘Baby’ and Potsdam

From 17 July to 2 August, as Japan’s major population centres were being pulverised
and reduced to cinders, Truman, Churchill and Stalin gathered in the Cecilienhof
Palace at Potsdam outside of Berlin for the last wartime Allied summit, aptly
christened “Terminal’. On 16 July, the day before the parlay began, US Secretary of
War Henry L. Stimson — who had accompanied Secretary of State James F. Byrnes
and Truman to the conference — handed the President a coded, one-line telegram
from Washington saying, ‘Baby satisfactorily born’. The cryptic message related that
scientists had successfully exploded the world’s first atomic device near Alamogordo,
New Mexico. The plutonium-implosion test, code-named Trinity, produced an
explosive yield more than 10 times greater than anticipated, ‘a lightning effect’,
its chief administrator noted, ‘equal to several suns at midday’. Truman received
a full report on the new bomb on 21 July, confirming its staggering destructive
force.
Truman and his advisers attempted to convey the impression to Stalin that
nothing unusual had happened, but they could scarcely contain their excitement.
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 4}

When Stimson informed Churchill of the Alamogordo test on 17 July, the British
Prime Minister reportedly ‘was greatly cheered up’ by the news. In September 1944,
Churchill and Roosevelt had agreed at the Hyde Park Conference in London to keep
development of the bomb a secret and, ‘after mature consideration’, to use it against
Japan. Now that day had come.”” Acquisition of atomic arms gave the United States
the means to defeat Japan militarily without committing ground troops to a blood
bath. It also gave new force to the impending Anglo-American ultimatum. The US
delegation had yet another reason for congratulations: the secret weapon would
bolster Washington’s hand against Moscow in negotiating the shape of the postwar
world and strengthen the Nationalist position in China.
On 26 July, Truman and Churchill, with the assent of the absent Chiang Kai-shek,
issued the Potsdam Proclamation calling on Japan to surrender unconditionally or
suffer the ‘utter devastation of the Japanese homeland’. The 13-point document
called for the elimination of the authority and influence of those who had misled
Japan into embarking on world conquest and announced the occupation of Japan by
the Allied Powers until a new order could be established and Japan’s war-making
capacity destroyed (Articles 6 and 7). The Proclamation ordered the disarmament of
Imperial forces and the punishment of war criminals but pledged to encourage the
revival of democratic tendencies and guarantee democratic freedoms and funda-
mental human rights (Articles 9 and 10). It permitted Japan to retain basic industries
and participate in world trade but stipulated the payment of reparations (Article 11).
The occupation was to be withdrawn when the Japanese people had established ‘a
peacefully inclined and responsible government’ (Article 12). Finally, the Procla-
mation promised ‘prompt and utter destruction’ should Japan fail to comply with its
demands, which were non-negotiable (Article 13).”*
Truman’s advisers had suggested that three additional elements be incorporated
into the document, any one of which might be expected to induce an early surrender.
These were a pledge in Article 12 to retain the Imperial institution, explicit mention
of the atomic bomb as the agency of Japan’s destruction in the event of non-
compliance, and Stalin’s signature. Secretary of War Stimson was the author of the
first proposal, but his version of Article 12 was rejected as dangerously ambiguous
(Chapter 5). Concerning the second, Churchill and Truman were determined to
keep news of America’s ‘doomsday machine’ from the Soviets. Finally, the US
President had ruled against Soviet participation in the ultimatum on grounds that
the Kremlin was not yet at war with Japan. In fact, Truman, in regular receipt of
‘Magic’ intercepts detailing Japanese efforts to secure Soviet peace mediation, was
determined to discourage an independent Moscow—Tokyo venue. Consequently,
Stalin would not join the Proclamation as a cosignatory until Moscow announced its
war decision two weeks later. On 28 July, two days after the Potsdam statement was
issued, the Marshal was told vaguely that the United States possessed a potent new
weapon. Although purposely circumspect, the message’s import was unmistakable,
and Stalin stepped up preparations for a Soviet attack on Japan.”
42 The Allied Victory

Hiroshima and Nagasaki

The Potsdam terms produced outrage and consternation in Tokyo, The Army angrily
demanded that Foreign Minister T6gé reject the conditions out of hand. A Mainichi
Shinbun headline pronounced them a ‘laughable matter’, On 28 July, Prime Minister
Suzuki called a press conference and announced that his government would not
respond to the Allied proclamation, using the ambiguous and, to Washington,
provocative term mokusatsu, which generally means to ignore but is closer to ‘no
comment’; when translated literally, however, it becomes to ‘kill by silence’. The
mokusatsu statement was subsequently reported by the US media as a formal snub,
On 6 August at 8:16 am, with no warning, the Enola Gay, a specially modified
B-29 deployed on ‘Tinian, dropped a 4-ton uranium bomb nicknamed ‘Little Boy’
on Hiroshima, turning 90 per cent of the city to rubble and killing as many as
130,000 people instantly or in the weeks that followed. On 9 August at 11:30 am,
another B-29 from Tinian, Bock’s Car, dropped ‘Fat Man’, a 4.5-ton plutonium
bomb packing double the explosive force of the first, on Nagasaki. The device landed
wide of the target, causing less loss.of life than at Hiroshima, but upwards of 70,000
are thought to have perished, The bombs exploded with a blinding flash (pika)
followed by an earesplitting roar (dom), whence the Japanese expression for the
atomic blast, pika-don. Those near the epicentre were vaporised, leaving behind only
a shadow engraved on a stone bridge here or a wall there. Within a radius of three
kilometres, people died quickly of first-degree burns. Many walked in a stupor,
disfigured beyond recognition and holding in front of them seared arms from which
the sloughed-off skin dangled eerily in ribbons, Radiation exposure, direct and
residual, and fallout condemned those farther from ground zero to lingering deaths
over the next few months, Precise casualty figures are impossible to compute, but
more than 200,000 people, mostly civilians, may have died in the nuclear holocaust
and its immediate aftermath, Among the obliterated, scorched and irradiated victims
were some 20,000 to 30,000 Koreans and smaller numbers of Chinese labour con-
scripts, more than 1,000 Japanese Americans, and a few hundred Allied prisoners of
war and Asian and European residents of the two cities."
Shortly after Hiroshima, Truman broadcast news of the blast, warning that “We
are now prepared to obliterate rapidly and completely every productive enterprise the
Japanese have above ground in any city’, Failure to accept Allied terms, he warned,
would result in ‘a rain of ruin from the air, the like of which has never been seen on
earth’, On 8 August, an Imperial Army fact-finding team led by Military Intelligence
Chief Arisue Seizé and Dr Nishina Yoshio, head ofJapan’s own nuclear programme,
visited Hiroshima, Nishina confirmed the weapon to be an atomic bomb. “What I
have seen’, he told Tokyo, ‘is unspeakable, Tens of thousands dead. Bodies piled up
everywhere, Sick, wounded, naked people wandering around in a daze. ... Almost
no buildings left standing,’ Senior officials were horrified by the reports of carnage
from the devastated city but attempted to downplay the extent of the destruction.
The military feigned indifference. Nonetheless, on 10 August (Tokyo time), the gov-
ernment lodged a formal protest against the United States, via the Swiss Legation,
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 43

Photo 4. The American uranium bomb ‘Little Boy’ obliterates Hiroshima, 6 August 1945.
Five minutes after the blast, the macabre mushroom cloud soars 17,000 metres above the
stricken city. At ground zero, human beings were vaporised (Mainichi).
44 The Allied Victory

describing the bomb as ‘having the most cruel effects humanity has ever known. . . .
This constitutes a new crime against humanity and civilisation’.*’
The use of history’s most hideous weapon against non-combatants in crowded
cities was indeed an unprecedented atrocity, and it represented America’s moral nadir,
for the bomb negated the very values the United States claimed to be fighting for.”
The nuclear option gave President Truman the means to end the war quickly and
avert heavy casualties, but, as indicated earlier, there were other alternatives. Tragic-
ally, the bomb possessed a logic of its own. The momentum generated by the $2
billion Manhattan Project pointed to a single outcome. Having built the weapon, the
United States was determined to test it, and Japan, as Churchill and Roosevelt had
agreed in the autumn of 1944, was the target of choice. With the fall of Berlin in
early May 1945, weapons development shifted into high gear so that the device could
be used in actual combat conditions before Tokyo capitulated.”
There were political considerations, as well. Truman’s resolve was stiffened by
Secretary of State Byrnes and other advisers who insisted that merely delivering a
psychological shock to the Japanese leadership was not enough: demonstrating the
weapon, too, was required to ‘make Russia more manageable in Europe’. This
intended demonstration effect was uppermost in the minds of those who chose the
targets ~ as yet unbombed urban areas whose scale and topography would enable
the military to gauge the explosive force of the weapon and its impact on a
human population, Scientists such as Harvard President James B. Conant, the
Manhattan Project's leading science administrator and a member of the govern-
ment’s atomic oversight Interim Committee, argued that a graphic test of the
bomb’s grotesque effects on cities was necessary to convince world leaders of the need.
for an effective postwar system of nuclear controls. His primary concern was the
impression the bomb's actual use would have on Moscow. The ethical implications
of atomic weaponry appear never to have been debated seriously within the govern-
ment, Technology, bureaucratic momentum and political expedience had defeated
morality.
Nonetheless, some of Truman’s top military advisers entertained misgivings about
the wisdom of employing such a device. Fleet Admiral William D. Leahy, Truman’s
chief of staff, reportedly commented on the day Hiroshima was razed that the United
States, too, would suffer, ‘for war is not to be waged on women and children’. In his
memoirs, he stated; ‘It is my opinion that the use of this barbarous weapon . . . was of
no material assistance in our war against Japan’, adding that ‘[i]n being the first to
use it, we had adopted an ethical standard common to the barbarians of the Dark
Ages’. Under-Secretary of the Navy Ralph A. Bard believed that Tokyo should be
given fair warning in view of ‘the position of the United States as a great humanitar-
ian nation’ and dissented openly in a secret memorandum of 28 June 1945. Navy
Chief of Staff Admiral Ernest J. King was convinced the bombing was unnecessary
and immoral, Dwight D, Eisenhower, Supreme Commander of the Allied Expedi-
tionary Force in Europe, later said that nothing could justify the use of so terrible an
instrument of destruction.” The day after Hiroshima, even MacArthur, who may have
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 45

been briefed about the bomb in Manila the day before it was dropped, reportedly was
‘appalled and depressed by this Frankenstein monster’."°
In a war fuelled by primitive race hatreds, however, use of the bomb was not
difficult to justify to most Americans. On 11 August, Truman, responding to the
protest of a leading US clergyman, explained his reasoning thus: “The only language
[the Japanese] seem to understand is the one we have been using to bombard them.
When you have to deal with a beast you have to treat him as a beast. It is most
regrettable but nevertheless true.’ The deeper, carefully concealed political dimen-
sions of the decision to employ atomic weapons have been documented only
recently,*”

Soviet entry into the war

Stalin seriously began considering the possibility of war with Japan following the
Soviet victory over German armies at Stalingrad in February 1943, a watershed in the
war and in Soviet-Japanese relations."* In October of that year, at the Allied Foreign
Ministers’ Conference in Moscow, the Marshal had promised Secretary of State Hull
an eventual Soviet declaration of war. In early November, in a speech commemorat-
ing the Bolshevik Revolution, he branded Japan an aggressor nation. Later that
month at Teheran, the Soviet leader formally pledged to open hostilities against
Japan in return for certain concessions. At Yalta in early February 1945, he refined
that promise, specifying a declaration of war within ‘two or three months after
Germany has surrendered and the war in Europe has terminated’ and outlined the
conditions he expected.
The axe fell on 8 August, at 5 pm (11 pm in Tokyo), three months to the day of
Berlin’s capitulation, when Soviet Foreign Minister Molotov read a statement to
Ambassador Saté in Moscow informing him that the USSR would consider itself at
war with Japan from the next day. At 1 am (local time) on 9 August, hours before
envoy Yakov Malik could formally convey that declaration to Tokyo, the Red Army
struck deep into Japanese-occupied Manchuria. The attack was part of a broader
Soviet offensive in the Far East (‘August Storm’), which had been in preparation
since late February (the order to mobilise for attack was issued to military com-
manders on 28 June). This ‘short purifying storm’ was intended to purge the entire
Russian Far East and surrounding areas of the Japanese presence and ensure a Soviet
role in the post-surrender disposition of Japan. Until this time, Tokyo had continued
its efforts to negotiate with Moscow. The Soviet attack, complained Foreign Ministry
official Kase Toshikazu, was ‘the most unkind cut of all. ... We had asked for an
olive branch and received a dagger thrust instead’.””
Moscow had begun transferring forces from the German front to Siberia in May,
following the Nazi defeat. By early August, nearly 1.6 million battle-tested troops
organised in three army fronts and buttressed by the Soviet Pacific Fleet stood poised
for a lightning strike against the 1 million soldiers Japan had deployed in Manchuria,
Korea, southern Sakhalin and the Kurils. When the order to invade Manchuria
was given, the Trans-Baikal Front attacked en masse from the Mongolian People’s
46 The Allied Victory

Republic in the west, the First Far Eastern Front rolled in from the Soviet Maritime
Province in the east, and the Second Far Eastern Front struck across the Amur River
in the northeast. A fourth onslaught, launched later in the month, targeted southern
Sakhalin, the Kuril Islands and northern Hokkaido, and by late August, the Red
Army would occupy the Korean Peninsula down to the 38th parallel.” Following the
Soviet seizure of the Kuriles in early September, Stalin also would press Truman for a
post-defeat zone of occupation in northern Hokkaido itself, reportedly the real target
of the Sakhalin—Kuril offensive (chapter 2).
Stalin bided his time, waiting to declare hostilities until the destruction of
Hiroshima made early Japanese capitulation a near certainty. The full dimensions
of the Soviet offensive were not immediately evident to Japan’s leadership, but once
the extent of the disaster became clear, the psychological jolt was comparable to that
of the atomic bombings. And perhaps even more so, for the Red Army’s blitz raised
the appalling prospect that a Soviet attack on Japan proper would precede an Allied
invasion. With or without the atomic bomb, such an outcome, it was feared, might
precipitate a popular uprising and, in any event, would almost certainly entail the
destruction of the Throne.

Surrender
The abrupt and dramatic Soviet entry into the conflict, coupled with the devasta-
tion of Nagasaki the same morning by a second atomic explosion, forced the
Suzuki Cabinet to reconsider its earlier dismissal of the Potsdam demand for a non-
negotiated surrender. On 10 August (Tokyo time), at Hirohito’s insistence, the
Suzuki Cabinet tentatively accepted the Potsdam terms on condition that the Allies
vouchsafe the Imperial institution and its ‘prerogatives’. On 11 August (EST),
Secretary of State Byrnes issued a purposely vague communiqué stating that the
authority of the Emperor and government would be subject to the Allied Supreme
Commander but suggesting that the monarchy would not be overthrown unilater-
ally. To quell angry opposition from the Army and war faction, Foreign Ministry
translators doctored the language of the Byrnes Note to convey the impression of an
Allied commitment to Imperial sovereignty, and on 14 August, again at Hirohito’s
prompting, Tokyo formally agreed to capitulate, ending days of tense and convoluted
deliberations (chapter 5). The Foreign Ministry immediately cabled news of the
decision to Allied capitals via its legations in Switzerland and Sweden. In the mean-
time, Allied aircraft continued to pound Tokyo and other cities, killing an additional
1,250 people and wounding more than 1,300 between 11 and 14 August.
At noon on 15 August, the Emperor’s unprecedented prerecorded radio broadcast
observed disingenuously that ‘the war has not necessarily developed in Our favour’ (a
phrase inserted by his Army Minister) and asked the people to ‘endure the unendur- ©
able and bear the unbearable’ in order not to prolong the conflict. This, it said,
would result not only in the obliteration of the nation but also lead to the extinc-
tion of civilisation, the implied consequence of ‘a new and cruel bomb which kills
and maims the innocent and the power of which to wreak destruction is truly
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 47

incalculable’.”’ Consummately crafted by Court advisers and leading Cabinet mem-

bers, the Imperial Rescript informed the Emperor’s subjects, without using the words
surrender or defeat, that Japan would seek peace. It was the first time the people had
heard their sovereign’s voice. The recording was scratchy and the monarch’s stilted,
circumloquacious court language was difficult to grasp, but its impact was immediate
and dramatic. To ensure that the Rescript was clearly understood, the radio announ-
cer reread it in vernacular Japanese, but even without this assist, the message was
unmistakable: Japan had agreed to surrender. That afternoon, the Suzuki Cabinet
resigned, and two days later, on 17 August, the ‘Imperial Cabinet’ (also known as the
‘surrender Cabinet’) of Prince Higashikuni Naruhiko was formed.
The French-educated Higashikuni was a relatively liberal member of the Imperial
family then in charge of Japan’s home defences. The Prince was Hirohito’s uncle by
marriage, and ruling circles expected his Royal pedigree to help prepare the nation,
and particularly its military leadership, for defeat and occupation. The appointment
of a member of the Imperial family to head the government also fostered the impres-
sion that the Allies had endorsed the survival of the monarchy, and the Imperial
Cabinet’s signing of the Instrument of Surrender on 2 September reinforced this
perception. Higashikuni named Prince Konoe, scion of the ancient Fujiwara line of
regents, as his deputy premier and, initially, veteran diplomat Shigemitsu Mamoru as
his foreign minister. One month later, on 17 September, the Prince would tap anti-
TOjo ‘moderate’ Yoshida Shigeru to head the Foreign Ministry, which by then had
reclaimed its full powers from the defunct Greater East Asia Ministry. Higashikuni
quickly set about repealing repressive wartime emergency decrees and attempting to
restore the prewar Imperial status quo. Faced with the prospect of radical change, the
Prince and his Cabinet were charged with the sacred mission of preserving the
emperor system.

PRELUDE TO OCCUPATION

GHQ's prototype: the AFPAC Military Government Section

Japan’s sudden capitulation pre-empted the Kyushu invasion plan, and MacArthur
moved immediately to put ‘Blacklist’, the alternative to “Operation Downfall’, into
effect. Completed on 8 August, the final ‘Blacklist’ scenario divided the occupation
of Japan and southern Korea into three phases. During Phase I, Allied troops would
occupy Tokyo and the Kanto Plain, Nagasaki-Sasebo, Kobe—Osaka—Kyoto,
Aomori—Ominato and Seoul (Korea). In Phase II, they would move into Shi-
monoseki and Fukuoka, Nagoya, Sapporo and Pusan (Korea). Phase III would take
US ground forces into Hiroshima and Kure, Kochi, Okayama, Tsuruga, Odomari
(Sakhalin), Sendai, Niigata and, in Korea, Kunsan and Taegu. MacArthur’s civil
affairs specialists were equipped with an extensive preliminary blueprint for military
government (chapter 5). Short of properly trained personnel and Japanese language
experts, however, his staff considered plans to cooperate with existing government
48 The Allied Victory

agencies. In Japan, initially at least, that would mean utilising the non-military
officials and institutions that had supported aggression and, in Korea, the colonial
régime and its military and paramilitary minions.
In early August, the Joint Chiefs of Staff had recommended that MacArthur, as
US Theatre Commander, be appointed Allied Supreme Commander in order to
receive and enforce the surrender of Japan. Truman accepted that advice and on
11 August (EST), informed Churchill and other Allied leaders of his choice. Moscow
proposed a power-sharing arrangement between two supreme commanders, one
American, one Soviet, but Washington categorically dismissed the notion of a dual
leadership. Stalin acquiesced, and on 13 August, Britain, the Republic of China and
the Soviet Union agreed to confer on MacArthur sole authority for implementing the
surrender terms. On 15 August (Tokyo time), MacArthur formally took up his
appointment as Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers.
In early August, with surrender probable, MacArthur had ordered his staff in
Manila to make concrete preparations for the occupation of Japan. General Robert
Eichelberger, AFPAC’s Eighth Army Commander, records in his diary a flurry of
paperwork, orders, communications and organisational changes around 10 August,
most of them involving Sixth and Eighth Armies, which would constitute the
primary garrison force.” Eichelberger also records that MacArthur’s staff began
planning a formal surrender ceremony at this time. Since AFPAC’s creation in early
April 1945, the Manila-based American command had divided responsibilities for
the Asian and Pacific theatres with SWPA headquarters in Brisbane. On 15 August,
MacArthur reorganised AFPAC and dissolved SWPA, except for Dutch and Austral-
ian units.”> When Allied troops began landing in Japan on 28 August, GHQ/
AFPAC, with Sixth and Eighth Armies as its core, became the sole unified Allied
command in the archipelago. Following Japan’s formal surrender on 2 September,
SWPA’s remaining echelons were deactivated. Sixth Army moved into southern
Honshu and Shikoku and established its base of operations in Kyoto. Eighth Army
occupied central and northern Honshu and set up headquarters in Yokohama.
In the course of refining the ‘Blacklist’ plans, MacArthur had considered adding a
G-5 civil affairs section to AFPAC’s general staff to administer post-surrender
Japan. He soon realised, however, that governing an Asian nation whose history,
culture and values were so different from those of the West would require a far more
powerful and highly structured organisation. On 5 August 1945, he established the
Military Government Section (MGS) as a special staff appendage of GHQ/AFPAC
to handle the civil administration of Japan. Divisions were set up inside the
omnibus MGS to deal with the myriad tasks of non-military occupation. These
included Administration, Economics, Finance, Operations, Personnel, Public
Affairs, Public Health and Welfare, Publications and Supply. MGS was staffed by
hundreds of US military experts trained in civil governance who had been hastily
reassigned from Okinawa and the Philippines. About one-tenth were drawn from the
pool of specialists awaiting overseas assignment at the Civil Affairs Staging Area in
Monterey, California.”
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 49

MacArthur appointed Brigadier General William E. Crist, an experienced staff

officer then deputy commander of US Military Government in the Ryukyus, to head
AFPAC’s Military Government Section. A graduate of West Point and the US
Command and General Staff School, Crist was a China hand and former military
envoy to Moscow with a background in Military Intelligence. As the Occupation
began, he immediately sent half of his MGS staff to Tokyo. Some of the most
outstanding of these officers later occupied key positions in the Occupation. Charles
L. Kades, MGS Deputy Chief, for instance, became Deputy Chief of SCAP’s
Government Section (GS) and led its constitutional revision team. Others trans-
ferred from Manila to Tokyo were Alfred R. Hussey Jr., a GS officer involved in
revising the Constitution; Pieter K. Roest, Chief of the GS Political Parties’ Division;
Cecil G. Tilton, head of the GS Local Government Division; and Justin Williams Sr,
Chief of the GS Legislative Division. This élite group also included William K.
Bunce, who ran the Civil Information and Education Section’s Religious Division;
William Karpinsky, the first head of the Labour Division, Economic and Scientific
Section; Crawford FE. Sams, who led the Public Health and Welfare Section; and
Mark B. Williamson, Chief of the Natural Resources Section’s Agricultural Division.
Military Government Section was the prototype from which General Head-
quarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (GHQ/SCAP) would emerge
in the fall of 1945. In late September, two new civil staff sections would be created
alongside MGS, and on 2 October 1945, the Section itself would be formally dis-
continued and its functions transferred to the new SCAP ‘super-government’ created
to administer the occupation of Japan. Thereafter, GHQ/SCAP would exist side-by-
side with but independently of AFPAC, sharing the same military general staff and
headquarters building but working through a separate civil staff organisation. Former
MGS divisions would be transformed into special staff sections. With the dissolution
of MGS, General Crist was appointed to head SCAP’s Government Section. Crist
was not a member of the Bataan Gang, however, and, lacking inside connections and
support, proved ineffectual in that position. He soon was reassigned for failing to
launch GHQ’s purge programme promptly. In mid-December, Colonel (soon to be
Brigadier General) Courtney Whitney, one of MacArthur’s most trusted lieutenants,
stepped in to fill that vacancy. When Chief of Staff Richard Sutherland returned
to the United States that month, Whitney replaced him as MacArthur’s closest
confidant. (Sutherland’s job was taken over by Major General Richard J. Marshall,
another Bataan Gang intimate then Deputy Chief of Staff.)””

The international context: the emerging US—Soviet confrontation

American policy for post-surrender Japan was formulated against the backdrop of a
growing rivalry with the Soviet Union that would reshape power relations in North-
east Asia even before Japan’s surrender. The Atlantic Charter of mid-August 1941,
the basic Allied declaration of principle, had forsworn territorial aggrandisement and
pledged to ‘respect the rights of all peoples to choose the form of Government under
which they will live’. In the Cairo Declaration, signed on 27 November and released
50 The Allied Victory

on 1 December 1943, Chiang Kai-shek, Churchill and Roosevelt proclaimed grandly

that the Allies ‘coveted no gain’ and haboured ‘no thought of territorial expansion’ in
the Pacific or the Far East. The Cairo document specified, however, that Japan would
be expelled from all territories it had acquired ‘by violence and greed’. The Potsdam
Proclamation of 26 July 1945, reiterated those principles, stipulating that ‘[t]he
terms of the Cairo Declaration shall be carried out’ (Article 8).
The Atlantic Charter and the Cairo pledge, however, applied only to the Axis
powers, not to the Western imperia. With the collapse of Japanese power in Asia and
the Pacific, the United States backed the return of its Western allies to colonial rule in
India, Burma, Malaya, the East Indies, Borneo, Timor, New Guinea, Indo-China,
Macao and Hong Kong. At the same time, Washington prepared to assume control
of former Japanese mandates in the Pacific, notably the Marianas, the Marshalls and
the Carolines, which it would retain as United Nations’ trusteeship territories (Guam
in the Marianas soon would be transformed into a major US military base and the
Marshalls into an immense nuclear test range). The Soviet Union, too, while uphold-
ing the principle of self-determination for non-whites, sought to carve out its own
sphere of influence in northern Korea and in the regions along China’s northern and
western borders.
Despite the lofty sentiments expressed at Cairo, in the last year of the conflict,
Washington and Moscow jockeyed for advantage, haggling over the spoils of war. In
early February 1945, Churchill and Roosevelt, determined to prevent the Kremlin
from dominating postwar central Europe, met Stalin at the Crimean city of Yalta on
the Black Sea. There, in a secret protocol signed on 11 February, the Allied chiefs
formally agreed to three Soviet demands as a quid pro quo for a Soviet declaration of
war against Japan. These were: 1 preservation of the status quo in Outer Mongolia, 2
restoration of Russian territories awarded to Japan in 1906 following the Tsar’s defeat
in the Russo-Japanese War and 3 the handing over to the Soviet Union of the Kuril
Islands north of Hokkaido. Point 2 included extensive provisions that returned the
southern half of Sakhalin Island to Soviet control; guaranteed former Tsarist rights in
the Chinese port of Dairen, which was to be internationalised; leased Port Arthur to
Moscow as a naval base; and promised to safeguard the USSR’s ‘pre-eminent inter-
ests’ in Manchuria; especially the Chinese Eastern and South Manchurian railways,
which were to be operated by a joint Sino-Soviet company. Moreover, the protocol
specified that the “claims of the Soviet Union shall be unquestionably fulfilled after
Japan has been defeated’.”* Although ostensibly subject to the concurrence of Chiang
Kai-shek, these clandestine commitments blatantly encroached on Chinese sover-
eignty, violating the non-aggrandisement and self-determination principles of the
Atlantic Charter and the Cairo agreement. (One also detects here an uncanny echo
of the more modest concessions Japan was prepared to make to Moscow as early as ~
1944.)
At Potsdam, however, very different circumstances prevailed. Truman did not feel
bound by Roosevelt’s Yalta agreements, for with the atomic bomb, America no
longer needed Soviet military support to end the war. (The British, on the other
 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ 51

hand, believed Washington should honour its Yalta commitments.) On 27 August,

Truman notified Stalin that settlement of Soviet claims would have to await a final
peace settlement with Japan. By that time, however, the Red Army already had seized
southern Sakhalin and key islands in the northern Kuril chain (chapter 2).
Even as the occupation of Japan began, realpolitik had begun to influence subtly
the direction of reform, anticipating a new era of political and ideological confronta-
tion in Northeast Asia. Washington effectively excluded Moscow and the other Allies
from a substantive role in postwar Japan, which fell within its East Asian sphere of
influence, although care was taken to include a token Commonwealth presence.
America’s Japan policy would become the centrepiece of a grander strategy for con-
taining the Soviet Union, and later the People’s Republic of China, and for enforcing
a Pax Americana along the great arc of the Pacific Rim, from the Aleutians through
Japan, southern Korea, Okinawa and Formosa and as far south as Indo-China.
 CHAPTER 2

Occupation: The First Weeks

THE MAIN ISLANDS SECURED

Secret mission to Manila

On 16 August 1945, the day after Japan’s capitulation, General Headquarters, US
Army Forces in the Pacific (GHQ/AFPAC) instructed Tokyo to send a delegation to
Manila to discuss surrender and occupation procedures. On the morning of
19 August, two medium-range bombers, white with identifying green crosses
emblazoned on their wings and tails at MacArthur’s request, secretly left Kisarazu
military airport in Chiba across Tokyo Bay. To forestall attack by ultra-nationalist
pilots opposed to surrender, an identical aircraft took off at the same time. As the
decoy skirted Japan’s eastern coastline, the two ‘surrender planes’ made their way
south towards a rendezvous with US forces on Iejima, an islet off Okinawa Island.’
Aboard the aircraft were sixteen civilian and military leaders headed by Lieutenant
General Kawabe Torashiré, Deputy Chief of the Imperial Army General Staff.
Accompanying him were Rear-Admiral Yokoyama Ichird of the Imperial Navy
General Staff; Lieutenant General Arisue Seizo, Chief of Military Intelligence;
Major General Amano Masakazu, Chief of Operations, Imperial General Head-
quarters; Navy strategist Captain Omae Toshikazu; and Okazaki Katsuo, Chief of
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ Investigation Bureau. At Iejima, the group boarded
an American DC-3 military transport, which landed at Nichols Field in Manila in
the early evening of the 19th. Met by G-2 Chief Charles A. Willoughby and Colonel
Sidney FE. Mashbir of the Allied Translation and Interpreters Service, the delegation
was whisked immediately to a meeting with AFPAC Chief of Staff Lieutenant
General Richard K. Sutherland, Deputy Chief of Staff Major General Richard J.
Marshall, Willoughby and other high-ranking American staff officers. MacArthur
pointedly had absented himself from the discussions, and Sutherland greeted the
Japanese with ‘chilly formality’. Negotiations began at 9 pm that evening and
continued non-stop through the early hours of 20 August. The Americans ordered
the Japanese to clear the Tokyo Bay area of all troops, repair Atsugi Air Base where
MacArthur would land and remove the propellers from all fighter craft in the region
to forestall kamikaze attacks. In return, the Japanese side asked the Americans not to
enter Tokyo before 8 September to enable them to withdraw their forces and calm
the populace.”
During the pre-surrender conference, the Japanese were shown advance copies of
several documents: a draft Imperial rescript ordering compliance with the Potsdam
Proclamation and an immediate ceasefire; the Instrument of Surrender; General
 Occupation: The First Weeks Bi,

Order no. 1, Military and Naval, directing Imperial Headquarters to bring about the
direct, unconditional surrender of military personnel to designated Allied com-
manders; and Allied operational requirements for entry into Japan. The Japanese
agreed to the surrender formalities and gave assurances that they would comply fully
with all Allied demands. MacArthur also ordered the government to establish a
Central Liaison Office to handle communications with the occupying authorities
(chapter 3). ATIS Chief Mashbir convinced Willoughby and MacArthur not to
embarrass the Emperor by forcing him to read a prepared statement, and they
concurred. Hirohito had already broadcast Japan’s acceptance of the Potsdam terms
on 15 August and would be permitted to issue his own rescript at the signing of the
Instrument of Surrender. The Americans informed the envoys that the occupation
would begin on 25 August, but Lieutenant General Kawabe requested a three-day
extension, pointing out that military units in Japan could not be disarmed in so short
atime. The US side agreed to postpone the landing until 28 August but ordered an
advance party sent to Atsugi Air Base near Yokohama on the 26th (a typhoon would
delay their arrival until the 28th).
In the course of the Manila conference, Willoughby informally approached Lieu-
_ tenant General Arisue Seiz6, Japan’s military intelligence director who was scheduled
to meet the US landing party at Atsugi, and struck up an acquaintance. Arisue, like
Willoughby, was an admirer of Italian dictator Benito Mussolini and had formerly
served as liaison with Mussolini’s régime. Moreover, the two men could communi-
cate in German, Willoughby’s first language, insuring the confidentiality of their
conversation. Arisue controlled a vast clandestine information network and main-
tained close personal ties with the Court. On 5 September, Willoughby would
recruit the aristocratic anti-Communist to set up his own spy organisation inside
G-2, an opportunity the Japanese officer would seize with alacrity. Other Imperial
military leaders present that day, including Lieutenant General Kawabe and Captain
Omae, also would find places on the G-2 payroll (chapter 4).

MacArthur's arrival
Its mission completed, the Japanese delegation returned to Tokyo on 20 August.
Final military arrangements for the landing of US forces were completed one week
before the formal surrender. On 26 August, General Robert L. Eichelberger
redeployed Eighth Army from Leyte in the Philippines to Okinawa and assigned his
11th Airborne Division and 27th Infantry Division to serve as the occupation van-
guard. On 26 August, however, a typhoon swept the Japanese archipelago, delaying
the American disembarkation by two days. At 9 am on the 28th, led by Colonel
Charles P. Tench, a forward group of 150 communications experts and engineers,
backed by a minuscule force of 38 combat troops, touched down at Atsugi airfield.
They secured the area for the 11th Airborne, which began landing soldiers two days
later, on 30 August. From 6 am on the 30th, a military transport set down at Atsugi
every three to four minutes. Many years later, an eyewitness described the scene:
“Here come these planes every three minutes. Boom! Out! Boom! Out! I never saw
54 The Allied Victory

such majesty in my life! We barely had time to get [off] the plane when the pilot
turned to get away, because here’d come the next one.’ By evening, 4,200 troops had
disembarked, and Eighth Army had made the short trip to Yokohama, where it set up
headquarters in the abandoned Customs House.”
General MacArthur, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers and AFPAC
Commander-in-Chief, left Nichols Field in Manila for Atsugi on 30 August aboard
his unarmed C-54 transport, the Bataan. A few hours earlier, he had received
from Washington an outline of the ‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’
(chapter 5), With barely concealed excitement, he summarised its contents to
Colonel Courtney Whitney who had accompanied him: ‘First, destroy the military
power, Punish war criminals. Build the structure of representative government.
Modernise the constitution. Hold free elections. Enfranchise the women. Release the
political prisoners. Liberate the farmers. Encourage a free economy. Abolish police
oppression, Develop a free and responsible press. Liberalise education. Decentralise
political power. Separate the church from the state.’ The Occupation of Japan had
begun.°
At 2 pm that afternoon, MacArthur descended from the Bataan with studied
casualness as the 11th Airborne band struck up ‘Ruffles and Flourishes’. Second-
Lieutenant Thomas ‘T. Sakamoto, a language officer with the 11th Airborne,
watched the General appear at the door of the airplane ‘in khaki and his well-worn
garrison hat, wearing sunglasses and holding an extra long corncob pipe’. With a
grand gesture, ‘he hesitated a moment and gazed upward toward the horizon
from left to right and took a momentary Napoleon-like pose, reminding viewers of a
victor and a conqueror’. After alighting, the General held a hastily arranged press
conference and then set off through the verdant countryside for Yokohama in a
motorcade led incongruously by a red fire engine. The route was lined from start to
finish by armed Imperial troops standing at attention a few paces apart, their backs
turned and eyes averted from the passing procession — a mark of respect and security
measure normally reserved for movements of the Imperial family. MacArthur's
destination was the Yokohama Customs House, one of the few large buildings left
standing, which Eighth Army had taken over as its temporary headquarters. Painted
black like all large buildings to escape detection during night bombing raids, the
structure had been stripped clean of its metal parts; even steel railings and radiators
had been requisitioned for war scrap.” The Supreme Commander and his staff set up
temporary residence in the four-storey New Grand Hotel by the Yokohama
waterfront.
The US Navy had begun occupying Japanese ports and naval installations on
27 August, one day ahead of Eighth Army’s advance arrival at Atsugi, with the entry
of Admiral William Halsey’s Third Fleet into Sagami Bay. Accompanying the Third
Fleet was Admiral Bruce Frazer, Commander of the British Far East Fleet, aboard his
Royal Navy flagship, HMS Duke ofYork. Halsey negotiated the warships’ safe passage
into Tokyo Bay with Japanese naval officers, and on the 29th, as Eighth Army
troops secured Atsugi, Halsey’s USS South Dakota docked at Yokosuka port some 24
 Occupation: The First Weeks 55

x ee a ee

Photo 5. Less than a month after the atomic bombings, General Douglas MacArthur
desends from the Bataan at Atsugi Air Base outside of Tokyo to begin the Allied Occupation
of Japan. 30 August 1945 (US National Archives).

kilometres away. On 30 August, the 4th Marine Regimental Combat Team and the
6th Marine Division took over the Yokosuka Naval Base, coming under Eighth Army
jurisdiction. A small Commonwealth contingent consisting of 536 sailors and
marines under Captain H. J. Buchanan of the Royal Australian Navy occupied
and disarmed three small island fortresses guarding the entrance to Tokyo Bay and
hoisted the Union Jack. By 31 August, the US 4th Marines had made contact with
the 188th Parachute Glider Regiment and the 511th Parachute Infantry Regiment,
which had joined forces and sped to Yokohama and Yokosuka from Atsugi to seize
the docks. The 11th Airborne’s 187th Parachute-Infantry Regiment remained at
Atsugi to prepare the air base for the arrival of the 27th Infantry Division and other
units from Okinawa. On 1 September, reconnaissance troops from the 11th Air-
borne moved into Kisarazu on the Chiba side of Tokyo Bay, and on the 2nd, the Ist
56 The Allied Victory

Cavalry Division landed at Yokohama. Meanwhile, aircraft from the US Far Eastern
Air Force and the Third Fleet had begun flying mercy missions to over 32,000 Allied
captives held in some 100 prison camps across Japan. As Eighth Army deployed, the
Red Cross moved its headquarters from Okinawa to Yokohama and came under
General Eichelberger’s control.

A bloodless occupation
The days immediately preceding and following Japan’s acceptance of the Potsdam
terms were fraught with tension. In the early hours of 15 August, a group of Army
officers had entered the Imperial Palace and ransacked it in a bid to seize the phono-
graph recording of the Emperor’s surrender address but failed to locate it. Persuaded
to abandon their revolt by Tokyo Army headquarters, the conspirators committed
suicide in front of the Palace later that morning. Rebels attempted to take over major
radio stations, but they, too, were dissuaded by superiors. These actions were part of
a plot hatched by field officers on 11 August to assassinate peace advocates in the
government and military, sequester the Emperor and stage a coup d état. Follow-
ing the revolt’s failure, several high-ranking military officers, including the Army
Minister, General Anami Korechika, and Rear Admiral Onishi Takijird, also com-
mitted suicide on the 15th.
During this time of uncertainty, the official residences of Prime Minister Suzuki
Kantaré and Privy Council President Baron Hiranuma Ki ichird were firebombed by
mobs of soldiers and students intent on assassinating the statesmen. Privy Seal
Marquis Kido Koichi, too, was in hiding. Following the Emperor’s broadcast, scat-
tered incidents of violence erupted around Tokyo. From Atsugi Air Base where
MacArthur was scheduled to land, the Sagami Air Corps leafleted Tokyo, calling on
the Japanese people to rise up against their leaders and repel the invader. The Emperor
despatched his brother Prince Takamatsu to reason with the mutineers. Incipient
revolt continued to brew, however. Some 400 soldiers from Ibaraki Prefecture seized
Ueno Hill in Tokyo. When higher authorities prevailed on them to desist, their
officers committed suicide. On 18 August, an ultra-rightist brotherhood entrenched
themselves with hand grenades atop Atago Hill north of Shiba Park and when police
attacked on 22 August, blew themselves up. Diehard officers announced plans to
form a ‘government of resistance’, and on the evening of 20 August, Suzuki’s succes-
sor, Prince Higashikuni Naruhiko, aired a radio broadcast every hour exhorting
Young Turks to abandon plans to occupy the Imperial Palace at midnight. The
Emperor and Cabinet stood firm, however, and the military high command inter-
vened to impose order. Troops were disarmed, and at Atsugi and other air bases,
propellers were removed from aircraft. By 23 August, the crisis had passed, and when
the first US troops arrived five days later, calm had returned to the capital region. As a
final precaution, Emperor Hirohito despatched Imperial princes overseas to persuade
the armed forces to comply with Allied orders to disarm.*
Nevertheless, Japan proper had roughly 3.5 million Imperial troops under arms,
producing in Allied commanders a ‘terrific psychological tension’. As Eighth Army
 Occupation: The First Weeks 57

Commander Eichelberger remarked later, ‘one undisciplined fanatic with a rifle

could turn a peaceful occupation into a punitive expedition’. Such worries were soon
dispelled, however. Spasms of defiance, such as anonymous stone-throwing, con-
tinued, and armed robbery and minor assaults against Occupation personnel were
rife in the weeks and months after capitulation, but active resistance was neither
widespread nor organised. The Americans, a few thousand in number, completed
their initial deployment without violence — an astonishing achievement in the face of
a heavily armed and vastly superior enemy operating on home terrain. Six weeks
later, on 16 October, MacArthur could boast that: ‘In the accomplishment of the
extraordinarily difficult and dangerous surrender in Japan, unique in the annals of
history, not a shot was necessary, not a drop of Allied blood was shed.”
The occupiers were taken aback by the extent of the destruction they encountered
on the ground. More than 60 cities had been subjected to carpet bombing, and in
many urban centres, the only structures left standing in the wake of incendiary raids
were the iron safes of non-existent shops and, here and there, tall concrete chimneys.
Everything else had been reduced to ash. The chimneys belonged to burned-out
public bathhouses; the safes had been acquired by businesses large and small in the
_ wake of the disastrous 1923 Kanto earthquake to protect insurance records and other
important papers from fire. In the eerie silence, there were no people; no living thing
stirred.
A Canadian journalist left this account of his entry into Yokohama in December
1945: ‘Before us, as far as we could see, lay miles of rubble. The people looked ragged
and distraught. They dug into the debris, to clear spaces for new shacks. . . . There
were no buildings in sight.’ Streetcars, he wrote, ‘stood where the flames had caught
up with them, twisting the metal, snapping the wires overhead, and bending the
supporting iron poles, as if they were made of wax. Gutted buses and automobiles lay
abandoned by the roadside. This was all a man-made desert, ugly and desolate and
hazy in the dust that rose from the crushed brick and mortar.’'® Crawford F. Sams,
MacArthur’s public health officer, looked at the ruined landscape and noted, “Thou-
sands of burned bicycles lay in the ashes or along the streets in mute testimony of the
speed with which the flames had swept the city.’ To the north, he said, ‘we could see
the twisted skeletons of burned factories and mills. The heat had been so intense that
massive steel girders and pillars looked like a writhing mass of reptiles flung to the
ground by the hand ofa giant.’ Reconstruction would take years. Bowen C. Dees, who
arrived in Tokyo in late 1947, was shocked to see the Ginza, Tokyo’s premier shop-
ping district, in shambles. “An immense pile of rubble, more than head-high, filled at
least two centre lanes of the Ginza for several blocks — rubble from the bombed-out
buildings along and near this major street. Clearly, Japan was still in trouble.”

The Surrender ceremony

The Asia-Pacific War ended formally on 2 September 1945 with the signing of the
Instrument of Surrender aboard the USS Missouri. The battleship was anchored in
Tokyo Bay some 10 minutes by launch from the New Grand Hotel on the Yokohama
58 The Allied Victory

Bund. Attending the brief 20-minute ceremony were representatives of nine Allied
Powers, led by General MacArthur, and a delegation from the Japanese government
and Imperial General Headquarters. US generals and admirals lined the deck. Sailors
vied for space on crowded gun turrets, masts and smokestacks, and the initial mood
was noisy and cheerful as a Navy band struck up ‘Anchors Aweigh’. But when the
Japanese delegation was piped on board, a sudden, hostile silence enveloped the
battleship, recalled Second Lieutenant Sakamoto, the Nisei linguist who had wit-
nessed MacArthur’s landing at Atsugi. “The whole scene’, he wrote in his diary, ‘was
as if a huge lion had cornered a tiny, helpless-looking mouse in a cage. If ever there
was a scene that brought home to me how sad a defeated nation can be — this scene
was it.”
The faded duty uniforms and relaxed deportment of the American participants
contrasted with the stiff formality and sombre faces of the Japanese, who stood in a
tight cluster on the dreadnought’s deck. Representing the vanquished were Foreign
Minister Shigemitsu Mamoru in striped trousers and morning coat and supported by
a cane (he had lost a leg to a bomb thrown by a Korean nationalist while ambassador
to China in the early 1930s) and Chief of the Imperial Army General Staff and
former Kwantung Army commander General Umezu Yoshijiré in formal military
dress. The hawkish Umezu had bitterly opposed Japan’s surrender, and only a per-
sonal plea from the Emperor had persuaded him to represent Japan. Within less than
a year, both he and Shigemitsu would stand trial for Class A war crimes. Accompany-
ing them was Kase Toshikazu, a Harvard-educated junior diplomat and protégé of
Yoshida Shigeru with flawless English, and eight other officials whose names were
kept from the public for fear of reprisals.'* After Shigemitsu and Umezu had signed
for the Japanese side, MacArthur, wearing summer khakis and a shirt open at the
collar, affixed his signature as Allied Supreme Commander. He was followed in turn
by representatives of nine Allied nations: Australia, Britain, Canada, France, the
Netherlands, New Zealand, the Republic of China, the Soviet Union and the United
States.'4 In a symbolic gesture, MacArthur had flown General Arthur Percival, who
had surrendered Singapore, and General Jonathan M. Wainwright, who had given
up the Philippines, from a Japanese prison camp in Manchuria to attend the
ceremony.
Under the terms of surrender, the Japanese side accepted the Potsdam Proclam-
ation on behalf of the Emperor, the government and Imperial General Headquarters.
The document ordered the unconditional capitulation of all Japanese military forces
and commanded them to cease hostilities and surrender promptly to Allied armies. It
also instructed civil and military authorities to obey and enforce all decrees issued by
SCAP pursuant to the terms of the surrender and the Potsdam conditions.
MacArthur immediately promulgated General Order no. 1 directing Imperial Gen-
eral Headquarters to surrender to designated Allied commanders in the various
theatres of war in Asia. By Allied agreement, MacArthur, as AFPAC Commander-in-
Chief, was to disarm Imperial troops in the Japanese main islands, the Ryukyus
and Korea south of 38 degrees North latitude — a line the Americans had drawn
 Occupation: The First Weeks 59

arbitrarily two weeks earlier. General Albert B. Wedemeyer and Generalissimo

Chiang Kai-shek (Jiang Jieshi) were to do the same in Formosa and Chiang in
China proper (except Manchuria) and northern French Indo-China. The Soviet
Union was to receive the surrender of Japanese forces in Manchuria, Korea north of
the 38th parallel, Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands.
Conspicuous by his absence was the Emperor. Prime Minister Higashikuni, too,
had stayed away because of his Royal blood, as did Vice Premier Prince Konoe
Fumimaro, also of the Court nobility. Top officials were at pains to avoid any
suggestion that the Emperor’s sovereignty had been compromised by Japan’s defeat.
As the ceremony took place, Hirohito, in an Imperial Rescript issued in Tokyo,
enjoined the nation ‘to lay down . . . arms and faithfully to carry out all the provi-
sions of the Instrument of Surrender’. At the same time, in Washington, President
Truman commemorated “V-J Day’ with a plea to the American people to work with
him for ‘a world of peace founded on justice and fair dealing and tolerance’. A new
day indeed had finally dawned.
As the ceremony aboard the Missouri drew to a close, nearly 2,000 American
aircraft — B-29 bombers and Navy fighters — flew in formation over the battleship
and the enormous US armada anchored in the bay to mark the occasion. A further
~ element of drama was added by two American flags. One was the banner that had
flown over the White House on the day Pearl Harbor was bombed; it now fluttered
from the Missouri's mast (the same well-travelled emblem had been hoisted over
Rome in September 1943 and Berlin in May 1945 following the fall of Italy and
Germany). In a glass case mounted on a bulkhead near the table where the surrender
documents were signed was another potent symbol: the original Stars and Stripes
that Commodore Matthew Perry had flown from his flagship, the USS Powhattan,
when it entered Uraga Bay in 1853, nearly a century earlier. Admiral Halsey had
arranged for it to be flown to Japan from the museum of the US Naval Academy in
Annapolis, Maryland. Perry had unfurled that flag in a sabre-rattling display of
military prowess to convince Japan to open its ports to commerce with the outside
world. MacArthur told the assembly that he now was unfurling the same banner in
hopes that Japan would become a democratic nation:

[It is not] for us here to meet ... in a spirit of distrust, malice or hatred. But
rather it is for us, both victors and vanquished, to rise to that higher dignity
which alone befits the sacred purposes we are about to serve. . . . It is my earnest
hope, and indeed the hope of all mankind, that from this solemn occasion a better
world shall emerge out of the blood and carnage of the past — a world dedicated to
the dignity of man and the fulfillment of his most cherished wish — for freedom,
tolerance and justice.'°

MacArthur's words embodied the intrepid, liberating spirit that would remould
not only Japan but the postwar world. The Japanese people, freed from ‘feudalistic
tyranny’, were encouraged to embrace the democratic ideals that the Allied victory
60 The Allied Victory

had infused with fresh legitimacy and vigour. In little over a year, these principles
would be enshrined in a new constitution establishing popular sovereignty, guaran-
teeing civil liberties and renouncing war-making and armaments altogether.

ESTABLISHING THE OCCUPATION

On 28 August, as the US advance party deplaned at Atsugi, Prime Minister

Higashikuni urged a ‘collective confession of guilt by the whole nation’. His call for a
national atonement — ‘the repentance of the hundred millions’ — was a thinly dis-
guised effort to shift the blame for defeat from the Emperor and military élite to the
people. Few Japanese, however, felt personally responsible for their role, active or
passive, in conducting the war. On the home front, the end of the conflict was
greeted generally by a strong sense of release followed by disappointment and bewil-
derment that Japan had lost. Anger, shame and guilt were the reaction of a minority.
A station master noted that the passengers in his waiting room underwent a visible
transformation as they listened to the Emperor’s broadcast. “The absolute tension
that had gripped everyone gave way suddenly to resignation and relief, then turned
into fear’, he recorded.'® The country’s more than 2 million Korean and Formosan
residents alone ecstatically celebrated the defeat, for it signalled their liberation from
decades of colonial rule. The average citizen regarded the Occupation as akin to force
majeure, the unfortunate but inevitable aftermath of a natural calamity. Where ‘the
military clique’ was blamed, it was less for starting the war than for losing it; most
Japanese were content to let General T6jd Hideki and his confederates bear the
consequences. Their primary concern was finding shelter and something to eat.
Two recently arrived American observers accurately captured the mood of the
defeated nation. John K. Emmerson, a State Department Japan specialist, described
the typical reaction to defeat as ‘no deploring the surrender; no castigating the
American enemy; no contrition’. He continued: “This attitude explained the popular
cooperation with the American reformers, which was to come; it explained the lack
of hatred over the destruction we had wrought... .. In the vacuum of defeat, the
Japanese people were ready to reject the past and clutch the straw held out by the
former enemy.’’” One of the first civilian women to arrive in Tokyo, Beate Sirota,
described her astonishment at the sudden reversal in attitudes she encountered
among Japanese men. A former Imperial Navy officer, she wrote, caught her eye.
‘Having grown up as a woman in Japan, | automatically looked down. But his
response was to bow deeply. It seemed unthinkable: a Japanese serviceman deferring
to me, a twenty-two-year-old Caucasian woman.’ Sirota felt ‘a stab of dismay at the
totality of Japan’s defeat’.'®
In the field, soldiers received news of the surrender with disbelief, then chagrin, To
soften the reality of defeat, officers ordered their men to ‘return’ their weapons, never
to ‘surrender’ them. Each army rifle bore the Imperial crest, and soldiers had been
taught that the safety of their weapons was more important than their own lives.
 Occupation: The First Weeks 61

Ordered to toss his rifle and bayonet on a pile of discarded arms on the ground, one
soldier recalled, ‘I felt as if parts of my body were being ripped off. The harsh sound
of metal hitting metal pierced my ears.’!” The military categorically refused to use the
term surrender. Even among the civilian population, the expression ‘termination of
war’ (shiisen) was preferred to the starkness of ‘defeat’ (Aaisen), and “garrison force’
(shinchigun) to ‘army of occupation’ (senrydgun). Such euphemisms flourished,
fostering an element of ambiguity about Japan’s capitulation that would persist
throughout the Occupation era and well beyond, yet no one could deny that over-
night an entire social order and its world view had collapsed utterly. Psychologically
numbed, disorientated and disillusioned with their leaders, demobilised veterans and
civilians alike struggled to get their bearings, shed the discredited ideology of militar-
ism and embrace new values. Within days of their arrival, the American occupiers
began to build the new social and political framework — Emmerson’s ‘straw’ — within
which the demolition of the Old Order and the construction of a new Japan could
take place.

The phantom proclamations

The precise nature of that framework, however, was not immediately clear as the
Occupation began. Would the new order be built from scratch and ‘made in USA’,
or would it be constructed of native materials already at hand? Anticipating at best
obstinacy on the part of Japanese officialdom, MacArthur had made early provision
for direct military rule, including the printing of military scrip. Military governance
had been the US Army’s assumption until the Potsdam summit, where, on British
advice, American planners had modified the proposed régime of control to allow the
use of existing government offices to achieve Occupation objectives (chapter 5). The
‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’, which MacArthur had received in out-
line on 30 August before leaving Manila, urged him to exercise his authority through
the state where possible, but it also conferred on him broad discretionary powers to
intervene directly to enforce the surrender terms if necessary. Army units deploy-
ing in the field, operating on earlier assumptions of hostile occupation, had been
instructed to establish full-fledged military governments in the areas they secured.
These preliminary operational orders, given well in advance of MacArthur’s receipt
of the official US post-surrender policy, were not rescinded until 3 September, and
General Headquarters would not officially adopt the modality of indirect rule until
26 September.
The Japanese learned of the Supreme Commander’s early plans for military gov-
ernance on the evening of 2 September, when Suzuki Tadakatsu, director of the
Central Liaison Office’s Yokohama branch, visited AFPAC headquarters in Yoko-
hama. Suzuki had come to persuade MacArthur not to station combat troops in
Tokyo. At GHQ/AFPAC, by chance, he saw drafts of MacArthur’s first three pro-
clamations. Addressed to the Japanese people in both languages, the orders called for
the imposition of direct military rule and were to be posted in public places by Sixth
and Eighth Armies as they fanned out across Japan.”” The first decree particularly
62 The Allied Victory

alarmed Suzuki. Its preface read: “by virtue of the authority vested in me as Supreme
Commander for the Allied Powers, I hereby establish military control over all
of Japan and the inhabitants thereof’. Although the edict guaranteed personal
freedoms, property rights and religious beliefs (Article 4), it subordinated the
Japanese government’s executive, legislative and judicial powers to SCAP authority
(Article 1) and made English the official language of occupation ‘for all purposes’
(Article 5).
Suzuki found the second order equally distressing. Dealing with crimes and
offences, it empowered the Provost Marshal and Occupation courts to prosecute and
impose punishment, including the death penalty, on any Japanese who violated the
surrender terms or any SCAP proclamation, order or directive; who acted ‘to the
prejudice of good order or the life, safety, or security of the persons or property of
the United States or its Allies’; who wilfully disturbed public peace and order; or who
engaged in ‘any act hostile to the Allied Forces’. These stern measures, amounting to
de facto martial law, would have superseded the Japanese judicial system and usurped
important law-enforcement powers. The third proclamation, entitled ‘Currency’,
made legal tender all military currency issued by Occupation forces. Moreover, mili-
tary scrip was to be equivalent and interchangeable at face value with yen notes and
specie issued by the Bank of Japan. The order further outlawed the export and
import of all currency, coin and securities. SCAP planned to print ¥300 million in
military payment certificates in 10-sen, 50-sen, ¥1, ¥5, ¥10, ¥20 and ¥100
denominations. The inflationary potential of this directive dismayed Suzuki, who
feared further disruption to the battered economy.
The panic into which the impending proclamations threw Japan’s top leadership
was not due to their severity alone. The government had been at pains to portray the
surrender as a judicious decision by the Emperor to spare the nation further suffering
and bring the war to an honourable close. According to the Japanese reading, the
Potsdam terms required Imperial forces to surrender unconditionally but recognised
the government, which would continue to exist. The authorities had convinced the
public that the cessation of hostilities would leave Japan’s paramount social and
political institutions, notably the emperor system, in place. Indeed, the Foreign
Ministry had purposely mistranslated the Byrnes Note of August 11 in order to foster
that view, a gloss that was, as Foreign Minister Shigemitsu Mamoru aptly phrased it,
‘radically different’ from Allied intentions (chapter 5). MacArthur’s decrees placing
the whole of Japan, including the Throne, under military administration threat-
ened to expose that elaborate hoax and discredit the Imperial Cabinet of Prince
Higashikuni.”

Indirect rule
As the edicts were to be issued the next day, Suzuki immediately contacted Okazaki
Katsuo, Chief of the Central Liaison Office in Tokyo, and urged him to do
everything possible to forestall implementation of the decrees. On Prime Minister
Higashikuni’s instructions, that night Okazaki rushed to MacArthur’s suite in the
 Occupation: The First Weeks 63

New Grand Hotel in Yokohama, hoping for a personal audience with the Supreme
Commander. Arriving there at about 1 am, he insinuated his way into the hotel
and entered the quarters of an American officer whom he mistook for Lieutenant
General Richard Sutherland, MacArthur’s chief of staff. After some initial confusion,
Okazaki was led to Sutherland, who noted that the orders had already been tele-
graphed to field units. Acknowledging the dilemma they posed, however, Sutherland
agreed to take the issue up with MacArthur.”
That information did little to allay the fears of the Higashikuni Cabinet, which
remained in session throughout the night. Okazaki and Finance Minister Kubo
Bunz6 had hastily arranged for Foreign Minister Shigemitsu to meet with MacArthur
the next morning. At 8:30 am on 3 September, Shigemitsu sat down with MacArthur
and Sutherland to discuss the issue. The Foreign Minister entreated the General to
think twice before instituting military government; should Japan be placed under
military control, he said, the ‘Army of Occupation . . . will be relieving the Japanese
Government from the responsibility of seeing that the Occupation policy is faithfully
carried out’. Shigemitsu emphasised the Emperor’s determination to implement the
Potsdam terms and assured the Supreme Commander that the government stood
ready and eager to do his bidding. Intent on depicting Hirohito as a pacifistic
sovereign who had opposed the war, he asked MacArthur to work through the
government under the Emperor’s directions. The General reportedly received this
high-level pledge of cooperation ‘with sympathy and interest’ and promptly
instructed Sutherland to rescind the proclamations, although some military scrip
already had been issued.”
On 3 September, as MacArthur was cancelling the direct-rule fiats, a second crisis
erupted following the landing of Eighth Army units under Brigadier General Julien
W. Cunningham in Tateyama, Chiba Prefecture. After deploying, Cunningham
issued a series of wide-ranging directives instructing his troops not only to disarm
Japanese soldiers but also to impose controls over commodity prices, workers’
salaries, rationing, education, property ownership, currency and the local courts. The
central government protested immediately, and MacArthur ordered Cunningham to
retract his decrees.
The Foreign Ministry highlighted Shigemitsu’s 3 September meeting with
MacArthur, citing it as an early turning point in the Occupation that modified the
Allied régime of control in Japan’s favour and arrogating credit for the alleged policy
reversal, That assertion does not stand up to close scrutiny, however. MacArthur
appears to have decided on some form of indirect rule well before his meeting with
the Foreign Minister. The Potsdam Proclamation of July 26 had implied that the
Supreme Commander might play a supervisory role rather than rule directly (chapter
5). On 28 August, AFPAC headquarters in Manila issued Operational Instruction
no. 4 limiting military government to minor functions and stating that orders would
be issued directly to Japanese authorities, giving them every opportunity to comply
‘without further compulsion’. The decisive factor, however, was MacArthur’s receipt
two days later of the US Initial Post-Surrender summary with its recommendation of
64 The Allied Victory

remote control. The adoption of this modality was inevitable, for the General lacked
the human and material resources necessary to impose an effective military adminis-
tration on Japan. By rescinding the early military government proclamations,
MacArthur acknowledged a foregone conclusion, committing the Occupation to
indirect governance in practice as well as principle.
On 22 September, President Truman unveiled the “US Initial Post-Surrender
Policy for Japan’. On 26 September, Chief of Staff Sutherland issued an AFPAC
directive formally renouncing recourse to military rule ‘so long as the system of
enforcing the Potsdam Declaration or the surrender terms through the Japanese
government works satisfactorily’. The same directive announced that special staff
sections would be created inside MacArthur’s headquarters to advise the Supreme
Commander on civil affairs and ordered the discontinuance of AFPAC’s Military
Government Section. On 2 October, responsibility for administering the Occupa-
tion passed from AFPAC’s military staff organisation to a new civil adminis-
tration, GHQ/SCAP. As Shigemitsu had requested, the new headquarters would
operate through the Cabinet, the Diet and, until a new constitution entered into
force in May 1947, the Emperor, ensuring the continuity of Japan’s political
institutions.”

Footnote to Occupation: Korea

The Occupation of Japan offers a study in contrasts, ironical and tragic, with the
American disposition of southern Korea (1945-8). The Cairo Declaration (27
November 1943) had announced the resolve of the United States, Great Britain and
Nationalist China that ‘in due course Korea shall become free and independent’. By
solemn Allied pledge, Japan’s defeat meant the liberation of its Korean colony
from 36 years of despotic rule. But liberation was short-lived. Following the
bombing of Nagasaki on 9 August, Washington’s top policy group, the State-War—
Navy Coordinating Committee, decided to occupy as much of Korea as possible.
Consequently, the US Army’s Operations Division pre-emptively fixed the 38th
parallel as the line of demarcation, and this arbitrary boundary was accepted by the
Soviet Union shortly after Tokyo’s capitulation.”
‘Operation Blacklist’, MacArthur’s contingency plan for a non-hostile occupation,
included a blueprint for the seizure of southern Korea (‘Operation Baker’), and on
11 August, MacArthur ordered General John R. Hodge’s XXIV Corps in Okinawa
to take and hold all Korean territory south of the 38th parallel. On 18 August, he
appointed Hodge Commanding General, United States Army Forces in Korea. On
7 September, in his capacity as Theatre Commander, MacArthur assumed all powers
over the southern half of the peninsula and delegated operational control to Hodge,
who landed at Inchon on 8 September, the day US troops entered Tokyo.
American forces moving into Korea arrived not as liberators, but as occupiers, and
they relied heavily on the Japanese-installed apparatus of colonial control — the
police, bureaucracy and judiciary — to preserve order and, ultimately, to prevent
genuine self-rule. Even before setting foot on the peninsula, Hodge had let slip
 Occupation: The First Weeks 65

an indication of the spirit that would guide American policy there, telling his officers
on 4 September that Korea was an enemy of the United States, not a friend. True to
his word, upon deploying, he announced that the Japanese Government-General
would continue to operate until his command could replace it with a suitable
American alternative. The Japanese-led police organisation similarly was retained,
and Japanese functionaries were allowed to stay at their posts. Direct military rule
was instituted, and English was declared to be the official language of occupation.
On 2 October 1945, following popular outcry over the continuing presence of
Japanese officials, GHQ/SCAP in Tokyo issued a directive formally detaching Korea
from Japan’s political and administrative control, but former Imperial administrators
remained in the country as unofficial advisers.
American and Soviet zones of influence would be confirmed after the fact by the
Big Four at the Moscow Foreign Minister's Conference in December 1945. The
‘Moscow Agreement’ established an international trusteeship for the Korean pen-
insula, gave it a five-year mandate and charged it with assisting in the formation of a
provisional government. In fact, the accord legitimised a divided Korean homeland.
Ironically, many of the civil affairs personnel the US Army had trained for duty in
Japan became superfluous with the adoption there of indirect rule and were diverted
to south Korea, which remained under direct military control until 1948, when
US-engineered general elections there would install a pro-American régime. ‘[T]he
astonishing fact’, a historian has written, is ‘that Korea got the occupation designed
for Japan.’”°

MacArthur's new headquarters

During September and October, Eighth Army despatched tactical units and Military
Government Teams to each prefecture to ensure that Occupation policies were faith-
fully complied with. By late 1945, some 430,000 American soldiers had been
garrisoned across Japan. With the troops in position and the basic character of the
Occupation defined, MacArthur initiated a series of major organisational changes.
On 8 September, advance elements of Eighth Army’s 1st Cavalry Division entered
Tokyo, set up camp at the Yoyogi Training Grounds and moved its staff officers into
the Dai-Ichi and Yashima Hotels. The Supreme Commander accompanied the 1st
Cavalry into the city and ensconced himself and his family in the US Embassy. On
17 September, MacArthur transferred AFPAC headquarters from Yokohama to
Tokyo and set up his main offices on the sixth floor of the Dai-Ichi Mutual Life
Insurance Building, an imposing edifice overlooking the moat and Imperial palace
grounds in Hibiya, symbolic heart of the nation. The psychological significance of
MacArthur’s choice of location was not lost on the Japanese.
Although MacArthur was ready to work through the Japanese government, he
lacked the organisational infrastructure needed to administer a foreign nation of 74
million. This Herculean task was obviously beyond the capacity of AFPAC’s Military
Government Section and would require an immense and highly specialised civil
administrative apparatus. The task of devising a new super-organisation was assigned
66 The Allied Vietory

to Chief of Seaff Sutherland, who delegated the job to Colonel Raymond C. Kramer,
a former department-store executive from New York. Between mid-August and early
September, Kramer came up with the idea of splitting the Military Government
Section off from AFPAC and transforming it into an entitely separate headquarters
thae would specialise in civil affairs and operate in tandem with the Army high
command, Thus was born the concept of GHQ/SCAP. In the words of a former
Occupation official, Kramer's concern was ‘to get a fundamentally undemocratic
Army machine out of democratisation’, In that respect, his plan succeeded
brilliantly,”
On 15 September, before moving to Tokyo, the Supreme Commander created the
Reonomic and Selentific Section (ESS) alongside the MGS, On 22 September, fol-
lowing AFPAC’s transfer to Tokyo, he set up the Civil Information and Edueation
Section (CIE, or CLA&E in ‘Seapinese’), Both groups were established as non-military
special staff sections and absorbed some MGS functions but were made indepen-
dene both of that organisation and of the Military General Staff, On 2 October,
MacArthur formally dissolved Military Government Section and inaugurated Gen-
eral Headquarters, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers (GHQ/SCAP),
which immediately assumed responsibility for administering the Japanese home
islands, MGS personnel were transferred to SCAP's new staff groups or to the US
Army Military Government in Korea, Nine civil staff sections, including ESS and
CI&E, were set up inside the new headquarters, roughly paralleling in structure and

Photo 6, African-American Gls stroll down Giova Boulevard, rifles slung over their shoulders,
nearly a week after the first US troops entered the capital, Demobilixed Imperial soldiers sell
in uniform look on with curiosity, 14 September 1945 (Kyodo),
 Occupation: The First Weeks ; 67

function counterpart agencies in the Japanese bureaucracy. As Supreme Commander,

MacArthur held two powerful commands: GHQ/AFPAC and GHQ/SCAP. The
Occupation’s basic administrative structure was now in place.

THE OCCUPIERS AND THE OCCUPIED

Crimes and misdemeanors

Relations between occupier and the occupied were not smooth initially. US troops
comported themselves like conquerors, especially in the early weeks and months of
occupation. Misbehaviour ranged from black-marketeering, petty theft, reckless driv-
ing and disorderly conduct to vandalism, assault, arson, murder and rape. Much of
the violence was directed against women, the first attacks beginning within hours
after the landing of advance units. In Yokohama, Chiba and elsewhere, soldiers and
sailors broke the law with impunity, and incidents of robbery, rape and occasionally
murder were widely reported in the press. When US paratroopers landed in Sapporo,
an orgy of looting, sexual violence and drunken brawling ensued. Gang rapes and
other sex atrocities were not infrequent. Victims of such attacks, shunned as outcasts,
sometimes turned in desperation to prostitution; others took their life rather than
bring shame to their families. Military courts arrested relatively few soldiers for these
offences and convicted even fewer, and restitution for the victims was rare. Japanese
attempts at self-defence were punished severely. In the sole instance of self-help that
General Eichelberger records in his memoirs, when local residents formed a vigilante
group and retaliated against off-duty Gls, Eighth Army ordered armoured vehicles in
battle array into the streets and arrested the ringleaders, who received lengthy prison
terms,”*
According to newspaper accounts, Gls committed 931 serious offences in the
Yokohama area during the first week of occupation, including 487 armed robberies,
411 thefts of currency or goods, 9 rapes, 5 break-ins, 3 cases of assault and battery
and 16 other acts of lawlessness. In the first 10 days of occupation, there were 1,336
reported rapes by US soldiers in Kanagawa Prefecture alone. Americans were not
the only perpetrators of such crimes. A former prostitute recalled that as soon as
Australian troops arrived in Kure in early 1946, they ‘dragged young women into
their jeeps, took them to the mountain, and then raped them. I heard them scream-
ing for help nearly every night’.”” Such behaviour was commonplace, but news of
criminal activity by Occupation forces was quickly suppressed. On 10 September
1945, SCAP issued press and pre-censorship codes outlawing the publication of all
reports and statistics ‘inimical to the objectives of the Occupation’.

‘Comfort stations’
Japanese authorities, fearing the worst, had taken measures to counter the pre-
sumed rapacity of foreign soldiers — after all, Imperial troops in the field had behaved
atrociously towards women. When the first GIs reached the outskirts of Tokyo, they
68 The Allied Victory

found ‘sexual comfort-stations’ set aside ‘to satisfy the lust of the Occupation forces’.
On 18 August, three days after Japan’s acceptance of the Potsdam terms, the Security
Bureau of the Ministry of Home Affairs instructed law enforcement agencies across
the nation to set up ‘special comfort establishments’, later renamed Recreation and
Amusement Associations (RAAs), which were to be financed initially with public
funds but run as private enterprises under police supervision. On 21 August, Prime
Minister Higashikuni organised an inter-ministerial conference to coordinate this
programme, and on 23 August, the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Board instructed
restaurant, geisha and brothel organisations to set up local RAAs to ‘cater to the
amusement’ of the foreign troops. Government funds were provided because, in the
words of a senior Tokyo Metropolitan Police official, ‘the American Army is coming
to Japan. We fear that the Americans will molest our women — our wives and
daughters and sisters. We need a shock absorber.’ Ikeda Hayato, head of the Finance
Ministry’s Tax Bureau and later prime minister, set aside a budget of ¥100 million
for the RAAs, noting that the money was well spent if it would ‘protect the pure
bloodline of the Yamato race’.*°
Through the RAAs, the government hoped to protect the daughters of the well-
born and middle classes by having lower-class women satisfy the sexual appetites of
battle-weary Gls. Enlistment in the RAA ranks was hailed as a patriotic act, and the
first volunteers received official thanks for their sacrifice in front of the Imperial
Palace. In fact, the policy of sexual servitude was an emergency measure imple-
mented in the name of national security, and many recruits had little choice but to
comply. By the end of 1945, brothel operators had rounded up an estimated 20,000
young women and herded them into RAA establishments across the country. Early
recruitment focused on geisha, bar hostesses and prostitutes, including those repatri-
ated from military posts abroad, but the shortage of volunteers led police authorities
to expand the roster to include war widows, the homeless and even high school
students drafted for factory labour during the war. Eventually, as many as 70,000 are
said to have ended up in the state-run sex industry.”
In the capital area, the first RAA brothel was the Babe’s Garden in Omori, which
was set up on 28 August, the day MacArthur’s advance guard landed at Atsugi.
When US troops moved into Tokyo, it quickly attracted long lines of GIs. Similar
establishments, such as the Bordeaux (Ginza), the Paramount (Shinagawa), the
Paradise (Tachikawa) and the Officers’ Club (Sangenjaya), soon dotted the districts
frequented by Gls. The RAA-run International Palace in Chiba just outside of
Tokyo, one of the world’s largest brothels, became known for its ‘assembly-line style’.
When the Association established a similar house, the Oasis of Ginza, in the heart of
Tokyo for enlisted men, the US Army promptly set up a prophylactic station next
door to treat venereal disease. Cabaret-style brothels, restaurants, dance halls and
beer gardens all catered to Gls under the RAA umbrella. Reflecting the military
hierarchy, the RAAs provided different facilities for enlisted personnel and officers.
Mirroring the US Army’s policy of racial segregation, they also established separate
businesses for black and white Gls (chapter 3).
 Occupation: The First Weeks 69

Panpan
The RAA was a domestic version of the extensive military brothel system that is
thought to have ensnared between 80,000 and 100,000 Asian women (and possibly
many more) to serve Japanese troops during the war (chapter 6). Some of these
victims — Koreans, Japanese and others — continued to ‘service’ Occupation troops in
Okinawa and elsewhere in Japan. Not all worked for the RAA. Bordellos were set up
by repatriates who had run ‘comfort stations’ for the Japanese military abroad. The
destitute former military prostitutes that staffed them were too poor or too disgraced
to return to their homelands and families. As a former Occupationaire has pointed
out, however, “questions of morality did not enter into the original official Occupa-
tion attitude’. One US Marine who arrived in Nagasaki in late 1945 was stunned to
discover next to the officers’ quarters a house of dubious repute being run by his own
command. Within days of disembarking, New Zealand troops were openly keeping
women in their barracks.”
Prostitution was fused in the popular imagination of the early post-defeat period
with black-marketeering, both activities serving as metaphors for the uprooted,
anarchic conditions under which all Japanese struggled. Like Koreans and Formosans,
prostitutes, known as panpan, represented a despised underclass against which better
folk defined morality. The seemingly unrestrained behaviour of sex workers, their
intimate contact with the American occupier and their survival outside of the
officially sanctioned economy were unsettling to Japan’s dominant élites, with their
patriarchal values and notions of racial exclusivity. As one scholar has remarked, the
working-class prostitute with GI customers was subversive in that she challenged the
sexual authority of Japanese men while rejecting traditional female roles (propriety,
monogamy, childbearing). But above all, ‘the panpan was ... a survivor of the
postwar chaos, and in this regard nearly every Japanese who lived through the war
could identify with her’. Victimised by class and gender discrimination, many of
these women in fact led harsh, tragic lives.
Wherever there were bases there were post exchanges, and cigarettes, lipstick,
nylon stockings and food were traded regularly for sexual favours. By the end of
1945, venereal diseases had become rampant (90 per cent of RAA sex workers
reportedly were infected). Military discipline, however, gradually reasserted itself,
and Japanese women’s groups brought strong pressure to bear on GHQ to abolish
this form of sexual exploitation. On 21 January 1946, Occupation authorities
ordered the government to outlaw licensed and involuntary prostitution, precipitat-
ing a crackdown. In November 1945, the Institute of Infectious Diseases, forerunner
of today’s National Institute of Health, had established a field demonstration centre
for the treatment of VD at the Yoshiwara Venereal Disease Hospital in the middle of
Tokyo’s traditional red-light district. By late 1946, Military Police were rounding up
all women they found on the streets at night and carting them to the Yoshiwara
hospital, where they were placed in barbed wire enclosures and subjected to compul-
sory VD examinations. Between August and November, 2,400 women were picked
up at random, including night-school students, factory workers, telephone operators,
70 The Allied Victory

Photo 7. “fomen of the night ply their trade near the Ginza, autumn 1945. Prostitution,
state-sponsored and voluntary, epitomised the ignominy of defeat and occupation by a foreign
power (Mainichi)
 Occupation: The First Weeks 71

GHQ employees and a Diet woman on her way home from an evening committee
session. A Kyoto dragnet pulled in an Imperial princess. The humiliation was
intolerable, and at least one suicide was reported. GHQ’s anti-prostitution directive
was formally promulgated as a Cabinet Order on 15 January 1947, and the RAA
brothels were officially closed on 27 March of that year, although beer halls, cabarets
and bars continued to operate until May 1949, when the RAA system finally was
dismantled.*
The 1947 anti-prostitution ordinance did not apply to voluntary prostitution,
however, and private bordellos mushroomed following the closure of the RAA estab-
lishments. At first, many RAAs simply masqueraded as “Tea Shop Sanitation Associ-
ations’ or “Cafe Associations’ or transformed themselves into ‘special eating and
drinking establishments’, which police confined to specially zoned red-light districts.
Fed by poverty, prostitution proliferated, however, and panpan were soon walking
the streets in so-called respectable neighborhoods. By 1949, there were an estimated
59,000 prostitutes, many of them clustered around US military bases. At the insist-
ence of Christian organisations and other anti-prostitution groups, the Ministry of
Health and Welfare established special welfare homes to alleviate the distress
of these women. By late 1949, more than 1,000 had found refuge in 18 such
homes, but this was a tiny minority. Prostitution would not be abolished entirely
until the 1956 Prostitution Prevention Law, which entered into force two years later
in 1958.”
The sexual subjugation of women had many uses. Canadian Mark Gayn, the
Chicago Sun correspondent, recorded in his diary that ultra-rightist racketeers had
attempted systematically, and with considerable success, to corrupt high-ranking
members of the Occupation with women and whisky. In a now-famous episode, Gayn
interviewed Ando Akira, a gangster on intimate terms with the Emperor’s brother,
Prince Takamatsu, in June 1946. One of Tokyo’s largest brothel owners, Ando
boasted that many of his women worked in GHQ as receptionists and typists. He
told Gayn that he had between 200 and 300 ‘American friends’ inside GHQ in
constant need of ‘relaxation’ from their labours, among them a general, a judge,
several well-known officers and two members of Allied missions in Tokyo. Andé’s
indiscreet admissions led subsequently to his arrest by Military Intelligence for black
marketeering. The ‘vast and powerful nationalist underground’ that Ando repre-
sented, however, continued to operate and thrive throughout the Occupation, its
virulent anti-Communism insuring it a degree of immunity with Occupation
security forces.**

Congenial occupiers or neo-colonial overlords?

Despite the absence of overt resistance, US forces trod warily in the initial
weeks of occupation. Courtney Whitney recalled that during MacArthur’s first meal
at the New Grand Hotel, he had difficulty restraining himself from snatching the
Supreme Commander’s plate away and testing it for poison. One SCAP official
described the early atmosphere at GHQ as tense and noted that many of his
72 The Allied Victory

Photo 8. Family members queue up to receive food. No rice is to be had, only a 10-day ration
of soy beans. Until US emergency food stocks arrived from Manila in early 1946, Japan faced
mass starvation. 15 September 1945 (Mainichi).

colleagues were afraid to enter nearby Hibiya Park for fear of bodily harm. There had
been sporadic assaults on soldiers at night, and officers wore sidearms until orders
came down in mid-September not to. The Japanese repaid American misgivings in
kind, regarding the ‘demonic and beastly’ enemy with dread and loathing. Three
days after capitulation, the mass-circulation daily Yomiuri Shinbun reported that
Tokyoites expected Gls to do no less than loot, steal all available food, violate
women, kill all the men and raze the city. The headmaster of a reform school outside
of Tokyo told an Occupationaire that he had given his Leica camera to the first GI
he encountered ‘out of gratitude for not having been shot’. The man added that he
would just as happily have parted with his home.”
An early US decision to feed Occupation forces from American supplies and allow
the Japanese to consume their own meagre food stores allayed a basic fear, for
Imperial forces had imposed forced food deliveries on the people they conquered. As
military discipline took hold and fresh troops replaced the Allied veterans responsible
for the early crime wave, violence subsided, and Japanese were quick to overlook
the occupier’s patronising behaviour and the ugly misdeeds of a lawless few. Happily,
the worst fears of both sides proved groundless. An Australian diplomat, writing in
1946, found the GI to be a more congenial occupier than his Australian or British
 Occupation: The First Weeks ff)

counterpart — whom even the Australian press characterised as rigid and unfriendly.
“We cannot compete with the Americans in Japan’, he observed. ‘Our soldiers do not
give gum or candy and very few cigarettes in comparison with the Americans. More-
over, the Americans have a sentimentalism that makes them much easier and more
friendly in manner to the Japanese’.*®
The message that Japan was utterly at the mercy of the occupier, however, was
reinforced in a thousand ways, subtle and manifest. While the average US soldier
did not fit the rapacious image of wartime Japanese propagandists, Occupation
personnel lived and frequently behaved like neo-colonial overlords. SCAP comman-
deered every large building that had not burned down to house thousands of civilians
and requisitioned vast tracts of prime real estate to quarter several hundred thousand
troops in the Tokyo—Yokohama area alone. The Stars and Stripes were hoisted over
Tokyo (display of the Rising Sun — the ‘meatball’ — was banned), and the downtown
area, ‘Little America’, was transformed into a US enclave. Leading staff officers took
up residence in the stately Imperial Hotel, which Frank Lloyd Wright had designed
during World War I. Field officers were assigned to the less prestigious Dai-Ichi
Hotel in Shinbashi. Department of the Army civilians were billeted in more distant
quarters, such as the Kanda Kaikan (the former YMCA) or the Yuraku Hotel. Entire
buildings were refurbished as officers’ clubs, replete with slot machines and gambling
parlours installed at Occupation expense. Reflecting the military preference for ele-
vated terrain, Army camps with such names as Jefferson Heights, Grand Heights,
Palace Heights and Washington Heights became familiar landmarks to people in the
capital region.
In accordance with a 3 September directive from MacArthur decreeing the tran-
scription in romanised letters of all public notices, the signboards and street
names along the road from Yokohama to Tokyo were rendered in English as well as
Japanese, but in the centre of occupied Tokyo, English alone prevailed. At the Hibiya
crossing in front of GHQ, even the billboards were written exclusively in the con-
queror’s tongue. The boulevard in front of SCAP headquarters was renamed First
Avenue. Japan’s national sports arena became Memorial Hall, and Tokyo’s all-female
opera, the Takarazuka, was rechristened the Ernie Pyle Theatre in honour of a well-
known American combat journalist killed on Okinawa. American correspondents set
up a press club in one of the few buildings still standing in Shinbashi, assigned it the
street number ‘No. 1’ and renamed the street itself Shinbun (Newspaper) Alley.
Bars, black-market restaurants, gambling dens, bath-houses, RAAs, and honky-tonk
night spots with names like the Starlight Club and the Showboat sprang up from the
ruins in downtown areas. A prime piece of Ginza real estate, the Hattori Building,
was converted into the Eighth Army Post Exchange (PX), and its shelves were soon
stocked with tax-free consumer items including food staples, canned delicacies,
liquor, cigarettes, clothing, cameras, refrigerators and diamond rings. At the PX grill,
Occupation personnel could feast on Coke, milk shakes, hot dogs, french fries and
‘B-29burgers’.
Military policemen (MPs) were ubiquitous, their stern demeanours, sidearms and
74 The Allied Victory

eRY

_ EXCHANGE

Photo 9. Eighth Army promptly requisitioned the Hattori Tokei Building in Ginza as its main
Post Exchange. The PX became a symbol of American affluence, attracting street urchins,
impecunious young women and a variety of loiterers, Japanese and American. 22 September
1945 (Mainichi).

billy clubs an intimidating reminder of Occupation authority. Off-duty Gls thronged

the streets in freshly pressed olive-drab uniforms, their servicemen’s hats cocked
jauntily to one side. Road traffic was dominated by nearly empty khaki-coloured,
white-striped staff sedans and was nearly all American, for only the occupier had
access to ample petrol — most Japanese cars and buses ran on charcoal. The occasional
canvas-roofed Army truck lumbered through city streets, filled with troops en route
to new postings, and ‘recreation jeeps’ with Japanese drivers were available to US
personnel for off-duty excursions. Officers sped through downtown thoroughfares
in commandeered jeeps accompanied by fashionably dressed Japanese girlfriends
trailing bright scarves, their insouciance a striking contrast to the gloomy faces of the
hungry, ill-clad Japanese, many of them homeless, who looked on these centurions
with a mixture of awe and envy.
Jeeps, like English-language signs and MPs, became universal emblems of
Occupation control. On one level, at a time of great hardship and distress for the
vanquished, they symbolised the seemingly unbridled freedom of the victors to go
where they wished, do as they pleased. Children associated the military vehicle with
GI chocolate bars, chewing gum and candy drops, and toy jeeps became a coveted
play item in many urban neighbourhoods. In outlying areas, however, Japanese
read into the ubiquitous Army jeep ‘more coercion than good intentions’. New
 Occupation: The First Weeks if

expressions were coined to express this basic ambivalence. In early 1946, GHQ
introduced compulsory rice deliveries to counter hoarding and black marketeering
and cracked down on tax evaders. ‘Jeep kyomai’ came to mean US-monitored rice
requisitions, and ‘jeep chézei’ referred to a visit by the Army tax officer.”
The conquerors arrogated to themselves privileges unimaginable to most Japanese.
Entire trains and train compartments, fitted with dining cars, were set aside for
the exclusive use of Occupation forces. These sped half-empty past crowded train
platforms, arousing the ire and resentment of Japanese passengers forced to enter and
exit packed cars via their punched-out windows rather than the doors, or look for
space on carriage roofs, couplings and running boards, with tragically predictable loss
of life. These luxury express coaches afforded an irresistible target for anonymous
stone-throwers. During the war, retrenchment measures had closed restaurants, caba-
rets, beer halls and geisha houses to people in Tokyo and other large cities and
cancelled theatre performances. Now, however, a vast leisure industry sprang up to
cater to the needs of the foreign occupant. Reopened restaurants, and theatres
together with train stations, buses and streetcars were placed off limits to Allied
personnel (in part for security reasons and in part to avoid burdening already strained
Japanese resources), but an elaborate and costly service infrastructure was built to the
specifications of the occupying forces. Facilities reserved for Occupation troops
carried large signs reading ‘Japanese Keep Out or ‘For Allied Personnel Only’, and in
downtown Tokyo, important public buildings requisitioned for Occupation use had
separate entrances for Americans and Japanese. The effect of such policies was to
create a subtle but distinct colour bar between the predominantly white conqueror
and the conquered ‘Asiatic’ Japanese.
The enclave mentality this cocooned existence fostered was reinforced by the
arrival within the first six months of about 700 American families. At the height of
the Occupation, some 14,800 families employed a total of 25,000 Japanese servants
to ease the ‘rigours’ of overseas duty. Even enlisted men in the spartan quonset-hut
cities that appeared overnight around the city lived like kings compared to ordinary
Japanese. Japanese workers cleaned the barracks, did kitchen chores and handled
other work details on base. The lowest private drew a 25 per cent hardship bonus
until these special allotments were discontinued in 1949. Most military families
quickly got used to a pampered lifestyle that included in addition to maids and ‘boys’
a whole panoply of specialised household help, from cooks and laundresses to baby-
sitters, gardeners and masseuses. Among the perks and privileges accruing to the
victors were spacious quarters equipped with swimming pools, central heating, hot
running water and modern plumbing. Two contemporary observers have compared
GHQ to the British Raj in its heyday. The patrician George EF. Kennan, head of
the State Department’s Policy Planning Staff, complained bitterly during his 1948
mission to Japan that the Americans had monopolised ‘everything that smacks
of comfort or elegance or luxury’, and denounced what he termed the ‘American
brand of philistinism’ and the ‘monumental imperviousness’ of MacArthur’s
underlings to the sufferings of the Japanese. This conqueror’s mentality also
76 The Allied Victory

expressed itself in the bullying attitudes many top Occupation officials adopted
towards the Japanese with whom they dealt. Major Faubion Bowers, MacArthut’s
military secretary, later commented that ‘I and nearly all the Occupation people I
knew were extremely conceited and extremely arrogant and used our power every
inch of the way’.

Enduring defeat
Japan lay prostrate. Industrial output had fallen to a mere 10 per cent of the prewar
level, and as late as 1946, more than 13 million remained unemployed. Nearly 40 per
cent of Japan’s urban areas had been turned to rubble, and some 9 million people
were homeless, ‘The war-displaced, many of them orphans, slept in doorways and
hallways, in bombed-out ruins, dugouts and packing crates, under bridges or on
pavements, and jammed the hallways of train and subway stations. As the winter of
1945 descended, with food, fuel and clothing scarce, people froze to death. Bonfires
were lit on the streets to ward off the chill. “The only warm hands I have shaken thus
far in Japan belonged to Americans’, Mark Gayn noted in his diary in December
1945. “The Japanese do not have much of a chance to thaw out, and their hands are
cold and red.’ Unable to afford shoes, many people made do with straw sandals,
which cost the equivalent of four days’ salary. Those with stilted wooden clogs (geta)
felt themselves privileged. The sight of a man wearing a woman’s high-buttoned
shoes in the dead of winter surprised one Occupationaire but epitomised the daily
struggle to keep dry and warm”!
Shantytowns built of scrap wood, rusted metal and scavenged odds and ends
sprang up everywhere, resembling vast junk yards, The poorest searched smouldering
refuse heaps for castoff items that might somehow be bartered for a scrap to eat or
something to wear, Black markets (yamitchi) run by Japanese, Koreans and For-
mosans mushroomed to replace collapsed distribution channels and cash in on
inflated prices, Tokyo became ‘a world of scarcity in which every nail, every rag, and
even a tangerine peel [had a] market value’.” Black-market yami goods fetched prices
more than 30 times higher than those for officially controlled commodities. Such
markets also were awash with food stores, clothing and industrial equipment pilfered
from military stockpiles by corrupt industrialists, bureaucrats and former military
officers, whose illegal activities made black marketeering a low-risk, high-growth
industry.
On 15 August, the Imperial Army had issued Secret Instruction no, 363 authoris-
ing, the free delivery of war matériel other than armaments to local governments.
Immediately, reported one observer, ‘trucks, wagons, railroad cars, carts, bicycles and
porters swarmed into the arsenals; documents were forged, altered or destroyed.
Thousands of tons of finished products, food, textiles, raw materials and machinery
were hauled away.’ In this manner, men in positions of power raided and carted off
an estimated 70 per cent of Japan's military stocks. An additional ¥100 billion in
construction materials and machinery, turned over to the Home Ministry for safe-
keeping by GHQ, also disappeared mysteriously — presumably diverted by the five
 Occupation: The First Weeks rig!

zaibatsu groups into whose care the goods had been entrusted. Many postwar firms
were able to refinance themselves and begin anew thanks to this egregious betrayal of
the public trust. The police and bureaucracy were intimately involved in the dispersal
of national wealth, protecting the hoarders of illicit goods and harassing the con-
sumers, who were subject to arrest. The appropriated stocks became the economic
lifeline of the Old Order, and the complex alliance between corrupt bureaucrats,
politicians, police and gangsters that this collective act of theft solidified enabled the
élite to rebound quickly from defeat and restake its claim on political and economic
power.”
While enterprising members of the discredited ancien régime made fortunes, the
people foraged for a subsistence. An estimated 14.5 million Japanese were indigent,
of whom some 10 million hovered on the brink of starvation. The 1945 harvest, the
worst since 1910 due to typhoons and extensive flooding in mid-September, had
produced only two-thirds the normal rice yield. No longer able to depend on forced
rice deliveries from its Korean and Formosan colonies, Japan faced the spectre of
famine. Farmers alone had sufficient to eat. Long despised by city-dwellers as crude
and uneducated, they exploited this seller's market with great shrewdness, selling

Photo 10. During the early years of occupation, city dwellers went to the countryside to barter
kimonos and other valuables for food. Here two boys fill a bag with freshly harvested potatoes
while their parents negotiate the transaction. Farmers refused to accept cash, made nearly worth-
less by inflation. June 1947 (Mainichi).
78 The Allied Victory

their vegetables and rice to the indigent city dwellers who flocked to the countryside
to barter for food (kaidashi). In the rural areas and at ‘open-air’ or ‘free’ markets in
the cities, silk kimonos and family heirlooms changed hands for a few potatoes, some
Chinese cabbages or a small bag of grain. This hand-to-mouth life, where city
dwellers peeled off one layer of clothing at a time and sold it for food, was called
takenoko seikatsu, a ‘bamboo-shoot’ existence (bamboo shoots are prepared for cook-
ing by stripping off the tough outer husks one by one until the edible root is
exposed).
In October, the government asked GHQ for emergency food assistance, and Mac-
Arthur authorised an initial shipment of Army wheat, which reached Tokyo from
Manila in late January 1946. He eventually secured a substantial promise of food
from Washington, but supplies were delayed. By May of that year, Japanese officials
were unable to maintain fixed food rations, and the Supreme Commander asked
again for emergency interim deliveries, pleading Japan’s case in unusually strong
language. The country in its present state, said a SCAP memo, ‘can only be con-
sidered a vast concentration camp under the control of the Allies and foreclosed from
all avenues of commerce and trade’. In July, monthly rations were slashed from 9.7
days’ worth of rice to 3.9 days, and even then, delivery was sometimes held up by a
month or more. Other rationed goods, such as sweet potatoes, barley, biscuits and
canned goods, sufficed only for 22 days. For nearly 10 days a month, there were not
even sweet potatoes to eat, and people fell back on their own resources to survive.
What grain could be scavenged (usually millet or wild grass seed) was mixed with
radish leaves, sweet potatoes or other filler and cooked into an unwholesome watery
gruel that was minimally nourishing and intolerably bland. Half a sweet potato for a
noon meal was counted a luxury (today, many still react to that particular food item
with revulsion). A well-known scholar reminisces, ‘In desperation, we dug up the
university lawn and planted yams, which we divided among us and cooked —
stems, roots and all. On Sundays we searched for grasshoppers.’ Adults weakened
by hunger squatted along the roadside or leaned against walls in exhaustion. Those
who lay down too long risked freezing to death. Women and children were
reduced to begging handouts of food. Alarmed by the prospect of famine, GHQ
eventually released\emergency grain held in reserve for US troops and the British
Commonwealth Occupation Force as a stopgap measure, but regular food imports
did not reach Japan until the autumn of 1946 (chapter 9).”
Although Allied authorities were at pains to deny that people were starving to
death, it is estimated that in Tokyo alone more than 1,000 perished from malnutri-
tion in the first three months of occupation. And when emergency relief supplies
finally were distributed, they included foods alien to the Japanese palate. Cornmeal —
‘feed that was meant for cows, pigs and chickens’ — became a staple, supplemented by
flour, butter, pinto beans, dried apricots and prunes, and apple and tomato juice.
Powdered milk, a commodity that Americans now spurned, became standard fare
in school meals for millions of children. Accustomed to a semi-starvation diet,
many Japanese suffered from carbohydrate diarrhoea, and children developed allergic
 Occupation: The First Weeks 79

reactions to reconstituted skim milk, which their protein-deprived bodies could not
assimilate. Nonetheless, mass starvation was averted, a remarkable achievement,
although the nutritional value of food rations did not reach the level necessary to
sustain healthy life until 1949.
With so many enervated by hunger, contagious diseases, including cholera, diph-
theria, dysentery, pneumonia, smallpox, tuberculosis, typhoid and typhus, spread
rapidly, claiming the lives of tens of thousands. Starvation and epidemics, with the
attending spectre of civil disorder, also constituted a major threat to the health and
security of Occupation forces, and MacArthur on his own initiative directed the
government to organise an emergency assistance programme. Washington eventually
provided annual assistance of $400 million to buy foodstuffs, clothing, medical
supplies, fertilizer and petroleum under the Army’s Government Appropriation for
Relief in Occupied Areas (GARIOA) programme. GARIOA ultimately distributed
commodities worth $2.14 billion, which Washington later insisted that Japan repay
(a $490 million settlement was finally reached in 1961).”
In early 1946, GHQ imposed restrictions on internal migrations, forbidding
Japanese in rural areas to relocate to or seek work in urban areas. This measure,
taken to counter inadequate food and housing and the threat of disease in the cities,
enabled authorities to disperse potential refugees and avoid overburdening already
strained relief facilities. It eliminated the need for relocation camps and soup
kitchens, curbed the spread of infectious illnesses, encouraged repatriates to resettle
in rural hometowns, where many took up farming, and helped maintain civil order.
The emergency decree, later enacted in law, remained in force for three years, until 1
January 1949 (chapter 9).

Fraternisation
As people struggled to survive, the parade of well-fed GIs walking the streets with
young Japanese women in tow heaped insult on injury. Many US church groups
found this spectacle equally deplorable and pressed Occupation authorities to curb
such behaviour. “The sight of our soldiers . . . with their arms around Japanese girls is
equally repugnant to Americans at home .. . as well as to most Japanese’, General
Eichelberger told the troops in March 1946. Public displays of affection, he warned,
were ‘prejudicial to good order and military discipline and will be treated as dis-
orderly conduct’. Japanese women were promptly prohibited from riding in military
vehicles, and large signs were posted warning ‘No fraternisation with the indigenous
personnel’. One Eighth Army general, acknowledging the inevitable, attempted to
preserve the appearance of decorum by enforcing a ‘six-inch rule’: MPs were ordered
to insert a six inch measure between GIs and their dancing partners in authorised
cabarets and dance halls. The Supreme Commander, however, refused to follow the
example set by US forces in Germany who issued a non-fraternisation order
(enforced in May but lifted in September 1945). “They keep trying to get me to stop
all the Madame Butterflying around’, he complained to Major Faubion Bowers, his
aide. ‘I won’t do it . . . for all the tea in China’, he exclaimed. Although MacArthur
80 The Allied Victory

refused to socialise with the Japanese himself, he encouraged his staff to mix as much
as they wished, and this liberal attitude permeated all levels of the Occupation.
Japanese officials at first cautioned passive acceptance of Allied authority and
avoidance of all personal contact with the occupier. Daily newspapers warned people
to comport themselves with dignity since ‘the eyes of the world are upon Japan’.
Women were warned against coquetry and told not to use heavy lipstick, rouge or
eyebrow pencils. They were not to walk unattended even during the day and to avoid
eye contact with foreign soldiers, “even if they say “hello” or “hey”’. At the same
time, incongruously, the authorities encouraged people to learn English, which had
been discouraged during the war years, in order to prevent misunderstandings with
the occupiers.”
MacArthur’s hands-off approach to Japanese-American amity was in line with
official policy: Washington had instructed SCAP to control the Japanese only to the
extent necessary to achieve Occupation objectives. Moreover, MacArthur was deter-
mined to avoid the loss of self-respect and self-confidence he had observed in occu-
pied Germany after World War I. He was particularly sensitive to ‘the lowering of
spiritual and moral tone of a people controlled by foreign bayonets’ and the master—
slave mentality it gave rise to.’ Nonetheless, for the first half of the Occupation,
segregation was practised in principle, with Japanese excluded from areas reserved for
Allied personnel. In September 1949, however, the Supreme Commander lifted
virtually all restrictions on friendly association, ‘establishing the same relations
between occupation personnel and the Japanese population as exists between troops
stationed in the United States and the American people’. Thereafter, hotels, inns,
theatres and other public places became in bounds to US forces, and Japanese were
allowed to participate in American social activities on base and even visit service
clubs. The assumptions of white privilege, however, tacitly accepted by both sides,
would remain unchallenged and unchanged during the Occupation, and such
attitudes continue to influence subtly Japan-US relations today.
While ‘fraternisation’ per se was not outlawed, marriage initially was. Sexual
promiscuity, wrote a former Occupationaire, was expected of white troops in a far-
away Asian land, but intermarriage carried ‘overtones of miscegenation’, a threat to
the myth of racial. purity subscribed to by both sides. The first registered mixed-
blood child was born in June 1946, and by mid-1948, estimates of ‘Occupation
babies’ ranged from 1,000 to 4,000. It is worth recalling that during this period,
30 American states, including California, carried laws prohibiting racially mixed
marriages, and the offspring of such unions were discriminated against in a variety
of ways. In Japan, too, children of mixed parentage were treated as outcasts.
Legally, many ended up in limbo: unless the American father claimed paternity and
registered the birth — which the military discouraged — the child was ‘illegitimate’
and the mother, as an enemy alien, had no right of appeal. Moreover, SCAP censor-
ship rules prohibited discussion of this problem until late in the Occupation. ‘Both
countries’ a historian has noted, ‘looked upon mixed marriages as a social evil, a
threat to public health, safety, morals, and the general welfare.’ Such children were
 Occupation: The First Weeks 81

treated accordingly, and most were secreted away in poorly funded, ill-equipped
private orphanages. Children of black American fathers suffered disproportionately,
being made to bear the burdens of two racist cultures.”"
Nonetheless, many Gls defied pressure from superiors and married Japanese, and
re-enlistments often were motivated by the desire to remain with a spouse or girl-
friend. The US Immigration (‘Oriental Exclusion’) Act of 1924 was still in effect,
preventing Japanese women from emigrating to the United States, even as the wife of
an American national. MacArthur eventually lifted this proscription, and the 1948
War Brides Act enabled Japanese-American couples to live together in either country.
One source reports that 12,000 such unions took place during the Occupation.
Despite racial prejudice on both sides of the Pacific, many withstood the test of time.”
By contrast, the British Commonwealth Occupation Force (BCOF) in southwest-
ern Japan rigidly enforced a ban on all forms of off-duty socialising with the enemy.
BCOF troops were ordered not to enter private homes and to treat the Japanese they
came into contact with as ‘a conquered enemy’. Sir Alvery Gascoigne, head of the
British Liaison Mission in Tokyo from 1946, expressed the Commonwealth view of
inter-ethnic relations when he castigated American troops as ‘youthful novices with-
out either the background of battle or the personal experiences of the Japanese as
inhuman fanatic enemies’. Worst of all, he complained, they spent ther spare time ‘in
undignified fraternisation’. The Commonwealth non-fraternisation decree applied
equally to American Nisei personnel, who were barred from all BCOF facilities, a
practice that GHQ never challenged.”

THE SOVIET SEIZURE OF THE KURILS

In a sense, World War II did not end for Japan on 15 August 1945. The Red Army
continued to fight and seize territory in Manchuria, Korea, Sakhalin and the Kuril
Islands even after the surrender. With the takeover of the Kurils on 5 September,
another occupation began in earnest. Unlike other former Japanese territories in
Soviet possession, the Kurils posed a special problem, for their investment and reten-
tion were clearly illegal under the Potsdam Proclamation. The occupation of the
southernmost group of islands, the so-called Northern Territories, sparked a bitter
diplomatic dispute between Tokyo and Moscow that continues to impede the nor-
malisation of relations today. Past neglect by historians and recent revelations from
Russian archives make this seemingly minor episode in Occupation history of special
interest.
The Kuril archipelago is a sparsely populated arc of more than 30 islands and islets
stretching roughly 1,200 kilometres from the northeastern tip of Hokkaido to the
Kamchatka Peninsula in Siberia. Situated along the Great Circle route from the
Aleutians to Japan, it is strategically significant to three major powers: Japan, Russia
and the United States. Well before the era of colonial expansion, the Tokugawa
Shogunate (1603-1867) controlled all of the Kurils south of Urup, including the
82 The Allied Victory

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four southernmost islands of Kunashiri (Kunashir), Etorofu (Iturup), Shikotan and

the Habomais. In 1855, the Treaty of Shimoda signed by Edo and Moscow drew the
Russo-Japanese border between Urup and Etorofu. In 1875, Tsarist Russia ceded the
remaining Kurils in the Treaty of St Petersburg, in return for which Japan abandoned
all claims to the island of Sakhalin, which it had occupied conjointly with Russia. In
1869, following the Meiji Restoration, the southernmost Kurils became an adminis-
trative district of Nemuro City in Hokkaido. (Pre-1945 Russian reference works list
the Habomai Group, located 3.7 kilometres from. Hokkaido, as an extension of the
Nemuro peninsula, not a part of the Kuril arc.) Tsarist control of Sakhalin was
brief, however. In 1906, following its victory in the Russo-Japanese War (1904-5),
the Japanese Empire acquired the southern half of the island under the Treaty of
Portsmouth (which also awarded it Russia’s Manchurian concessions, notably Port
Arthur and the Liaodong Peninsula).

The Kurils and early US—Soviet policy

Soviet designs on the Kurils surfaced in November 1940 when Foreign Minister
V. M. Molotov asked Tokyo for the archipelago as the price for a non-aggression
pact. Having just deployed troops in the islands that summer, the Japanese turned
down the request and settled for a neutrality accord instead.” Following the Nazi
defeat at Stalingrad in early 1943, Stalin again turned his attention to Sakhalin, the
 Occupation: The First Weeks 83

Kurils and Manchuria. The Marshal is thought to have mentioned Soviet interest in
the northern arc to Roosevelt at the Teheran Conference in late November of that
year, for in mid-January 1944, Roosevelt told US members of the Allied Pacific War
Council that the Kremlin wanted all of Sakhalin ‘returned’ and the Kurils ‘turned
over’ to the USSR after the war. The Kurils re-emerged as a policy issue in December
1944 when Stalin included the islands, together with southern Sakhalin, in a list of
concessions he outlined to US Ambassador Averell W. Harriman in Moscow as a
condition for entering the war against Japan.”
Stalin’s claims were substantive. He wanted control of the Kurils to protect
Siberia’s Pacific littoral, the Maritime Provinces, from external attack; ensure
unrestricted access to the Pacific; and safeguard the Soviet fishing industry in the Sea
of Okhotsk. Moscow also nurtured a long list of historical grievances, notably the
Russo-Japanese War (1904-5), which had stripped Russia of southern Sakhalin and
its Manchurian concessions and given Japan coastal fishing rights. This affront to
Russian pride was compounded by Japan’s Siberian intervention in support of
anti-Bolshevik forces (1918-22); the Imperial Army’s unsuccessful assault on Soviet
armies at Lake Kashan (Changkufeng on the Siberia-Manchuria border, 1938) and
-Nomonhan (1939); the aggressive overfishing of Siberian waters; and Tokyo’s support
of Axis expansionism. Acquisition of the Kurils and southern Sakhalin would not
only assuage past humiliations but protect the Soviet Far East from postwar Japanese
revanchism.””
American planners first considered the Kuril question in a study of May 1943
conducted by the Territorial Subcommittee, a high-level US policy group, which
recommended that Japan retain administrative control of the islands but under
international supervision. Should that approach fail, the study said, the southern
Kurils should remain in Japan’s possession; handing them over to the Soviet Union
outright would violate the Atlantic Charter. In late December 1944, George H.
Blakeslee, head of the State Department’s Inter-Divisional Area Committee on
the Far East, concluded in a memorandum on the Kuril problem that Japan
should retain the southern isles for economic and historical reasons, that Moscow
should administer the central and northern Kurils under international trusteeship
and that Japan should be assured of fishing rights in the northern arc. Curiously,
this memorandum was not included in the briefing papers prepared for the Yalta
Conference of early February 1945. Had Roosevelt been aware of Japan’s historical
claims to the southern Kurils, he might have dealt more forcefully with Stalin at that
summit.”

The Yalta protocol

The Yalta Conference took place between 4 and 11 February at the Livadia Palace
overlooking the Black Sea. On 8 February, Roosevelt, accompanied by Harriman and
interpreter Charles E. Bohlen, met secretly with Stalin and Molotov for about 30
minutes. Churchill was not consulted and did not attend. There, Roosevelt agreed
‘with breathtaking despatch’, as one historian has phrased it, to Stalin’s terms that
84 The Allied Victory

southern Sakhalin be returned and that the Kurils be traded to the Soviet Union
for a declaration of war. Churchill regarded the agreement as an American affair but
later approved it.” On 11 February, Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin signed the secret
protocol. Point 3 of the ‘Agreement Regarding Japan’ stated simply, “The Kuril
islands shall be handed over to the Soviet Union’. The American leader managed
to keep the Yalta text hidden even from his own State Department, and the full
contents of the accord were not revealed until Moscow publicised it a year later,
in February 1946, in support of its territorial claims.
The awarding of the Kurils to Moscow violated previous Allied statements of
principle. The Atlantic Charter and the Cairo Declaration authorised the victors to
return only those territories Imperial Japan had seized ‘by violence and greed’. While
this stipulation applied to southern Sakhalin, a Japanese war trophy, it clearly did not
extend to the Kurils, which Tsarist Russia had ceded to Japan peacefully in 1875.
Scholars have concluded that Roosevelt acceded to Stalin’s demands because he
mistakenly assumed that the Kurils, too, had been wrested from Russia in 1905.”
Recent research suggests, however, that the American leader genuinely supported
Moscow’s irredentist claims.
Even before Stalin clarified Soviet intentions, Roosevelt had been prepared to cede
the island territory to Moscow. On 4 October 1943, he told Secretary of State
Cordell Hull on the eve of Hull’s departure for Moscow that ‘the Kuriles really
should go to Russia’. The next day, at a secret staff conference of State Department
policy experts, he proposed that ‘the Kurils be handed over to Russia’ in exchange for
a Soviet declaration of hostilities. (British officials apparently had reached the same
conclusion.)*' Aware of Stalin’s 1940 request for the arc, Roosevelt acknowledged the
Kremlin’s legitimate security concerns in the northern region. His own postwar
defence strategy called for surrounding Japan with a series of ‘strategic strong
points’ to discourage future aggression. Soviet control of the Kurils would serve as a
deterrent in the north and earn Moscow’s good will.
The Joint Chiefs of Staff generally seem to have concurred with Roosevelt, believ-
ing that the archipelago was not worth a serious row with the Soviets despite its
strategic value. When Ambassador Harriman told the Joint Chiefs just before the
Yalta summit that the Soviet premier insisted on southern Sakhalin, the Kurils and
concessions in Manchuria and the Mongolian People’s Republic, the military high
command raised no objections. The British Chiefs of Staff also saw no reason to
quibble. In late July 1945 at Potsdam, the Allied Combined Chiefs indicated to
Soviet military leaders that they did not wish to become involved militarily in the
Kurils or other territories north of the Japanese archipelago, a diversion that would
weaken their forces.
The Potsdam Proclamation did not mention the Kurils per se but stated that “The
terms of the Cairo Declaration shall be carried out and Japanese sovereignty shall be
limited to the islands of Honshu, Hokkaido, Kyushu, Shikoku and such minor
islands as we determine’ (Article 8). Ignorant of the Yalta protocol, the State
Department took ‘such minor islands’ to mean the Kurils. An undated State
 Occupation: The First Weeks 85

Department memorandum discussed at a meeting on 30 July 1945 noted that the

Potsdam document “does not include an intention to eliminate Japan’s sovereignty
over the Liu Chiu [Ryukyu] and Kuril islands as they are “minor islands”. There is
more grounds for supposing that [it] intends to eliminate Japan’s sovereignty over
Southern Sakhalin which is hardly a “minor island”.’ The document concluded,
however, that “he Department’s policy has not favoured the elimination of Japan’s
sovereignty in any of these three areas’.

Final diplomatic moves

Roosevelt’s death in April and the ascension of Harry S. Truman to the American
presidency effectively voided the Yalta agreement. With surrender imminent, the US
Joint Chiefs appear to have had second thoughts about the value of the island
territory. On 11 August, the US Navy was ordered to occupy the central and south-
ern Kurils. On 15 August, Truman cabled Stalin an advance copy of General Order
no. 1 directing Japanese units to surrender to Allied commanders in the areas where
they were deployed. Missing was any reference to the Kurils. This omission probably
was intentional. General Order no. 1 had been drafted by the Army General Staff's
Strategy and Policy Group, whose leading members now viewed the island chain as a
strategic asset that should remain at least partially within the US control sphere.
These staff officers seem purposely to have left open the possibility of an American
takeover of the chain.
Reading into Truman’s message evidence of a reversal on the Yalta promises, on 15
August, Stalin ordered Marshal Aleksander Vasilevsky, Commander of the Soviet Far
Eastern Forces, to prepare to take and hold the Kuril chain. On 16 August, he replied
to Truman’s cable, demanding that the entire northern arc be incorporated into the
Soviet area of responsibility. He also insisted that the northern half of Hokkaido,
above a line running from Kushiro on the east coast to Rumoi on the west, be
included in that zone. Moscow’s demand for a Hokkaido foothold has been
explained as a gambit designed to manipulate Washington into acquiescing to Soviet
control of the Kurils and southern Sakhalin. A zone of occupation in Japan proper
was a long-standing Soviet goal, however, and the Kremlin appears to have been
deadly earnest, for on 18 August, Stalin ordered the First Far Eastern Army and the
Pacific Fleet to prepare an invasion of northern Hokkaido and the southern Kurils.
Russian archival materials opened since the collapse of the USSR indicate that
Hokkaido itself was in fact the ultimate objective of the Soviet advance. The Red
Army had begun its attack on southern Sakhalin on 11 August, before Japan’s
decision to surrender, and by 25 August, it held the entire island. The impending
assault on the Kurils apparently was the second phase of a two-pronged offensive
directed against Japan’s northern home island.”
On 18 August, Truman replied to Stalin’s message of the 16th, agreeing to the
Marshal’s request to modify General Order no. 1 and include the Kuril arc in
the Soviet control sphere. Truman’s quick resolution of the Kuril surrender issue
reflected a pressing concern that Soviet troops, then nearing P’yéngyang, might push
86 The Allied Victory

south of the 38th parallel, contesting US plans to occupy southern Korea. In the
same message, the President categorically rejected the Soviet demand for northern
Hokkaido (although the Joint Chiefs actually had planned for that contingency —
chapter 3), but countered with a request for US air-base rights in the central Kuril
group. On 22 August, Stalin told Truman that he would not insist on occupying
part of Hokkaido but flatly rebuffed the American bid for air facilities in the
islands, noting angrily that such demands usually were made of conquered states, not
allies. The same day, the Soviet leader ordered his Far East Commander Marshal
Vasilevsky to abandon plans for the invasion of Hokkaido. In flagrant violation of the
Potsdam terms, however, he also instructed Internal Affairs (NKVD) Commissar
Lavrenty Beria to prepare to transport captured Imperial soldiers to Soviet territory
for hard labour.
At this point, the State Department and the Joint Chiefs decided to drop the
matter, in effect suspending America’s incipient northern strategy. The United States
would not oppose Soviet movement into the islands, sealing the arc’s fate, but
Washington was not prepared to condone outright annexation. On 27 August,
Ambassador Harriman handed Stalin a message from Truman dropping the request
for air bases but stating that final disposition of the territorial problem would have
to await a peace treaty with Japan. Stalin was outraged by what he perceived as
American duplicity but did not pursue the issue, accelerating instead the invasion of
the archipelago, in progress since mid-August.

The Soviet—Japanese War

On 15 August 1945, three hours after Hirohito broadcast his Rescript ending the
war, Marshal Vasilevsky, Soviet Far East Commander, ordered Major General Aleksei
Gnechko, Commander of the Kamchatka Defence Zone, to take Shumshu, Paramu-
shir, Onekotan and other islands in the northern group by 25 August. Major General
Porfiry Dyakov, Commander of the 101st Rifle Division, and Captain Demitry
Ponomarey, Commander of the Petropavlovsk Naval Base, led the assault force
consisting of 8,800 men, including one marine battalion and two rifle regiments,
supported by 80 aircraft and 64 naval vessels. It set sail from Kamchatka on
16 August.”
Shumshu and Paramushir were defended by Japan’s 91st Division under Lieuten-
ant General ‘Tsutsumi Fusaki, who commanded a force of 23,000 men, some 200
light and heavy artillery pieces, 85 tanks and 8 aircraft.“ With news of Japan’s
capitulation, the Imperial garrison prepared to surrender to the nearest Allied forces,
which it assumed would be American. At day break on 18 August, 8,300 Soviet
forces struck Shumshu without warning, taking the Japanese completely by surprise.
Tsutsumi did not expect the Red Army to attack as he was preparing to lay down
arms. Believing the invader to be Americans, his soldiers repelled the initial
onslaught at the water’s edge with devastating effectiveness, costing Soviet forces an
estimated 2,000 lives. ‘Tsutsumi’s main contingent was concentrated in well-fortified
positions in the interior for a defence in depth, but on 19 August, Lieutenant
 Occupation: The First Weeks 87

General Higuchi Ki’ichird, Commander of the Fifth Area Army in Sapporo, ordered
him to ‘stop fighting, hand over weapons and begin negotiations’. Intent on taking
the island, Soviet troops pressed the attack, however, and bitter fighting raged
for an additional two days, wasting many more lives on both sides. The battle
witnessed the last kamikaze attacks of the wat, as one of Tsutsumi’s three aircraft
ploughed into a Soviet escort fleet. Hostilities finally ended on 20 August. Three
days later, a Japanese delegation led by Tsutsumi, his Chief of Staff Yanagioka
Takeshi, and Suizu Mitsuru, the Fifth Area Army’s Chief of Staff, signed a formal
truce with Generals Gnechko and Dyakov and Vice Admiral Alexander Frolov of
the Soviet Pacific Fleet. On 24 August, Japanese soldiers began surrendering their
arms.
On 25 August, the Soviets secured Paramushir and on 26 August took Matsuwa
(Matua) in the central Kurils. By 27 August, a Soviet naval squadron had advanced
southward, moving into position off Urup at the southern end of the central group,
but no landings were made until the 31st. Between 27 and 31 August, the squadron
patrolled the offing, keeping an eye out for US forces. Whether, up to that point, the
Soviet military had intended to occupy the four islands south of Urup is unclear.
According to Suizu Mitsuru, who subsequently served as Vice Admiral Frolov’s
interpreter and guide, the Soviet fleet commander stated unequivocally that all
islands south of Urup were in the American sphere of control and out of bounds to
Soviet forces.” Encountering no American presence, however, units of the Soviet
Pacific Fleet under Captain Viktor Leonov began occupying the southernmost
group — Kunashiri, Etorofu, Shikotan and the Habomais — as well. The last of these
territories, the five Habomais and their smaller islets, were occupied by Soviet
troops between 3 and 5 September, presenting Japan and the United States with
a fait accompli that would prove impossible to undo.”!
Soviet historians have insisted that the occupation of the southern Kurils was
completed by 1 September 1945, a claim that defies the facts and appears to be a
deliberate falsification.” The southernmost islands were seized after Japan and the
Allied Powers, including the USSR, had signed the surrender documents on 2
September. The reason for this duplicity seems clear enough. On 2 September, as
the Instrument of Surrender was being initialled aboard the Missouri, Stalin delivered
his own victory speech to the Soviet people. In it, the Marshal stated baldly that
‘southern Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands have been transferred to the Soviet Union,
and will henceforth serve . . . as a means for linking the Soviet Union with the ocean
and as a base for our defence against Japanese aggression’.”’ By bringing forward the
official date of the archipelago’s seizure, Moscow obviously hoped to legitimise
the Kuril annexation.

Life under Soviet rule

The inhabitants of the southern Kuril group included Ainu, Nivhks (Gilyak) and
Oroks (Uilta), native peoples who had first inhabited this territory; Japanese settlers
and Imperial troops; Korean conscript labourers; and a small number of Russians and
88 The Allied Victory

other ethnic groups. Japan had pursued a policy of forcible assimilation toward the
indigenous population, and the Soviet occupiers feared open opposition to their
rule.” According to a Hokkaido Police report of October 1945, 600 Soviet troops
landed on Etorofu on 28 August; another 8,000 were deployed on Kunashiri and
600 on Shikotan on 1 September; and 239 occupied the Habomais — 19 on Suisho,
200 on Shibotsu and 20 on Taraku — on 3 September. Estimates placed the total
Soviet garrison in the southern islands at more than 9,400.”
Some 50,400 Imperial soldiers, including 24,000 survivors of Tsutsumi’s 91st
Division, surrendered in the Kurils. Soviets authorities disarmed them, confiscating
weapons, ammunition and other war matériel. Enlisted personnel and low-ranking
officers were sent to labour camps in Kamchatka, Sakhalin and Magadan. Staff
officers were declared war criminals and sent to special high-security prisons in
Khabarovsk. Nearly 18,000 Japanese civilians, including some 2,000 seasonal
workers, many of them presumably Koreans, lived in the southern Kurils. Cut off
from the home islands, they found themselves at the mercy of Soviet troops and
propaganda. When Red Army officers in Kunashiri spread rumours that the islands
would become a part of the USSR and that local inhabitants would be made Soviet
citizens, many islanders fled to Hokkaido rather than await an uncertain repatriation.
By 10 October 1945, an estimated 4,000 had risked their lives to escape. Nemuro
City has compiled the stories of these survivors, who describe a climate of insecurity
and fear, with reports of occasional rape and physical assault and widespread looting
by occupying troops. Islanders suffered from a lack of food and other winter
provisions. Moreover, communication with Soviet authorities was difficult in the
absence of interpreters.”° Unlike Manchuria, where Japanese were singled out for
rape and pillage, however, systematic violence against the civilian population
appears to have been exceptional. Petty theft was rife, but this was due more to
the impoverished condition of Soviet troops and their low level of education than
to a penchant for lawlessness. An exception was the murder of the mayor of
Tomari Village on Kunashiri, who was shot two weeks after the surrender under
circumstances that remain unclear.”
As Soviet troops deployed, they seized or destroyed telephone and telegraph instal-
lations and banned ship movements into and out of the islands. Land and sea
communications, including cables, passed into Soviet hands, and contact with
Hokkaido was prohibited. The Habomais had belonged administratively to Nemuro
City in Hokkaido, but they, too, were cut off. Radio stations and newspapers were
closed down and postal and freight services suspended. Four freighters that left
Nemuro port for the southern Kurils between late August and early September were
seized by the Red Army and requisitioned for military use. The Soviets searched and
recorded the contents of all public offices and occupied the municipal branch offices
on each island. All Japanese government institutions except public schools were
closed and their officials dismissed. Police stations, district forestry offices, town and
village government buildings and post offices were taken over for barracks and other
military facilities.
 Occupation: The First Weeks 89

Soviet authorities initially cooperated with local government officials to restore

order. In Kunashiri, they sponsored elections for village mayors to serve as auxiliaries
for the occupation. Some native policemen were sent to Sakhalin and the Soviet
mainland for retraining, a measure that was widely resisted. Many Japanese law
enforcement officers disposed of their uniforms, donned civilian clothes and tried to
escape to avoid such transfers. A series of military government proclamations assured
the islanders of their safety so long as they did not resist Soviet rule and carried on
normally. The extent to which these orders regulated life varied from one district to
the next, but a typical example is the decree issued on 13 September to the villagers
of Tomari on Kunashiri:

Since Japan has surrendered to the Soviet Union, the Kuril Islands are now
Soviet territory. The Red Army has no desire to use force against law-abiding
citizens and will extend every assistance to those who obey their commanding
officers.
1 All Japanese local administrative organs, district offices and police and
military reserve units will be disbanded. All hamlet mobile assets and official
documents must be brought to Soviet Garrison Headquarters by 15 September.
2 Inhabitants of each hamlet will elect a local headman to serve as mayor
under the guidance of the Soviet garrison commander.
3 Tomari inhabitants may: a) engage in fishing, agriculture, manufacturing
and lumbering; b) use roads between 6 am and 8 pm; and c) attend schools and
visit shrines between 6 am and 6 pm.
4 The following activities are prohibited by order of Garrison Headquarters: a)
unauthorised voyages of over six nautical miles from the coast; b) unauthorised
journeys to Furukamappu and Shiranuka; c) unauthorised public meetings; d) the
possession of wireless sets; e) harbouring Japanese soldiers.”

The proclamation issued the same day in Tomari’s Furukamappu District, how-
ever, was far more restrictive. The local military commander outlawed flying the
Japanese flag and the ownership of private property. No family could possess more
than one horse. Rice was rationed at 1.8 go (0.324 litres) each week for those under
15 and over 60, and at 3.5 go (0.63 litres) for everyone else. Daily wages for labourers
assigned to enlarge Soviet dock facilities were fixed at ¥7 for men and ¥5 for women.
In some areas, the scope of daily activities was drastically curtailed. On Taraku in
the Habomais, for instance, a decree of 5 September prohibited all activities not
specifically authorised by the Red Army and ordered women and children to remain
at home at all times unless instructed otherwise. Those allowed out were to walk
quietly with their hands open and in front of them. The order warned that anyone
running would be shot.”
Although Soviet military rule brought hardships, it also enabled residents to return
to former peacetime pursuits. Deep-sea fishing was prohibited but coastal trawling
allowed. Islanders caught salmon, crabs, clams, scallops and a variety of small fish,
90 The Allied Victory

and canneries flourished, With Soviet encouragement, they also harvested kelp,
nori and other types of seaweed used for producing glue, iodine and agar. Forestry,
farming, cattle-breeding and light manufacturing also were encouraged, and the
authorities contracted out military work to local companies. Residents endured
the harsh conditions under Soviet rule until late 1948, by which time Japanese
repatriation out of the Kurils had been completed.
 PART I

Organising the Occupation

 CHAPTERS

The Occupational Dynamic

THE ALLIED CONTROL MECHANISM

A zonal occupation?
Washington originally envisaged a post-surrender role in Japan for the Soviet Union
and other Allies similar to that projected for Germany. Some degree of Soviet
cooperation, in particular, it was reasoned, would give the United States greater
say in Soviet-held postwar Europe. The Allies, too, assumed a zonal occupation.
That was the prize Britain eyed when it secured a place in the American invasion
force. The Free French, the Dutch and the Portuguese, anxious to recover their
colonial domains, also coveted a part in the final assault on Japan and its post-defeat
administration. When US Ambassador Averell W. Harriman met Stalin to discuss
Japan’s fate in late May 1945, the Soviet leader insisted firmly on a major role in its
postwar disposition. Assuming a German-style four-power occupation, he asked for
an agreement specifying which areas would be allotted to each Ally.’ Washington,
its troops bogged down on Okinawa and anxious for a Soviet military commitment
against Japan, was in no position to dictate terms, and the Pentagon began drafting
contingency plans for a divided occupation.
In June, America’s supreme policy-making body, the inter-departmental State—
War-Navy Coordinating Committee (SWNCC), decided for military reasons to
deny other countries a controlling voice in the occupation of Japan’s home islands,
but official US policy continued to give lip support to the principle of Allied partici-
pation. Stalin pressed his demands for a post-surrender role with particular energy.
On 11 August, Moscow tentatively accepted Truman’s proposal to appoint
MacArthur Allied Supreme Commander. In a meeting that day with Ambassador
Harriman, however, Foreign Minister V.M. Molotov made a counter-proposal call-
ing for two paramount leaders: Marshal Aleksandr Vasilevsky, Commander of the
Soviet Far Eastern Forces, would share Allied authority with MacArthur. Harriman
sniffed at the suggestion and walked out of the meeting. Preoccupied with events in
Eastern Europe, Stalin agreed to a unitary American command in Japan but, as
indicated earlier, on 16 August requested a Soviet sphere of control in the northern
half of Hokkaido. President Truman curtly dismissed that demand on 18 August
(chapter 2).?
On the same day (18 August), however, Truman approved a SWNCC proposal to
invite Allied involvement in Japan on American terms: associated occupation armies
would be integrated into a US command structure. Washington and London were
particularly keen to include Chinese troops in order to soften the appearance of
94 Organising the Occupation

UUMttitany

Photo 11. General Headquarters, SCAP. The Dai-Ichi Mutual Life Insurance Building,
Tokyo. The view is from Hibiya Park in front of the Imperial Palace (US National Archives).

white victors dictating the peace to a conquered ‘Oriental’ people. Consequently,

Nationalist China was asked to contribute 60,000 troops, but the outbreak of civil
war on the continent prevented the Chiang Kai-shek (Jiang Jieshi) régime from
complying. The Soviet Union initially was requested to supply 175,000 soldiers
and aviators, later downgraded to 70,000.° Unwilling to place its forces under US
control, Moscow ignored Washington’s lukewarm offer of inclusion. American
planning also called for 135,000 Commonwealth troops, subsequently reduced to
65,000. Australia, Britain, India and New Zealand each agreed to provide a brigade
group, and a force of more than 40,000 eventually was sent to Japan.
In the meantime, the Pentagon’s Joint War Plans Committee had completed its
scenario for a zonal occupation, “Ultimate Occupation of Japan and Japanese Terri-
tory’ JWPC-385/1), which was submitted to the Joint Chiefs of Staff on 16 August.
The plan called for a Soviet Zone in Hokkaido and northeastern Honshu (Tohoku);
a US Zone in central Honshu, including the Kanto, Shin’etsu, Tokai, Hokuriku and
Kinki regions; a Nationalist Chinese Zone in Shikoku; and a British Zone in western
Honshu (the Chugoku region) and Kyushu. Tokyo would be administered jointly by
the United States, the Soviet Union, Britain and the Republic of China (ROC); the
Kobe-Kyoto-Osaka region was to be governed by the United States and the ROC.
 The Occupational Dynamic 95

.
Sapporo

Hokkaido
District

District
USA

Chugoku
UK District Toky6:
0 USA
5 USSR
Kyiisho UK
District CHINA
Sasebo

OD 4
pac District

Kagoshi

1 Hokkaido 13 Chiba 25 Kyoto 37 Kagawa

Oo Y) 2 Aomori 14 Kanagawa 26 Shiga 38 K6chi
3 Akita 15 Niigata 27 Osaka 39 Tokushima
4 lwate 16 Toyama 28 Wakayama 40 Nagasaki
5 Yamagata 17 Nagano 29 Nara 41 Saga
6 Miyagi 18 Yamanashi 30 Mie 42 Fukuoka
7 Fukushima 19 Ishikawa 31 Shimane 43 Oita
8 Gunma 20 Gifu 32 Tottori 44 Kumamoto
9 Tochigi 21 Aichi 33 Yamaguchi 45 Kagoshima
10 Ibaraki 22 Shizuoka 34 Hiroshima 46 Miyazaki
11 Saitama 23 Fukui 35 Okayama
12 Tokyo 24 Hyogo 86 Ehime

Figure4.Joint Chiefs of Staff blueprint for a Zonal Occupation (16 August 1945) and
Japanese prefectures in the main islands (Hokkaidd, Honsha, Shikoku, Kyiishi).
96 Organising the Occupation

JWPC-385/1 divided the occupation into three phases and specified desirable troop
strengths for each of the participating powers. During Phase One, Allied military
forces would disarm Imperial troops and quell organised resistance. In Phase Two (an
estimated nine months from the completion of Phase One), occupation armies were
to demilitarise Japan, rendering it permanently incapable of military aggression.
During Phase Three, the Allies would administer Japan collectively. This stage was to
end when it was agreed that pacification and demilitarisation had been completed.‘
As in the case of Germany, the drafters of JWPC-385/1 hoped in part to lessen the
burden of occupation by sharing it. A zonal arrangement also had the political merit
of enabling Washington to demobilise rapidly, meeting public demands to bring the
troops home early. Higher-level military planners, however, questioned the scheme’s
feasibility. Moreover, Truman, the State Department and MacArthur were flatly
opposed to giving the Soviet Union or any ally so powerful a say in what they insisted
must be an American show. Truman later wrote: ‘I was determined that the Japanese
occupation should not follow in the footsteps of the German experience. I did not
want divided control or separate zones.”” Consequently, the plan was never presented
formally to the Joint Chiefs or SWNCC, the top American policy groups. With the
exception of a limited area under the jurisdiction of the British Commonwealth
Occupation Force, Japan proper would be under exclusive US dominion. The
occupation of the main islands was to be unitary and preponderantly American, but
as indicated below, the Soviet-held Kurils and the US-controlled Ogasawara and
Ryukyu chains were detached from the Japanese homeland at an early date and
placed under separate military administrations. In this sense, one may speak of a
divided or semi-divided occupation.

The Far Eastern Commission

Following surrender formalities, MacArthur asked Washington for a clarification of
his powers, and the White House responded in a message of 6 September 1945 that
the Emperor and the Japanese government were subordinate to the Supreme Com-
mander. ‘Since your authority is supreme’, the directive said, ‘you will not entertain
any question on the part of the Japanese as to its scope.’ But in fact, there were limits
to MacArthur’s prerogatives. The General was bound by the Potsdam terms, and his
mandate was to last only until such time as Allied objectives in Japan had been
achieved. He also was subject in principle to institutional restraints imposed by the
machinery of occupation, although in practice, he often behaved as if these did not
exist. As SCAP, MacArthur was answerable to the Far Eastern Commission (FEC),
the Allied body ostensibly responsible for overseeing the administration of Japan.
During MacArthur’s stewardship, he received more than 100 directives from
superiors, about half of which came from the FEC and half from Washington.
In the spring of 1945, SWNCC, the inter-departmental policy-making com-
mittee, proposed the creation of a multi-national high commission to formulate
policy for Japan and other occupied areas in the Pacific. This control body was to
be modelled on the Allied Four Power Commission established for Germany.
 The Occupational Dynamic oF

MacArthur and the War and Navy Departments objected strenuously, however,
insisting on complete US domination of the Pacific, which they viewed as vital to
America’s global security interests. No ‘higher commission’, they argued, should be
able to override the authority of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. SWNCC subsequently
abandoned the idea of a superordinate Pacific-Far Eastern directorate. When Moscow
suggested the creation of an Allied control body in Tokyo, complete with veto power
for each of its members, Washington rejected the idea out of hand. Instead, on 21
August 1945, the State Department proposed the establishment of a Far Eastern
Advisory Commission (FEAC), omitting references to the Pacific or any higher
authority. An exercise in tokenism, the FEAC had no control functions and was to
serve a purely advisory role concerning occupied Japan. At American insistence, the
10-member Commission finally was established on 2 October. Convening in Wash-
ington on 30 October, the body met nine more times in November and December,
but its tenure was short-lived. From late December through early February 1946, at
MacArthur’s invitation, the FEAC toured Japan on a fact-finding mission and was
reorganised soon afterwards (below).°
Britain and Nationalist China, unhappy with the FEAC’s lack of substantive
authority, participated only because of US pressure. The Soviet Union refused to
take part, and as US-Soviet relations worsened, Kremlin opposition to America’s
monopoly of the Occupation intensified. SCAP allowed Moscow and the other
Allies to establish diplomatic missions in Tokyo (the Soviets promptly despatched
400 consular officials), but these were accredited to MacArthur’s headquarters,
which held sole responsibility for Japan’s foreign affairs, and the status of the
missions remained ambiguous. Australia also demanded a major occupation role and
insisted on representing all Commonwealth countries in Japan on matters pertaining
to the Pacific region.
To compel Washington to share power further, London pressed for the creation in
Tokyo of a five-nation central Allied Control Council, to be headed by MacArthur.
The State Department considered the British idea, but in late October, MacArthur
sent a strongly worded message to Secretary of State James F. Byrnes objecting to the
proposal, which was quietly dropped. To placate London and secure a nominal
pledge of cooperation from Moscow, American leaders recommended replacing the
FEAC with a Far Eastern Commission endowed with formal authority. The Allies
agreed to establish the new body on 27 December 1945 at the Four-Power Foreign
Ministers’ Conference in Moscow, with Great Britain, the Soviet Union and the
United States signing the joint declaration and the Republic of China concurring.
The so-called Moscow Agreement specified that the four Allies would cooperate ‘in
all matters relating to the surrender and disarmament of the enemy’. It also provided
for the creation in Tokyo of a four-member consultative organ, the Allied Council
for Japan, to advise MacArthur on occupation policy.
The Far Eastern Commission (FEC) held its first meeting on 26 February 1946 at
the former Japanese Embassy in Washington. The Soviet Union took an active part
in the organisation from its inception. The FEC’s mandate was to formulate policies
98 Organising the Occupation

for implementing the Potsdam terms and to review SCAP directives and actions. It
had no jurisdiction, however, over military or territorial matters, such as the occupa-
tion of the Kuril, Ogasawara and Ryukyu islands. FEC policies were transmitted to
SCAP as directives by Washington. Although technically a decision-making body,
the new Commission lacked operational control and in practice depended largely on
American goodwill. The US tactic, an Occupation official later wrote, consisted of
an ‘effective three-step formula: First, grant the Allies participation in “policy”
(through the FEC); second, reserve all operational matters to the Supreme Com-
mander, an American; and third, consider everything important to be operational’,’
The Commission originally was composed of 11 nations: the nine Allies who had
signed the Instrument of Surrender plus India and the Philippines. Founding
members were Australia, Canada, France, India, the Netherlands, New Zealand, the
Philippines, the Republic of China, the Soviet Union, the United Kingdom, and
the United States. Burma and Pakistan joined in November 1949, bolstering the
Commission’s Asian representation. The FEC consisted of a secretariat, a steering
committee and seven working committees and was headed by two senior US offi-
cials: Major General Frank R. McCoy, the chair and a close friend of MacArthur's,
and Nelson T. Johnson, a former ambassador to China and Australia, who served
as Secretary-General. The Steering Committee was headed by a New Zealander,
the veteran diplomat Sir Carl Berendsen. His deputy was O. Reuchlin of the
Netherlands. The subcommittees handled war reparations (First Committee);
economic and financial affairs, including labour (Second Committee); constitutional
and legal reform (Third Committee); strengthening of democratic tendencies
(Fourth Committee); war criminals (Fifth Committee); aliens in Japan (Sixth
Committee); and disarmament (Seventh Committee).°
The ‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’, made public on 22 September
1945, stated explicitly that while America would consult with the Allies on Occupa-
tion matters, ‘in the event of any differences of opinion among them, the policies of
the United States will govern’. This caveat and the FEC’s lack of operational control
gave the United States the upper hand. By casting its veto, Washington could prevent
the body from interfering with virtually any Occupation policy. Great Britain, the
Republic of China and the Soviet Union also had veto rights, but the United States
could circumvent Allied opposition by issuing emergency ‘interim directives’ to deal
with pressing problems in Japan pending an FEC review, and these it used effectively
to defend American prerogatives. In February 1947, for instance, Washington issued
an interim directive over the objections of other FEC members allowing limited
advance transfers of Japanese war matériel as reparations. The most famous use of an
emergency decree was Washington’s nine-point economic stabilisation order to
MacArthur in December 1948 instructing SCAP to implement the Dodge deflation
programme. Interim directives, however, could not deal with ‘fundamental changes
in the Japanese constitutional structure, or in the regime of control, or . . . a change
in the Japanese government as a whole’. Such ‘reserved questions’ required the formal
consent of the entire Commission.
 The Occupational Dynamic 99

For the first two years of its existence, the FEC played a constructive albeit minor
role in the Occupation, issuing nearly 50 policy directives on a diverse range of
subjects, including the Constitution, land reform and demilitarisation. Its commit-
tees, especially the Fourth Committee (Strengthening of Democratic Tendencies),
which was chaired successively by Soviet representatives Nikolai Novikov and
Alexander S. Panyushkin, made pertinent proposals on constitutional and electoral
reform, labour legislation and the purge of war collaborators. The FEC also became a
forum for criticising what many delegates viewed as MacArthur’s abusive use of his
executive powers. Even as late as 1948, for instance, Australian, British, New Zealand
and Soviet delegates took GHQ to task for ordering the Diet to revise the National
Public Service Law and outlaw strikes by government workers. The Steering Com-
mittee Chair, Sir Carl Berendsen of New Zealand, frequently protested at America’s
domination of the Commission together with the FEC’s superpower bias, which, he
asserted, prevented members of smaller nations from receiving a fair hearing.’
The FEC was never able to challenge successfully the authority of Washington or
SCAP. Headquartered in the US capital, it was financed largely by the American
government. Existing control machinery in Japan and the US chain of command
further weakened its independence. The Commission’s late start was another factor
contributing to its ineffectiveness. By the time the FEC met for the first time in
February 1946, MacArthur’s headquarters had either begun or already completed
several key reforms, among them dissolution of the secret police, the purge and
constitutional revision.
In theory, GHQ decisions and the recommendations of GHQ-sponsored special
missions were forwarded via SCAP’s Diplomatic Section to the State Department,
which reported them to the Commission. The Commission then debated the pro-
posals and issued a directive, making them official Allied Policy. Not only were such
decisions time-consuming, however, but Washington might wait up to a year before
notifying the Commission of a SCAP policy. Most FEC directives, then, were issued
ex post facto. For instance, the Commission did not formally approve the ‘US Initial
Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’ until 19 June 1947, some 19 months after the start
of the Occupation, by which time the reform phase was winding down. On occasion,
however, Allied proposals were adopted as policy. In December 1946, for example,
Australia, Britain and New Zealand pushed through a liberal trade union charter that
confirmed the right of labour organisations to participate in national politics. As
Cold War tensions escalated, however, Allied advice, especially from the Soviet Union,
fell increasingly on deaf ears. The influence of the FEC waned, its debates grew
progressively sterile and, by 1949, the Commission no longer played a significant role.

The Allied Council for Japan

Moscow proposed that the Far Eastern Commission be located in Tokyo, believing
that proximity to MacArthur would allow it to monitor the General’s activities
more effectively. Strong opposition from SCAP derailed that initiative, however, and
the FEC was convened in Washington. As agreed upon at the Moscow Foreign
100 OrganisingtheOccupation
Ministers’ Conference, a subsidiary agency, the Allied Council for Japan (ACJ), was
established in Tokyo with four members: the British Commonwealth (Australia,
India, New Zealand and Great Britain), the Republic of China, the Soviet Union and
the United States. The Council first met on 5 April 1946 — with the Occupation
already well under way — and gathered fortnightly thereafter to advise the Supreme
Commander, who nominally served as Council chair and US delegate. SCAP per-
mitted one Japanese representative, Asakai Koichird of the Central Liaison Office
(and future ambassador to Washington), to attend as an observer, but required the
diplomat to enter by the back door.”®
Convening in the Meiji Insurance Building in downtown Tokyo, the ACJ held a
total of 164 sessions between April 1946 and April 1952. Many ofthese meetings,
however, were adjourned within minutes for lack of an agenda, and a full 47 of the
53 that US delegate William J. Sebald attended between 1948 and 1949 ended as
soon as they began. Like the Far Eastern Commission, the Council found itself
dealing with questions that had become non-issues by the time they were brought to
its attention. One scholar has termed the ACJ ‘a monument to futility’, and the
British Commonwealth delegate, noting that MacArthur's representatives treated it
with ‘frivolous derision’, labelled the Council ‘a failure, and at times a fiasco’. The
body was not entirely useless, however, and in its heyday functioned as a sounding
board for issues that otherwise might never have received a public airing.”
In principle, an objection raised in the Allied Council to SCAP implementation of
a Far Eastern Commission decision required MacArthur to await FEC endorsement
before issuing final orders. That was the only formal relationship between the FEC
and the ACJ, however. In practice, MacArthur deplored the Council’s ‘meddlesome
interference’ and worked to deny the body any genuine consultative function.
Although holding the dual posts of ACJ chair and US delegate, the General attended
only the opening session. Thereafter, he assigned subordinates to represent the
United States. The first American delegate was General William Marquat, head of
SCAP’s Economic and Scientific Section, who was followed in quick succession by
George Atcheson Jr. and WilliamJ. Sebald, SCAP’s State Department advisersin
the Diplomatic Section. Convinced thar the Soviets were using the body as a pulpit
for anti-American propaganda, the Supreme Commander felt fully justified in boy-
cotting the proceedings and instructed his representatives to respond to any perceived
provocation with resolute counterforce. Anti-USSR harangues calculated to offend
regularly hit the mark, drawing prompt and acerbic Soviet verbal retaliation, and
the Council quickly became a platform for mutual rectimination. The Kremlin's
representative persistently chided MacArthur for his rabid anti-Communism and
criticisedthe high-handed manner in which he ran the Ocupation. He also amacked
GHQ policies on reparations, the bureaucracy, land reform and labour, notably
SCAP’s ban of the general strike planned for 1 February 1947.
Soviet-American clashes in the AC] commanded wide public attention. Regular
meetings were made public at MacArthur's request as ‘a safeguard against Russian
libels’, and Japanese journalists, allowed in through the rear door, reported regularly
 The Occupational Dynamic 101

Photo 12. Australian W. MacMahon Ball, British Commonwealth representative to the Allied
Council for Japan, attends the Council’s second session, 17 April 1946 (US National Archives).

on the US-Soviet ‘knock-down-dragout’.’* These angry confrontations between

erstwhile allies anticipated the official US policy of containing Communism by more
than a year. Amplified by the media, they alerted the public to important differences
in Allied opinion, and the names of the Soviet members — Lieutenant General
Kuzma N. Derevyanko and Major General A. P. Kislenko — became household words.
Derevyanko was the only ACJ member to question SCAP’s censorship of the mass
media, complaining that GHQ practised a double standard, suppressing information
critical of Occupation policies and other Allies while allowing the publication of
anti-Soviet material. In late May 1946, Derevyanko, in a sarcastic aside, told
the Commonwealth representative, Australian W. MacMahon Ball, that ‘we must,
of course, believe SCAP that Japan is now fully democratic but there is not
yet any democracy in the Allied Council!’ In July, when the Soviet delegate
challenged SCAP’s labour reform project, George Atcheson, instead of refuting
the Soviet allegations, labelled them “Communist propaganda’ and launched into a
blistering diatribe against labour practices in the Soviet Union whose virulence
stunned even the State Department's Japan specialists. Ball came to Derevyanko’s
102 Organising the Occupation

Photo 13. Other Allied representatives to the ACJ. From the left: General Kuzma Derevyanko
(USSR), with trademark cigar, and George Atcheson, Jr (US). At the far right is General
Chu Shih-ming (Republican China). Major General W. C. Chase (US Army), addressing
Atcheson, drives home a point. 11 October 1946 (US National Archives).

defence, objecting to Atcheson’s use ‘of the Russian comment as a peg for a naive
“individualist” attack on Communism’.
Ball himself could be a vociferous critic of SCAP policy, and his pronouncements
received extensive media coverage in Japan. The Commonwealth representative was
quick to point out inadequacies in SCAP’s economic policies, and his temerity in
doing so enraged top GHQ officials. Atcheson complained archly to the State Depart-
ment that Ball and Derevyanko consistently raised questions ‘palpably designed to
cause embarrassment’. Government Section Chief Courtney Whitney, who at
MacArthur’s urging employed ‘sledgehammer tactics’ in his appearances before the
Council, belittled Ball as ‘a farmer who speaks his own opinions rather than those of
his native Australia or the British Commonwealth’. Under frequent censure from
GHQ for his views, Ball resigned from the Council in August 1947, to be replaced
by Australian diplomat Patrick Shaw and, in September 1949, by another Australian,
Colonel William Hodgson. General Chu Shih-ming, the Chinese Nationalist repre-
sentative, summed up the frustrations felt by non-American members of the Council
when he confided to Ball, ‘what is the use of saying anything? We cannot give advice
 The Occupational Dynamic 103

without information; we cannot get information without asking questions; we can-

not ask questions without the Chairman or SCAP representative telling us that we
are impertinent to criticise the wonderful work of the Supreme Commander’. Gen-
eral Chu, too, was lumped together in SCAP’s book with Ball and Derevyanko. The
Chinese delegate, Whitney fumed, should stand with his ally the United States, right
or wrong.“
Two ACJ debates that received wide publicity were those concerning the labour
and land reforms. Ball’s critique of SCAP’s agrarian project in May and June 1946
resulted in substantive changes to the original American proposal. General Derevy-
anko enlivened that debate with demands for an even more radical land reallotment,
and his attack on SCAP’s labour programme in July ensured the passage of a radical
Labour Standards Law. But such instances were exceptional, and the Allied Council,
like its parent organisation, the Far Eastern Commission, exerted only minimal
influence on the Occupation. With one exception, by 1948 the Council had virtually
ceased to exercise any meaningful function.
That exception was the repatriation of Japanese prisoners of war interned in
Siberia. According to US delegate William Sebald, this was the hottest political
question the Council dealt with during his tenure. Sebald raised the issue in late
October 1947, and it remained a point of bitter contention through 1950. On 21
December 1949, he queried Derevyanko about 376,000 missing POWs, and the next
day, 22 December, some 400 people, including parents and relatives of the missing,
staged a sit-in in front of the Soviet Mission in Tokyo and attempted to present a
petition for the release of the prisoners. This orderly but rare display of collective anger
struck a responsive chord with the public, reflecting not only outrage at the treatment
of the POWs but also anger at Moscow’s abrogation of the 1941 Neutrality Pact and
its seizure of the southern Kurils after the war. The strong sentiments aroused by the
POW issue also betrayed a deeper antipathy towards Russia dating from Tsarist
days. When Sebald revived the question on 10 May 1950, the Soviet representative
boycotted the ACJ and did not return for six months (the outbreak of the Korean
War in June of that year no doubt explains the protracted Soviet absence).'’

MacArthur's executive powers

MacArthur generally ignored the Far Eastern Commission, but he could not lightly
dismiss the US military chain of command. The Supreme Commander was directly
responsible, by order of rank, to President Truman, Commander-in-Chief of US
Armed Forces; the Chair of the Joint Chiefs of Staff (Fleet Admiral William D. Leahy,
followed by General Omar N. Bradley); the Army Chief of Staff (Dwight D. Eisen-
hower, then Joseph L. Collins); the Secretary of War (successively, Henry L. Stimson
and Robert P. Patterson); and the Secretary of the Army (Kenneth C. Royall, Gordon
Gray and Frank Pace Jr). A five-star general, MacArthur outranked the Army Chief
of Staff and the JCS Chair, but as Commander of US Army Forces in the Pacific he
was duty-bound to obey their directives.
Despite the formal constraints on MacArthur’s authority, three postwar policy
104 Organising the Occupation

FAR EASTERN COMMISSION

Australia France New Zealand
Canada India Philippines
China Netherlands Soviet Union
United Kingdom
United States

US JOINT CHIEFS OF STAFF

GENERAL HEADQUARTERS
SUPREME COMMANDER ALLIED COUNCIL
for the for JAPAN

ALLIED POWERS

CHIEF of STAFF

PUBLIC eee DIPLOMATIC eee

SECRETARIAT|| INFORMATION SECTION ae
SECTION (POLAD)
STAFF § SECTIONS

Economic and Scientific AC of S,G-1,G-2,G-3,G-4

General Accounting Adjutant General
General Procurement Agent Civil Communications
Government Civil Information and Education
Natural Resources Civil Intelligence
Public Health & Welfare Civil Property Custodian
Statistics & Reports Civil Transportation

Central Liaison Office Occupation Forces

Japanese Government

Military Government
Government ——— Surveillance — Teams
Agencies

Japanese
People
i——— Sureillance ——

Figure 5. The machinery of the Occupation of Japan from the Far Eastern Commission
through SCAP to the Japanese people, December 1948.
(Source: Reports of General MacArthur, 1966, p. 72)

documents, described in detail in chapter 5, gave him exceptional latitude in

fulfilling his mandate as SCAP. These were the Potsdam Declaration (26 July 1945),
SWNCC’s ‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’ (22 September 1945) and the
Pentagon’s ‘Basic Directive for Post-Surrender Military Government in Japan Proper’
(3 November 1945). The Potsdam document was a declaration of Allied inten-
 The Occupational Dynamic 105

tions towards Japan. The ‘Initial Post-Surrender Policy’ (SWNCC-150/4) was an

enunciation of the basic goals and principles governing the Occupation. The Penta-
gon’s “Basic Directive’ (JCS 1380/15), unlike SWNCC’s more general statement,
was a detailed blueprint for reform that subsumed and completed the earlier docu-
ment. It was not made public until later and became the single most important
external influence on MacArthur’s headquarters.
While Washington formulated policy for Japan, the Supreme Commander was
vested with the authority to execute that policy, and he made full use of his expanded
powers, placing his personal imprimatur on nearly all aspects of the reform project.
On 17 September 1945, for instance, without consulting President Truman,
MacArthur announced that US garrison forces in Japan would be slashed from the
500,000 troops projected in mid-August of that year to 200,000 or less within six
months. This was not a minor step. The State Department promptly upbraided the
General for overstepping his bounds and attempting to dictate national policy. Dean
Acheson, then facing confirmation hearings in the Senate for his appointment as
Under-Secretary of State, told the press bluntly that ‘the occupation forces are the
instruments of policy and not the determinants of policy’. He later reflected: ‘If we
could have seen into the future, we might have recognised this skirmish as the be-
ginning of a struggle leading to the relief of General MacArthur from his command
on 11 April 1951."
MacArthur was under orders to carry out the Pentagon’s “Basic Directive’ to the
letter, but as the reform process got underway, he interpreted that document broadly,
taking the initiative on matters large and small. In September 1945, fearing a break-
down in Japan’s supply and distribution system, the Supreme Commander ignored a
Washington policy directive not to distribute supplies to the former enemy and
organised an emergency relief programme. A more striking example of executive
privilege was the new Constitution, which MacArthur directed Government Section
to draft and present to the Japanese in early February 1946. The completion of this
centrepiece of Occupation policy was announced to Washington and the Far Eastern
Commission in March as a fait accompli. In April, when the FEC demanded the
right to review the constitutional draft before its promulgation, MacArthur penned
an irate riposte, reminding the Commission that it was merely a policy-making body
and that policy implementation in Japan was the exclusive provenance of SCAP. The
FEC, he said, was not empowered ‘to require prior approval of any action taken by
the Supreme Commander or the Japanese Government to implement, fulfill or
enforce the terms of surrender’.'? The State Department and the Joint Chiefs, while
not always pleased with MacArthur, generally deferred to him, finding it more
effective to offer advice than issue orders. Relations between the self-aggrandising,
imperious viceroy and the plain-spoken, pragmatic Truman, strained at the outset of
the Occupation, would deteriorate steadily, however, culminating in MacArthur’s
forced retirement in 1951.
106 Organising the Occupation

ESTABLISHING CONTROL

The imperative of rapid demilitarisation presented MacArthur’s staff with the

enormous and pressing task of decolonising the Greater Japanese Empire, disarming
Imperial forces at home and abroad, establishing remote control over all government
powers, destroying war equipment, assuring reparations and repatriating both over-
seas Japanese and foreign nationals living in Japan. These objectives, the preliminary
spade work of occupation, would require a gargantuan effort lasting through 1946
and, in the case of reparations and repatriation, well beyond.

Decolonisation and disarmament

Decolonisation was accomplished physically by the Allied occupation of former
Japanese colonies and mandated territories. Administratively, this was done through
a series of special directives issued by SCAP that severed Japan proper from its
former overseas possessions, which had accounted for nearly half of the Empire’s
territory, and terminated Tokyo’s\diplomatic relations with other states. The Cairo
Declaration (27 November 1943) had limited Japanese sovereignty to Japan’s
four major islands and unspecified minor islands, ordained the return of Formosa,
Manchuria and the Pescadores to the Republic of China, and liberated Korea. With
Japan’s surrender, the Supreme Commander set about disarming Imperial forces in
the areas under US jurisdiction.
MacArthur's first formal directive, General Order no. 1 promulgated on 2 Sep-
tember 1945, authorised US Army Forces in the Pacific (AFPAC) to receive the
surrender of Japanese troops in Korea south of the 38th parallel, in the Ryukyu
archipelago and in Japan proper. Responsibility for detaching outlying Japanese
territory from Imperial authority and overseeing its administration fell to SCAP’s
Government Section (GS), GS accomplished this task by issuing a directive to the
Japanese government on 2 October 1945 removing Korea from Tokyo’s administra-
tive control. This was followed by another directive of 29 January 1946 terminating
Japanese political and administrative dominion over former territories outside of the
four major islands. GHQ also moved quickly to suspend Japan’s power to deal
independently with foreign governments. On 6 September 1945, MacArthur told
Japanese authorities to comply with earlier instructions to close down their foreign
embassies and legations and transfer all property and records to Allied representa-
tives. On 25 October, the General ordered the recall of all Japanese diplomatic
personnel from abroad, and on 4 November, he directed Tokyo to sever overseas
diplomatic ties with other states and transfer all such functions to SCAP. There-
after, GHQ handled Japan’s foreign relations, a duty that would be assigned to the
Diplomatic Section in April 1946,"
MacArthur quickly dissipated the ‘terrific psychological tension’ produced by the
prospect of disarming and retiring some 7 million Imperial soldiers and sailors, fully
half of them deployed in the home islands, by allowing the government to carry out
that colossal task. Here, commented General Robert Eichelberger, ‘the Emperor’s
 The Occupational Dynamic 107

Photo 14. An end to war. Children cavort on the statues of military heroes removed
from their pedestals and stored in a park pending destruction. At right is the statue of
General Oyama Iwao, a hero of the Russo-Japanese War. Tokyo, 6 September 1948
(New York Times).

prestige and proclamations were infinitely more effective than a bullying display of
rifles in a land where we were feared and outnumbered’.'? SCAP supervised and
coordinated all stages of this work, but the government drew up and executed the
basic plan of operations. On 13 September 1945, Imperial General Headquarters
was dissolved, and the Cabinet's War and Navy Ministries were placed in charge of
demobilisation activities. By December, the two Ministries, working through
prefecture-level regimental headquarters, had disbanded all military forces in
Japan proper. On 30 November, the War and Navy Ministries were transformed,
108 Organising the Occupation

respectively, into the First and Second Demobilisation Ministries, placed under a
civilian minister and tasked with mustering out veterans returning from overseas. At
the same time, prefectural regimental headquarters were reorganised into Local
Assistance Bureaux and assigned to help ex-servicemen find jobs and adapt to civilian
life.
In June 1946, the Ministries were downsized, renamed Demobilisation Bureaux
and placed under a Demobilisation Board headed by a minister of state. A key figure
in the work of the Board was Colonel Hattori Takushiré of the Army General Staff’s
Operations Division. He and other high-ranking colleagues, including two former
chiefs of Army Operations and Military Intelligence officers, maintained lists of
demobilised veterans, including some 70,000 career officers. These scrupulously
kept records would enable MacArthur’s intelligence chief Charles Willoughby to
maintain de facto recruitment rosters for that day in the not too distant future when
Japan would begin to rebuild its military.” In October 1947, the Demobilisation
Board was disbanded and some of its functions were transferred to the Welfare
Ministry’s Repatriation Relief Agency.
Officers mustered out of service routinely were assigned a higher rank in order to
qualify for a better pension, and these instant elevations became known as ‘Potsdam
promotions’ (Potsudamu shokaku). Over the vociferous objections of General
Willoughby, however, Government Section insisted on halting the payment of mili-
tary pensions and ending preferential treatment for veterans. Consequently, on 24
November 1945, GHQ’s Economic and Scientific Section ordered the government
to discontinue all veterans’ and survivors’ benefits by 1 February 1946. The Local
Assistance Bureaux, by then regrouped under the Home Ministry (later, the Welfare
Ministry), came to play a vital role in alleviating the distress of the Emperor's
impecunious and discredited former soldiers and sailors.

The destruction of war matériel and reparations

The Japanese military had concealed arms caches in caves, tunnels, marshlands,
forests and on small islands across Japan in anticipation of an Allied invasion, and
in August 1945, extremist groups had hidden additional weapons for future use
against the occupation army. Following the surrender, the Japanese government
was instructed to collect, record and dispose of all military stores and armaments,
including ammunition, small arms, heavy ordnance, tanks, aircraft and naval vessels,
by burning, blowing up or dismantling them. US and British Commonwealth forces
subsequently uncovered many unreported weapons caches. In November 1945, for
instance, Occupation inspectors discovered a small arsenal concealed in three police
stations in Aomori Prefecture consisting of a total of 1,880 rifles and bayonets, 18
light machine guns, more than 505,000 rounds of ammunition, and one case of
TNT. Over 2 million tons of ammunition and munitions were exploded or dumped
at sea, but scrap metal, engineering and automotive equipment and other matériel
needed for economic reconstruction were returned to the Japanese government,
which allocated them to leading industrial concerns. Supplies of clothing, foodstuffs,
 The Occupational Dynamic 109

medicines and textiles also were released to the government to alleviate chronic
economic shortages, although many of these goods ended up in the hands of
unscrupulous black-marketeers.”!
The Potsdam Proclamation had decreed the payment of ‘just reparations in kind’
to the countries Japan had ravaged, and Occupation personnel promptly began to
survey all industrial machinery and plants of potential use as war reparations. The
job was enormous, and tactical units were assigned to inventory the equipment and
furnish armed guards to protect it. Edwin W. Pauley, a self-made US oil entrepreneur
and former treasurer of the Democratic Party, was named Reparations Commissioner
for Japan (he also was responsible for German reparations). On 18 December 1945,
the Pauley Mission presented its recommendations to President Truman and, in
April 1946, the State Department forwarded its report to the Far Eastern Commis-
sion. Pauley proposed to remove all steel capacity beyond a minimal tonnage and
ship it to the countries where Imperial armies had wreaked havoc. Also slated for
transfer were half of Japan’s electric power capacity and virtually all of its war produc-
tion facilities, such as aircraft factories, bearing and machine-tool manufacturing
plants and arsenals. Pauley also recommended that the zaibatsu holding companies
be broken up and their assets redistributed. In line with pre-surrender planning, the
Mission called for production to be returned to levels obtaining between 1930 and
1934. Japanese industry was to be reorientated towards agriculture and light industry
in order to allow the rest of Asia to compete more effectively against its finished
goods. On 20 January 1946, GHQ issued a directive setting aside the first wartime
plants for reparations, and by August 1947, more than 500 facilities had been
earmarked for removal.”
MacArthur considered reparations ‘war booty’, however, and was cool to Pauley’s
recommendations, for the shipment abroad of Japan’s modern industrial equipment
threatened to retard the resumption of industrial production. Washington, too, even-
tually endorsed that view. With the deepening of the Cold War, it intervened to limit
the scope of payments and, on 4 April 1947, issued an emergency interim directive
through the Far Eastern Commission authorising advance deliveries of up to 30 per
cent of scheduled reparations, which were sent over the next two years to Britain,
Burma, the East Indies, Malaya, the Netherlands and the Philippines (the first load
of reparations machinery did not leave Japan until January 1948, destined for
China). The Allies, anxious to receive compensation promptly and in full, bitterly
resented this high-handed manoeuvre but were powerless to prevent it. Changing
American priorities in Japan would lead to the discontinuation of the programme in
the spring of 1949, over the angry objections of the Philippines, the Republic of
China and other Allies who felt they had been shortchanged. Later, the San Francisco
peace settlement would require Japan to make reparations in services rather than
in kind, opening the way for the resumption of large-scale Japanese investment in
Southeast Asia (chapter 10).”
110 Organising the Occupation

Repatriation
One of SCAP’s primary responsibilities in the immediate aftermath of the war was
the repatriation of overseas Japanese military personnel and civilians, and the return
of foreign nationals living in Japan to their countries of origin. SCAP’s G-3 Section
(Repatriation Branch) had overall responsibility for arranging these massive transfers
of war-displaced people. Operational control of repatriation was assumed by US
Naval Forces in the Far East, but the Japanese government actually implemented —
and paid for — the programme. To effect this ambitious undertaking, 14 receptions
centres were set up at major ports in southwestern Japan; more than 370 seaworthy
Japanese vessels, US liberty ships and Navy landing ship/tanks (LSTs) were mobil-
ised; and Japanese seamen were hired to man them. In all, GHQ repatriated more
than 8 million people, including 6.6 million overseas Japanese (more than half of
them soldiers and sailors) and nearly 1 million Koreans and Chinese brought to
Japan for forced labour during the war. Japanese continued to return from Southeast
Asia in large numbers through 1947.”
The government set up special programmes to absorb Japanese returnees and
find them housing and employment. Military personnel could rely on the Local
Assistance Bureaux discussed above, but all repatriates were eligible for special
emergency relief, including food, clothing and shelter (chapter 9). In 1946, central
authorities established the Government Rehabilitation Loan, which made available
short-term loans at low interest rates. Many returnees used these funds to build or
repair homes or purchase farmland through the Agriculture Ministry, which had
opened up vast tracts of public lands for emergency reclamation. Rural resettlement
colonies absorbed tens of thousands of displaced war-sufferers, including many who
had never farmed before. Postwar inflation quickly reduced the real value of interest
payments, and the loans enabled millions to make a fresh start.
Chinese, Koreans and Ryukyuans were not so fortunate. The Japanese military
had conscripted hundreds of thousands for supply work and corveé labour, and at
the war’s end, they constituted a vast colonial and semi-colonial underclass in
Japan. Another 190,000 were scattered on islands across the Pacific. By the end of
1946, official repatriation from the Pacific Ocean Areas and out of Japan proper
had been largely completed, and more than 1 million Chinese, Formosans, Koreans,
Ryukyuans and Pacific islanders had been transported back to their respective
homelands.” Occupation authorities strongly encouraged repatriation out of Japan.
Although legally Japanese nationals, Okinawans, too, were told to ‘go home’. The
Occupation tailored its programmes to ethnic Japanese, and former colonials and
other non-Yamato groups who insisted on remaining in Japan presented the
Americans with an unwelcome problem for which little provision had been made
(chapter 9).
Thousands of US nationals also found themselves in Japan in mid-August 1945,
the vast majority of them Japanese Americans. Occupation sources placed the num-
ber of resident Nisei at 15,000, but not all were eligible to return to the United
States. Washington automatically rescinded the citizenship of anyone who had
 The Occupational Dynamic ie |

served in the Imperial armed forces unless they could demonstrate that they had
acted under duress. It also denationalised all US citizens who had voted in Japanese
elections, a decision that had tragic and unintended consequences. During Japan’s
first postwar elections in April 1946, GHQ urged all adult men and women to turn
out to vote, and many dual-national Nisei who came of age in 1946 and acted on
that advice — often women — had their American citizenship revoked, making them
ineligible to repatriate.”* In May 1946, GHQ ordered the government to compile a
list of Nisei residents and determined that about 10,000 were qualified to return. Of
that number, roughly 5,000 eventually moved to the United States. At the same
time, other Japanese Americans, recently released from internment centres, were
travelling in the opposite direction, many of them Kibei who had been educated in
Japan but gone back to the United States before war broke out. Outraged at the
violation of their civil and political rights in the camps, they renounced their US
citizenship and demanded transportation to Japan.”
Of the roughly 1.7 million Japanese captured by Soviet forces in Manchuria,
Korea, Sakhalin and the Kurils, a majority eventually were sent home, although the
last would not return from the Soviet Union until after the Occupation. In the
months following the end of the conflict, Moscow had shipped as many as 700,000
POWs to labour camps in Siberia and Soviet Central Asia to alleviate chronic man-
power shortages and assist in postwar reconstruction.” Clothed in light uniforms
and subsisting on near-starvation rations, they perished in large numbers. Some
60,000 documented deaths occurred from disease, over-work, neglect or inhuman
living conditions. Following a repatriation agreement signed in December 1946,
Moscow allowed the return of 50,000 POWs monthly until mid-1947, but in late
1947 it suspended the programme indefinitely. The problem of the Siberian
prisoners has never been resolved. Several hundred thousand had returned by late
1947, but many more did not come home until the mid-1950s, and between
300,000 and 500,000 are unaccounted for.”
Upon their return, former detainees were treated with suspicion. An estimated 20
to 25 per cent had participated actively in Soviet indoctrination programmes, and
some became Communists, or at least professed to do so.*° Returning POWs were
herded through special screening centres set up at Maizuru and other Japan Sea ports
by the Counter-Intelligence Corps to spot aktivs and ferret out Soviet agents. Most
passively accepted these interrogations as a fact of life, but others resented them as yet
another encroachment on their freedom. One returnee later described the transition
from Soviet to American control in these terms: ‘I wandered away from the rest,
when suddenly I heard a [Japanese] female voice calling out to me. “Don’t do
that. Don’t do that. You must not go away from the designated area. If you do that,
shinchiigun-san [Occupation personnel] will reprimand you.” Oh, my gosh, I said to
myself. What is this anyway? Are they going to tell me to do this or not do that
because everything has to be approved by the Honourable Occupation Personnel
now, in place of the Russians I just left behind? So it was to be.”*'
The Soviet Union’s lengthy detention of Japanese POWs was an egregious violation
Le Organising the Occupation

Photo 15. A Japanese veteran repatriated from Siberia is reunited with his family at Shinagawa
Station, Tokyo. Hundreds of thousands of Japanese POWs never returned from Soviet labour
camps. 1949 (Kyodo).

of Article 9 of the Potsdam Proclamation, which promised that Imperial forces

would be allowed ‘to return to their homes with the opportunity to lead peaceful
and productive lives’. It must be noted, however, that, while Moscow carried its
abusive and criminal incarceration of former Japanese soldiers to an extreme, it was
not alone in seeking to profit from this vast pool of surplus labour. The British
‘suspended’ the repatriation of 113,500 Japanese soldiers in its Southeast Asian
possessions for nearly two years, using this captive work force much as the Soviet
Union had, albeit more humanely. British authorities also ‘farmed out’ 13,500 Japa-
nese to Dutch colonialists in the East Indies until May 1947. London initially
rejected SCAP requests to return these labour conscripts, but most had been evacu-
ated by October 1947, although a smaller number remained in Singapore until
1948. For a year or more after the war, the Americans and the Chinese also helped
themselves generously to this manpower reserve. The Communist and Nationalist
 The Occupational Dynamic 113

régimes together retained for postwar recovery work over 100,000 former Imperial
soldiers, and the Americans similarly delayed the repatriation of nearly 70,000 in the
Philippines, Okinawa and the South Pacific for the ‘maintenance and repair of
essential installations’.*

INDIRECT GOVERNANCE IN JAPAN PROPER

In the Japanese home islands, MacArthur wielded his authority indirectly, via the
existing civil administration. Unlike inhabitants of the Ryukyus and the Kurils,
mainlanders generally did not feel themselves subject to foreign military rule. SCAP
exercised indirect governance on two different levels. At the apex was GHQ’s own
vast civil affairs superstructure whose staff sections reflected the organisation of the
Japanese bureaucracy. At the base was a network of military monitors responsible to
AFPAC’s Eighth Army. Linking the Allied control apparatus with Japan’s governing
institutions was a specially created Japanese group, the Central Liaison Office, which
operated at both central and local levels.

The Central Liaison Office

During the Manila pre-surrender conference, MacArthur had ordered the Imperial
government to establish a liaison organ to serve as the official channel of communi-
cations with his headquarters. On 26 August, the Foreign Ministry created the
Central Liaison Office (CLO) as an external bureau. This vital institutional link
played a crucial role in translating SCAP policies into action and assuring that
Occupation reforms proceeded smoothly.*? A central clearing house and message
centre, the CLO transmitted SCAP orders to the government and conveyed the
latter’s views back to the Supreme Commander and his staff. Okazaki Katsuo, the
Central Liaison Office’s fitst director (later, vice foreign minister and foreign minis-
ter), and his deputy Shirasu Jir6, a British-educated aristocrat fluent in English, used
their personal prewar connections with senior GHQ officials to plead the govern-
ment’s case. In their role as interested intermediaries, CLO staff — all of them
Foreign Ministry officials — sometimes stubbornly resisted instructions they found
objectionable and frequently manoeuvred to win concessions and soften SCAP
demands.
Local CLO branch offices also were established at regional and prefectural levels to
serve as the agency of contact between US Military Government (MG) Teams and
local Japanese officials and to procure supplies and services for MG units. Central
Liaison field offices also provided a valuable conduit between lower administrative
echelons and the central government and played a pivotal role in ensuring compli-
ance with Occupation demands locally. The most important branch office was in
Yokohama, where Eighth Army Headquarters was located. Suzuki Tadakatsu, the
local CLO chief, developed a close working relationship with Eighth Army Com-
mander Ejichelberger and in the early days of the Occupation, helped defuse a
114 Organising the Occupation

number of potentially explosive issues, such as crimes by US forces. Except for a brief
period from 1948 to 1949 when the CLO was attached directly to the Prime Minis-
ter’s Office, the liaison service remained a part of the Foreign Ministry. The CLO
lost much of its influence after 1949 when GHQ’s staff sections began dealing
directly with their counterpart agencies in the government. The Office was formally
abolished in April 1952 with the return of full sovereignty.

Fiat, persuasion, cooperation

In implementing its reform agenda, GHQ relied on a combination of fiat, persuasion
and Japanese initiative. Yoshida Shigeru, prime minister during much of the Occu-
pation, later asserted that MacArthur never gave him direct orders: “We discussed
matters fully, after which the Supreme Commander reached a decision, which I
carried out.’ In fact, at crucial junctures, MacArthur wrote memoranda to the gov-
ernment and personal letters to the prime minister virtually dictating policy.
Through such private communications, the General ordered new general elections
(February 1947), the execution of police reforms (September 1947), the denial
to government workers of the right to strike (July 1948), the purge of the Com-
munist Party Central Committee (June 1950) and the creation of the National
Police Reserve (July 1950). Compliance invariably was prompt, Yoshida’s disavowal
notwithstanding.
MacArthur’s headquarters also issued formal directives to the government in the
form of SCAPINs (short for SCAP Index). Important SCAPINs were released to the
mass media to assure the broadest possible dissemination. Understandably, Yoshida
resented the Americans’ overzealous recourse to these instruments of unilateralism.
‘In the floodtide of their own good intentions’, he wrote, Occupation officials “were
prone to ignore the feelings, history, and tradition that influenced equally well-
intentioned Japanese officials.’** The SCAPINs were supra-constitutional occupation
law. Phrased in a ponderous bureaucratic jargon, they gave rise to ‘Scapinese’, the
idiom of occupation. To implement these fiats, on 20 September 1945 the govern-
ment enacted an emergency decree, Imperial Ordinance no. 542, which allowed it to
promulgate Occupation directives as Imperial edicts rather than as Diet laws. In
Japanese, these enabling orders were called Potsdam Executive Decrees (Potsudamu
Chokurei, abbreviated to the more colloquial Potchoku) and Potsdam Ordinances
(Potsudamu Seirei), after the Potsdam Proclamation that gave them force of law.
Subsequent to the issuance of these directives, signs emblazoned with the words
‘By Order of the Occupation Forces’ appeared in public places across the country,
driving home the message that opposition would not be tolerated.
After the new Constitution went into effect on 3 May 1947, SCAPINs, technic-
ally issued as Imperial edicts before that date, were thenceforth implemented as
Cabinet orders. GHQ produced 9,684 of these special instructions (2,204 SCAPINs
and 7,480 administrative decrees), which were routed to the ministries or agencies
concerned via the Central Liaison Office. On the basis of these directives, the goy-
ernment promulgated a total of 26 Imperial decrees and 867 Cabinet ordinances,
 The Occupational Dynamic 115

and the National Diet enacted 804 laws. This reliance on fiat and top-down
‘administrative guidance’ was both ironic and counter-productive in light of the
occupier’s democratising mission. When GHQ set about strengthening the powers
of the legislative branch in early 1946, one of its explicit objectives was ‘to avoid the
use of the undemocratic method of government by Imperial rescripts and ordin-
ances’. But the very mechanism of occupation control unintentionally provided, as
one scholar has expressed it, a ‘working model of authoritarian governance’ that was
perhaps inevitable but nonetheless radically at odds with the Occupation’s reformist
mandate.”
Although GHQ staff sections relied heavily on SCAPINs, the bulk of these edicts
were promulgated in the first year of occupation. In the early reform period,
MacArthur’s command could decide almost any issue clearly with a formal directive,
but after 1947, with the duration of the occupation an unsettled question, such
instruments were employed sparingly, for after independence, the government would
be free to overturn anything it chose. In mid-July 1949, Washington ordered Mac-
Arthur’s command to begin returning administrative powers to the government, and
SCAPINs were rarely issued after that point.
Individual staff sections also generated memoranda and letters to their counterpart
agencies in government. Section chiefs dispensed technical advice and made sugges-
tions — ‘non-commands with the force of commands’ as one Occupationaire later
described them. Government Section, for instance, urged the Foreign Ministry to
dismiss certain officials for ‘failing to show a proper spirit of cooperation towards
Occupation policies’. (An infuriated Foreign Minister Yoshida demanded written
instructions, thereby discouraging further interference.) SCAP’s Public Health and
Welfare Section insisted that a Welfare Ministry section chief be disciplined for
questioning the wisdom of a minor proposal and the official resigned. Persuasion
often proved as effective as fiat, but the line between the two could be thin. A
dramatic illustration of this ambiguity occurred in December 1947 on the last day of
the new Diet’s first session. Parliamentary wrangling over an economic deconcentra-
tion bill had brought business to a halt. At midnight, Government Section’s Justin
Williams, who had been sent to observe the proceedings, stood up and proposed that
the clock be stopped so that the quarrelling assembly might pass the bill before the
session ended at midnight. Williams later claimed that this was not an order, simply
a suggestion that the Diet follow an obscure British Parliamentary precedent.
Failing to see the distinction, the Japanese legislators obediently stopped the clock
(chapter 7).°°
From mid-1946, with many basic programmes completed or well underway,
MacArthur’s staff increasingly sought the cooperation and advice of Japanese off-
cials. After the early punitive phase of occupation, collaboration came to characterise
the reform process, and socially minded bureaucrats, ad hoc advisory commissions
and private interest groups exerted a greater influence on the formulation of policy.
Mutual cooperation rather than edict or persuasion prevailed in the areas of women’s
rights, labour, education, religion and health and welfare.
116 Organising the Occupation

When cooperation broke down, however, MacArthur’s command could deploy

more subtle means of winning compliance. One was the approval of govern-
ment draft legislation by ‘non-objection’, such non-objection being withheld unless
SCAP-proposed changes were introduced. This enabled GHQ to direct policy with-
out being held responsible for actually doing so. Occupation authorities used this
tactic, for example, to secure passage of a favourable land reform bill. Major Faubion
Bowers, MacArthur’s assistant military secretary, recalled many years later that on
the surface everything was done through the Japanese. ‘Our policy very clearly was
to let the Japanese do it and keep our own noses clean in case there were repercus-
sions. Tell “Japs” privately exactly what we want done, then watch them do it. That’s
the game we all had to play. It was most duplicitous and I didn’t like it at all. I was
appalled.’*”
The government complied initially because the Potsdam terms obliged it to
do so. Under duress, it had temporarily forfeited basic sovereign rights. Ultimately,
the realisation of many early Occupation goals depended neither on fiat, persuasion
or cooperation but on the proximity of Yankee bayonets. The most potent of
MacArthur’s many powers was that of armed intervention, and GHQ could, and
did on occasion, threaten the use of military force to have its way. In January
1946, for instance, when Prime Minister Baron Shidehara Kijiird and his Cabinet
threatened to resign in protest of SCAP’s Purge Directive, the Supreme Commander
obliquely warned that he stood ready to appoint his own government. Shidehara
backed down. On 31 January 1947, MacArthur invoked his authority as SCAP to
ban a general strike by left-of-centre public- and private-sector unions planned for 1
February. In the summer of 1948, during a protracted labour dispute at the Toho
Motion Pictures Studio in Tokyo, Eighth Army despatched troops to quell the
disturbance.
In the final analysis, MacArthur’s headquarters and Eighth Army garrison forces
were synonymous. The Americans thought of themselves as inducing democracy,
and in fact, reformist Japanese responded vigorously to SCAP’s innovative projects.
In key instances, however, the occupier’s agenda was imposed, and Japan, as a
vanquished country, had no recourse but to obey. General Order no. 1 of 2
September 1945 warned that failure to comply promptly with Allied instructions
‘will incur drastic and summary punishment at the hands of Allied Military
Authorities’. This was unavoidable and necessary, for in the absence of an army
of occupation, GHQ and progressive Japanese could never have broken, even
momentarily, the stranglehold of the immensely powerful and tenacious Old Order,
with its ingrained habits of thought, entrenched political interests and steely grip on
the machinery of state. Without the goad of an Allied military presence, Japan’s
postwar transformation could not have begun.
 The Occupational Dynamic 117

Military Government Teams

In Japan proper, the edifice of indirect rule reposed, at the regional, prefectural and
local levels, on a substructure composed of Military Government units. Like the
SCAP superstructure, these generally replicated the organisation of the prefectural
and local governments with which they worked. Since occupation control was exer-
cised through the central government, military teams were assigned the essential but
secondary mission of local-level surveillance and reporting.
As Allied troops took up position across Japan, GHQ/AFPAC established Military
Government (MG) Groups inside the G-1 staff sections of Sixth and Eighth armies
and MG Companies at their respective division and regimental levels. When deploy-
ment was completed in October 1945, an independent Military Government Sec-
tion was created in both armies at headquarters and corps levels. Under each MG
Section, MG Groups and MG Companies were set up to work in tandem with
prefectural and local governments. Officers qualified for civil affairs tasks were trans-
ferred out of line units and assigned to the newly created organisations. In December
1945, Eighth Army relieved Sixth Army of its occupation duties and assumed control
of all MG activities, and, on 1 January 1946, it became responsible for the oper-
ational aspects of military surveillance. Military Government Headquarters, Eighth
Army, was to observe and report to SCAP on local-level compliance with the flood of
central government directives implementing Occupation policies. In June 1946, the
MG Groups were upgraded to regional headquarters, and MG Companies became
prefectural teams.** Military Government was now structured in a five-tier pyramid
with GHQ/SCAP at the top followed by Eighth Army MG Headquarters, the MG
Sections of I and IX Corps, regional MG headquarters, and prefectural MG Teams
(see Fig. 6).
GHQ retained the term military government for its purported chilling effect,
although it was soon apparent that such psychological ploys were unnecessary.
MG units were expressly prohibited from initiating corrective action or interfering in
the activities of any Japanese agency. Their task was to observe, collect information,
make inspections and report regularly to higher headquarters. When MG Teams
discovered that a SCAP policy was being ignored, improperly implemented or
sabotaged, they were to report the details to their superiors but take no further
action unless instructed. Once alerted by Eighth Army, GHQ would inform the
central government of problems via the Central Liaison Office. SCAP issued a
constant flow of queries and instructions, including direct orders in the form of
Command Letters, to Eighth Army MG Headquarters in Yokohama, which relayed
them to prefectural teams via corps-level MG Sections and MG regional head-
quarters. On rare occasions, however, Military Government Teams contested policy
decisions by higher headquarters. In the autumn of 1948, for instance, Eighth Army
Military Government Section attempted repeatedly to postpone elections for local
boards of education, citing a lack of information and interest at the municipal
level (GHQ overruled the Army). During the same period, Eighth Army, ordered to
suppress displays of the North Korean flag, unsuccessfully demanded written orders
118 Organising the Occupation

Headquarters
US Eighth Army

Special Staff Section

Headquarters
Eighth Army Military Goverment

Administration Tokyo
and Detachment eee
Personnel 32nd Mil Gov Co

Legal and Economics Repatration

Public Safety Division Division
Division

Supply and
Welfare Finance Medical
Procurement
Division Division Division
Division

Fishing and Industry Labor Price Control Trade and Utilities

Agriculture Manufacturing x : i i Commerce j ‘
Sub-Section ||Sub-Section ||SUP-Section ||Sub-Section ||cit, section ||SubSection
Figure 6. Organisation of Eighth Army Military Government Headquarters, January 1946.
(Source: Reports of General MacArthur, 1966, p. 202)

from GHQ (SCAP intelligence chiefs refused, insisting that only verbal instructions
be issued).
The prefectural teams were the basic field units of occupation and, unlike Eighth
Army and GHQ staff sections, were in close contact with Japanese from every walk
of life. There were three types of teams — major, intermediate and minor — depend-
ing on the size and population of the prefecture to which they were assigned.” The
staff organisations of MG units at all levels included the divisions of Economics,
Civil Education, Legal and Government, Public Welfare, Civil Information, Public
Health and Administration. Divisions were staffed by specialists responsible for
overseeing such local government functions as natural resources; labour; commerce
and trade; manufacturing and industry; finance and banking; civil information and
education; religion; public health and welfare; and procurement and general
administration. The typical prefectural team consisted of 7 officers, 7 Department
of the Army civilians, 20 enlisted personnel and 50 specially qualified Japanese.
Significantly, Japanese staff outnumbered American personnel by a ratio of roughly
two to three, and it was they who did much of the team’s leg-work and liaison with
local inhabitants. Two areas of vital concern were the rationing of basic foodstuffs
and tax collection, and here the MG Teams ‘needled, cajoled and pressured’ regional
authorities to obey Occupation directives.” The Teams, together with tactical units,
also cooperated with Japanese authorities in providing disaster relief, such as after the
devastating earthquake that struck Ishikawa and Fukui Prefectures on 28 June 1948.
 The Occupational Dynamic 11 \9

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Kagoshima @ Tochigi @

[Nagasat_ | siirane 8
ee Okayama_@
=
7
yushu F
:
Chugoku

Miyazaki__@ Yamaguchi @ %* Staff Section, Corps Headquarters

© Regional Headquarters
@ Prefectural Teams
B District Headquarters

Figure 7. Military Government in Japan, January 1946-July 1948.

(Source: Reports of General MacArthur, 1966, p. 202)

The tremor levelled Fukui City, destroying 36,000 homes and killing some 3,800
people.
In actual practice, the Military Government system proved cumbersome. Lacking
sufficient authority to operate effectively, MG personnel in the field frequently
exceeded their mandate, intervening directly in local affairs. The periodic overhaul of
Military Government, with its resulting organisational dislocations and personnel
turbulence, also may have encouraged local teams to take matters into their own
hands. MG ‘suggestions’, typically beginning with the words ‘you should . . . ’, were
interpreted as direct orders by Japanese officials, as indeed they often were intended.
Nozaki Hirofumi, an interpreter for the Osaka Regional Military Government Team,
recalls that the MG group once ordered the dismissal of a municipal employee for
ignoring a request to revise the municipal budget.‘ MG Teams also organised crack-
downs on tax evasion and black-market activities, and heavy-handed attempts to
settle labour disputes occasionally were reported. In November 1945, MacArthur
issued a Command Letter expressly prohibiting Eighth Army interference in labour
actions, yet in October 1946, an Eighth Army Military Police unit barged in on
union-management talks at the Téshiba Electric Corporation and locked out all but
a handful of negotiators until a settlement could be reached. In late January 1947, a
120 Organising the Occupation

major labour federation complained to GHQ that Eighth Army had browbeaten
union leaders in Fukuoka Prefecture into accepting management's terms, that miners
in Hokkaido had been ordered by local MG units to call off a strike, that Occupation
forces had removed machinery from a plant in Tochigi Prefecture to frustrate work-
ers’ plans to take over production, and that US troops had brandished machine guns
during a labour rally in Kyushu to dissuade local miners from pursuing their
grievances.”
A spectacular example of local military interference was a 1949 proposal by the
Tokai—Hokuriku Regional MG Team to fingerprint ethnic Koreans. The request by
the Team’s Legal Division went directly to the regional CLO branch and, incredibly,
appears to have bypassed Eighth Army MG headquarters altogether. The Central
Liaison branch forwarded the plan to the Foreign Ministry which relayed it to the
Attorney General’s Office for a legal opinion. In late September 1949, the Attorney
General rejected the scheme, noting that in Japan only criminal suspects were finger-
printed. Imposing this measure on Koreans alone, he warned, would produce ‘unto-
ward consequences’. Indeed, his Office had just banned the League of Korean
Residents in Japan for political reasons and was reluctant to antagonise the Korean
community further (chapter 10).8
From late 1948, the Occupation began to relax administrative controls, phase out
monitoring operations and allow local authorities greater latitude of action. On
28 July 1949, SCAP eliminated its MG infrastructure. Military Government was
redesignated Civil Affairs, the country was divided into eight Civil Affairs regions
under Civil Affairs Regional Teams, and a small core of trained CA cadres began
replacing more than 2,000 MG officers. The number of regional and prefectural CA
Teams was reduced, and their administrative duties were substantially lightened. In
November of that year, 45 prefectural Civil Affairs Teams were disbanded, and at the
end of the year, I and IX Corps Civil Affairs Sections also were dissolved. In January
1950, SCAP established the Civil Affairs Section (CAS) as a special GHQ staff group
and assumed direct control of the Regional Teams. Surveillance and reporting
responsibilities passed from Eighth Army directly to GHQ. The CA Regional Teams
were terminated on 30 June 1951 and their remaining responsibilities turned over to
local governmental agencies.“

A DIVIDED OCCUPATION

SCAP’s system of remote governance operated only in Japan proper and did not
extend to Okinawa, which was administered directly, top to bottom, by the US
military, or to the Kuril Islands, which were under Soviet control. The two-power
zonal occupation of Korea, endorsed by the Moscow Foreign Ministers’ Conference
of December 1945, was similar in genesis and process to the detachment of the
Ogasawaras, Ryukyus and Kurils from Japan and the imposition there of direct
military rule. A product of invasion and partition, the disposition of these outlying
 The Occupational Dynamic 121

territories affords an ironic contrast with the liberal, unitary and indirect mode of
control introduced to the Japanese main islands. These ‘minor’ areas experienced
invasion, occupation and military administration as a single, unrelenting historical
moment.

The Ogasawaras
The Ogasawara (Bonin) islands technically were the first of Japan’s traditional home
territories to be occupied by Allied forces. The chain of some 30 volcanic islets,
which includes Iwo Jima, lies roughly 1,000 kilometres due south of Tokyo Bay. The
islands were discovered by Ogasawara Sadayori, a Tokugawa lord, in 1593 and
surveyed by the Bakufu government in 1675, but the first inhabitants were Ameri-
can, British and Hawai’ian seamen and whalers who established settlements there in
the early nineteenth century (the alternate name for the island group, Bonin, is the
corruption of a Japanese word meaning ‘uninhabited’). The Tokugawa government
claimed possession in 1862, and the Meiji state annexed the islands in 1876. In
1880, they were incorporated administratively into Metropolitan Tokyo.
In 1944, approximately 7,700 Japanese lived there, engaged mainly in fishing and
sugar-cane production. As the US Navy’s Central Pacific offensive drew near,
Imperial forces evacuated 6,900 islanders to Honshu. Following the capture of Iwo
Jima in March 1945, the US Navy established military government over the islands
and later deported the remaining 800 islanders to Japan proper to make way for
expanded military facilities. The US Army, too, garrisoned troops in the islands,
incorporating the Ogasawaras into the Marianas—Bonins Command. On 29 January
1946, a Government Section directive (SCAPIN-677: ‘Government and Adminis-
trative Separation of Certain Outlying Areas from Japan’) arbitrarily detached the
island group from Japan. That year, Navy Military Government allowed 135 former
inhabitants of Western ancestry to return to the islands, but other Ogasawarans were
not repatriated until June 1968, some sixteen years after the end of the Occupation,
following bitter and protracted protests by the displaced populace. Today, the
American military continues to operate bases there.”

Military rule in Okinawa

Unlike the Ogasawaras, the Ryukyus are a heavily populated island chain with a
long and proud history. The archipelago consists of four island groups: Amami in the
north, Okinawa in the centre and Miyako and Yaeyama in the south. From the
fourteenth through the sixteenth centuries, an independent kingdom centred on
the Shuri Court in Okinawa unified the Ryukyus, which became a major trade hub
linking the markets of China, Japan and Korea with Southeast Asia. In 1609,
Kyushu’s Satsuma Clan annexed the Amami islands outright and forced the Ryukyu
Kingdom to accept tributary status. A period of dual subordination, during which
the Ryukyus paid tribute to China and to the Satsumas, lasted until 1879, when the
Meiji state seized the islands, abolished the Kingdom and made Okinawa a Japanese
prefecture. With the so-called Ryukyu disposition, Okinawa became Japan’s first
122 Organising the Occupation

modern colony. Ryukyuans and China’s Qing Court refused to recognise Japanese
suzerainty, however, and this dispute became an underlying cause of the Sino-
Japanese War of 1894—5, through which Japan acquired its second colony, Formosa.
Accorded semi-colonial treatment, with special restrictions and a colonial adminis-
tration, Okinawa did not become a bona fide prefecture until 1920, following two
decades of assimilation policies.“
The Ryukyus are not blessed with an abundance of arable land, and modern
development was slow, forcing tens of thousands of islanders to migrate to metro-
politan Japan and abroad, to the Philippines, Hawai’i and the Americas. During the
Asia—Pacific War, the archipelago became a vast military base for the Imperial Army,
and a sacrificial pawn in Japan’s struggle for survival. The Allied invasion of April—
June 1945 decimated Okinawa’s indigenous population, destroyed Shuri Castle and
other cultural assets, severed contact with the Japanese home islands (Aondo) and left
the local economy a shambles. In their preparation for the final assault on Japan,
American authorities bulldozed abandoned villages to clear a way for the construction
of B-29 air strips, military roads and storage depots. By late May 1945, 10 of 22
planned runways were under construction. The fighting had largely destroyed
Okinawa’s intricate system of irrigation ditches. Now Army engineers scraped off
good topsoil for landfill and paved prime farmland, destroying the islanders’ tradi-
tional means of subsistence.*” With no home to return to, Okinawans found them-
selves squeezed into some 40 refugee camps totally dependent on the US military
for food and clothing. Refugees were forced to relocate as the tactical needs of
Army units changed. By 31 August 1945, roughly 250,000 Okinawans had been
transferred to new camps, some of them several times, and as late as the spring
of 1946, 130,000 were still without homes. Ryukyuans were not allowed to move
freely inside the archipelago until March 1947, and travel to the main islands was
forbidden.

An ambiguous legal status

The post-surrender status of the Ryukyus had been discussed at Cairo in late
November 1943, where Chiang Kai-shek proposed that China occupy the islands
with the United States and administer them jointly under an international trustee-
ship. A few days later, at the Teheran Conference, Josef Stalin told Roosevelt that the
Ryukyus, forcibly annexed by Japan in 1879, should be ‘returned’ to China.” The
Potsdam Proclamation of 26 July 1945, however, did not mention the island chain.
On 31 March, with the capture of the Keramas, Admiral Chester Nimitz issued US
Navy Military Government Proclamation no. 1, placing that territory under US
military administration according to the law of belligerent occupation. As other areas
of the archipelago fell, they, too, passed to American control.
The State Department, however, questioned the wisdom of retaining Okinawa
and recommended that the islands be demilitarised and returned to Japan as one
of the ‘minor islands’ over which Tokyo might maintain sovereignty as specified
in the Potsdam terms. The danger of an international dispute over territory was
 The Occupational Dynamic 123

greater, it reasoned, than any benefit that might accrue from the islands’ future
military potential. On 10 September 1945, the Joint Chiefs of Staff expressed their
‘grave concern’ to President Truman over the proposed return of the archipelago.
The JCS memorandum produced a stalemate that would not be broken until the
autumn of 1948, when Cold War concerns would convince the State Department
to support a long-term American armed presence there (chapter 10). On 29 January
1946, a SCAP directive (SCAPIN-677) formally separated the Ryukyus, the
Ogasawaras and other former territories south of 30 degrees North latitude from
the Japanese mainland. Ironically, the Amami Islands north of Okinawa were
included in the US military's Ryukyuan jurisdiction although they belonged
administratively to Kagoshima Prefecture in Kyushu.”
Once established, however, military government in the Ryukyus lacked a clear
mandate or régime of control. The military campaign officially ended on 2 July
1945, and initially, the Okinawa Group remained under Navy administration while
the Amami, Miyako and Yaeyama Groups were placed under the Army’s operational
command. On 18 July the Navy transferred control to AFPAC, but Japan’s surrender
and the start of the main occupation less than a month later taxed the Army’s
resources, and on 21 September, the Navy again assumed responsibility, establishing
the Military Government of the Ryukyu Islands. Finally, on 1 July 1946, the Army
took charge one last time, reorganising the Okinawa Base Command as the Ryukyus
Command.”' One year later, on 1 January 1947, AFPAC was restructured as the Far
East Command (FECOM), and a unified Ryukyus Command, complete with Mili-
tary Government, was placed under the jurisdiction of GHQ/FECOM in Tokyo.
Under the new régime, Washington directives concerning the Ryukyus were
issued by President Truman and transmitted via the Pentagon to MacArthur as Far
East Commander. GHQ/FECOM routed Washington’s orders to the Commanding
General, Ryukyus Command, who passed them to the Military Government. In
Tokyo, Ryukyuan affairs originally had been handled by the Korean Division in
SCAP’s Government Section. In February 1947, the Korean Division was abolished,
and responsibility for military government in Korea and the Ryukyus was delegated
to the Korean-Ryukyus Division, which was attached to the SCAP Deputy Chief
of Staff. Finally, on 6 September 1948, MacArthur created the Ryukyus Military
Government Section inside GHQ/FECOM.
The archipelago quickly became the forgotten stepchild of the Occupation. One
historian has compared its postwar fate under US military administration to that
of Asia under the wartime Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere.” A closer analogy
is the Kuril Islands under Soviet rule.

Soviet rule in the Kurils

In annexing the Ogasawaras and the Ryukyus, the United States initially could claim
military necessity. The Soviet Union occupied the Kurils, including the four island
groups closest to Japan, to collect on a promise made by Roosevelt at Yalta and then
defaulted on by Truman. The Potsdam Proclamation skirted the territorial issue by
124 Organising the Occupation

limiting Japanese sovereignty to the four major islands ‘and such minor islands’ as
the Allied powers should determine. Stalin pointed to the Yalta protocol and the
Potsdam language as justification for occupying and annexing the northern archi-
pelago. On 2 September 1945, as discussed earlier, the Marshal announced that the
Kurils had been ‘transferred’ to the Soviet Union, and on 20 September, Moscow
unilaterally declared them Soviet territory and nationalised all property there. On
2 February 1946, the islands were attached administratively to the Khabarovsk
Region, and in January 1947, they were transferred to the independent Sakhalin
District. Finally, on 25 February 1947, the Soviet Constitution was amended to
incorporate the Kurils into the USSR, making their inhabitants Soviet citizens.”
During the war, Japan had been prepared to barter away the central and northern
Kurils in return for a Soviet mediated peace (chapter 1), but the southernmost
islands had been an integral part of Hokkaido since 1869 and were non-negotiable.
Tokyo immediately contested the Soviet seizure as a breach of the Potsdam terms and
international law. Despite repeated protests from Tokyo, however, Washington failed
to oppose the takeover.* MacArthur’s headquarters also accepted the fait accompli.
SCAPIN-677 (29 January 1946), which detached the Ogasawaras and the Ryukyus
from Japanese territory, also divested Japan of all administrative rights over the
Kurils, the Habomais and Shikotan. This policy was confirmed by SCAPINs 1033
and 1033/1 of 22 June 1946 and 23 December 1948, respectively, which instructed
Japanese fishing boats to restrict their activities to waters south of the Habomai
Group. These directives effectively recognised Soviet possession of the northern arc.
Washington and GHQ had acquiesced in a divided occupation.
Local officials in Hokkaido could do little but implore central authorities to take
action, and at their urging, Tokyo lodged formal protests with GHQ via the Central
Liaison Office, but to no avail. Official Japanese interest was motivated in part by
an immediately practical consideration, for the government reportedly hoped to
include the Kurils in the electoral register for the 1946 Lower House elections. That
concern evaporated, however, in late January 1946, when, less than three months
before April’s general elections, SCAPIN-677 removed the Kurils from the polling
lists.”
As a last resort, the Mayor of Nemuro, And6 Sekiten, visited Tokyo on 1 Decem-
ber 1945 to make a personal appeal to MacArthur. And6 carried with him a petition
addressed to “His Excellency, General MacArthur’ and signed by 30,000 Hokkaido
residents. It noted that the Soviet-occupied Habomais administratively were a part of
Nemuro City and that Shikotan, Kunashiri and Etorofu, Japanese territory since
feudal times, had been settled and inhabited by Japanese for five successive gener-
ations. The petition denounced the injustice of Soviet military rule, lamented the
islanders’ plight and urged the Supreme Commander to place the Habomais and
the southern Kurils under US military control. As had earlier representations, the
Mayor’s entreaty fell on deaf ears.
 The Occupational Dynamic 125

The Sakhalin and Kuril repatriations

MacArthur sidestepped the Kuril territorial issue, but his staff responded immedi-
ately to pleas to return Japanese nationals stranded on Sakhalin. Occupation author-
ities first broached the question to the Soviet Union in October 1945, but Moscow
did not welcome this ‘intrusion’. During the conflict, Russians had been pulled
from the island to perform various war-related duties, and the Japanese civilians
there represented a vital labour resource. The Kremlin dragged its feet on the issue
until several thousand Soviet settlers could be relocated to Sakhalin, and an agree-
ment on civilian repatriation was not reached until late 1946. From December of
that year through July 1949, more than 290,000 Japanese non-combatants were
allowed to leave the island. This programme was finally extended to the Kurils,
including the four southern islands, and in July 1947, the first group of Japanese
arrived from Etorofu. Repatriation from the last of the southern Kurils, Kunashiri,
was completed in October 1948, by which time a total of 170,000 had been trans-
ported to Japan. By July 1949, all Japanese had been evacuated from the Kuril
chain.*°
Not included in that massive transfer were an estimated 40,000 to 60,000 Koreans,
who formed the bulk of Sakhalin’s unskilled labour force. With the surrender of
Japanese forces, Koreans in the northern arc were declared liberated nationals and
freed from colonial rule, but while they now enjoyed certain ethnic and cultural
rights, they remained virtual prisoners of the new régime. Without their labour, the
economy would have collapsed in the wake of the Japanese exodus. Moreover, most
Koreans were from southern Korea, then under US military occupation. Stalin saw
no merit in delivering a prime labour resource to his Cold War rival. Japan, on the
other hand, having forcibly relocated these workers to Sakhalin, had a moral obliga-
tion to secure their repatriation to Korea, but Tokyo remained silent on the issue.
MacArthur's staff first learned of the problem in late 1945 after receiving petitions
from Sakhalin Koreans. In 1947, a group of south Koreans asked SCAP to negotiate
the return of this captive population, and in 1949, shortly after the Republic of
Korea established a diplomatic mission in Tokyo, Seoul raised the issue again. On
each occasion, the Americans discussed the problem with their Japanese and Soviet
counterparts, but Japanese officials affected complete indifference, going only so far
as to provide SCAP with population estimates that were greatly understated, and the
Soviets ignored the US representations altogether. Steps would not be taken to
resolve this issue until the 1990s (chapter 11).””

THE GARRISON FORCES

The Army of Occupation

The military occupation of the home islands proceeded in two phases. The first
commenced on 28 August 1945 with the arrival at Atsugi of the US advance landing
party and continued through the end of December. During this time, combat troops
126 Organising the Occupation

fanned out across Japan, military facilities were constructed, Allied prisoners of war
were released and Imperial forces were disarmed and demobilised. The second phase
began in January 1946, its objective to establish the surveillance and control mechan-
isms necessary to sustain a long-term occupation. This involved the reorganisation,
redeployment and deactivation of American combat units.
As it became clear that Occupation goals could be met without recourse to mili-
tary force, at MacArthur's behest, Washington slashed troop strength from 430,000
in late 1945 to about 200,000 in 1946. In 1947, that figure was pared further to
120,000 and by 1948 had dropped to 102,000. In 1949, the Cold War and growing
social unrest in Japan prompted the Pentagon to boost US forces to 126,000, but this
level fell to 115,500 in 1950 following the outbreak of fighting in Korea and massive
troop transfers to the Korean peninsula. Between 1951 and 1952, however, with
Japan now a rear staging area for the war, American military strength grew steadily,
and when the San Francisco Peace Treaty went into effect in April 1952, 260,000
Gls were stationed on Japanese soil.
Washington complained loudly about the cost to the US taxpayer of maintaining
this armed presence, and in 1948 alone, occupation forces drained the US Treasury
of $600 million — about twice what it cost to occupy southern Korea (but less than
half the outlay for Germany). In fact, however, the Japanese government was
compelled to bear the brunt of Occupation costs, which accounted for 30 per cent
of the regular budget in 1946 and remained one of the single largest budget items in
the years that followed. These very substantial — and to the Japanese, unexpected
and onerous — disbursments were disguised as “war termination costs’ or ‘other
expenses’. The State Department's top policy expert, George F Kennan, was
appalled when he arrived in Tokyo in early 1948 to discover 17,000 new housing
units under construction for US personnel at government expense while millions of
Japan’s own war-displaced remained homeless.”*
Sixth and Eighth armies constituted the primary military force in the early months
following the surrender. Eichelberger’s Eighth Army began deploying in Japan in late
August and continued through September, occupying Hokkaido and the northern
half of Honshu. Krueger’s Sixth Army arrived in late September and took over
southern Honshu and Shikoku. Eighth Army headquarters were established in
Yokohama, and Eichelberger and his staff took up residence in the New Grand
Hotel; Krueger set up Sixth Army command operations in the Daiken Building in
Kyoto, lodging his staff in the Miyako Hotel. Sixth and Eighth Armies were
reinforced by Marine contingents attached to the US Third and Fifth Fleets. In
December 1945, Sixth Army was relieved of its occupation duties, and in January
1946, it was deactivated, leaving Eighth Army as the main garrison force.
In January 1947, AFPAC was reorganised as the Far East Command (FECOM).
This super-command included, in addition to Eighth Army, the Far East Air Force,
the Fifth Air Force, US Naval Forces in the Far East, Naval Activities Japan (NAJAP)
and the air, army and naval components of the British Commonwealth Occupation
Force. As FECOM commander, MacArthur’s sphere of responsibility was enlarged
 The Occupational Dynamic 127

enormously to include the Ryukyu Command, the Marianas—Bonin Command and

the Philippine Command. The Ryukyus Command, as discussed earlier, was
detached from the main occupation forces, with GHQ/FECOM exercising sole
authority, and Okinawa was placed under the US Tenth Army, whose commander
became military governor of the islands.”

Women in uniform
Allied forces in Japan included women’s units, a fact that is not widely understood
in Japan and one that most historians of the Occupation have ignored. By the
spring of 1946, MacArthur’s headquarters had only 453 women to 3,760 men, a
ratio of eight to one, and in the field, female staff were even scarcer,” and with few
exceptions, they found themselves confined to subordinate roles and forced to deal
with traditional male attitudes. Their presence in Japan, where equality of the sexes
was an alien notion, was significant, however, and their small numbers belie their
importance.
The US Army had recruited female volunteers early in the war to remedy man-
power shortages and perform essential non-combat work. In May 1942, following
the British Commonwealth example, it set up the Women’s Auxiliary Army Corps
(WAAC), which was run by the Army as a support group. WAACs did not have
the same legal protections as male personnel, received less pay and, if wounded, had
fewer benefits. This situation was remedied with the establishment in July 1943 of
the Women’s Army Corps (WAC) as a regular Army command. The US Navy and
Air Force also put women in uniform. Naval forces included the Women Accepted
for Voluntary Emergency Service (WAVES), established in July 1942, and SPARs,
female coast guard units created in November 1942, which took their name from the
Coast Guard credo, Semper Paratus (Always Ready). The Navy inaugurated women’s
Marine units in February 1943.°'
By the summer of 1945, there were 280,000 American women in uniform world-
wide, 100,000 of them WACs. At war’s end, many were demobilised, but 11 WAC
units were assigned duty overseas, two of them in Japan. The first WAC detachments
were deployed to Japan in October 1945. In September 1947, MacArthur invited
WAC Director Colonel Mary A. Hallaren to inspect these outfits. They were the
8000th WAC Battalion, which included 150 women assigned to Eighth Army in
Yokohama, and the 8225th WAC Battalion with more than 400 working at GHQ/
AFPAC in Tokyo. With the onset of the Korean War, the number of uniformed
women grew rapidly. In 1950, there were only about 600 WACs in Japan, but by
mid-1951 that figure had more than quadrupled, reaching 2,600, and the number of
detachments had grown from two to six.
These soldiers served as secretaries, drivers, wireless operators, intelligence opera-
tives, engineers, nurses, doctors, hospital administrators and logistics specialists. Al-
though most were assigned duties in the Tokyo and Yokohama areas, in 1951, a WAC
group was established in Okinawa. Female units also included Japanese Americans.
The first Nisei WAC contingent completed training at the Military Intelligence
128 Organising the Occupation

Photo 16. A WAC contingent disembarks at Yokohama, 18 October 1946. The presence of
Allied women in uniform was surprising to many Japanese (Kyodo).

Service Language School in November 1945, and in January 1946, 13 graduates

(including one Chinese American) were assigned to Japan. Others followed as the
Occupation progressed. Many of these individuals worked with local Military Gov-
ernment teams and played pivotal roles in explaining Japanese customs to the teams
and maintaining good relations with local inhabitants. Other military women in
Japan included WAVES, Marines and, following the creation of the Air Force Nurse
Corps and Medical Specialist Corps in 1949, Air Force personnel.”
The role of service women in the Occupation is uncharted territory, but the
contributions of a few exceptional individuals are well documented. An outstanding
example is Army Lieutenant Ethel B. Weed who arrived in Japan with the first WAC
units in October 1945. Appointed Women’s Information Officer in SCAP’s Civil
Information and Education Section (CI&E), Weed was the chief architect of a de
facto ‘women’s policy alliance’ inside GHQ that became intimately involved in
reform measures affecting women (chapter 7), and in September 1946, the War
Department awarded her the Army Commendation Ribbon for her efforts on
behalf of women’s rights. WAC Captain Eileen R. Donovan and Navy Lieutenant
Commander Verna A. Carley, a WAVE with a PhD in education, are other CIXE
officers who left their mark on the Occupation (chapter 4).
WACs assigned to Military Government teams also played prominent roles.
Lieutenant Carmen Johnson is a typical example. Born in Wisconsin, Johnson gradu-
 The Occupational Dynamic _ 129

ated from Northern Illinois State Teachers’ College, taught elementary school
and worked as a Girl Scout administrator. During the war, she served in the
Women’s Army Auxiliary Corps with the rank of Lieutenant, working as a radar
analyst in combat intelligence. After the war, she volunteered to become a clerk
typist with the Fifth Air Force in Nagoya, Japan. In 1947, Johnson was appointed
Women’s Affairs Officer for the Shikoku Regional Military Government Team,
becoming one of 27 women selected by Ethel Weed and her colleagues in GHQ
to serve with the civil education branch of local MG teams across Japan. Their job
was to educate Japanese women about their rights under the Constitution and
encourage them to exercise their new democratic freedoms. The women chosen to do
this vital work became role models for many Japanese, invigorating the postwar
women’s movement at the grass roots. In August 1948, women’s affairs specialists
were reintegrated into local MG teams as assistant civil education officers and
assigned to work with their Japanese counterparts in prefectural and municipal
governments.
Not all of the women who served in the Occupation wore uniforms. The Army
also hired female Department of the Army Civilians (DACs) to work at GHQ or
serve as education and welfare officers in MG teams. Rare individuals, such as Beate
Sirota (chapter 6), helped to win equal rights for women, but all of MacArthur’s staff
sections benefited from the talented female staff who held jobs ranging from secretar-
ies to research assistants, public welfare specialists and intelligence analysts. GHQ
and MG teams also employed large numbers of Japanese women as interpreters,
translators, typists, artists and assistants in women’s and youth affairs.”

African-American troops
America’s ethnic minorities volunteered for military service in disproportionately
large numbers, fighting in the Pacific alongside their white comrades-in-arms, but
only African American soldiers were rigidly segregated in all-black units. The first
black unit to ship overseas was the 24th Infantry Regiment, which was sent to the
Pacific in April 1942. Commissioned in 1866, it was one of the Army’s oldest
African-American commands, tracing its history to the Civil War. The 24th Infantry
served in the Solomons, including Guadalcanal and Bougainville; did garrison duty
on Saipan and Tinian; and in Okinawa took part in the Keramas campaign. Apart
from occasional mopping up operations, the Regiment regularly was assigned
stevedore and other service tasks, white officers considering them better suited “by
temperament to labour details than to fox holes. Bill Stevens, a black GI who fought
in the Pacific, later recalled: “Black troops were just naturally suspected of cowardice,
stealing, rape, the whole racial stereotype. White commanders had no respect for
black soldiers and it was obvious. Likewise, it followed that white soldiers had no
respect for their black brothers in arms. In our turn, we had utter contempt for them,
officers and enlisted men.’
In postwar Japan, too, black GIs served ably but remained separate and unequal.
The 24th Infantry Regiment was assigned garrison duty with the 25th Infantry
130 Organising the Occupation

Division stationed in the Kansai area. The Regiment by then was the largest African-
American unit in the US Army. The official Occupation attitude towards the 24th
and other black commands was summed up in a secret report by MacArthur’s Chief
of Staff Lieutenant General Edward M. Almond. Well-known for his racial bias,
Almond wrote in November 1947 that black troops required white officers to per-
form well but should be kept off the front lines and used for rear-area supply duties.
MacArthur’s attitudes towards black soldiers, too, were dismissive and paternalistic.
It is not surprising then that, when President Truman issued Executive Order 9981
on 26 July 1948 establishing the principle of equality in the armed forces ‘without
regard to race, color, religion or national origin’ and ordered all military units to
integrate, the Supreme Commander refused to comply. The racial integration of US
forces in Japan would have to await the arrival of General Matthew B. Ridgway, who
implemented the presidential directive in 1951 (by which time the war in Korea had
made integration a military necessity).°”
Black soldiers in Japan suffered severe morale problems. By 1946, the 24th Infan-
try Regiment had become, in the words of one African-American officer, a ‘dumping
ground’ for poorly trained, unmotivated newcomers, many without high school
diplomas, serving under hostile or indifferent white officers. Eighth Army reserved
all field positions in its black units for whites, permitting black lieutenants and
captains to hold only platoon and company commands. Manipulating reductions in
force, it gradually pared the percentage of black officers from 50 to 40 per cent.
African Americans were not promoted at the same pace as white soldiers and were
quartered as far from major urban centres as possible, where transportation was poor.
‘All aspects of Jim Crow were practiced’, reminisced Charles Bussey, a black officer.
Enlisted men’s clubs and off-duty facilities were segregated, and black soldiers were
barred from white recreation areas. In Tokyo, four swimming pools were placed at
the disposal of Occupation troops, but three of them were off-limits to black Gls.
Racial tensions ran high in Tokyo and Kobe, and inter-racial fights were a common
occurrence. General Eichelberger blamed these disturbances on African-American
soldiers who, he said, ‘liked to get out at night in the Mohammedan heaven fur-
nished by some millions of Japanese girls’, and suggested that black soldiers were
responsible for the low ebb of morale in Eighth Army ranks.®
Japanese society inherited white attitudes towards African Americans, which
conformed neatly to its own concepts of racial and ethnic hierarchy. To most
Japanese, whites, too, were an alien presence, but whiteness was ‘normative and
privileged’, being viewed through the distorting lens of victorious and ascendant
Western culture and values. Blackness represented a more radical and regressive
‘otherness’, and images of black Americans were drawn from the repository of
racial stereotypes generated by Western civilisation during its 400 years of global
expansion. African Americans in Japan, then, were defined not by their association
with Western culture but by the colour of their skin, both by the Japanese and by the
white occupier.”
Thus, black GIs experienced discrimination both on base and off. But in the
 The Occupational Dynamic . 131

off-base establishments where they felt at home, a vital creolised counter-culture

grew up. Many of Japan’s leading postwar jazz artists and popular entertainers got
their start in this marginalised demi-monde of drugs, booze and black-marketeering
where the creative juices could flow freely, undisturbed by convention and the prying
eyes of whites. Moreover, many African-American soldiers sympathised with the
sufferings of the Japanese and related better to the culture of defeat than their white
comrades.”

The British Commonwealth Occupation Force

Although overwhelmingly American, the army of occupation was a multi-national
force. The British Commonwealth Occupation Force (BCOF) arrived in Japan in
early February 1946 with 36,000 effectives, men and women, and by August, troop
strength had grown to some 39,000, eventually surpassing 40,000. Stationed in
southwestern Honshu and Shikoku, at full strength, the Force comprised nearly one
quarter of all garrison personnel. Until recently, however, this echelon’s role in the
Occupation has not been widely understood in Japan. In part, this is due to the
perception that the Allied Supreme Command was an exclusively American under-
taking. SCAP’s censorship policies, which outlawed coverage of Allied military
organisations and troop movements, also are to blame. Although the Force played a
relatively minor part, its presence enables us to frame the Occupation in a broader
historical perspective and clarify divergences in American and Commonwealth
policy towards Japan. That non-American soldiers, including Asians, were in daily
contact with Japanese at the local level during this period is worthy of particular
note.”!
In late May 1945, British Foreign Minister Anthony Eden asked Prime Minister
Churchill to approve planning for a British role in the Allied invasion and postwar
occupation of Japan. London proposed a mixed force of Australian, British, Cana-
dian and Indian troops, but MacArthur baulked at the idea of including Indian
soldiers for reasons of ‘linguistic and administrative complication’. The General
suggested instead the participation of a corps composed of Australian, British and
Canadian amphibious units. At Potsdam in July, the Combined Joint Chiefs agreed
to furnish an assault force consisting of the British Pacific Fleet, a British Common-
wealth Force of three to five divisions and British tactical air units. With Japan’s
surrender in mid-August, ‘Operation Downfall’ was cancelled and ‘Blacklist’, the
peace plan, went into effect. In October 1945, Australia, Britain and Canada
agreed to contribute a joint expeditionary force to the Occupation. Britain asked
New Zealand to furnish a brigade group as well, and in late August, Wellington
concurred.
Although only a supporting part was envisaged, Commonwealth leaders con-
sidered participation essential to retain some influence in the postwar disposition
of Japan. Britain and Australia, in particular, hoped to see their contribution
rewarded with enhanced political clout and privileged opportunities for commerce
in the postwar era (indeed, to MacArthur’s consternation, they would work tirelessly
132 Organising the Occupation

wes

Photo 17. British Commonwealth Occupation Forces march through Shimonoseki City in
Yamaguchi Prefecture, southwestern Japan, September 1946. The BCOF contributed some
40,000 troops to the Occupation, making it an Allied, rather than an exclusively American,
operation (Mainichi).

to include Japan in the sterling bloc). Australia originally demanded an independ-

ent role and separate command responsibility and negotiated directly with
MacArthur on the matter, much to the chagrin of the British high command. A
compromise solution was worked out under which Australia would lead the Com-
monwealth team, the Australian Commander-in-Chief reporting both to Canberra
and to London.”
Canada had intended to take part in the Allied invasion and in fact signed the
Instrument of Surrender but ultimately did not join the Occupation. During the
war, Canadian troops had defended Hong Kong and later fought alongside Ameri-
can, not British, forces. Casualties had been relatively light, and Ottawa harboured
no special desire for retribution. Moreover, the government already had accepted a
role in the occupation of Germany. Having promised Canadians a quick demobilisa-
tion, it looked askance at a costly military commitment in Asia that promised few
benefits (although it gladly would have seen the US monopoly on trade with Japan
broken).”? Nonetheless, Canada played an ancillary role, occupying a seat on the Far
Eastern Commission in Washington, nominating a justice and prosecutor for the
International Military Tribunal for the Far East (IMTFE) and signing the 1951 San
Francisco Peace Treaty. During the Korean War, Canadian troops would be stationed
on Japanese soil, although not as part of the Occupation.
New Zealand’s participation reflected a new assertiveness in international relations
that had earned the country the reputation of ‘a small power rampant’. Wellington
was determined to preserve its British Commonwealth defence ties, then the only
guarantee of long-term external security. The need in the immediate aftermath of
war to solidify Commonwealth trade relations vis-a-vis American economic expan-
 The Occupational Dynamic ¢ 133

sion into Asia and the Pacific was another consideration. Kiwi units did not play a
prominent role in the Pacific fighting, but HMNZS Achilles and HMNZS Gambia
performed important early post-surrender duties in and around Japan, the latter,
anchored in Tokyo Bay, representing the Royal New Zealand Navy at the surrender
ceremony. Initially, New Zealand drew its occupation forces from the seasoned New
Zealand Division, which had waged bitter campaigns in the Middle East and Italy.
Between 1946 and 1948, Wellington contributed an Army brigade, dubbed the
J Force, or Jayforce (New Zealand Expeditionary Force — Japan), together with
elements of the Royal New Zealand Air Force, for a total cumulative military
commitment of 12,000 men and women. Included in the Jayforce was a Maori
contingent of some 270 soldiers organised in sub-units based on traditional tribal
divisions. Prior to the Korean War, Occupation duty was New Zealand’s primary
foreign relations commitment.”
India, which had fought the Japanese in India, Burma, Malaya, Hong Kong and
elsewhere in Southeast Asia, actively lobbied for an occupation role, both to bolster
its prestige internationally and to ensure new trade opportunities. Later, New Delhi
demanded, and received, a seat on the Far Eastern Commission as well as representa-
tion on the IMTFE. The days of the British Raj were numbered, and India’s military
leaders welcomed a chance to display their abilities, enhance political clout at
home and prepare for an independent Indian Army. Moreover, India’s foreign
policy was based on a combination of Gandhian non-violence and the neutralist pan-
Asian idealism of Jawaharlal Nehru. In contrast to Australian and New Zealand
statesmen, who took a hard line on Japan, Indian leaders urged a policy of leniency
and reconciliation. Participation in the Occupation eventually prompted India,
which embraced a broader Asian viewpoint, to take a critical view of SCAP, especially
after 1948 and the Occupation’s rightward reorientation. Disagreement with
Washington’s Far East policy ultimately led New Delhi to refuse to sign the 1951
Peace Treaty with Japan.” (India signed a separate treaty in 1952.)
The first Commonwealth Force Commander was Lieutenant General (afterwards
Sir) John Northcott, the former Australian Army Chief of Staff. He was replaced in
mid-June 1946 by Lieutenant General (later Sir) Horace Robertson, who served
until November 1951, when Lieutenant General W. Bridgeford assumed leadership.
The Commonwealth Commander was under the operational control of Eighth
Army and responsible to GHQ, but he also reported to the Commonwealth Joint
Chiefs of Staff at Victoria Barracks, Melbourne on policy and administrative ques-
tions. Liaison with MacArthur’s headquarters was provided by the British Com-
monwealth Sub-Area in Tokyo. The Force was assigned to the southwestern
Chugoku region, relieving Eighth Army I Corps troops in Shimane, Yamaguchi,
Tottori, Okayama and the island of Shikoku for duty in Kyushu and elsewhere.”
On 1 February 1946, the first BCOF contingent arrived in Kure from Hong Kong
aboard the Australian cruiser HMAS Hobart. By June, a total of 39,000 BCOF
troops had been deployed in southwestern Honshu, with large detachments in Kure
and Fukuyama cities. At the height of the Occupation, the BCOF boasted more than
134 Organising the Occupation

Photo 18. The BCOF high command and other dignitaries attend a ceremonial marching of
the colours. At the far right is Sir Alvery Gascoigne, head of the British Liaison Mission in
Tokyo. In the middle sits BCOF Commander Lieutenant General Horace Robertson. From
the left are General MacArthur's son Arthur, wife Jean and General Robert L. Eichelberger,
Eighth Army Commander. Tokyo, 6 August 1947 (Kyodo).

40,000 men and women in uniform and employed half as many Japanese workers.
Despite its usefulness, MacArthur held the BCOF to a very subaltern position in the
Occupation. Consequently, the Force exercised military control over the areas under
its jurisdiction but was barred from participating directly in any phase of military
government. W. MacMahon Ball later recounted the frustration and bitterness felt by
many BCOF staff officers. General Robertson, known as ‘Red Robbie’ for his flam-
ing red hair and moustache, ‘had thought of himself as being able to play an influen-
tial part in Japan but . . . he had a very junior status and he did not have power. He
discovered that he had nothing to do.’ The original idea, Ball said, was that the
Occupation should bring improvements in democratic rights and modern education,
but ‘educational reform was left entirely to the Americans! Poor old Red Robbie. It
was off limits to go into a school. He couldn’t go into a school in his area. He had no
authority at all.’””
The Force’s paramount mission was to guard Allied installations and Japanese
military facilities awaiting destruction and to control and dispose of Japanese
armaments. Among its achievements was the destruction of weapons and ordinance,
particularly Japan’s main chemical warfare arsenal on Okunojima Island, where
BCOF troops laboured six months to neutralise 18,000 tons of poison gases and
vesicants. The Force also arranged the return from China, Formosa, Korea and the
 The Occupational Dynamic 135

Ryukyus of some 750,000 Imperial ‘surrendered personnel’ and ran the largest
repatriation centres in the country.’* It organised land, air and sea patrols to intercept
black-marketeers and illegal immigrants from Korea. It also was responsible for guard-
ing Allied diplomatic missions assigned to SCAP headquarters. In December 1946,
facing military manpower shortages within the British Empire, notably in Malaya
where a Communist insurgency was in progress, London pulled about one third of
the British Contingent — some 3,000 soldiers — out of Japan. By February 1947, all
remaining British troops had departed, leaving Indian, New Zealand and Australian
forces to carry on. In October of that year, the Indian Contingent also withdrew,
followed in late 1948 by the Jayforce. The Australians alone remained until the end of
the Occupation, their zone of responsibility limited to Hiroshima Prefecture.
BCOF Headquarters originally was established at Etajima in the Inland Sea, site
of the former Japanese Imperial Naval Academy, but was later moved to the port
city of Kure in Hiroshima Prefecture. With a supply line that stretched some
9,700 kilometres from Australia to Japan, the Force became a completely autono-
mous, self-sustaining Commonwealth community that in its heyday included some
700 Australian, British and Indian families for whom housing, shops, schools and
hospitals were constructed.”

A multi-cultural legacy
Indian soldiers with BRINDJAP (British and Indian Troops — Japan) initially were
led by British officers, and companies were divided into all-Hindu and all-Muslim
units. The Indian Contingent was first assigned to Tottori and Shimane Prefectures
but later took over many of the responsibilities of the departing British. Its main
duties consisted of insuring internal security, combating black-marketeering and
smuggling and preventing the illegal entry of Koreans. Gurkhas from Nepal also
mounted guard at the Imperial Palace and Allied missions in Tokyo, advertising the
Forces’ multi-ethnic comiposition. Following Indian independence in August 1947,
the Contingent, which now accounted for nearly one third of Commonwealth
forces, nationalised its officer corps. The Indian government withdrew its troops
from Japan in October of that year, following the eruption of communal violence
between Muslims and Hindus at home.
Indians in Japan shared many of the problems of black Gls. Australian troops, in
particular, were notorious for their bigoted behaviour. An anti-Asian “White Aus-
tralia’ policy was still in effect in their country, and in 1948, the Immigration
Minister saw fit to warn Parliament that ‘it would be the grossest act of public
indecency to permit a Japanese of either sex to pollute Australian shores’. Such
supremacist attitudes coloured not only Australian relationships with the ‘conquered
enemy’ in Japan but also Australian views of the Indian troops they served with and
whom they tended to regard as just another ‘aboriginal underclass’. In August 1947,
tensions erupted in a full-fledged race riot that climaxed in an armed clash between
Indian and Australian sappers lasting several hours.*”
Indians were sympathetic to the Japanese, who in turn found these Asian soldiers
136 Organising the Occupation

more congenial than their Caucasian comrades. There was occasional discrimina-
tion, but many Japanese retained a residue of wartime pan-Asianism, and an affinity
developed between the two groups. Gurkhas, in particular, proved popular with
Japanese women, leading Australian MPs to enforce the fraternisation ban in Gurkha
areas with a heavy-handed zeal. Many Indian Occupationaires returned to an
independent homeland with a keen appreciation for the order and discipline of
Japanese society and its commitment to education, science and technology.*'
With the departure of the New Zealand Jayforce in September 1948, there
remained only a relatively small number of Australian soldiers at Hiroshima engaged
primarily in liaison work. The bulk of the Australian force left Japan in December
1951. By staying until the end, Australia secured recognition as a Pacific power, but
for the other Commonwealth participants, occupation duty conferred few long-term
rewards. London pulled its troops out too quickly to ensure any lasting benefits,
commercial or political, Withdrawal was, in the words of a historian, ‘merely the first
of a long series of postwar British military retreats’. Britain’s exit unintentionally
strengthened Australia’s ties to the United States and frustrated New Zealand’s desire
to secure a place under the British defence umbrella. By the end of the Occupation,
Wellington, too, had recognised the United States, not Britain, as holding the key to
the country’s security concerns.”
British scholars generally have tended to regard the BCOF as a fruitless and
extravagant exercise. The conclusion of a security agreement between Australia, New
Zealand and the United States (ANZUS) in September 1951 — both a sign and
consequence of waning British influence in Asia — sounded the knell for the Force,
The BCOP’s presence, however, left a multi-cultural legacy that has yet to be fully
appreciated. The racial antagonism felt by some white soldiers towards Indian troops,
and the refusal of Indians as independence approached to tolerate second-class
treatment, dramatised to Japanese who came into contact with Commonwealth
troops the evils of Western colonialism. At the same time, the unusual mixture of
ethnic and national groups, with their ‘kilts, hackles, kukris, mascot goats’ and
sharing a common goal, was instructive and ironical. It was, as a British Japan expert
with the Force remarked, ‘English, Scots, Welsh, Australians, New Zealander
“pakehas” and Maoris, Mahrattas, Gurkhas, Sikhs, Punjabi Mussulmans, Rajputs,
Hazarawals, Jats, Madrassis and Bengalis serving together under the same flag in the
last gasp of an Empire which would never be seen again’.””
With the Korean War in 1950, the BCOK, by then a skeleton presence, was
infused with new life. A Commonwealth Division (Australia, Britain, Canada and
New Zealand) was created in Korea based on the BCOF model, and it used BCOF
facilities in Japan for training, reinforcement and supply. The Canadian component,
for instance, consisted of some 1,000 soldiers — mainly reinforcements and wounded
combatants. Since they were not part of the Occupation, and because Japan was not
a belligerent, armed Canadians on Japanese soil posed a delicate legal and diplomatic
problem. The British Commonwealth Occupation Force was formally disbanded
on 28 April 1952 when the San Francisco Peace Treaty came into effect but was
 The Occupational Dynamic 137

immediately reborn as the British Commonwealth Forces, Korea, which included the
Canadian Contingent. The new Commonwealth Forces negotiated the continued
use of base installations in Japan along the same lines as the United States. Later, the
BCOF example would briefly serve the interests of empire once more, albeit on a
more modest scale, in Borneo and Malaya.”

MACARTHUR’S STAFF

Following the establishment of a separate SCAP headquarters on 2 October, 1945,

MacArthur found himself with dual responsibilities. As head of GHQ/SCAP, he
oversaw the non-military aspects of occupation in Japan proper, but as Commander-
in-Chief, GHQ/AFPAC (later, FECOM), he was responsible for occupation forces
in Okinawa and southern Korea and for US Army Forces in the Philippines and the
Western and Mid-Pacific. Although both general headquarters were served by a
single Chief of Staff and Military General Staff (G-1 through G-4), all located in the
Dai-Ichi Insurance Building, SCAP and AFPAC relied on separate civil staff sections
housed in various locations in central Tokyo. Staff responsibilities often overlapped,
and, in some cases, officers headed sections in both organisations.®° This system of
dual commands and interlocking staff directorates had been a characteristic of
MacArthur’s headquarters since SWPA days, a defining trait of the Occupation that
is not widely appreciated.
MacArthur was assisted by a small personal staff originally consisting of a
secretary, assistant secretary and aides-de-camp. The post of military secretary was
held by Brigadier General Bonner F. Fellers. Fellers had done a tour of duty in Japan
in the late 1920s and served as MacArthur’s military aide in prewar Manila. He
subsequently worked as military attaché in Egypt and, early in the war, took part
in War Department intelligence planning before rejoining MacArthur in Brisbane in
1943. In 1944, Fellers was assigned to head SWPA’s Psychological Warfare Branch.
At the start of the Occupation, he became a close acquaintance of former diplomat
Terasaki (“Terry’) Hidenari, to whom his distant cousin, Gwendolyn, was married.
Diplomat and master spy, Terasaki was a Brown University graduate who had worked
as second secretary at the Japanese Embassy in Washington just before Pearl Harbor.
Together with Gwendolyn and their daughter Mariko, he was repatriated to Japan in
1942. After the war, Terasaki was assigned to the Central Liaison Office and then
appointed to serve as liaison between the Throne and GHQ. This connection made
Fellers indispensable to MacArthur (chapter 6).
Major Faubion Bowers was MacArthur’s assistant military secretary. An ardent
Kabuki fan from a prewar stay in Japan, he spoke Japanese fluently, and Allied
Translation and Interpreters Service Chief Sidney Mashbir considered him one of
ATIS’s top linguists. The gifted Bowers subsequently served as cultural mentor to
many of GHQ?’s staff and helped rescue Kabuki from Occupation censors intent on
banning the traditional drama as feudalistic. He resigned his job in late 1946 and
138 Organising the Occupation

General Douglas MacArthur

Aides de AFPAC Aides de

FEcom | SCAP Camp
Military Military
Secretary Secretary

General
Chief of Staff Procurement
Agent

AFPAC Functions SCAP Functions

Deputy Chief Military General Staff Deputy Chief

of Staff, AFPAC (G1, G2, G3,G4) of Staff, SCAP
Special staff sections : "
Special staff sections
Adjutant General
Judge Advocate Legal Section
Inspector General Public Health & Welfare Section
Medical Section Government Section
Dual Commands)
Counter-intelligence Section PS al em Civil Intelligence Section
Office of Headquarters Commandant National Resources Section
Anti-Aircraft Section Economic & Scientific Section
Information & Education Section === Civil Information & Education Section
Chemical Warfare Section Statistics & Reports Section
Signal Section Civil Communications Section
Provost Marshal's Section
Women's Army Corps
Fiscal Section
Quartermaster Section
Public Relations Section

Figure 8. The dual structure of the occupation (January 1946).

joined the Civil Censorship Detachment in hopes of rescuing this ancient art
form. MacArthur's Press Relations Officer for much of the war was General
Legrande A. Diller, whom US correspondents dubbed ‘Killer’ Diller for his zeal in
censoring articles to burnish the Commander-in-Chief’s image. In late 1945, Diller
was replaced by Brigadier General Frayne Baker*®
The position of military secretary was abolished in November 1946 when Fellers
left General Headquarters following a contretemps with MacArthur and returned to
the United States to work as adviser to the Republican National Committee. Feller’s
departure bolstered the authority of the aides-de-camp. Among the latter were
Colonel Herbert B. Wheeler and Colonel Sidney L. Huff (Huff had served with
MacArthur in prewar Manila), but the General came to rely most heavily on Colonel
Lawrence E. Bunker, a Harvard Law School graduate who had worked for J. P.
Morgan before joining SCAP in 1946.”
 The Occupational Dynamic : 139

Like Fellers, Bunker held ultra-rightist political views and later was active in the
John Birch Society. A handsome, socially accomplished bachelor, he maintained
friendly relations with several highly placed Japanese officials, including the
aristocratic Anglophile Shirasu Jiré, CLO member and personal aide to Yoshida
Shigeru. Shirasu had studied at Cambridge in the 1920s where he met and
became friends with Yoshida, then a young diplomat in London. Bunker also
developed a close friendship with Yoshida’s daughter, Aso Kazuko, who served as
her father’s social secretary. Through Shirasu and Kazuko, Yoshida could approach
MacArthur directly via Bunker, bypassing Government Section, whose liberal
idealists disliked the conservative politician. This cosy arrangement infuriated
Government Section Chief Courtney Whitney whose intense rivalry with Bunker
came to a head in 1947 when the aide-de-camp issued a memorandum advising
that all appointments with the Supreme Commander thenceforth would pass
through his office. The memo infuriated Whitney, who in a fit of pique threat-
ened to resign on the spot. MacArthur remonstrated with him, dramatically set
fire to the memo in Whitney’s presence and told him he could enter by the side
door any time he pleased.**

Office of the ‘Blue-Eyed Tycoon’

To the Japanese, MacArthur was omnipotent, and the public was stunned when
President Truman relieved him of all commands for insubordination on 11 April
1951, at the height of the Korean War. His fall, however, gave Japan a valuable
object lesson in the primacy of civilian control over the military in a democracy.
Under MacArthur’s successor, General Matthew Ridgway, the office of the Supreme
Commander lost much of its lustre but became more businesslike and down-to-
earth. Ridgway had commanded airborne units in Africa, Sicily and the Ardennes
during World War II and held various administrative and command positions
in Europe and the United States between 1945 and 1950. From December
1950 to April 1951, he led Eighth Army in Korea. An effective officer with out-
standing administrative skills, the low-key Ridgway was a sharp contrast to his high-
profile, grandiloquent predecessor, and he soon asserted full authority over the
Occupation.

The Military General Staff

GHQ/AFPAC and GHQ/SCAP, although organisationally distinct, were physically
combined in the same headquarters building. MacArthur’s chiefs of staff were Lieu-
tenant General Richard K. Sutherland (August to December 1945), Major General
Richard J. Marshall (December 1945 to May 1946), Major General Paul J. Muller
(May 1946 to February 1949) and Lieutenant General Edward M. Almond (Febru-
ary 1949 to April 1951). The Chief of Staff had jurisdiction over both headquarters
but worked through two deputy chiefs, one for GHQ/AFPAC and one for GHQ/
SCAP. Both commands shared the same Military General Staff: G-1 (planning,
personnel and general affairs), G-2 (intelligence, security and censorship), G-3
140 Organising the Occupation

(military operations, law enforcement and repatriation) and G-4 (budget, supply,
civil aviation, oil procurement and rationing, and disarmament). The basic tasks of
these sections were military, but within each a special sub-unit was established to deal
with SCAP-related matters.”
G-1 advised the Supreme Commander on personnel policies and the administra-
tive functions of occupation (e.g. modern management practices, manpower and
organisation). Unlike most overseas military commands, however, it also regulated
the entry into and exit from Japan of individuals not connected with the Occupa-
tion, including Japanese nationals. One of SCAP’s earliest moves was to prohibit
unauthorised travel into and out of Japan. In 1948, GHQ allowed selected Japanese
to go abroad on passports issued by the Supreme Commander for purposes related to
the ‘reorientation or rehabilitation of Japan’. On 29 October of that year, the Soviet
Union vetoed a Far Eastern Commission decision to permit expanded cultural
exchanges, but with Washington’s concurrence, GHQ continued to approve trips
abroad by Japanese for authorised reasons. G-1 imposed especially harsh controls
on movements between Japan and Korea. The travel ban worked a particular
hardship on war-dispersed Korean families trying to reunite, and during the Occupa-
tion, tens of thousands of illegal entrants were rounded up and deported to southern
Korea. Working through Eighth Army, G-1 functioned as a de facto immigration
service until SCAP began turning this responsibility over to the Japanese in late
1949.
G-2, SCAP’s intelligence arm, is examined in detail in chapter 4. G-3 advised the
Supreme Commander on military operations, enforcement of the surrender terms
and directives to the Japanese government. It also administered the Joint Strategic
Plans and Operations Group and the Combined War Plans Committee, inter-service
organisations established by the Army, Navy and Air Force to ensure cooperation in
the event of a military emergency. Thus, the Section was responsible for contingency
plans to forcibly suppress the general strike of 1 February 1947 and also drafted
martial law and special alert plans. Another G-3 function was repatriation, which
was handled by its Repatriation Branch.
G-4’s responsibilities included logistics, supply, international civil aviation costs,
oil imports and the disposition of surrendered Japanese war equipment and installa-
tions. These duties brought it into frequent contact with the Central Liaison Office
and the Prime Minister’s Office. In 1947, G-4 was assigned to oversee the return of
foreign investors to Japan. In 1949, its Budget Division was taken over by the newly
created Office of the Comptroller General and placed under the Deputy Chief of
Staff. In October 1945, a civilian body, the Petroleum Advisory Group (PAG), was
attached to the Section’s Petroleum Division. PAG largely determined the orienta-
tion of Japan’s postwar energy policy. Composed of oil executives from Standard
Vacuum, Caltex, Shell and Tidewater Associated on loan to the Army, the Group
shut down all of Japan’s Pacific Coast refineries and banned private-sector oil
imports, eliminating its Japanese competitors with a single blow. The British were
permitted to join PAG, one of the rare exceptions to the unspoken rule that reserved
 The Occupational Dynamic 141

GHQ staff positions for Americans. After 1949, representatives of the major
oil companies left SCAP to set up commercial branch offices in Tokyo. By the
early 1960s, petroleum had replaced coal as Japan’s primary fuel source, and the
international producers had a firm grip on Japan’s oil market.”

An overview ofthe civil staff sections

In October 1945, SCAP, in addition to its Military General Staff components,
consisted basically of the Office of the General Procurement Agent, which served as
the Chief of Staffs secretariat, and nine civil staff sections. These were Diplomatic
Section (Office of the Political Adviser), Government Section, Civil Intelligence
Section, Legal Section, Economic and Scientific Section, Civil Information and
Education Section, Natural Resources Section, Public Health and Welfare Section,
Civil Communications Section, and Statistics and Reports Section. In a departure
from standard US military practice, most SCAP special sections were grouped below
the General Military Staff and made directly responsible to the Supreme Com-
mander through the SCAP Deputy Chief of Staff. The secretariat and civil staff
groups were created, disbanded or transferred between SCAP’s general and special
staff sections as the need arose.”
GHQ was a relatively small organisation at first, but its members expanded rapidly
after 1946, and by 1948, at the height of the Occupation, it had swelled to about
6,000 personnel, of whom 3,850 or 64 per cent, were civilians. In several staff
sections, civilians outnumbered military people several times over. According to State
Department figures, in 1948, there were a total of 4,739 employees in the 12 civil
staff sections alone. Of these, 216 were commissioned officers (4.6 per cent), 312
enlisted personnel (6.6 per cent), 2,224 civilians (46.9 per cent) and 1,987 Japanese
and a few ethnic Koreans and other nationalities (41.9 per cent). Thus, American
civilians and Japanese personnel together accounted for nearly 90 per cent of GHQ’s
manpower.
The large number of Japanese employees is significant, and in some staff echelons,
such as Legal Section and Civil Information and Education Section (CI&E), they
outnumbered Americans. Most of these individuals, although occupying subordinate
positions, were not only highly qualified for the tasks they performed but firmly
committed to the ideals of reform. Serving as the eyes and ears of the staff sections,
Japanese brought various issues to the attention of American officials and kept
them advised of Japanese views and reactions to SCAP policies. They were consulted
daily on matters large and small. In 1949, for instance, CI8&¢E Elementary School
Officer Pauline Jeidy asked her Japanese subordinates about an attempt by a con-
servative pressure group to introduce traditional calligraphy into the elementary
school curricula. The group claimed that calligraphy improved artistic ability,
penmanship and moral character and was as indispensable for Oriental children as
knives and forks for Westerners. Japanese staff members told her flatly that such
assertions were nonsense. Jeidy consequently opposed the measure, demanding that
the lobbyists substantiate their arguments.”
142 Organising the Occupation

The Occupation was notorious for the bewildering variety of acronyms it gener-
ated. GHQ staff sections were generally represented by two or three letters, but
SCAP and POLAD were cumbersome, adding to the generally confused picture that
most Japanese had of the Occupation. Referred to by the Japanese as ‘MacArthur's
headquarters’ or simply ‘headquarters’, GHQ became a synonym for the most power-
ful organisation in the country. Diet members, bureaucrats, judges, politicians, busi-
nessmen and even trade unionists frequently justified their actions by invoking the
name of GHQ, whether they had its backing or not. Sometimes, mere allusion to
‘certain quarters’ was sufficient to convince an opponent of the wisdom of a course of
action. In a lighter vein, Yoshida Shigeru used to quip that GHQ stood for ‘Go
Home Quickly’.
By the end of its tutelage, MacArthur’s super-government had ended deep
involvement in most aspects of civil administration. There were important excep-
tions, however. One was the economy, where Washington took a direct hand,
micro-managing the 1949 Dodge stabilisation programme well into 1950. Another
was civil and political liberties: during the Red Purge of 1949-50, GHQ suppressed
left-of-centre publications and hounded progressives and labour activists from their
jobs. And, with the start of the Korean War, GHQ would oversee the formation of a
de facto Japanese army, the National Police Reserve.

Special missions
A host of special missions and advisory committees were organised during the Occu-
pation to advise General Headquarters on policy matters, some of them powerful
enough to override the discretionary authority of individual staff sections. Occasion-
ally, their members were attached to SCAP to work on specific reforms. The earliest
ad hoc group was the Pauley Mission discussed above, which arrived in Japan in
November 1945 to study the war reparations issue. In January 1946, a team headed
by Northeastern University economist Corwin D. Edwards visited to consider ways
of dismantling the giant zaibatsu combines. Overlapping with the Pauley group, the
Edwards Mission suggested a two-phase American-style programme of economic
deconcentration that became the basis of GHQ’s zaibatsu dissolution programme.
Not all deputations were American. An important Allied fact-finding group was the
Australian Scientific Mission headed by Brigadier General John O’Brien, which
visited in January 1946 sponsored by the Australian government. The Australians
were intent on discovering industrial techniques and innovations of use to the
home economy and earmarking plant and equipment for future reparations. The
O’Brien group subsequently would be absorbed into the Economic and Scientific
Section’s Scientific and Technical Division, another exception to the unwritten rule
of American exclusivity (chapter 4). The United Nations also despatched delega-
tions, such as the UN Relief and Rehabilitation Agency Mission led by former US
president Herbert Hoover in the summer of 1946. Hoover recommended a school-
lunch programme to improve the health of children, a suggestion that was acted on
in December of that year.
 The Occupational Dynamic 143

In March 1946, two new US groups arrived in Tokyo. The first was the Advisory
Committee on Labour in Japan, composed of unionists, labour economists and
US Labour Department officials and sponsored by Economic and Scientific
Section’s Labour Division. Its final report was approved as official Occupation
policy in August 1947, and some members were attached to Labour Division to help
draft the enabling legislation. The second was the US Education Mission led by
George D. Stoddard, which made proposals — many of them based on Japanese
recommendations — to reform education. In the spring and summer of 1946, at
Government Section’s behest, the Metropolitan Police Mission and the Rural Policy
Planning Commission came to Tokyo and urged a sweeping overhaul of the police
system. Finally, in late 1946, the US Civil Service Mission under Blaine Hoover
advocated bureaucratic reform and the creation of a powerful central personnel
agency.
In February 1947, under the auspices of Public Health and Welfare Section, the
Departments of State, War and Agriculture despatched the US Food Mission to
study Japan’s food and fertiliser situation. In August of that year, PH&W also
hosted the US Social Security Mission under William H. Wandell, which pro-
posed a sweeping social security reform. In July and August 1947 and again in
September 1948, the National Academy of Sciences sent two US Science Advisory
Groups to Japan at the invitation of the Economic and Scientific Section. Roger
Adams, a chemist and Dean of Science at the University of Illinois, led the first
mission whose final report made recommendations for rebuilding postwar Japanese
science and technology, including reforms in higher education. In December
1947, the US Library Mission assisted the government in establishing a national
book repository similar to the Library of Congress, a goal that was achieved with
the passage of the National Diet Library Law on 9 February 1948. A US Cultural
Science Mission visited Japan in September of that year to assess social science
education.
Many of the later missions reflected a generally rightward drift in US policy
towards Japan. A group led by Clifford S. Strike, a US engineer and industrial expert,
spent January and February of 1947 in Japan with his firm, Overseas Consultants,
Inc., re-examining the reparations program. Refuting Pauley’s conclusions, the Strike
Mission argued in its final report of early 1948 that reparations should be slashed
drastically in order to restore domestic production and encourage economic self-
sufficiency. In 1948, a group under Ralph Young of the Federal Reserve Board
advocated establishing a single yen—dollar exchange rate and proposed a stabilisa-
tion plan to attack inflation and make the economy self-supporting. In January
1949, Joseph M. Dodge, a Detroit banker, arrived in Tokyo to implement the
deflation. That summer, yet another mission under Columbia University tax
specialist Carl S. Shoup recommended fiscal reforms to supplement the Dodge
retrenchment programme. In the autumn of 1948, the Rockefeller Mission studied
Japan’s population problem and its implications for economic stability. The
reports submitted by these embassies — drawn up in close collaboration with Japanese
144 Organising the Occupation

administrators, educators and specialists — contain a wealth of empirical data on

almost every facet of Japanese society,
Missionaries were permitted to enter Japan from the start of the Occupation, but
trade delegations generally were not admitted until the summer of 1947. From the
beginning, however, an endless stream of educators, publishers, publicists, religious
leaders, philanthropists and celebrities, some representing special constituencies,
others on a lark, managed to arrange private tours of occupied Japan. Asked for
a personal interview by actor Danny Kaye and New York Dodgers’ manager Leo
Durocher, MacArthur groused to his military aide, ‘Now that the war's over, every
Tom, Dick and his cat’s coming over.’ These ‘visiting firemen’ and self-styled Asia
experts, as Whitney characterised them, were personally escorted by Occupation
officials and accorded VIP treatment but generally shown, sometimes at considerable
expense to the US taxpayer, no more than GHQ wished them to see.”4
A few critically minded non-governmental groups also sent fact-finding missions
to Tokyo to evaluate the success of specific reforms. Two of these merit passing
mention, Shortly after the abortive general strike of early 1947, the left-leaning
World Federation of Trade Unions sent an African American organiser to visit the
recently formed National Labour Union Liaison Council (Zenroren) and report on
Japanese labour (chapter 6). In the spring of 1947, at MacArthur’s invitation, Roger
N. Baldwin, director of the American Civil Liberties Union, organised an extensive
10-week tour of Japan. He was accompanied by Thurgood Marshall of the National
Association for the Advancement of Coloured People (and future Supreme Court
Justice), Also representing the Japanese American Citizens’ League, Baldwin and
Marshall travelled at their own expense, eschewed Army chaperonage and studiously
avoided pre-arranged interviews with pro-American Japanese political figures and
opinion leaders, Although the civil libertarians criticised SCAP’s censorship pro-
gramme, their initial impression of the Occupation record generally was favourable
(they would later change their views as America’s Japan policy turned rightward).”
During the first three years of occupation, the flow of people was in one direction,
for Japanese were not permitted to leave the country, but from late 1948, GHQ
lifted the travel ban to initiate a series of high-level cultural exchanges. One of the
most important of these was the Exchange of National Leaders Programme, financed
with Government and Relief in Occupied Areas (GARIOA) funds and sponsored
by the Institute of International Education, which GHQ’s Civil Information and
Education Section had helped establish in July 1948, In October 1948, the US
National Security Council recommended bilateral visits of scholars, scientists and
political leaders, and in November, the Department of the Army approved SCAP’s
‘Exchange of Persons Programme for Japan’. The project, which got underway in
1949, allowed influential Japanese in a variety of fields to visit the United States on
specially designed study tours lasting two to six months, Closely tied to America’s
Cold War policy objectives in Japan, the missions were carefully prepared by the
sponsoring staff sections in GHQ and concerned government agencies in Washing-
ton. Hundreds of prominent Japanese, including political leaders, were escorted
 The Occupational Dynamic 145

personally by GHQ staff officials familiar with their areas of expertise and interests.
One of the most ambitious endeavours was the Supreme Court Mission of 1951, led
by Chief Justice Tanaka K6tar6. Designed to groom pro-American leaders for the
post-Occupation period, the project was part of a broader programme of ideological
reorientation (chapter 8).”°
 CHAPTER 4

Inside the Special Staff Sections

SCAP’s special staff sections mirrored the organisation of government ministries and,
in many cases, reproduced even the administrative subdivisions of their counterpart
agencies. The groups were headed initially by military men with little knowledge of
civil administration and staffed by younger officers fresh out of the Army’s Civil
Affairs Training Schools. To meet the shortage of specialists, the War Department’s
Civil Affairs Division recruited qualified civilians, who began arriving in early 1946.
Ranking staff officers used their personal contacts in the United States to attract
experienced administrators, and at least one section chief advertised in American
professional journals at his own expense.’ United Nations and US government agen-
cies, American universities, state school commissions, broadcasting corporations,
trade unions, church groups, private firms and foundations, the American Red
Cross, international aid organisations and even the Australian Army loaned staff to
GHQ. By the summer of 1946, the personnel rosters of most staff groups boasted a
full complement of civilian expert advisers, and by late 1947, Department of the
Army civilians outnumbered their military counterparts. Moreover, throughout their
stewardship, several sections invited consultants to assess the effectiveness of their
programmes, providing valuable feedback.
Intense rivalries inevitably developed among GHQ’s highly structured, self
contained staff groups and sub-groups, each intent on defending its authority and
perceived interests. Sections contended fiercely for access to the Supreme Com-
mander, sometimes impeding the work of reform. In October 1945, the Office of
the Political Adviser, the State Department’s advisory group to SCAP, convened an
inter-sectional conference to clarify the respective duties of the major sections, but
the staff echelons remained fiercely protective of their prerogatives. Tensions
existed between the uniformed professional soldiers who ran the Military General
Staff sections (G-1 through G-4) and the specialists in mufti who came to domin-
ate SCAP’s civil bureaucracy, and early in the Occupation, the former attempted
unsuccessfully to arrogate the functions of the special staff sections. Brigadier
General Charles A. Willoughby’s G-2, in particular, was intensely jealous of Gov-
ernment Section’s broad powers and in late 1945 manoeuvred to take over the
purge and other GS duties ‘lock, stock and barrel’. MacArthur sided with GS
Chief Courtney Whitney, thwarting the G-2 power play,’ and the conflict of |
jurisdictions was resolved in April 1946 with the creation of a separate Deputy
Chief of Staff for SCAP. The new chain of command allowed the civil staff
groups to report directly to the Deputy Chief and through him to the Chief of Staff
and MacArthur, bypassing the Military General Staff altogether. Nonetheless, G-2
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 147

See ah erage SUPREME COMMANDER [----------------------=-----

Cea eee MILITARY | AIDES DE ALLIED COUNCIL
Cea FOReee
THE FAR EAST | CAMP FOR JAPAN
CHIEF OF STAFF

PUBLIC GENERAL STAFF DIPLOMATIC] |INTERNATIONAL

SECRETARIAT] |incoRMATION recsow (POLAD) || PROSECUTION LEGAL
tee DEPUTY
CHIEF OF STAFF
EXECUTIVE FOR EXECUTIVE FOR
ADMINISTRATIVE ECONOMIC &
AFFAIRS INDUSTRIAL AFFAIRS
STAFF |SECTIONS
CIVIL CIVIL CIVIL
ts
PROPERTY {||PUBLIC
CusTODIAN
HEALTH
ANO WELFARE INFORMATION
|llano
CIVIL
EDucarion | INTELLIGENCE
GOVERNMENT ECONOMIC
AND SCIENTIFIC
NATURAL
|]|RESOURCES ||! popTaTION

STATISTICS ADJUTANT GENERAL GENERAL CIVIL

AND GENERAL _||PROCUREMENT AccouNTING|| COMMUNI |] REPARATIONS
REPORTS AGENT CATIONS
OCCUPATION |FORCES

HEADQUARTERS. HEADQUARTERS
FAR EAST US NAVAL FORCES
AIR FORCES FAR EAST

FIFTH NAVAL
AIR FORCE ACTIVITES
Hi JAPAN
BRITISH COMMONWEALTH BRITISH COMMONWEALTH
OCCUPATION FORCES OCCUPATION FORCES
ARMY COMPONENT AIR COMPONENT

Figure 9. GHQ, SCAP, 31 December 1947.

(Source: Reports of General MacArthur, 1966, p. 77)

Figure 9A. General MacArthur and an aide leave GHQ as a crowd of Japanese and American
Gls look on in awe, December 7, 1945 (Mainichi).
148 Organising the Occupation

and GS would collide repeatedly over the purge, police reform, censorship and other
issues.
Government Section subsequently came to wield enormous influence, in large
part because its approval was required of all legislative proposals. Thus, Economic
and Scientific Section (ESS), Civil Information and Education Section (CI8&E) and
other staff groups were compelled to negotiate each reform package with GS before
approaching the central government. In mid-stream, GS usurped the labour purge
being planned by ESS. GS and ESS also squared off over the issue of national
subsidies to municipalities (GS won). In one instance, a CI&E branch head blatantly
violated ESS labour policy by secretly collaborating with police in suppressing a
major strike at the Yomiuri Shinbun. CI&E duplicated and then absorbed some ESS
labour education functions. MacArthur generally gazed on these internecine alterca-
tions with Olympian detachment, leaving the sections to their own devices. Several
staff groups even felt compelled to attach liaison officers to rival sections, but internal
consensus sometimes was as difficult to achieve as agreement between American and
Japanese officials.
Japanese were sensitive to these differences and proved adept at exploiting them.
Yoshida Shigeru skilfully played G-2 off against GS, earning the enmity of GS
Chief Whitney and his deputy Charles L. Kades. The Tokyo Metropolitan Police
attempted to override an ESS policy decision outlawing police intervention in labour
disputes by appealing directly to G-2. In the final stage of land-reform deliberations,
the Agriculture Ministry refused to yield to Government Section on a question of
principle and was backed up by the Natural Resources Section (NRS), whose chief
found himself immediately embroiled in a major turf battle with Whitney.’
As the Occupation pressed forward, the fortunes of the various staff sections
waxed and waned as the focus of GHQ’s mission changed. At the outset, the Office
of the Political Adviser (POLAD) seemed destined for a prominent role, but
MacArthur kept the State Department team at arm’s length. Once basic legal and
institutional reforms got under way in early 1946, POLAD was quickly eclipsed by
Government Section, which enjoyed MacArthur’s full confidence throughout the
Occupation. With basic reform projections more or less realised by 1947, the intelli-
gence establishment became ascendant, playing a key, albeit often covert, role in the
policy reorientation that began in late 1947 and which became known after 1950 as
the ‘reverse course’. Each of the other sections, too, enjoyed their day in the sun:
Legal Section advised the International Military Tribunal for the Far East, Economic
and Scientific Section carried out the labour and zaibatsu reforms, Civil Information
and Education Section reorientated Japan’s education system, Natural Resources
Section carried out the land reform, and Public Health and Welfare Section revo-
lutionised Japan’s health care system. Other sections and consultative groups,
although less conspicuous, also made significant contributions.’
Several staff echelons also advised US commands in Okinawa and southern Korea.
Government Section initially was responsible for civil affairs in Japan, the Ryukyus
and south Korea. Legal Section and Public Health and Welfare (PH&W) Section
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 149

also were consulted regularly by US forces outside of Japan. These overlapping

functions extended equally to personnel. Several highly qualified officers transferred
out of civil affairs units in the US Army Military Government in Korea to take
positions in GHQ/SCAP. Following the outbreak of war in Korea, two staff groups,
PH&W and CI&E, did double duty in Japan and Korea. Finally, when Japan
regained its independence in 1952, some groups arranged with the State Department
to attach key personnel to the US Embassy in Tokyo. In this way, well after the
dissolution of GHQ, former Occupationaires continued to monitor developments in
Japan and influence US policy there.

GHQ'’S STATE DEPARTMENT

In post-defeat Germany, the State Department had set up an independent adviser’s

office in the US Zone reporting directly to Washington on diplomatic and economic
issues. The Department developed similar plans for Japan, but MacArthur baulked
at the idea of an independent government agency operating outside of his command
and demanded full jurisdiction. The Department relented, and on 22 September
1945, the Office of the Political Adviser was established as a personal consultant to
the Supreme Commander.

Organisation and mission

One of POLAD’s primary responsibilities was to study Japanese political parties and
trends to ascertain whether these were compatible with occupation objectives. For
this purpose, it sent the State Department a weekly report on political activities,
peppered in the early days with tart references to ‘the Jap people’ and ‘Jap political
parties’, and drafted confidential memoranda to President Truman concerning Japa-
nese reactions to GHQ’s“‘denazification’ programmes. Operating as SCAP’s State
Department, POLAD also represented the United States on the Allied Council for
Japan. Under MacArthur’s close supervision, however, the advisory group never
achieved the high-profile role its counterpart enjoyed in Germany. According to State
Department policy specialist George F Kennan, the Supreme Commander had a
‘violent prejudice’ against the Department, and liaison between the two organisa-
tions was “distant and full of distrust’. On his visit to Tokyo in early 1948, Kennan
felt like an envoy sent to establish diplomatic relations with a ‘hostile and suspicious
foreign government’. This sentiment was shared by the high-ranking military men
around the Supreme Commander. MacArthur’s Counter-Intelligence Chief Briga-
dier General Elliott R. Thorpe railed against the ‘soft-sell boys’ in POLAD, ‘most of
whom had endured the hardships of the war in Washington’s Foggy Bottom’.’
MacArthur kept the Political Adviser at arm’s length physically by assigning him
office space in the Mitsui Main Bank Building in Yaesu near Tokyo Station, far from
GHQ. POLAD’s successor, Diplomatic Section, did not get a direct telegraphic link
to the State Department and permission to use its own codes until 1950. Until then,
150 Organising the Occupation

all communications were routed through MacArthur’s military staff. As a result,

POLAD and the State Department were kept in the dark about Government Sec-
tion’s constitutional drafting committee, learning of its proposed new constitution
only when newspapers broke the story in early March 1946. This truncated role
affords an ironic contrast to the State Department’s major contribution to pre-
surrender planning for Japan (chapter 5) and indicates the remarkable degree to
which MacArthur succeeded in personalising his headquarters.
To resolve the anomalous status of POLAD, MacArthur created Diplomatic Sec-
tion (DS) on 18 April 1946 and incorporated it into his staff. The Section’s duties
were limited to handling Japan’s external affairs, notably relations between foreign
liaison missions and the central government, but DS also recommended foreign
policy for Japan and, initially, Korea. (By 1951, it oversaw the activities of 22 Allied
and foreign liaison missions accredited to the Supreme Commander.) Diplomatic
Section continued to be run by career Foreign Service officials on loan to General
Headquarters. At State Department insistence, the Chief of Section retained the title
of POLAD, and soon after DS was established, MacArthur appointed him to chair
the Allied Council for Japan, which had just convened. The Political Adviser’s staff
also handled consular affairs, acting as a de facto US Embassy.
POLAD?’s early activities were varied and complex. One of its first official tasks
was to draft lists of suspected war criminals. Using a copy of Who's Who in Japan and
data provided by Washington, Robert A. Fearey, John K. Emmerson and E. Herbert
Norman (then chief of Research and Analysis in SCAP’s Civil Intelligence Section)
compiled a list of more than 100 suspects, most of whom were arrested in late
1945. POLAD also was instrumental in freeing political prisoners, reinstating
political parties, organising the first general elections and planning the purge of
public officials. These reformist activities contrasted sharply with the aggressive
behaviour of Mission Chiefs George Atcheson and William Sebald in the Allied
Council for Japan, where they functioned as point men for MacArthur’s crusade
against Soviet influence in Japan. When Diplomatic Section was created in
April 1946, the General ordered the Political Adviser to meet the challenge of
Soviet ‘sabotage and obstruction to the Occupation’ and parry attacks on SCAP
policy in the Council with ‘equally embarrassing and revealing questions and
statements’.
DS remained in MacArthur’s shadow for most of Occupation. Only after 1950, as
negotiations over the Japanese peace settlement got underway, did it come to play a
more dynamic and visible role. The State Department, on the other hand, found
other ways to make its presence felt. It despatched an influential Education Mission
to Tokyo, maintained a permanent labour representative inside GHQ and managed
to fill some staff positions with its own people, notably in the Civil Information and
Education Section’s Information Division, which operated as an arm of the Depart-
ment’s global propaganda network (chapter 8). Towards the end of the Occupation,
the State Department also actively recruited talented staff officers, many of whom
embarked on careers in the Foreign Service.
 Inside the Special Staff Sections —- 151

Staff
Under-Secretary of State Dean Acheson, advocate of a hard peace, did not want a
Japan Crowd crony providing liaison with MacArthur and appointed China hand
George Atcheson to fill that position. Atcheson had joined the Foreign Service after
graduating from the University of California. Attached to the US Embassy in China
as an interpreter, he handled the crisis that erupted following the Japanese sinking of
an American gunboat, the USS Panay, on the Yangtse River in 1937. In 1943, he was
named adviser to General Joseph Stilwell, Chiang Kai-shek (Jiang Jieshi)’s Allied
Chief of Staff, in Chongqing (Chungking). Atcheson was transferred to Tokyo to
set up POLAD in September 1945, and with the creation of Diplomatic Section in
April 1946, he added chief of section to his duties as Political Adviser. Despite
MacArthur's jaundised view of POLAD, Atcheson became a close friend of the
General and wielded considerable personal influence in SCAP until his untimely
death in a plane crash off Hawai’i in August 1947.
Atcheson was succeeded by William J. Sebald, a US Naval Academy graduate.
From 1925 to 1928, Sebald had served as language officer with the US Embassy in
Tokyo before returning to the United States to study law at the University of Mary-
land. Back in Japan with a law degree in 1933, he set up practice in Kobe. In 1939,
Sebald joined the Navy as a Lieutenant Commander. In late 1945, he was assigned to
POLAD as Atcheson’s deputy and following his superior’s death in the summer of
1947 took over as Section Chief. Sebald chaired the Allied Council for Japan, and
his knowledge of the country and its language made him a particularly reliable
adviser. After the Occupation, he was US Ambassador to Burma and Australia and
Deputy-Assistant Secretary of State.”
The original POLAD/DS staff included Max W. Bishop, an ambitious ultra-
conservative Foreign Service officer who returned to Washington early in the
Occupation to take up a senior position in the Division of Northeast Asian Affairs.
There, his hawkish views would influence US policy towards Japan and Korea during
the so-called reverse course. Bishop later became a member of the extreme-rightist
John Birch Society. Cut from the same cloth was Dr Charles N. Spinks, a Japan
expert and intelligence specialist. After earning a PhD in political science from
Stanford University, Spinks taught at the Tokyo University of Commerce from
1936 to 1941. From 1942, as a Lieutenant Commander, he worked for the Office of
Naval Intelligence’s Far Eastern Office, publishing influential articles on Japanese
education and a study on Japanese fascism.* In 1946, Spinks joined SCAP’s Civil
Intelligence Section where he directed research and analysis until moving to
Diplomatic Section in 1948. A rabid anti-Communist, he kept tabs on radicals and
Korean nationalists and denounced several prominent GHQ staffers as leftists.
Spinks also played a role in the Red Purge of 1949-50.
Prominent in the early days was Robert A. Fearey, a Harvard-trained Japan special-
ist and former private secretary to Ambassador Joseph C. Grew. A member of the
State Department's Japan Crowd, Fearey participated in pre-surrender planning and
drafted a land-reform proposal. He left Diplomatic Section early but returned to
152 Organising the Occupation

Photo 19. MacArthur, E. Herbert Norman of the Canadian Mission and Eighth Army
Commander Eichelberger at a Canadian diplomatic function, 2 July 1947 (Mainichi).

Tokyo in 1950 as special assistant to John Foster Dulles during the peace treaty
negotiations.” John K. Emmerson, a career Foreign Service officer, had served under
Grew in prewar Tokyo but also possessed extensive wartime experience in China.
In early October 1945, Emmerson and E. Herbert Norman drew attention to the
plight of Japan’s political prisoners and met directly with jailed Communist leaders
(chapter 6). Norman was not a member of POLAD, but the Political Adviser relied
heavily on his counsel in the early period of occupation. The son of Canadian
missionaries, Norman had been raised in Japan, a distinction he shared with
Japan experts Gordon T. Bowles (chapter 8), Eugene H. Dooman (chapter 5) and
Edwin O. Reischauer. Norman’s seminal scholarship on Japan’s emergence from
feudalism influenced Allied thinking on the country during and immediately after
the war. At the outset of the Occupation, he was attached briefly to SCAP’s Civil
Intelligence Section and, from August 1946 to December 1950, headed the Canadian
Liaison Mission in Tokyo.'°
Meeting with Japanese Communist leaders tarred Norman and Emmerson as
Communist sympathisers. After 1950, Norman became increasingly critical of the
Occupation, and his alleged left-wing connections led to security investigations by
Canadian and US authorities. In 1951, at the height of McCarthyism, Congressional
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 153

investigators accused both men of assisting in the reconstruction of the Japan

Communist Party. Emmerson’s career was damaged, although he later served as
deputy chief of mission in Tokyo under Ambassador Reischauer (1962-6). Norman
had belonged to the Communist Party in his youth, Under recurrent pressure from
Senate inquisitors, he committed suicide in Cairo in 1957.
A middle-echelon diplomat worthy of mention was Richard B. Finn, the DS legal
expert. After Harvard Law School, Finn served in the Navy as a Japanese language
officer. Following the war, he worked on education and constitutional reform for
the Far Eastern Commission in Washington before joining the State Department
and being assigned to DS. Finn coordinated GHQ’s policy towards Koreans in
Japan and assisted John Foster Dulles during the 1951 treaty talks. After the Occupa-
tion, he headed the State Department’s Japan Division and played a central role in
negotiating the reversion of Okinawa to Japan.'!
Diplomatic Section was a small staff echelon, numbering only about three
dozen Foreign Service officers. In 1948, it was composed of the Political and General
Affairs Division under David C. Berger; the Executive and Administrative Division,
headed by veteran Japan hand Cabot Coville and including Charles Spinks and
Richard B. Finn; the Economic Liaison Division, to which the noted author
and translator Edward G. Seidensticker belonged briefly; and the International
Liaison Division, staffed by Richard A. Poole, who transferred from Government
Section, and Eileen R. Donovan, a former education officer in Civil Information and
Education Section (below). Diplomatic Section also operated two consular sections
in Yokohama (U. Alexis Johnson, Ambassador to Japan, 1966-9) and Kobe (Douglas
Jenkins). The Section dealt mainly with Japan’s Central Liaison Office and the
Foreign Ministry. It was disbanded on 28 April 1952 with the recovery of Japanese
sovereignty, and its members transferred to the US Embassy in Tokyo or returned to
Washington.

GOVERNMENT SECTION

Government Section was established on 2 October 1945 to advise GHQ on policies

concerning the internal affairs of civil government in Japan. (Until February 1947, it
had a similar responsibility for the US Army Military Government in Korea.) Its
mandate was sweeping: to demilitarise and democratise the political, economic,
social and cultural life of the nation. Government Section shared the Dai-Ichi
Mutual Life Insurance building with MacArthur’s Military General Staff, a prime
location attesting to the group’s central role in the Occupation. Its primary counter-
part agencies in the Japanese government were the Central Liaison Office, the Home
Ministry (until December 1947), the Attorney General’s Office and the Prime
Minister’s Office.
154 Organising the Occupation

Organisation and mission

Although Government Section was considered ‘weak and ineffectual’ in the first
months of duty, it soon came to epitomise the liberalising spirit of the early reform
phase of the Occupation.'” GS revised the electoral system, enfranchised women,
drafted the ‘MacArthur Constitution’, purged militant nationalists from public life,
democratised the police system, restructured local government, decentralised the
bureaucracy, helped dissolve the great zaibatsu combines and revamped the judiciary
and Parliament. The Section’s broad mission incited the envy of intelligence chief
Willoughby and led to frequent clashes with Yoshida Shigeru, the feisty foreign
minister and premier who deplored the New Deal idealists grouped around Whitney
and Kades. GS officers, in turn, regarded Yoshida as an unreconstructed reactionary.
Government Section initially consisted of two major segments, Public Administra-
tion Division, responsible for the internal administration of Japan, and Korean
Division, which exercised a similar function for the US Army Military Government
in Korea. In early 1946, Public Administration was reorganised, and in February
1947, Korean Division was disbanded. By mid-1947, the major GS divisions were
Administrative, Civil Service, Courts and Law (Legal), Governmental Powers, Legis-
lative, Local Government, National Government, Parliamentary and Political, and
Public Administration. The Section’s commitment to democratisation was tempered
by a compulsion to promote administrative efficiency that inadvertently strength-
ened Japanese bureaucratic control. Following Washington’s decision in 1948 to rein
in the reform process, GS came under fire for its liberal sympathies, and conserva-
tives attacked the Section’s bright-eyed visionaries as ‘the small group of longhaired
boys . .. who have helped General MacArthur put over his socialistic schemes’.”?
Despite its immense authority, Government Section was a relatively small staff
group that shrunk even further as its reform objectives were achieved. In 1948, GS
had a total of 122 staff members (15 officers, 9 enlisted personnel and 98 civilians),
one tenth the size of the huge Economic and Scientific Section. In May and June
1948, with the Section’s primary mission completed, Courts and Law Division and
Governmental Powers Division were transferred to Legal Section, where they were
combined, becoming Legislation and Justice Division. In late June 1948, Local
Government Division was reassigned to Eighth Army headquarters in Yokohama,
and other GS divisions were pared, merged or discontinued. In the final years of
occupation, Government Section devoted much of its energy to chasing Commun-
ists, Socialists and liberals from their jobs, intimidating the radical labour movement
and harassing ethnic Koreans. The Section was disbanded when Japan regained its
sovereignty on 28 April 1952.

Staff
Courtney Whitney, one of the strongmen of SCAP, headed Government Section for
most of the Occupation. A graduate of Columbia National Law School in Wash-
ington DC, Whitney had worked as an attorney in Manila before the war. He
was assigned to MacArthur’s SWPA staff in 1943, directed the Philippine guerrilla
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 155

Photo 20. Max Bishop (DS), Courtney Whitney (GS), Charles L. Kades (GS), and William J.
Sebald (DS) inspect a polling station at a primary school in Tokyo’s Setagaya Ward, 10 April
1946, during Japan’s first general elections (US National Archives).

movement from Brisbane and followed MacArthur to Manila and Tokyo. He was
appointed Chief of Government Section in mid-December 1945, replacing Brigadier
General William E. Crist. A Bataan Gang intimate, Whitney became the General’s
closest confidant. He spent time every day with the Supreme Commander, and it is
said that even his handwriting resembled that of his mentor. The soft-spoken Whit-
ney was described by his subordinates as a “Knight in Shining Armour’, as compared
to Charles Willoughby of G-2, ‘the personification of the Black Reactionary’. In fact,
Whitney was a deeply conservative man prone to outbursts of anti-semitism.'* When
President Truman fired MacArthur in April 1951, Whitney resigned and followed
his boss into retirement as personal adviser and biographer.’ He was replaced by
Frank Rizzo, an industrial economist with an engineering degree from Cornell
156 Organising the Occupation

University who had done graduate work in economics, finance and international
relations at New York and George Washington Universities. Rizzo was a managing
partner in a New York investment bank before entering the Army in 1942. Assigned
to Government Section at Kades’s personal request, he became one of the few finan-
cial experts not drafted by Economic and Scientific Section. Rizzo replaced Kades as
Deputy Chief of Section when the latter retired in late 1948, and when Whitney left
Japan in 1951, he took over as Section Chief.
Whitney had at his service the well-known Japan specialists Dr Kenneth W.
Colegrove of Northwestern University and Dr Harold S. Quigley of the University
of Minnesota, then attached to G-2. The GS chief made little use of these author-
ities, however, and the vital work of Government Section was performed by a small
cadre of outstanding subordinates handpicked by Whitney and led by Deputy Chief
Colonel Charles L. Kades. Of Jewish and Spanish ancestry, Kades was born in
southern New York and graduated from Cornell University and Harvard Law
School. Kades was a committed New Dealer and worked as legal counsel for the
Federal Public Works Administration (1933-7) and the US Treasury Department
(1937-42) before going on active duty with the War Department’s Civil Affairs
Division (CAD). There, as Assistant Executive Officer to CAD Chief Major General
J. H. Hilldring, he helped draft the Army’s “Basic Directive for Post-Surrender
Military Government in Japan Proper’, JCS-1380/15 (chapter 5). Later, as Deputy
Chief of G-5 (Civil Affairs), Kades took part in the invasion of southern France and
the Rhineland campaign. When he arrived in Tokyo on 30 August 1945, he carried
with him a summary of the ‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy’ and other basic
Occupation documents. Described by a colleague as gregarious but not brash, Kades
was thought to have ‘probably the quickest intellect in GHQ’. Although not a
member of MacArthur's Bataan clique, he nonetheless developed a close profes-
sional and personal relationship with Whitney, who overruled his ‘brainy New
Dealer’ only once, and then on a matter of minor significance.'® Kades’s contribu-
tion to the liberal phase of the Occupation was seminal, and his departure in late
1948 marked the end of the reform era and the advent of realpolitik and domestic
repression.
One of Kades’s right-hand men in the first two years of occupation was Lieutenant
Colonel Frank Hays, a Wyoming lawyer and graduate of the Chicago Civil Affairs
‘Training School (CATS). Kades also was assisted by Lieutenant Taro (‘Tom’) Tsuka-
hara, one of the small group of accomplished Japanese Americans working for GHQ.
Born in Wakayama Prefecture, Tsukahara had emigrated to the United States after
graduating from Japanese middle school. Interned in 1942, he later volunteered for
military service and was attached to the Allied Translator and Interpreters Service in
the Pacific as a psychological warfare officer. In September 1945, Tsukahara was
assigned to the Civil Information and Education Section, but Kades spotted his
leadership qualities and recruited him as a personal aide. The dashing, urbane Kades
had a reputation as a ladies’ man, and Tsukahara was sometimes called on to keep
the Deputy Chief of Section out of trouble. After Kades left GHQ in late 1948,
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 157

Photo 21, Government Section’s Justin Williams Sr (middle), At the far right is Yamazaki
Takeshi of the House of Representatives, head of the Japanese Diet Delegation to the
United States. At the left is Sakurauchi Tatsuo of the House of Councillors. The Delegation
visited Washington from January to March 1950 under the Exchange of National Leaders
Programme (US National Archives),

the left-leaning Tsukahara fell afoul of Willoughby’s watchdogs and in 1949 was
forced to return to the United States,'”
Justin Williams Sr was another key player whose contribution left a lasting mark
on Japan, Williams had taught American history and economics at the University of
Wisconsin (1931-42), where he also chaired the Social Science Department. In
1942, he joined the US Army Air Forces as a First Lieutenant, After training at
the University of Virginia’s School of Military Government and the Yale CATS, he
was assigned to AFPAC headquarters in Manila, He followed AFPAC’s Military
Government Section to Tokyo, where he was attached to Government Section,
SCAP and asked to head the Parliamentary and Political Division, Williams was
assisted by an unusually diligent and perceptive staff officer, Helen Loeb, who advised
Diet leaders on basic Allied policy, provided liaison between Government Section
and various Diet legislative committees and prepared reports on Diet activities and
politics for internal SCAP use."
Williams worked closely with Navy Commander Guy J. Swope, head of Legisla-
tive Division and later chief of National Government Division and Political Affairs
Division, The epitome of the self-made man, Swope had only an elementary-school
education, making him something of an oddity in GHQ, and had held a wide variety
158 Organising the Occupation

Photo 22. An Ainu Chieftain, Miyamoto Inosuke, visits Government Section. At front left is
Alfred C. Oppler, and beside him, Osborne L. Hauge. Behind Hauge is Lieutenant Colonel
Frank R. Harrison. Standing in the centre behind Miyamoto is Cecil G. Tilton. Frank Rizzo is
to the Chieftain’s left and next to him is Tilton’s assistant, Raymond Y. Aka. Guy J. Swope is
at the far right in back. 22 October 1947 (US National Archives).

of jobs, including public accountant and banker. During his prewar career, he served
one term in the US Congress on a New Deal ticket and was Governor of Puerto
Rico. His professional experience and uncommon ability led him to Columbia
University’s Navy School of Military Government and landed him a job as Executive
Officer in the Military Government of Saipan. He was the only GS official to head
three different divisions in succession. Leaving GHQ in 1948, Swope was replaced in
Political Affairs Division by Navy Lieutenant Osborne L. Hauge, a graduate of St
Olaf College, Minnesota and former newspaper editor.”
Lieutenant Colonel Cecil G. Tilton, Chief of Local Government Division,
made a singular contribution to the reform of local administration. Holding a BS
and MSc from the University of California (Berkeley) and an MBA from Harvard, he
had taught at the Universities of Hawai’i and Connecticut before entering the Army.
After training at the University of Virginia School of Military Government, he was
recruited to teach at the University of Chicago CATS. Tilton was assisted initially by
John W. Maseland of Dartmouth College and Andrew J. Grajdanzev, an ardent
 Inside the Special Staff Sections « 159

advocate of decentralisation and home rule. Grajdanzev later played a role in drafting
SCAP’s land-reform programme. Tilton followed Local Government Division to
Eighth Army headquarters when it was transferred there in mid-1948.
Civil service reform was the responsibility of Blaine Hoover, the personnel expert
who engineered the ‘defeudalising’ of the Japanese bureaucracy via the National
Public Service Law of 1947. Hoover left Japan but returned soon afterwards to
head Government Section’s new Civil Service Division. Known for his anti-labour
views, he sought to curb the rights of civil servants and public employees and was
responsible for incorporating an anti-strike provision in the controversial 1948 revi-
sion of the National Public Service Law.” Two political scientists, Lieutenant Milton
J. Esman (PhD, Princeton) and Dr John M. Maki (PhD, University of Washington),
a Japanese American, also worked on civil service reform and later continued
university careers.”
Public Administration Division Chiefs included Lieutenant Colonel Carlos P.
Marcum, who had been recruited from Civil Intelligence Section to help run the
purge, and Lieutenant Colonel Jack P. Napier. Napier had worked in Korean Div-
ision until its discontinuance in early 1947. Doubling as GS Executive Officer, in
1949, Napier coordinated the Red Purge and GHQ’s crackdown on Koreans.
Although he lacked the academic credentials of others in GS, Napier proved a
talented administrator who, in the words of a contemporary, brought to his duties
‘all the qualities of cleverness and toughness that grim job demanded’. Hans H.
Baerwald also played a major part in the purge of ultra-nationalists, later writing
the definitive study of this programme.” One of the rare Occupationaires born in
Japan, he worked initially for ATIS before joining GS as a language officer.

The ‘Constitutional Convention’

The Section’s best and brightest were assigned the task of drafting the so-called
MacArthur Constitution in early 1946. The Steering Committee included Kades;
Navy Commander Alfred R. Hussey, a graduate of Harvard and the University of
Virginia Law School and practising attorney before enlisting in the Navy in 1942;
Lieutenant Colonel Milo E. Rowell, a graduate of Stanford University and the
Harvard Law School who had worked as an assistant US attorney in Los Angeles
before the war; and Ruth Ellerman, a government analyst who served as secretary.
Ellerman kept detailed notes of the proceedings, drafting an 18-page memorandum
that became the Committee’s official minutes. Swope and Hauge served on the
Legislative Subcommittee under Frank Hays. Heading the Executive Subcommittee
was Dr Cyrus H. Peake (PhD, Columbia University) who had taught two years in
prewar Japan before taking up a teaching position at his Alma Mater. Frank Rizzo
was the sole member of the Finance Subcommittee, and the Subcommittee on the
Emperor was led by First Lieutenant George A. Nelson Jr, assisted by Navy Ensign
Richard A. Poole.
Chair of the Civil Rights Subcommittee was Colonel Pieter K. Roest, Chief of
Political Parties Division. After graduating from Meiden University Medical School
160 Organising the Occupation

it Hollarid, Roest had studied anthropology at the University of Chicago, where he

received his PhD, He later pursued interests in international relations, law and
economics at the University of Southern California and conducted field research in
India before joining the Navy in 1942, Roest was considered a visionary, and the
Steering Committee viewed his ideas as ‘irrelevant, fuzzy and impractical’, but his
contribution to the constitutional draft’s civil rights provisions was substantial,”
Working under Roest was Dr Harry EB, Wildes, who held doctorates in economies
from the University of Pennsylvania and ‘Temple University, Before the war, he had
lectured at Keid University in Tokyo (19245) and authored a book on Japanese
society.”
A key member of the Civil Rights Subcommittee was 22-year-old Beate Sirota,
who had grown up in Tokyo. Sirota’s parents were Russian Jews who had left Vienna
prior to Hitler's ascension to power, After settling in Japan, her father Leo Sirota
taught piano at the Imperial Academy of Music, Austrian by birth, Sirota became a
naturalised US citizen and graduated from Mills College in California before taking
wartime jobs with the Federal Communications Commission's Porelyn Broadcast
Intelligence Service and the Office of War Information. Sirota worked briefly for
Time magazine in New York, where she was trained a9 a researcher, Mluent in pix
languages, she was hired by GHQ ag an interpreter in December 1945 and subs
sequently was assigned to the Civil Rights Subcommittee, where, despite her youth,
she was instrumental in inseribing the rights of women and children in the 1947
Constitution.”

Anti-Trust economists and legal experts

Another female staffer was Eleanor M, Hadley, like Sirota a graduate of Mills College,
who worked of economic policy for Japan as a State Department employee from
1944 to 1946, Recruited by GS to help with the purge of big business, Hadley
also assisted Eeonomic and Scientific Section’s Anti-Trust and Cartels Division and
is associated with zaibate dissolution, After leaving GHQ, she taught at Seith
College, worked as a trade specialist in Washington and wrote an influential hisrory
of the dissolution programme.” Another officer involved in economic deconcentta
tion was Thomas A. Bisson, After completing a BA at Rutgers University and an
MA at Columbia University, Bisson had worked as a missionary in China for four
years, and in the late 1930s, he accompanied Owen Lattimore to Mao Zedong’s
headquarters in Yenan. By the time he joined Government Section as economle
adviser in 1946, he had authored three influential books on Japan and Asia” Bisson
worked on the economic purge and land reform, but deapite the reapect his ideas
commanded, he had little impact on the course of the Occupation,
The Section’s premier legal mind was Alfred C, Oppler, a native of Alsace=
Lorraine. Oppler had studied law at the Universities of Munich, Freiburg, Berlin and
Strasbourg and fought in World War 1, A talented lawyer, he rose rapidly to eecupy
top positions in the German judiciary, His Jewish ancestry cut short a brilliant career,
however, and in the 1930s, Hitler’s Nuremberg laws stripped him of his eltivenship,
 Inside the Special Staff Sections — 161

Oppler went into hiding and emigrated to the United States in 1939, During the
war, he taught at the Harvard CATS before joining the Foreign Economic Adminis-
tration’s German Section, where he wrote a Civil Affairs Guide on Germany. In early
1946, Government Section hired Oppler from the War Department’s Civil Affairs
Division to head the Courts and Law Division, He moved to Legal Section in July
1948 with the transfer there of Courts and Law (below). An expert in codified law,
Oppler was eminently qualified to tackle the reform of the Japanese legal system,
which had been strongly influenced by German jurisprudence.”® Working closely
with Oppler was Thomas L. Blakemore of Government Powers Division, who
helped revamp the judiciary, Blakemore began his career as an Oklahoma lawyer
before joining the Foreign Service. An old Japan hand who had studied law in prewar
Tokyo and spoke Japanese fluently, he served as Oppler’s assistant, obtaining vital
feedback from Japanese jurists, After the Occupation, Blakemore passed Japan’s
stringent bar exam, becoming one of the few non-Japanese qualified to practise law
there,

EMPIRE OF THE INTELLIGENCE TSAR

MacArthur's ‘black reactionary’

GHQ's intelligence arm, G-2, eventually became the most powerful agency inside
MacArthur's headquarters. G-2's prominence was due largely to the personality of its
chief, Major General Charles A. Willoughby. Born in Germany in 1892 to an
aristocratic family, Willoughby (né von Tscheppe und Weidenbach) emigrated to the
United States at the age of 18 and joined the US Army in 1912, He fought against
Pancho Villa in Mexico in 1916 and served in Europe during World War I, An anti-
Communist ideologue and open admirer of fascist leaders Benito Mussolini and
General Francisco Franco, he epitomised, in the words of two British writers, ‘the
kind of militarist the Occupation was dedicated to destroying in Japan’. In 1939,
Willoughby lauded Mussolini for ‘re-establishing the traditional military supremacy
of the white race’ in Ethiopia, and upon retiring from the Army in the 1950s, he
served as adviser to Franco's Falangists.””
Fellow Occupationaires mocked the General’s stiff Prussian bearing, referring to
him alternately as ‘Sir Charles’ and ‘Baron von Willoughby’. Willoughby had
been MacArthur's intelligence chief in Melbourne, Brisbane and Manila and was
part of the Bataan Gang. Regarded as a martinet by his subordinates — he took
a perverse pride in the epithet ‘Little Hitler’, and even MacArthur dubbed him
‘my lovable fascist’ — the volatile Willoughby nonetheless enjoyed the Supreme
Commander's full confidence. This bond of trust gave him immense authority,
which he used with consummate skill to inflate the powers of G-2’s civil intelligence
apparatus, Citing health reasons, Willoughby resigned in May 1951 following
MacArthur's dismissal in April, but like Whitney, he was acting out of loyalty to the
Commander-in-Chief.
162 Organising the Occupation

Photo 23, General Charles A. Willoughby, GHQ’s brooding intelligence tsar (US National
Archives),

Willoughby saw no middle ground between conservatives and Communists and

found abhorrent many of the reforms promoted by GHQ’s civil staff groups. He
objected, for instance, to the Civil Information and Education Section’s draft of the
Civil Liberties Directive (chapter 6). Elliott R. Thorpe, head of SCAP’s Civil Intelli-
gence Section, had to appeal to Government Section for support in clearing the
measure through G-2. Thorpe sought out Kades, and the two men finally prevailed
on Willoughby to approve the directive, which was promulgated on 4 October
1945.*° Willoughby also opposed the purge and police decentralisation, attempted to
censor National Diet publications and pressed for the reinstatement of Old Guard
military and political leaders removed from office in the early months of occupation,
The G-2 chief decried ‘the leftist infiltration’ of General Headquarters, complain-
ing that fellow travellers hired in the United States were being dumped on GHQ’s
civil sections. He went to great lengths to identify and discredit progressive thinkers
both inside GHQ and in Japanese society at large, Utilising the FBI’s blacklist, the
Security Index, he placed suspected Communists and even liberals under surveillance
and investigated such New Dealers as Charles Kades, Eleanor Hadley and Thomas
Bisson of Government Section. Willoughby claimed, absurdly, that the parents of
Beate Sirota were Russian spies when in fact they were concert pianists and refugees
from Nazism with no political influence. Kades, who got along well with the General
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 163

on a personal level, asked him one day, “You see a Communist under every bed, You
think I’m a Communist?’ Willoughby replied, ‘No, I don’t think you're a Commun-
ist, but you're surrounded by Communists.’ In ESS, G-2 went after anti-trust chief
Edward C, Welsh and labour specialists Theodore Cohen, Anthony Costantino and
Valery Burati. Willoughby ordered the Japanese police to spy on the doings of all
American officials who came into their area but to keep the reports secret from local
Military Government Teams. These nefarious activities prompted Government Sec-
tion’s Alfred R. Hussey to complain bitterly to Whitney, ‘Can we, who are denied
our basic civil liberties by our own officials, persuade the Japanese of the worth of the
doctrines we profess?”?! Wisely, MacArthur ignored Willoughby’s accusations, which
in any event rested on dubious evidence.

The intelligence apparatus in flux

During the Pacific War, MacArthur had divided his intelligence operations be-
tween two commands: Allied combat intelligence was the responsibility of GHQ/
SWPA; counter-intelligence activities were assigned to US Army Services of Supply.
Willoughby headed SWPA’s G-2 section, and Colonel (later Brigadier General)
Elliott Thorpe was placed in charge of counter-intelligence and censorship in the
USAOS logistics command. When MacArthur formed AFPAC in April 1945, he
maintained the division of labour between combat intelligence (G-2) and counter-
intelligence (Counter-Intelligence Section), With the formation of GHQ/SCAP, he
combined the AFPAC and SCAP general staff sections but kept combat intelligence
and counter-intelligence apart. Thus, at the start of the Occupation, Willoughby
oversaw intelligence operations in AFPAC’s G-2 and Thorpe ran counter-intelli-
gence and censorship activities in both the AFPAC Counter-Intelligence Section
and SCAP’s Civil Intelligence Section.
Inside AFPAC, Willoughby found himself upstaged by Thorpe’s dual commands.
As of January 1946, G-2 consisted solely of the Allied Translation and Interpreters
Service and a War Department team responsible for evaluating operational, civil and
theatre intelligence. Thorpe’s multiple responsibilities as head of Counter-
Intelligence Section (CIS), AFPAC and Civil Intelligence Section (CIS), SCAP,
included censoring the press and media, conducting counter-espionage, freeing
political prisoners, arresting war crimes suspects and planning the purge. Responsible
for public safety, Thorpe’s CIS commands also monitored intellectual trends, over-
saw Japanese police and fire-fighting agencies and supervised reforms in prison
administration. Both of his intelligence sections were located together with
Willoughby’s G-2 in the main SCAP headquarters building.”
Civil Intelligence Section originally had four components: the 441st Counter-
Intelligence Corps, the Civil Censorship Detachment, a civil communications
intelligence team and an interrogation unit. In January 1946, Public Safety Section
was set up inside CIS, but the 441st Counter-Intelligence Corps, Civil Censorship
Detachment and interrogation unit were transferred from SCAP to the AFPAC
Counter-Intelligence Section. Public Safety Section was rechristened Public Safety
164 Organising the Occupation

Division (PSD) in April 1946, and in May, it was absorbed by the Civil Intelligence
Division and called Public Safety Branch. Restored to Division status again in 1948,
Public Safety had jurisdiction over the courts and legal affairs, maritime safety, the
penitentiary system, fire departments, courts, the Metropolitan Police Office and
other law enforcement agencies. PSD later supervised the implementation of police
reforms, in particular the establishment of autonomous local police units under
municipal control (chapter 7).
Thorpe appeared invincible, but Willoughby eventually emerged triumphant, In
early 1946, responding to cuts in the military budget and public accusations that the
Army payroll was top-heavy, the Pentagon reduced in rank all officers holding war-
time promotions. Willoughby accepted the loss of status, but Thorpe believed that
the demotion had destroyed his effectiveness in dealing with Japanese officials and
resigned in protest’? On 3 May 1946, Thorpe’s intelligence commands in AFPAC
and SCAP were abolished, and that month G-2’s newly established Civil Intelligence
Division (CID) absorbed their duties.

GHQ’ FBI
With the emasculation of Thorpe’s original commands and Willoughby’s arrogation
of their functions, G-2 acquired full ascendancy over the Occupation’s civil and
military intelligence operations. Like MacArthur, the intelligence tsar now straddled
two powerful commands, AFPAC and SCAP, vastly magnifying his authority. His
control of this immense, highly centralised intelligence directorate made him, in the
words of one Occupationaire, ‘the second most powerful American in Japan’.**
In June 1946, Willoughby arranged to have all official contacts between foreign
liaison missions and GHQ and between Occupation forces and Japanese agencies
(except diplomatic business) conducted through his office. A Japanese Liaison Unit
was created inside G-2 to handle official relations with the central government. On
29 August 1946, at Willoughby’s insistence, MacArthur reactivated SCAP’s Civil
Intelligence Section as part of an expanded intelligence apparatus designed to com-
bat the spread of Communism in Japan and placed it under G-2. A staff echelon in
name only, the resuscitated CIS was a phantom unit not even listed in GHQ’s
telephone directory. Its Counter-Intelligence Corps, Civil Censorship Detachment
and Public Safety Division were placed under the operational control of G-2’s Civil
Intelligence Division, which functioned as a de facto FBI. In June 1947, following
President Truman’s creation of a Loyalty Review Board in the United States,
Willoughby established a Loyalty Desk inside the Public Safety Division to conduct
loyalty checks on Occupation personnel. A Domestic Subversion Desk also was
created to ferret out ‘disaffected’ Americans.
On at least one occasion, Willoughby exploited his paramount position to meddle
openly in Japanese politics. In the spring of 1948, G-2 leaked secret information
that high-ranking officials had taken bribes from Showa Denko, Japan’s largest
manufacturer of fertiliser, in return for channelling Reconstruction Finance Bank
(RFN) funds into company coffers. The scandal, an early instance of structural
 Inside the Special Staff Sections — « 165

corruption, implicated Prime Minister Ashida Hitoshi and key members of his coali-
tion of Democratic, Socialist and People’s Cooperative parties. Showa Denk6 took
institutionalised graft to new heights, with allegations of shady dealing reaching the
higher echelons of GHQ. The web of corruption was extensive and cried out for
exposure, but Willoughby’s clandestine intervention in the domestic political process
helped precipitate the fall of the Ashida government, the last in which Socialists
would participate for over four decades.
In July 1948, as Cold War tensions escalated, G-2 instructed the Diet to submit all
of its publications to GHQ censors for security, The order enraged Justin Williams,
head of Government Section’s Parliamentary and Political Division, Williams told
the Diet to ignore the injunction, and GS Deputy Chief Kades concurred, G-2 also
was accused of blatant misconduct, On 7 December, 1952, a well-known Japanese
intellectual, Kaji Wataru, who had gone missing for a year, suddenly returned home
to announce that he had been sequestered by an ultra-secret US intelligence unit,
During the war, Kaji had belonged to a group of Japanese Communists involved
in ‘re-educating’ Imperial Army POWs in China, and after the war, he became a
prominent left-wing activist and polemicist. He identified his alleged kidnappers as
the Canon Unit. Also known as ‘Z-Unit’, the group had been set up in December
1947 under Lieutenant Colonel Jack Y. Canon and attached to Public Safety
Division’s Joint Special Operations Branch. Canon’s work was supervised directly by
Willoughby. In October 1948, the Unit comprised 26 agents, some of whom had the
right to carry arms, make arrests and conduct interrogations, Unit activities are said
to have included domestic counter-espionage work and secret operations against
North Korea and the Soviet Union. Reliable information on Canon’s activities is
scarce, however, and the true story of Kaji’s abduction remains an enigma.”
To carry out its myriad duties, G-2 employed large numbers of former Japanese
officers. Among them were men who had served on the Imperial General Staff or in
Military Intelligence, the Military Police and even the Special Higher (“Thought’)
Police. In early September 1945, Willoughby secretly enlisted the services of Lieu-
tenant General Arisue Seiz6, the Army Military Intelligence chief he had met at
the pre-surrender Manila conference of 19-20 August. Unknown to anyone in
GHQ but Willoughby and his closest confederates, Arisue promptly established a
clandestine section inside G-2 to monitor Communist régimes in Korea, Manchuria
and the Soviet Union and, at home, a domestic surveillance group to watch the
Japan Communist Party and Korean nationalists, These units would continue
operating until the 1970s, providing a vital conduit between American and Japanese
intelligence establishments.
Arisue and his cohorts also were assigned to assist Gordon W. Prange of the
University of Maryland, who had been hired by the G-2 Historical Branch to write a
history of MacArthur's campaigns in the Pacific. Shelved and forgotten after its
completion in 1950, part of Prange’s work finally was published by the Department
of the Army in 1966 as Reports of General MacArthur, Atisue was assigned space in
Prange’s offices in the Nippon Yusen Kaisha Building and given a staff of 200
166 Organising the Occupation

Japanese, mostly former officers. His team laboured diligently, producing two of the
MacArthur history tomes (vol. 2: Japanese Operations in the Southwest Pacific Area,
Parts 1 and 2) and a voluminous official Japanese account of the war. Nisei linguist
and Harvard graduate Clarke H. Kawakami headed the American staff assigned to
work with the Japanese group. The resulting multi-volume Japanese history of the
war comprised 184 monographs on Imperial Army and Navy operations and 18
studies of Manchuria.”
Working alongside Arisue were former officers of the Army and Navy General
Staffs, among them Colonel Hattori Takushir6, one-time military secretary to T6j6
Hideki, former section chief in Army Operations and influential member of the
postwar Demobilisation Board; Rear Admiral Nakamura Kamesaburé; Captain
Omae Toshikazu, a highly regarded military strategist who called himself the
Imperial Navy’s ‘number one thinker’; and Lieutenant General Kawabe Torashiré,
ex-military attaché to Nazi Germany and Deputy Chief, Army General Staff. These
men belonged to a core of 15 high-ranking staff officers around whom Willoughby
intended to rebuild a Japanese army (chapter 9). Indeed, Americans working with
this group assumed that its research activities were a cover for the covert intelligence
work described above. Exempted from the purge, these men received unusually high
salaries and enjoyed privileges reserved for Occupation personnel. Moreover, they
maintained the strict military hierarchy, divided along service lines, of the Imperial
armed forces, and Japanese subordinates were under orders to address them by their
former military titles, The special treatment accorded this élite would prompt Soviet
Allied Council member Kuzma Derevyanko to protest that the purge of former
military officers was being conducted selectively.”
A vital element of the G-2 Section was the Allied Translation and Interpreters
Service (ATIS) staffed largely by Japanese Americans. ATIS personnel were assigned
to the International Military Tribunal for the Far East as interpreters, translators,
investigators and language officers. Nisei also served with distinction in the Counter-
Intelligence Corps, Military Intelligence and the Civil Censorship Detachment,
where their knowledge of Japan’s culture and language proved indispensable. Many
felt ambivalent about their allotted role as cultural go-betweens, however. Japanese
tended to look down on them as ‘inferior immigrant stock’ or even ‘traitors to the
race’ (kokuzoku). Nisei sometimes spoke dialects from Okayama or Okinawa and,
despite intensive language training, were not always adept at using honorifics
and polite language, creating friction with Japanese officials. At the same time,
many white Americans distrusted Nisei because of their ancestry. Without the
language skills and dedication of Japanese Americans, G-2 could not have per-
formed its intelligence duties, but discrimination kept most from rising higher than
lieutenant.
The top-ranking Nisei was Lieutenant Colonel John F. Aiso, briefly one of
Willoughby’s top aides, Aiso was a graduate of Brown College and Harvard Law
School (he was the fourth Nisei ever to attend the latter institution) and also had
studied at Chiié University in Tokyo before the war, In April 1941, he was drafted by
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 167

the Army and in November became head instructor at the Military Intelligence
Language School in San Francisco — the first Nisei to lead a vital war-related oper-
ation. In 1944, Aiso was given the rank of Major, ending an Army policy of not
commissioning Japanese Americans. In February 1946, he was assigned to G-2,
where he worked on the political purge. Aiso shared Willoughby’s conviction that
the purge directive was being taken to extremes and administered unfairly, a posi-
tion that brought him into conflict with Government Section’s Kades. The feud
escalated into a test of wills between Willoughby and Kades, and in February 1947,
Aiso left GHQ and returned to Los Angeles. He was replaced by Major Walter
Tsukamoto.”**

The Civil Intelligence Division

G-2’s central surveillance organ was the Civil Intelligence Division (CID) under
Colonel Rufus S. Bratton (succeeded in 1950 by Colonel Arthur L. Lacey). Through
its Civil Censorship Detachment and Counter-Intelligence Corps, the Division exer-
cised considerable influence over the administration of the Occupation. It reportedly
was able to prevent even the Central Intelligence Agency, created in 1947, from
operating freely in Japan until 1950. The Civil Intelligence Division supervised the
Public Safety Branch, headed by Colonel Howard E. Pulliam, the Civil Censorship
Detachment under Colonel William B. Putnam and the 441st Counter-Intelligence
Corps commanded by Lieutenant Colonel W. E. Homan. In late 1947, the Civil
Censorship Detachment’s Communications Branch and Press, Pictorial and Broad-
casting Branch were both elevated to division level, and in early 1948, the CID itself
was reorganised as the Civil Intelligence Section (not to be confused with the
phantom CIS of August 1946), with Colonel Bratton at its head. The revitalised CIS
included Pulliam’s Public Safety Division, Putnam’s Civil Censorship Detachment
and the 441st Counter-Intelligence Corps, now under Colonel R. G. Duff. CIS was
a large section, employing 1,983 people as of 1 January 1948.” It was formally
disbanded on 9 August 1951 and its functions reconsolidated under G-2.
One of the Occupation’s key intelligence tasks was monitoring and censoring
the mass media, the entertainment media and other expressions of public and
private opinion, a duty SCAP entrusted to the Civil Censorship Detachment
(CCD). The first CCD Chief was Lieutenant Colonel Donald D. Hoover, a former
journalist and public relations specialist. Hoover resigned in November 1945 after
establishing the basic pattern of censorship. He was succeeded by Lieutenant Colonel
C. W. Wordsworth and, from April 1946, by Colonel Putnam. The Detachment
consisted of the Communications Division (H. A. Engrav), which censored the
mails, telephone, telegraph and other communications media, and the Press, Pic-
torial and Broadcasting Division (John J. Costello), which covered the information
and entertainment media. The CCD routinely opened private mail and conducted
pre-publication checks of books, journals and the press. Such actions, undertaken on
an emergency basis, may have been inevitable in the early stages of occupation, but
their maintenance until 1949 violated the constitutional guarantees of freedom of
168 Organising the Occupation

speech and thought that GHQ was committed to uphold. After an initial preoccupa-
tion with ultra-nationalist propaganda, Occupation censors turned their attention to
leftist social, political and literary commentary (chapter 8).
Counter-Intelligence was the primary responsibility of the 441st Counter-
Intelligence Corps (CIC). Established to identify threats to the Occupation
mission, the CIC produced detailed surveillance reports on rightist and ultra-
nationalist groups, located suspected war criminals and drew up purge dockets. As
the Occupation progressed, however, it increasingly monitored trade-union leaders,
liberal intellectuals and Communists. After 1947, fearing links between Koreans in
Japan and the Soviet-backed government in northern Korea, the CIC intensified its
coverage of Korean groups.“° CIC units originally were assigned to each prefecture,
and when Military Government Teams were disbanded in 1949, Counter-
Intelligence groups remained in place. Japan was redivided into 61 CIC districts, and
intelligence-gathering activities were intensified. Under a top secret alert plan, “Toll-
booth’, CIC units drew up lists of potential ‘subversives’ to be apprehended and
jailed in the event of an insurrection. Blacklists included leading Socialists and Com-
munists, progressive governors and mayors, labour leaders and Korean activists. The
CIC gathered information on the proposed general strike of 1947, drew up targets
for the Red Purge and, in some cases, intervened directly in government affairs. In
1951, for instance, G-2 attempted to stop Communist parliamentarians from meet-
ing in the Diet, a practice it considered ‘inimical to the occupation and to the
Japanese Government’. In July, a CIC agent visited the secretary of the House of
Representatives and requested that he report Communist-sponsored gatherings on a
regular basis. Government Section had to intervene to stop the intimidation tactics
and preserve the dignity of Parliament.”

LEGAL SECTION

Legal Section (LS) was created on 2 October 1945 to advise SCAP on matters of
law. LS also was responsible for investigating and prosecuting war crimes and
recommending rules and procedures for Occupation courts. The International
Prosecution Section (IPS) was established on 8 December 1945, with LS assis-
tance, to prosecute civilian and military leaders before the International Military
Tribunal for the Far East (IMTFE) in Tokyo. The IPS and Legal Section drew up the
‘Tribunal’s guidelines, known as the Tokyo Charter. At its height, the IPS included
277 Allied attorneys, investigators and assistants and 232 Japanese. It also boasted an
Investigation Branch staffed by former FBI operatives (including two agents famous
for bringing gangster John Dillinger to justice).“” Legal Section and IPS had their
offices in the Meiji Building (Marunouchi district); the IMTFE took place in the
refurbished War Ministry Building near Ichigaya.
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 169

The International Prosecution Section and the IMTFE

MacArthur issued the Tokyo Charter on 19 January 1946. On 29 April, the Inter-
national Prosecution Section formally lodged its indictment against 28 Japanese
leaders, including former premier T6j6 Hideki, for conspiring to commit crimes
against peace in Asia and the Pacific between 1928 and 1945, Emperor Hirohito’s
name was conspicuously absent from the list of accused. Of the original 28
defendants, 2 died during the proceedings and 1 was dismissed by reason of insanity,
leaving 25 to face punishment. The trial opened on 3 May, and the IPS presented its
case from 4 June 1946 until 24 January 1947. The defence took charge from
24 February 1947 until 12 January 1948. Final arguments were completed on
16 April 1948. By that time, the Tribunal had held 818 court sessions during which
419 witnesses had presented testimony. The final transcript was more than 48,000
pages in length, and the exhibits ran to an additional 30,000 pages.’
Unlike Nuremberg, where four chief prosecutors, one from each of the occupying,
powers, presented the Allied case, in Tokyo there was only one chief prosecutor,
Joseph B. Keenan, who had been appointed US Chief of Counsel by President
Truman. He was assisted by 10 associate prosecutors from the other participating
Allied nations. A graduate of Brown University and Harvard Law School, Keenan
was a New Deal politician well-versed in criminal law — he had headed the Justice
Department’s Criminal Division in its gang-busting days — and was noted for his
bureaucratic skills. He was not proficient as a prosecutor, however, and a serious
drinking problem, compounded by an uncanny resemblance to comedian W, C.
Fields, gave him a bad press.
Whereas the IMTFE was a rather undistinguished Bench, the Allies sent some of
their brightest legal minds to Tokyo. The International Prosecution Section included
Arthur Comyns-Carr assisted by the noted Buddhist scholar Christmas Humphreys
(Britain), Govinda Menon and Krishna Menon (India), and the internationally
recognised Soviet jurist and diplomat Dr S. A. Golunsky. The IPS also boasted an
outstanding woman jurist, Grace Llewellyn Kanode, an American. The large US
team included the highest-rated trial lawyer in the United States, John Fihelly of the
Justice Department, and John Darsey, who had represented the Attorney General at
Nuremberg. Other prosecutors, however, were of lesser calibre.“
Through the International Defendants Section, the Tribunal provided counsel to
more than 30 attorneys (all but nine of them Japanese) in defending the accused.
The American defence lawyers were dismissed by New Zealand Justice Sir Erima
Harvey Northcroft as thoroughly incompetent ‘almost to childishness’, and many
indeed seemed interested primarily in making a name for themselves. A small
number of highly motivated and competent individuals, however, displayed true
dedication in the difficult and unpopular task of representing Japanese suspects. One
such idealist was Owen Cunningham, former head of the Des Moines College of
Law, who was debarred from the proceedings at one point for an impassioned attack
on the legal foundations of the Tribunal.”
The Nuremberg Tribunal had been conducted by four justices — one from each of
170 Organising the Occupation

Photo 24. Judges of the International Military Tribunal for the Far East, 26 September
1947. From left to right: R. Pal (India), B. V. A. Réling (Netherlands), E. S$. McDougall
(Canada), Lord Patrick (UK), M. C. Cramer (US), W. E Webb (Tribunal President,
Australia), J. A. Mei (Republican China), I. Zaryanoff (USSR), H. Bernard (France),
E, H. Northcroft (New Zealand) and D. Jaranilla (Philippines) (US National Archives).

the victor nations — but the IMTFE Bench consisted of 11 judges from Australia,
Britain, Canada, Republican China, France, Holland, India, New Zealand, the
Philippines, the Soviet Union and the United States. Nine nations had signed the
Instrument of Surrender, but the criterion for participation in the Tokyo Tribunal
was membership in the Far Eastern Commission, and two additional justices, one
each from India and the Philippines, were added at the insistence of Britain and the
United States. The Philippines and India had made significant contributions to
the war effort and suffered directly from Japanese depredations; both demanded a
role in bringing the aggressor to justice. The court’s disparate composition made
deliberation difficult, however, increasing the likelihood of a split decision.
The Tribunal was presided over by Chief Justice Sir William Flood Webb of
Australia. Born in Brisbane and educated at Queens University, Webb had served as
Chief Justice of the Supreme Court of Queensland and distinguished himself on the
Australian Supreme Court before taking up his appointment in Tokyo. The Presi-
dent and at least one other justice displayed obvious bias against the defendants,
however, and several members of the Bench not only were obscure but patently
unqualified (chapter 6). A simple majority was sufficient to convict yet, with
few exceptions, the justices believed themselves competent to rule on the guilt or
innocence of the accused.“
The IMTFE concluded its hearings in mid-April 1948 and in November, after
seven months of deliberation, the justices handed down their verdicts. The Tribunal
ruled by a majority of 8 that all 25 surviving defendants were guilty of crimes against
 Inside the Special Staff Sections : 171

peace and sentenced 7 to hang. The judgment was not unanimous, however. Three
judges, including Indian Justice Radhabinod Pal, the only jurist fully versed in
international law,*’ wrote dissenting opinions. Moreover, the Tribunal was divided
on the issue of the Emperor’s war guilt. The IMTFE was dissolved on 12 December,
and on 12 February 1949, the International Prosecution Section, too, was disbanded
and its residual functions turned over to Legal Section.

Legal Section
Legal Section coordinated the activities of the IPS and was responsible for providing
IMTFE defence lawyers. From 1949 to 1950, it helped determine the reduction of
sentences for convicted war criminals. With the dissolution of the IMTFE, the
Section shifted its focus to international law and the legal aspects of economic
reconstruction, in particular exchange controls and international trade regulations.
Its counterpart in the Japanese government was the Attorney General’s Office.
A medium-sized section, as of February 1948, LS had 599 staff members, includ-
ing 30 military officers, 17 enlisted personnel, 220 civilians and 322 support staff,
mainly Japanese. It was composed of five divisions: Administrative, Law, Legislation
and Justice, Philippine, and Australian. The Philippine and Australian Divisions
provided liaison between GHQ/SCAP, Manila and Canberra on war crimes issues.
The LS regional office in Manila closed in November 1949 after the US Military
Commission in Manila handed down its last sentence. The Australian Division
operated until the end of the Occupation. The Section also maintained regional
branches in Fukuoka, Hiroshima, Ni’igata, Osaka, Nagoya and Sapporo. It was
discontinued on 28 April 1952.
Chief of Section was Colonel Alva C. Carpenter, one of the original Bataan
Gang. During the Occupation, Carpenter resigned his commission, becoming one
of GHQ’s rare civilian section chiefs. Among the distinguished lawyers, judges,
legal scholars and experts in labour law who worked under him, four deserve
special mention. Alfred C. Oppler was transferred from Government Section to
Legal Section in 1948 once the basic work of the GS Courts and Law Division
had been completed. As Chief of the LS Legislation and Justice Division, Oppler
was responsible for examining the constitutionality of Diet legislation, He brought
most of his staff with him, including Thomas Blakemore. Another top-notch
legal mind Oppler tapped for his Division was Kurt Steiner, who became the LS
human rights expert. A Jewish refugee from Nazism like Oppler, Steiner had
graduated from the University of Vienna and fled to the United States in 1939.
Joining MacArthur’s headquarters in 1946, he worked as an IPS prosecutor until
1948. Steiner was well-versed in Japanese and became Oppler’s deputy in 1949,
heading the Civil Affairs and Civil Liberties Branch, a position he held until
1951,"
Leonard Appel, a University of Denver law graduate, formerly served on the
National Labour Relations Board. During the war, he worked with labour move-
ments in the Middle East and Germany as a member of the Office of Strategic
172 Organising the Occupation

Services’ Labour Division. Arriving in Tokyo in March 1946 with the US Advisory
Committee on Labour in Japan, Appel helped draft the labour protection laws
(chapter 7). He left Japan when the Committee’s work was finished but returned
in the spring of 1947, entering the LS Law Division, where he helped revise
the National Public Service Law and enact the Public Corporation Labour Rela-
tions Law. The former outlined the rights and duties of government employees;
the latter set out employees’ rights in public enterprises, such as the Japan
National Railways, Japan Telegram and Telephone, and the Japan Salt and Tobacco
monopolies.
The Law Division Chief from September 1946 until the end of the Occupa-
tion was Jules Bassin. A graduate of New York City University Law School, Bassin
joined LS in October 1945 after intensive training in security and intelligence,
the law of military occupation and Japanese at the Harvard and University of
Virginia Military Government Schools. As Law Division head, he worked on
such questions as the taxation of non-Japanese nationals, the exercise of civil and
criminal jurisdiction and the status and treatment of Koreans and Formosans in
Japan. Bassin collaborated closely with Richard Finn of Diplomatic Section in
devising GHQ’s policy toward the Korean and Formosan minorities. After the
Occupation, he joined the State Department, becoming legal attaché at the US
Embassy in Tokyo.
Legal Section was SCAP’s primary watchdog agency for civil rights. Between 1945
and 1948, Oppler’s Legislation and Justice Division initiated important reforms
freeing the judiciary from executive domination. The Division also tried unsuccess-
fully to limit the persecution of leftist groups during the Red Purge. In 1950, Oppler
and Steiner collaborated on a lengthy brief criticising Prime Minister Yoshida’s pro-
posal to outlaw the Communist Party. In 1949, Bassin’s Law Division suggested that
Koreans be allowed to normalise their legal status and opt for full Japanese citizen-
ship (the proposal was rejected), and in 1951, it frustrated a government attempt to
classify ethnic Koreans and Formosans as aliens liable to deportation (chapter 10). In
1951, Oppler unsuccessfully opposed the enactment of the controversial Subversive
Activities Prevention Law, which he considered an unconstitutional attempt to revive
the 1925 Peace Preservation Law (the anti-subversion measure was passed into law in
July 1952).

ECONOMIC AND SCIENTIFIC SECTION

Economic and Scientific Section (ESS) was the first special staff group to be created
independently of the AFPAC Military Government Section. Established on 15
September 1945 as an autonomous staff echelon, it was assigned control over Japan’s
economic affairs and advised SCAP on labour, finance and industry, both in Japan
and Korea. In Germany, these functions had been allocated to different staff sections
in the Allied Command. In Japan, they were assumed by a single colossal bureau-
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 173

cracy with supervisory authority over several ministries and government agencies.
ESS was responsible for zaibatsu dissolution, labour reform, the Dodge stabilisation
programme, the reorganisation of Japan’s scientific establishment and reparations
(until May 1947 when a separate Reparations Section was formed).

Organisation and mission

ESS was one of the largest GHQ staff groups. In February 1948, it had 1,189
employees, including 33 military officers, 40 enlisted personnel, 599 civilians and
527 other employees, mainly Japanese. As of January 1946, it included nine major
divisions: Anti-Trust and Cartels, Exports and Imports, Finance, Industry, Legal,
Labour, Price Control and Rationing, Scientific and Technical, and Statistics and
Research. In June 1946, ESS was augmented by the Textile Division, and between
1949 and 1950, the Divisions of Banking and Foreign Exchange, Internal Revenue,
Public Finance, Tourists and Service, and Utilities and Fuels were added. Reflecting
its broad mandate, ESS dealt with the Ministries of Commerce and Industry (later,
International Trade and Industry), Finance and Labour and the Economic Stabilisa-
tion Board (chapter 7). The Section’s offices were located in the Forestry Building
behind SCAP headquarters. ESS was disbanded on 28 April 1952.
The brunt of ESS’s early reform programme was borne mainly by Anti-Trust and
Cartels Division and Labour Division. Anti-Trust and Cartels implemented the
recommendations of the Edwards Mission (January to March 1946) for the breakup
of the zaibatsu and sponsored a deconcentration law designed to dismantle other
monopolistic practices. Labour Division, assisted by the US Advisory Committee on
Labour in Japan, endeavoured to free the work force from prewar authoritarian
constraints. Assisted by an ad hoc Japanese advisory group, it drafted the Labour
Union Law (1945) guaranteeing workers the right to organise, engage in collective
bargaining and strike and secured passage of the Labour Relations Adjustment Act
(1946) and the Labour Standards Act (1947).
The Section’s reform programme lost steam as US priorities switched to economic
recovery. From May 1948, Anti-Trust and Cartels’ deconcentration policies were
ignored or reversed, and by December 1949, the dissolution programme had been
abandoned (that month, Anti-Trust and Cartels was renamed the Fair Trade Divi-
sion). In 1949, ESS was placed under the scrutiny of the Office of the Comptroller, a
special staff group set up by order of the Department of the Army, to temper the
Section’s zeal for economic decentralisation. Labour Division lost its liberal élan in
1948 following the revision of the National Public Service Law denying civil servants
the right to strike. By 1949, Washington’s efforts to lower occupation costs and trans-
form Japan into the capitalist powerhouse of Asia had become an all-consuming goal,
economic democracy took a back seat to economic self-sufficiency and the rapid
reintegration of Japan into the world economy. One of the vehicles for this trans-
formation was the Dodge Economic Stabilisation Programme, a package of
retrenchment measures introduced in 1949 to lower inflation and expand productive
capacity. Responsibility for eight of the Dodge Plan’s nine points devolved on ESS
174 Organising the Occupation

divisions. Consequently, ESS as a whole became increasingly involved in the details

of fiscal reform, currency stabilisation and the revival of trade, while Labour Division
devoted its energies to the Red Purge. A bright point in this otherwise dismal picture
was the Section’s leadership in liberalising scientific research, but with the ‘reverse
course’, its democratising mission came to a halt. In the last year of occupation, ESS
spearheaded an American effort to revive the Japanese armaments industry by fun-
nelling US technological and financial support to key manufacturers for the produc-
tion of military hardware (chapter 10).

Staff
ESS was first headed by Colonel Raymond C, Kramer, a former department store
executive from New York.” While in Manila, Kramer had begun work on plans to
convert the AFPAC Military Government Section into a separate headquarters,
SCAP. In early September, he pushed for the creation of an independent Economic
and Scientific Section and requested the services of several well-known US industrial
and financial experts to staff it. During the first weeks of occupation, Kramer issued a
directive freezing the assets of Hirohito’s household and convinced leading zaibatsu
to dismantle voluntarily, setting the stage for ESS’s dissolution programme. Kramer
resigned in December after being passed over for promotion and was replaced by
Major General William F, Marquat, a career officer with no knowledge of economies
whom a peer once described as ‘an easygoing, affable anti-aircraft officer [who]
looked and often talked like a football coach’.”” In his youth, Marquat had been a
professional boxer, then a reporter for The Seattle Times. During World War I, he
took a commission in the Army Field Artillery, After the war, Marquat returned to
journalism but re-enlisted in the late 1930s and was assigned to MacArthur's com-
mand in the Philippines, where he became the General’s chief artillery officer and
one of the charmed inner circle of military advisers.’' Marquat was a hard worker
and proved to be a surprisingly effective section chief. Lacking expertise in economics
and scientific matters, however, he relied heavily on his division chiefs for policy
advice.
The Finance and Internal Revenue Divisions were staffed by well-trained, com-
petent specialists,” but the Section’s top talent was concentrated in Anti-Trust and
Cartels Division and Labour Division. Anti-Trust and Cartels had two outstanding
chiefs, J. Macl. Henderson and Edward C, Welsh, Henderson had worked as special
assistant to the US Attorney General and headed the Justice Department's West
Coast Anti-Trust Division. He came to Japan with the Edwards Mission in January
1946 and, together with Raymond Vernon, Assistant Director of the US Securities
and Exchange Commission, remained with ESS to help implement the anti-
monopoly programme. Henderson succeeded S. W. Wheeler as head of Anti-Trust
and Cartels in May 1946 and found himself responsible for dismantling the
Mitsubishi conglomerate based on recommendations he had drawn up earlier,
Henderson left for the Philippines in late 1946, and six months later, Edward
C. Welsh stepped in to fill his shoes, remaining until the spring of 1950.
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 175

Photo 25. Raymond C. Kramer, the architect of GHQ’s super-government and first chief of
Economic and Scientific Section, confers with reparations expert Edwin W. Pauley (seated
right) and ESS Industry Division’s Joseph Z. Reday (seated left). 13 December 1945 (Kyodo).

A highly educated and motivated officer, Welsh had written a PhD dissertation at
the University of Ohio on trust dissolution and the impact of monopoly on prices
and, during the war, had helped administer government price controls. Imbued
with a strong sense of mission, the quick and articulate economist was passionately
committed to the radical dismantling of the zaibatsu empire. He brought with
him from Washington a copy of the State Department’s FEC-230 (May 1947), a
confidential policy paper transmitting the Edwards Report to the Far Eastern Com-
mission. Welsh drafted and helped clear through the Diet GHQ’s anti-monopoly
centrepiece, the Law on the Elimination of Excessive Concentrations of Economic
Power, which was enacted in December 1947. His ‘go-go’ enthusiasm and radical
approach to dissolution earned him the enmity of the big business lobby in Washing-
ton and seemed excessive even to the New Dealers in ESS.”
Labour Division chiefs were Major William Karpinsky, Theodore Cohen, James S.
Killen, Chester W. Hepler and Robert T. Amis. Karpinsky was an electrical engineer
176 Organising the Occupation

from Duke University who had worked for the Labour Department and the New
Jersey Mediation Service and taught at Monmouth College before joining the Army.
He came to GHQ via the Harvard CAT'S and AFPAC’s Military Government Sec-
tion, Manila, Karpinsky banned police intervention in labour activities, dissolved
two reactionary labour fronts, encouraged union organising, steered the Labour
Union Law of December 1945 through Parliament and sponsored the visit of the US
Advisory Committee on Labour in Japan, He was replaced by Theodore Cohen in
January 1946,
Of Russian-Jewish stock, Cohen had studied under Hugh Borton at Columbia
University, producing a 200-page Master's thesis on the Japanese labour movement,
He taught briefly at City College, New York and went to work for the Foreign
Economic Administration’s Japanese Labour Policy Section in Washington, where he
drafted Civil Affairs Guides on labour and the administration of Imperial Household
property. He read and spoke Japanese fluently, a rare ability in GHQ, At 28, Cohen
was GHQ’s youngest division chief, In Labour Division, he supervised the drafting
of the Labour Relations Adjustment Law and the Labour Standards Law and estab-
lished procedures for resolving labour-management conflicts through conciliation,
mediation and arbitration, Assisted by Anthony Costantino of the Division’s Labour
Relations Branch, he also played a central role in preventing the general strike of
1947. Following the collapse of the strike, a US reporter accused Cohen of harbour-
ing leftist sympathies, Although MacArthur knew this to be false, he removed Cohen
from Labour Division in March 1947 to avoid further controversy — and potential
damage to his presidential ambitions. Cohen subsequently was appointed economic
adviser to General Marquat (1947-50), This dedicated liberal had, as one journalist
remarked, ‘a pathological fear of being labelled red’, Cohen later remarked, ‘I'd been
pretty close to the Communists as a kid; some of my relatives were Communists . . .
but I’ve been anti-Communist since I was 18 years old.’
Cohen was succeeded by James S. Killen, a union organiser whom Cohen himself
had recruited from the conservative American Federation of Labour. Killen began his
career as a worker in the pulp and paper industry in Washington State, but by 1937
his energy, intelligence and oratory skills had won him a position as full-time union
activist. He successfully organised Japanese-Canadian labourers in British Colum-
bia, was an AFL delegate and served as assistant director of the War Production
Board’s Pulp and Paper Division, A self-proclaimed New Dealer, Killen also was a
staunch anti-Communist, Nonetheless, as Labour Division Chief, he strongly sup-
ported the right of civil servants and public enterprise employees to bargain collect-
ively and, within limits, to strike, He resigned from ESS in 1948 after failing to
persuade MacArthur to drop plans denying civil servants these guarantees under the
revised National Public Service Law. Under Killen, Labour Division began actively
wooing moderate anti-Communist unions,”
Later Division heads Chester W. Hepler and Robert 'T, Amis worked to dampen
many of the early labour reforms. Hepler was a graduate of Wesleyan College in
Ohio, After working as a banker and accountant, he joined the Department of
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 177

Photo 26. Golda G, Stander, ESS Labour Division official, Seander was midwife to Japan's
Labour Standards Law of April 1947 (Courtesy of Golda Standeyr),

Labour and later the Federal Employment Administration, Amis graduated from the
US Naval Academy after serving in World War I, Earning a law degree from George
town University, he worked for the FBI and the Department ofAgriculture's Resettle-
ment Administration before becoming special assistant to Secretary of Labour
Francis Perkins, During the war, he served on the War Labour Board, Amis became
Labour Division Chiefin 1950 at the height of the Red Purge, With the assistance of
Austria-born union organiser Valery Burati, he also encouraged the development of
Sdhyd, the General Council of Trade Unions of Japan, as a free, democratic labour
federation, Despite its non-Communist origins, however, Sd/yd quickly became
Japan’s most powerful and militant national centre, opposing American policy
towards Japan.”°
Labour Division chiefs were assisted by a distinguished staff.” Notable among
them was Golda G, Stander, who coordinated the passage of the Labour Standards
Law. Stander held a Master’s degree from New York City University and had
worked for several New York State and Federal labour organisations, including the
National Wage Stabilisation Board, In 1946, she joined ESS as head of Labour
Division’s Wages and Working Conditions Branch, Bitterly opposed to the Red
Purge, Stander left SCAP in 1951 to work successively in the Philippines, Panama,
Mexico and Peru as a labour and welfare adviser and later took up a position with
US Aid for International Development. Between 1947 and 1949, Stander was
assisted by Meade M, Smith. With an MA in economics from Swarthmore College
in Pennsylvania, Smith joined the Labour Department's Bureau of Labour Statistics
during the war and helped draft the Civil Affairs Handbook on Japanese labour,
178 Organising the Occupation

Photo 27, ESS Chief William F, Marquat. A member of MacArthur’s Bataan Gang, the anti-
aircraft officer was a former boxer and sports journalist who enthusiastically promoted Ameri-
can baseball in Japan, Here, he throws out the first ball in Japan’s premier major-league
opening season, 4 April 1948 (Kyodo),

Under Stander, Smith encouraged the democratisation of the women’s union

movement and helped write the clauses in the Labour Standards Law protecting
women and minors.”*

The Scientific and Technical Division

An important but lesser known ESS group was the Scientific and Technical Division
(STD) created in mid-November 1945 to advise GHQ on science-related matters.
The importance of the STD was greatly enhanced by MacArthur's destruction, on
Pentagon orders, of four Japanese research cyclotrons for accelerating sub-atomic
 Inside the Special Staff Sections ‘ 179

particles in late November 1945, creating outrage among US scientists and a keen
awareness inside GHQ of the need for sound scientific counsel. The Division was
instructed to monitor closely or eliminate scientific institutions with war potential,
particularly those engaged in research in aeronautics, atomic energy and radioactivity.
But it also played a constructive role in helping Japanese scientists and engineers
recover from defeat and contribute effectively to economic recovery. One of STD's
major accomplishments was the establishment of the Science Council of Japan, a
non-governmental group of scientists elected by their peers to recommend basic
science policy to the government, and the Scientific and Technical Administration
Commission, a government agency charged with coordinating science policy and the
forerunner of today’s Science and Technology Agency.”
Scientific and Technical Division was unique among GHQ’s staff units in that it
was headed by an Australian engineer and munitions expert, Brigadier General John
William Alexander O’Brien. ESS Chief Kramer had known O’Brien in Australia
during the war and originally asked him to head the Industrial Division. When
GHQ objected to the appointment of a non-American to that position, Kramer
named the Australian to lead the Scientific and Technical Division instead. O’Brien
had difficulty recruiting American officers to serve under him and so drafted several
members of the Australian Scientific Mission during their visit to Tokyo in January
1946. One of these, Lieutenant Colonel Edward Allan, remained with O’Brien until
the final years of the Occupation. The presence of Australians in a virtually all-
American organisation posed a number of problems, personal and logistical, but
O’Brien overcame them to become a valued member of ESS. He assisted the Pauley
Mission in identifying plant and equipment for reparations and played a central role
in reforming Japan’s leading scientific organisations. O’Brien was assisted by a highly
qualified American scientist, Dr Harry C. Kelly from the Massachusetts Institute of
Technology’s Radiation Laboratory.® In April 1951, another American, Dr Bowen
C. Dees, replaced O’Brien as Division Chief.
In early 1946, shortly after his arrival, Kelly was placed in charge of a new STD
sub-group, the Special Projects Unit (later Special Projects Branch), set up on the
advice of an American nuclear physicist to investigate laboratories capable of con-
ducting atomic research. Kelly worked closely with G-2 and reported not to O’Brien
but directly to Marquat. The Special Projects Unit also worked with the Atomic
Bomb Casualty Commission, a joint US-Japan scientific group created to study the
medical effects of the atomic bombings. At the same time, Kelly was deeply involved
in the establishment of the Science Council of Japan and the Scientific and Technical
Administration Commission. He also helped Dr Nishina Yoshio, Japan’s foremost
nuclear scientist, rescue the Institute of Physical and Chemical Research (Rigaku
Kenkyijo, or Riken). Riken had been entrusted with Japan’s wartime atomic devel-
opment project, and its sprawling network of research laboratories was slated for
destruction under the ESS zaibatsu dissolution programme. With Kelly’s assistance,
Riken was democratised and reorganised as the Scientific Research Institute (Kagaku
Kenkyiisho). In 1950, Kelly helped SRI Director Nishina acquire radio isotopes from
180 Organising the Occupation

the United States for research purposes, and despite the constraints under which he
worked, did much to enhance freedom of scientific inquiry in Japan.°!

CIVIL INFORMATION AND EDUCATION

Civil Information and Education Section (CI&E) grew out of two different organisa-
tions. The first was Education Branch of the Public Affairs Division in AFPAC’s
Military Government Section (MGS). Set up in June 1945, it was staffed by teachers
and academics, many of them drawn from the Civil Affairs Staging Area in
Monterey. The second was AFPAC’s Information Dissemination Section (IDS)
headed by Bonner F. Fellers, which had been converted from Fellers’ Psychological
Warfare Branch on 27 August 1945 and given the task of preparing a comprehensive
information policy for occupation, including a liberal school curriculum.” On 22
September, CI&E was cobbled together from both units and established as an
independent staff group inside GHQ/AFPAC’s Yokohama headquarters. On 2
October, it was incorporated into GHQ/SCAP and assigned offices in the cavernous
Radio Tokyo Building in Hibiya Park.
CI8&E was responsible for advising the Supreme Commander on policies relating
to ‘public information, education, religion and other sociological problems of Japan
and Korea’. Reflecting its organisational antecedents, the Section also was assigned a
propaganda mission: the dissemination of democratic ideals and principles. As of
February 1948, CI8¢E was a medium-sized section, with 563 employees, of whom
14 were military officers, 24 enlisted personnel, 202 civilian officials and 323 general
staff, predominantly Japanese. The Section worked primarily with the Education
Ministry.
From October 1945 to November 1945, CI8cE consisted of seven branches:
Administration; Education and Religions; Press and Publications; Radio; Motion
Picture; Planning and Special Projects; and Analysis and Research. Between late
1945 and January 1946, Education and Religions became two separate units,
Theatre was added to Motion Pictures, becoming Motion Picture and Theatrical
Branch, and Language, Library Science and Arts and Monuments were established as
new branches. As the Occupation proceeded, however, CI8&¢E became progressively
centralised and complex. In June 1946, branches were upgraded to divisions, and
in May 1948, the Section underwent a third reorganisation,®’ From 1948 to the
end of the Occupation, it consisted of five divisions: Administration; Education;
Religions and Cultural Resources; Information; and Public Opinion and Sociological
Research.™ On 3 April 1951, the Section established a CI&E staff group in the UN
Unified Command in Korea, It was dissolved as a special staff group of GHQ/SCAP
on 28 April 1952.
The first Chief of Section was Brigadier General Kermit (‘Ken’) R. Dyke, who
headed CI8E from September 1945 to May 1946. Dyke was a former vice-president
for promotion and research of the National Broadcasting Corporation. An advertis-
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 181

Photo 28. Kermit R. Dyke, first chief of Civil Information and Education Section, holds a
press conference to announce the Shint6é Directive, 16 December 1945, Immediately behind
Dyke is William K. Bunce of Religions Branch. Standing at the far left is Daniel C. Imboden
of Press and Publications Branch (Kyodo).

ing specialist, he had worked as a propagandist with the Office of War Information
(OW) before joining SWPA in 1943, where he directed troop information and
education. His knowledge of Japan was limited, but during his short tenure, he
helped free political prisoners, disband the Special Higher Police, draft the Emperor's
New Year’s message renouncing his divinity (1946), purge ultra-nationalists from the
schools and media and write the Shinté Directive. A liberal, Dyke was labelled by
conservative SCAP higher-ups as ‘that damned pink’, and he returned to the United
States early in the Occupation.”
Dyke’s successor, Lieutenant Colonel Donald R. Nugent, US Marine Corps, held
a degree in education and a PhD in Far Eastern History from Stanford University. In
1936, he co-edited a textbook on the Pacific region™ and, from 1937 to 1941, taught
in Japan at the Wakayama Business School and Osaka Commercial College. Nugent
also served as district superintendent of schools in California and taught history and
economics at Menlo Junior College. Upon returning to the United States in 1941, he
joined the Marines and underwent training in Japanese and psychological warfare.
His academic background, Japan experience and basic knowledge of the spoken
language qualified him for top positions in CI&E. Although Nugent enthusiastically
implemented basic school reforms, he was a dyed-in-the-wool conservative, and
182 Organising the Occupation

beginning with the second Yomiuri dispute of 1946, he coordinated a steadily

escalating assault on Communist influence in the labour movement, the schools
and the mass media that culminated in the Red Purge of 1949-50.

Education and Religions

The CI&E mandate covered three fundamental areas of reform: education, religion
and information. The Section’s most pressing task was the overhaul of Japan’s educa-
tion system, a responsibility that initially fell to its Education and Religions Branch.
On 28 November 1945, that group became two independent units, Education
Branch and Religions Branch. Education Branch organised a purge to remove
ultra-nationalist teachers from the schools and sponsored the visit of the first US
Education (Stoddard) Mission in March 1946 to recommend basic education
reforms. It was responsible for implementing the School Law and the Fundamental
Education Law of 1947. The Branch also liberalised textbook certification, revised
school texts, introduced social studies, initiated teacher training and vocational
programmes, standardised entrance exams for public universities and promoted the
establishment of new universities.
Education and Religions Branch (and later Education Branch) was led by Major
(from November, Lieutenant Colonel) Harold G. Henderson. Born in New York,
Henderson held a Master’s degree in chemical engineering from Columbia Uni-
versity. While living in Japan in the 1930s, he had developed a deep interest in
Japanese art and poetry and later taught Japanese literature at his Alma Mater.
During the war, he served as a psychological warfare specialist with Fellers’s Psycho-
logical Warfare Branch, where he composed propaganda leaflets. He worked briefly
in AFPAC’s Information Dissemination Section, the PWB’s successor, before taking
charge of Education and Religions Branch. In December 1945, he was transferred to
an advisory position in CI8E after incurring MacArthur’s displeasure and returned
to Columbia University shortly afterwards to continue his academic career.
Henderson was assisted by two able subordinates, Navy Lieutenant (later, Lieuten-
ant Commander) Robert K. Hall and Lieutenant Commander (afterwards, Com-
mander) Herbert J> Wunderlich. Hall was a Harvard graduate in education with a
Master’s degree in Asian studies from Columbia University and a PhD from the
University of Michigan. During the war, he joined the Navy and attended Princ-
eton’s Naval School of Military Government. Hall was exceptionally well-informed
about Japanese education and, at the Civil Affairs Staging Area (CASA), became
Education Section Chief on CASA’s Occupation Planning Staff. He is best remem-
bered for his unsuccessful crusade to substitute Latin script for Chinese characters in
Japan. In early 1946, Hall was sent to Korea to advise the US Military Government
on education reform, and he returned to the United States in May to take up a
position at Columbia Teachers’ College. Hall’s Language Simplification Unit
included linguist Dr Abraham M. Halpern (PhD, Chicago), who replaced Hall,
and John Pelzel, who later taught cultural anthropology at Harvard. Herbert J.
Wunderlich had been Dean of Student Affairs at Stanford University before entering
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 183

CI&E, where he was responsible for revising school textbooks and curricula. In
1946, he left Japan for the University of Idaho.”
Army Air Forces Lieutenant Colonel Mark T. Orr succeeded Nugent as Chief of
Education Division in May 1946. Returning to civilian status, he stayed on as
Division Chief until March 1949. Before the war, Orr had studied political science
and English at the University of North Carolina, helped found and edit an academic
journal (The South and World Affairs) and worked as a local journalist and newspaper
editor. Drafted before he could complete his PhD, he trained at the University of
Virginia’s School of Military Government, the University of Michigan CATS and
the Civil Affairs Staging Area. At CASA, he worked under Robert Hall in Education
Section. Together with Nugent, Orr was one of the handful of CI&E staff officers
conversant in Japanese.® Dr Arthur K. Loomis, who relieved Orr as Education
Division Chief in March 1949, remained until March 1952. Loomis held a PhD
from Colorado University and had served as superintendent of schools in Ohio
during the war. He taught education at Denver University before joining CI&E in
1947.
CI8&E also strove to eliminate authoritarian religious practices. The Religions
Branch, upgraded to division level in June 1946, was inaugurated to sever links
between religion and the state, prevent the re-emergence of ultra-nationalistic
religious sects and monitor the implementation of GHQ policies among religious
groups. The Religions Division Chief was Navy Lieutenant (from early 1946, Lieu-
tenant Commander) William K. Bunce. Bunce earned a PhD in history from Ohio
State University and, from 1936 to 1939, taught English at a Japanese high school in
Matsuyama, Ehime Prefecture. In 1941, he became Dean of Otterbein College, Ohio
before volunteering for the Navy. During the war, he served as Education Officer at
the Princeton Naval School of Military Government. With the creation of AFPAC’s
Military Government Section in Manila, Bunce was appointed head of Education
Branch in the MGS Public Affairs Division. Under his leadership, CI&E’s Religions
Division disestablished State Shintd and worked to ensure freedom of belief. After
the Occupation, Bunce remained in Tokyo with the State Department's US
Information Services (USIS), and from 1965 to 1968 headed its branch in Seoul.

Information
A third focus of reform was information. CI&E’s Information Division inherited
virtually intact Feller’s Information Dissemination Section, taking over its functions
and retaining its leading intelligence experts. CI&E’s first information tsar was
Bradford Smith, former head of OWI’s Central Pacific Operations. A graduate of
Columbia University, Smith had taught at Tokyo Imperial University and St Paul’s
(Rikky6) University from 1931 to 1936 before joining the OWI during the war. He
represented the State Department while serving with Feller’s IDS and, following the
creation of CI&E, became information adviser to CI&¢E Chief Dyke. It was Smith
who reportedly urged Dyke to issue the Civil Liberties Directive. Smith was replaced
by Don Brown, another OWI propagandist, who arrived in December 1945 and
184 Organising the Occupation

remained with CI&E as Information Division Chief until 1952. A University of

Pittsburgh graduate, Brown had worked in prewar Japan for The Japan Advertiser
(forerunner of The Japan Times) and spoke fluent Japanese.”
Information Division was responsible for ideological redirection, and in the early
phase of occupation, its staff adopted liberal positions. Press and Publications Branch
(PPB) censored the media of ultra-nationalistic content but also spread democratic
ideals. It initially supported the workers of Japan’s three largest dailies — the Asahi,
Mainichi and Yomiuri — in their struggle to gain control of production, expel
reactionary managers and liberalise editorial policies. PPB Chief Robert H. Berkov
actively encouraged such struggles as a democratising trend. A newsman with a
degree from Colorado University, Berkov worked as an OWI operative during
the war. He played an important early role in freeing the mass media from totalitar-
ian controls but was forced from his job by General Willoughby for acknowledging
too freely the real origins of the 1946 Constitution.
As the Occupation grew more conservative in outlook, such positive efforts were
curbed and in a few cases reversed. Major (later Lieutenant Colonel) Daniel C.
Imboden, who succeeded Berkov in June 1946, took an openly antagonistic stance
towards the media. An ultra-conservative ex-editor who had owned his own paper in
San Luis Obispo, California, Imboden believed publishers should be free of ‘outside
interference’ from journalists and editorial staff. He viewed media workers’ efforts
to liberalise management and news content as a dangerous encroachment on the
owners’ autonomy. As a result, from mid-1946, CI&E supported publishers in
their sometimes violent efforts to reassert control over their papers. Through
Imboden and others like him, media reform degenerated into a vendetta against
left-wing journalists, editors and union leaders.
The Motion Picture and Drama (later, Motion Picture and Theatrical) Branch was
another progressive group. From October 1945 to June 1946, it was led by David W.
Conde, a Canadian-born US citizen who had served with the OWI’s Psychological
Warfare Branch during the war. Conde was known for his radical ideas, a zealous
determination to reform Japanese cinema and a short temper. Under his leadership,
the Motion Pictureand Drama Branch worked to revitalise film-making and theatre
by encouraging anti-militaristic and democratic themes. After leaving GHQ, Conde
worked as a stringer for International News Service and Reuters until running foul of
Willoughby in July 1947. He was forced to leave Japan when an article critical of
SCAP’s censorship programme appeared in The St Louis Post-Dispatch. Conde was
replaced by George Gercke, one of the few Information Division staff members with
actual experience in the film industry. Gercke headed the Branch from November
1946 to the end of the Occupation.””
Radio Branch developed ‘positive’ information programmes for public broadcast-
ing and helped remould the Japan Broadcasting Corporation (NHK). It was headed
initially by psychological warfare experts Irving C. Correll and Captain William V.
Roth, and later by Albert C. Crews and Dwight B. Herrick, both professional
NBC radiomen. The Information Division’s Libraries Officer was Paul Burnette,
 Inside the Special Staff Sections ‘ 185

who was succeeded by Ronald A. Mulhauser. In 1949, Mulhauser transferred to the

Information Centers Branch and was replaced by Jane Fairweather, a specialist from
Education Division. In the very early days of CI&E, Dr P. O. Keeny, Chief Librarian
at the University of Montana and professor of library science, drafted the so-called
Keeny Plan for the reform of Japan’s library system. Education Division’s Adult
Education Officer John M. Nelson, a young educator from Kansas, helped husband
the plan into the 1950 Library Law.

Women’s rights and female educators

Information Division’s Planning Unit (later, Planning and Programmes Branch)
coordinated SCAP’s propaganda effort. It expanded public access to information,
promoted land reform, encouraged the labour movement and worked to improve the
status of women. Initially, Captain Arthur Behrstock and Lieutenant Ethel B. Weed
featured prominently in this work. Behrstock, another OWI propaganda expert,
headed the Planning Unit until late 1946, when he returned to the State Depart-
ment. Behrstock was succeeded by Lieutenant Colonel Wilson Gaddis, a former
editor of the prewar Japan Advertiser and wartime Army propagandist, and John EF.
Sullivan who had worked for the OWI in China.”
Women’s Information Officer Ethel Weed had been a public relations specialist in
Cleveland, Ohio before undergoing six months of language training at the North-
western University CATS. She arrived with the first WAC deployment to Japan in
October 1945 and stayed on until 1952. Weed played a crucial coordinating role in
drafting policy for women’s rights within GHQ, and the CI&E Planning Branch
became a de facto Women’s Rights Desk. She worked closely with Alfred Oppler and
Kurt Steiner on questions of family law in revising the Civil Code, and in early 1946,
her views were reflected in a special CI&E report on the status of women in Japan.
Weed solicited the opinions of prominent Japanese legal experts on the patriarchal
household (ze) system, the symbol of male prerogative, and interceded directly with
government officials to eliminate the feudalistic aspects of that system and bring the
Civil Code into line with the new Constitution. Weed attracted other talented
women in GHQ, and in 1946, her informal policy alliance included Beate Sirota
(GS); Margaret Stone (ESS); Doris Cochrane, a State Department liaison officer and
women’s affairs consultant; and several staffers in CI8&E, including Dr Lulu Holmes
(below).”” A group of prominent Japanese women also ‘adopted’ Weed. Known as
‘Weeds girls’, they included liberal feminists, Christian humanists and Socialists
as well as Communists (chapters 6 and 7).
Women such as Captain Eileen R. Donovan of Education Division, a specialist in
secondary education, also made important contributions to CI8&¢E. Donovan gradu-
ated from Boston Teachers’ College and taught history and economics at a Boston
high school before joining the WACs and training at the University of Virginia
School of Military Government, the University of Michigan CATS and CASA. In
March 1946, she lectured to the US Education Mission on women’s education and
later that year proposed a liberal replacement for the Imperial Rescript on Education,
186 Organising the Occupation

Photo 29, C1&E’s Women’s Information Officer Ethel B. Weed confers with Japanese women
leaders. To Weed’s right are Fujita Taki, President of the New Japan Women’s League,
Sait6 Kie and Tanaka Sumiko. At the reader’s far right is Suzuki Aiko, 9 October 1948,
This informal ‘women’s policy alliance’ fought for the inclusion of women’s rights in the
Occupation reforms (US National Archives).

triggering a wide-ranging debate within CI&E. In 1948, Donovan became the first
woman officer in the US Foreign Service and was reassigned to Diplomatic Section.”
Other prominent women in CI&E were Dr Lulu Holmes, Dr Helen Heffernan,
Dr Verna A. Carley and Dr Billie Hollingshead. Holmes, a member of Weed’s
informal policy group, headed Education Division’s Higher Education Branch. She
had taught for two years in prewar Japan at the Kobe Women’s Academy, later served
as Vice-President of Washington State University and was a member of the American
Association of University Women. While at CI&E, she cooperated closely with her
Japanese counterparts to establish the Japanese Association of University Women
(chapter 8).’ Heffernan held a Master’s degree in education from the University of
California and a PhD from Stanford University and had worked more than twenty
years as a supervisor of primary schools in California. She joined Education Division
as a textbook specialist and stayed on until December 1947. Carley had a Master's
degree and PhD in teachers’ training from Colorado University and was an assistant
professor of education at Stanford University before taking a commission as Lieuten-
ant Commander in the WAVES during the war. She was the Division’s specialist
in high school education and teachers’ training from 1946 to 1948, during which
time she worked on standardising university entrance exams. Hollingshead earned a
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 187

PhD in psychology from the University of Southern California and joined Education
Division in 1947 from Brigham Young University. She remained with Education
Division until the end of the Occupation, helping the Education Ministry and Japan
Broadcasting Corporation (NHK) plan radio programmes. She also introduced the
concept of on-the-job training for teacher consultants. Donovan, Hollingshead and
Luana Bowles from the US Office of Education reportedly constituted ‘the most
well-knit team in the Division’. Finally, Elementary School Officer Pauline Jeidy, on
loan from the County Schools of Ventura, California, organised conferences and
workshops among primary school educators and helped develop teaching materials
for students with disabilities.”

Other Divisions and staff

Education, Religions and Information Divisions performed the bulk of CI&E’s
work, but two other groups, Arts and Monuments and Analysis and Research Divi-
sions, also performed important work. Arts and Monuments was set up in 1946
under Howard C. Hollis, curator of the Cleveland Museum of Art. In 1947, Sher-
man E. Lee, curator of oriental art at the Detroit Institute of Arts, replaced Hollis,
and later that year, Arts and Monuments merged with Religions Division. Hollis and
Lee worked closely with eminent Japanese scholars to democratise and upgrade
Japanese museums and make available to the public registered works of art.’°
Analysis and Research (from 1949, Public Opinion and Sociological Research)
monitored newspapers, magazines, popular publications and radio broadcasts; pro-
duced periodic evaluations of public opinion trends; and introduced modern survey
techniques to Japanese pollsters. The introduction of sociological methods to gauge
Japanese acceptance of Occupation goals after 1948 led to the development of new
methodologies and field-research techniques. The first Division Chief was J. R.
Kennedy, who was succeeded by J. Woodall Green and Dr John W. Bennett. Bennett
held a PhD in anthropology from the University of Chicago and later became a well-
known scholar.” Serving under him was Lieutenant Herbert Passin, the son of
Russian Jews who had emigrated to the United States during the Russo-Japanese War
(1904-5). Passin had taught anthropology at Northwestern University and, during
the war, worked as a member of the Planning and Research Division, US Depart-
ment of Agriculture. He entered MacArthur’s headquarters in 1946 after studying
Japanese at the University of Michigan CATS. Assigned to CI&E’s Analysis and
Research Division, Passin brought advanced social science techniques to bear on the
analysis of educational problems.”
The Occupation careers of other junior staff officers were equally varied.” Dr
Joseph C. Trainor, who held a PhD in education from the University of Washington,
had been a Navy Lieutenant Commander during the war. He joined CI&E as a
member of the Analysis and Research Division before being appointed Deputy
Chief of Education Division in June 1946. A noted Japan specialist was William
P. Woodard, a graduate of the University of Chicago and the Union School of
Divinity, who had worked as a missionary in Japan from 1921 to 1941. He was
188 Organising the Occupation

a CI&E liaison officer until 1949, when he was placed in charge of investigations and
special projects in the Religions Division. Woodard helped Bunce draft the Shinto
Directive and prepare the Religious Corporations Ordinance. His monograph
remains the standard reference for CI8E’s religious reforms.*° Frank S. Baba was
Programme Officer for Radio Branch from December 1945 to January 1952. Joining
CI&E from the US Strategic Bombing Survey, he helped reorganise NHK, returning
to the Voice of America as chief of the Japanese Service after the Occupation.
CI&E included two non-American officials: Arundel Del Re, an Italian, and Owen
Gauntlett, a British subject. Del Re had studied Latin at London University and
taught English at Tokyo Imperial University and Taihoku High School in Japanese-
occupied Formosa from 1936 to 1943. He was employed as special adviser to Educa-
tion Division because of his first-hand knowledge of the prewar school system.
Gauntlett was a specialist in English language instruction and served as an adviser to
Japanese educators in this important field.
A CI&E official who stirred considerable controversy was Dr Walter C. Eells of
the Education Division’s Higher Education Branch (1947-51). A sexagenarian when
he joined GHQ, “Hurricane’ Eells was the oldest member of the Division. He held a
Bachelor’s degree in Greek and mathematics from Whitman College, a Master’s
from the University of Chicago and a PhD in education from Stanford University,
where he taught before joining CI&E. Dr Eells later chaired the American Associ-
ation of Junior Colleges. In Education Division, he earned notoriety for his attempts
to impose centralised control on the universities, his whirlwind tours of Japanese
campuses and his strident calls to purge them of ‘Communist elements’.*!
A few CI&E officials came to GHQ from the wartime internment camps for
Japanese Americans. Kenneth M. Harkness (MA, Columbia Teachers’ College) was
Textbook Officer and special consultant to the Education Division from early 1946
until the end of the Occupation. He had served as a member of the South Dakota
State Board of Education and, during the war, as an officer in the Tule Lake Reloca-
tion Camp for suspected subversives. Another education officer, Dr Rollin C. Fox, a
‘roving educational ambassador’ for the Kanto Military Government Region, had
been principal and then superintendent of schools at the Manzanar Relocation
Center (California). Like Dr Eells, Fox was a determined foe of the left-oriented
Japan Teachers’ Union and argued (unsuccessfully) for direct action by Military
Government to curb its influence.”

NATURAL RESOURCES

Natural Resources Section (NRS) was created on 2 October 1945 to advise SCAP on
resource policy for agriculture, fisheries, forestry, mining and geology in Japan,
Korea and Japan’s former Pacific territories. NRS’s mandate encompassed tasks as
diverse as despatching whaling fleets to the Antarctic and promoting Japanese
reforestation, but one of its primary missions was to assist other staff groups in
 Inside the Special Staff Sections ; 189

raising agricultural and marine productivity. GS, ESS and other civil sections used
the data from hundreds of NRS surveys on agriculture, mining, geology, forestry
and fisheries in their efforts to rebuild the economy. NRS also was responsible for
emergency measures to deal with food and fuel shortages. This entailed combating
the activities of black-marketeers, particularly in the early phase of occupation
when frequent shortages made hoarding lucrative. To prevent such abuses, NRS
devised a system of compulsory rice deliveries. Grain was purchased by the
government at a pre-arranged price based on a fixed percentage of each farmer’s crop.
To enforce this measure, Eighth Army officers in military jeeps accompanied local
officials to farms in a show of authority designed to ensure the timely requisition of
rice quotas.
Headed by Lieutenant Colonel Hubert G. Schenck, NRS was a small but accom-
plished section. In 1948, its 265 members included 16 officers, 1 enlisted man, 132
civilians and 116 Japanese and other general personnel. NRS was composed of
six divisions for most of the Occupation: Agriculture, Fisheries, Forestry, Mining
and Geology, Library and Production, and Administration. In 1947, the Plans and
Policies Division was created, and in mid-1951, the Agriculture and Forestry Divi-
sions were merged. NRS dealt mainly with the Agriculture Ministry and was located
in the Mitsubishi Shoji Building in Yirakucho. The Section ceased operations in
July 1951 and was officially disbanded on 15 December of that year, at which
time remaining personnel were transferred to a new unit set up inside ESS for that
purpose, the Natural Resources Division.
NRS was intimately involved in GHQ’s land reform project and included several
agricultural experts with government and academic backgrounds. Lieutenant Col-
onel Hubert G. Schenck, NRS Chief for the duration of the Occupation, was a
geology professor from Stanford University. Warren H. Leonard, the first head of
the Agricultural Division, had been a professor of agriculture at the University of
Colorado (Fort Collins). Mark B. Williamson, the third Agricultural Division Chief,
had participated in a joint programme in law and soil studies at the University of
Tennessee before the war. During the war, he contributed to the Civil Affairs Guide
Agriculture and Food in Japan, and, as Acting Chief of the Civil Affairs Staging Area,
developed policies to remedy post-surrender food shortages. Williamson arrived in
Japan with the AFPAC Military Government Section.
Wolf I. Ladejinsky, Williamson’s brilliant assistant, was an agrarian specialist
and America’s foremost expert on Japan’s land tenure system. The son of a Jewish
Ukrainian landlord, Ladejinsky emigrated to the United States, graduated from
Columbia University and joined the Department of Agriculture, where he worked
for the Foreign Agricultural Division’s Bureau of Agricultural Economics. In the late
1930s and early 1940s, he published a series of ground-breaking articles on Japanese
agriculture in Foreign Agriculture, the Bureau’s journal. Ladejinsky drafted GHQ’s
main land reform proposal, but his activist role in the programme blighted his
later professional life. After the Occupation, American ultra-rightist organisations
blacklisted him for his involvement with this ‘left-wing’ measure, and during the
190 Organising the Occupation

Eisenhower administration, he was dismissed from the Department of Agriculture as

a security risk.
In his work on Japanese land reform, Ladejinsky collaborated closely with the
State Department's Robert A. Fearey and, together with Dr William T. Gilmartin,
Captain R. S$. Hardie and Dr Lawrence J. Hewes, helped draft the land reform
directives (chapter 7). Gilmartin, a passionate advocate of land reform, had a PhD in
economics from the University of California. He left GHQin June 1946 to join the
World Bank, before the major land reform legislation was passed. Hardie joined NRS
from Sixth Army in 1946 as land reform officer. Later that year, he became Chief of
Agriculture Division’s newly inaugurated Agrarian Economy Branch. Hewes, with
an MBA from Harvard and a PhD in economics from George Washington Uni-
versity, had headed the Western Division of the Farm Stabilisation Bureau, Depart-
ment of Agriculture. His detailed study of Japan’s land situation was published after
the Occupation.”

PUBLIC HEALTH AND WELFARE

US War Department pre-surrender planners had established a Health and Welfare

Division to assess the public health requirements for troops involved in an eventual
invasion of Japan. In early August 1945, the organisation was transplanted to
AFPAC’s Military Government Section as the Public Health and Welfare Division.
Colonel (from April 1948, Brigadier General ) Crawford F. Sams was appointed to
head the new staff group. Following the transfer of MGS to Japan, AFPAC had
attempted to integrate MGS’s health and welfare functions into the new Civil
Information and Education Section, but Sams argued that this was ‘organisationally
most unwise’ and insisted on the creation of a separate staff echelon dedicated wholly
to preventive medicine, medical care, welfare and social security.** Consequently, on
2 October 1945, Public Health and Welfare Section (PH&W) was created as a
special staff group inside GHQ/SCAP and charged with preventing epidemic dis-
eases, restoring basic sanitation and health-control measures and developing health
and welfare policies. The immediate threat to public health came from starvation
and the outbreak of contagious diseases aggravated by malnutrition and unsanitary
conditions. PH&W initiated emergency relief operations and a nation-wide pro-
gramme of dusting with DDT, produced vaccines and strove to improve general
sanitation. These emergency measures spared Japan the agony of a major famine and
forestalled the large-scale outbreak of epidemic diseases.
Overworked and understaffed, PH&W never exceeded 150 people. As of Febru-
ary 1948, it had only 92 employees consisting of 12 officers, 2 enlisted personnel, 56
civilian officials and 22 Japanese staff. Despite its small size, however, the Section
was highly specialised and boasted a large number of divisions: Dental Affairs,
Health and Welfare Statistics, Medical Service (originally Hospital Administration),
Medical Supply, Nursing Affairs, Social Security, Veterinary Affairs, Welfare and
 Inside the Special Staff Sections ; 191

Legal Adviser's Office. Also attached to PH&W was the Atomic Bomb Casualty
Commission, set up to study the medical effects of atomic radiation on human
beings. PH&W staff included doctors, public health officials, dentists, quarantine
experts and nutrition specialists. International relief workers, Rockefeller Foundation
employees and American Red Cross personnel also were attached to the section on
loan. Lawyers worked in the Section’s Legal Adviser’s Office drafting revisions of
Japan’s health and welfare regulations. PH&¢W was located in SCAP’s main head-
quarters in the Dai-Ichi Insurance Building. It worked primarily with the Health and
Welfare Ministry but also dealt with the Labour and Education Ministries.
PH&W’s accomplishments reflected the dynamic leadership of Section Chief
Crawford Sams. Born in East Saint Louis, Illinois, Sams received a BA in psychology
from the University of California (Berkeley, 1925) and an MSc and an MD from the
Washington University School of Medicine in St Louis (1927, 1929). He completed
postgraduate work at the Walter Reed Army Medical School in Washington (1931)
and graduated from the Command and General Staff School at Fort Leavenworth,
Kansas (1937). In the late 1930s, he served as Assistant Surgeon in the Panama Canal
Department, where he was responsible for public health and malaria control. During
the war, Sams was Chief Surgeon and Acting Chief of Staff to the US Military
Mission in North Africa (Cairo) and Theater Surgeon, US Army Forces in the
Middle East, working in Tunisia, Libya and Sicily. From late 1944 to early 1945, he
was sent to the European Front to assess the medical needs of wounded US troops,
refugees and prisoners of war. In February 1945, he returned to Washington as Chief
of the Programme Branch in the War Department’s Logistics Division, where he
formulated medical-aid policies for the anticipated Allied invasion of Japan. In July
1945, on the recommendation of Civil Affairs Division Chief Hilldring, Sams was
transferred to GHQ/AFPAC in Manila and placed in charge of the MGS Public
Health and Welfare Division. During the early part of the Occupation, he also served
as Health and Welfare Adviser to US Army Military Government in Korea (1945 to
1948).
Sams was assisted by several highly competent subordinates. Lieutenant Colonel
Harry G. Johnson, Chief of the Medical Service Division, was a physician from
Rochester, New York, who remained in Japan after the Occupation to run a private
practice in Yokohama. Lieutenant Colonel Dale B. Ridgely, Chief of Dental Affairs
Division, was an Army Dental Corps officer handpicked by Sams to serve with
him in AFPAC’s Military Government Section in Manila. Major Grace E. Alt,
Chief of PH&W’s Nursing Affairs Division, entered GHQ with an MSc in public
health and welfare from Johns Hopkins Nursing Institute. Before the war, she
worked for nine years in a missionary hospital in Korea. Forced by Japanese colo-
nial authorities to leave the colony, she returned to the United States, joined the
WACs and went through the Army’s Civil Affairs Training programme.*® Alt was
replaced by Public Health Nursing Consultant Virginia M. Ohlson in April 1949.
The Welfare Division, which planned the welfare and socal security reforms, was
headed initially by Lieutenant Commander Arthur D. Bouterse and later by
192 Organising the Occupation

Colonel Nelson B. Neff, who remained until early 1950, when he was replaced by
Irving H. Markuson.
PH&W also advised US commands in Okinawa and southern Korea. In Korea,
this role ended in March 1948, but in June 1950, following the outbreak of war on
the peninsula, the Section became deeply involved in civil relief planning there,
setting up a temporary PH&W Field Organisation. In September of that year,
PH&W/SCAP despatched personnel to establish a PH8&W staff section inside
the UN Unified Command, the team returning to Tokyo once GHQ/Korea had
recruited its own staff. In March 1951, having received reports of an alleged plague
epidemic in the Democratic People’s Republic, Sams personally led a secret mission
into northern Korea with the intention of locating, drugging and kidnapping an
enemy soldier stricken with the disease in order to determine its pathology. The small
party travelled in a Navy landing craft refitted as a medical laboratory but abandoned
the mission when Sams learned from Korean agents en route that the illness was
hemorrhagic smallpox, not plague.””
Sams was fiercely loyal to MacArthur and an open admirer of Willoughby. Follow-
ing the Supreme Commander’s dismissal by Truman in April 1951, the PH&W Chief
followed Willoughby’s example and tendered his resignation (MacArthur’s cashiering
effectively had ended Sams’s hopes of becoming Surgeon General of the Army).
Sams’s legacy to the Occupation was a mixed one, his brilliant achievements in public
health being offset by his collaboration with Japan’s wartime biological warfare experts
and his uncritical support of the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission. He returned to
the United States in May 1951 and was replaced by his Deputy Chief, Colonel Cecil S.
Mollohan. On 30 June, PH&W was absorbed into a new SCAP staff group, Medical
Section, which was transferred from the Far East Command under FECOM Theater
Surgeon General Edgar E. Hume. Public Health and Welfare Division, Medical Sec-
tion, gradually phased out its activities, turning them over to concerned Japanese
agencies. The Division included the branches of Preventive Medicine, Medical Ser-
vice, Welfare, Supply and Narcotics Control. It was discontinued together with
Medical Section on 28 April 1952. Even after the Occupation, however, former
PH&W personnel continued to monitor Japanese developments in their field.
Before returning to the United States in 1951, Sams had arranged with the Rocke-
feller Foundation to retain fourteen Foundation specialists to serve as public
health and welfare advisers to the Japanese government, and with State Department
cooperation, the advisory group was attached to the US Embassy in Tokyo.

OTHER STAFF SECTIONS

Civil Affairs
Civil Affairs Section (CAS) was set up in July 1949 by Eighth Army to supervise
the replacement of military personnel by civilian officials in prefectural Military
Government Teams. CAS was transferred to MacArthur’s headquarters on 1 January
 Inside the Special Staff Sections ‘ 193

1950, becoming a civil staff echelon in its own right, and was assigned office space in
the Mitsubishi Building (Marunouchi district). Its primary function was to oversee
the reorganisation of civil affairs activities in line with SCAP’s policy of devolving
administrative responsibility to the Japanese government.
In July 1950, CAS was given the task of organising Japan’s National Police
Reserve, a 75,000-strong force formed at MacArthur’s command following the out-
break of war in Korea. Under the guidance of CAS Chief Major General Whitfield P.
Shepard and his executive officer, Colonel Frank Kowalski Jr, the NPR evolved into
the forerunner of the Self-Defence Forces, formed in July 1952. Before joining
GHQ, Shepard had been responsible for military training at Fort Benning, Georgia,
where he earned a reputation as a rigid disciplinarian. In Japan, he headed a US
military advisory group before being appointed Chief of CAS, Eighth Army. Shepard
was largely responsible for having CAS transferred to GHQ/ SCAP and, in 1951,
was named SCAP Deputy Chief of Staff. Kowalski was a West Point graduate with a
Master’s degree from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. During World War
II, he was attached to General Dwight Eisenhower's general staff and placed in
charge of military training. Assigned to Japan in 1947, he commanded MG teams in
Kyoto and Osaka before joining CAS in 1950.
CAS consisted of Administrative, Economics, Legal and Government, and Social
Affairs Divisions.” Following its creation in 1949, CAS continued, on a reduced
scale, the oversight duties of Military Government units through its Civil Affairs
Regional Teams. In June 1951, the Section was relieved of all surveillance duties and
its personnel were trimmed further, its primary mission now being to supervise the
National Police Reserve. CAS was disbanded on 28 April 1952.

Public Information
The Public Information Office (PIO) was designated a special staff section in Febru-
ary 1950, late in the Occupation. Until then, GHQ/AFPAC’s Public Relations
Section (created in January 1946 and redesignated Public Information Section, Far
Eastern Command in May 1947) acted as SCAP’s publicity organ, handling the
release of information to national and international media.” The PIO had its offices
in the Radio Tokyo Building, which it shared with Civil Information and Education
Section. The Office was staffed by press and public relations officials whose job was
to develop contacts with foreign correspondents and Japanese news agencies to
ensure favourable coverage of the Occupation.
PIO consisted of four divisions: News, Pictures, Operations, and Radio and
Communications. It was headed by MacArthur confidant Brigadier General Frayne
Baker. A graduate of the Army War College, Baker had been a quartermaster officer
during World War I and later commanded the 32nd Infantry Division at Camp
Livingston, Louisiana. In 1941, he was appointed G-3 Assistant Chief of Staff
for US Army Air Forces in the Far East (Manila), where he became a part of
MacArthur’s Bataan Gang. A ‘genial, white-haired North Dakota National Guards-
man’, the conservative and manipulative Baker kept the press in line by threatening
194 Organising the Occupation

to withhold Army food and billeting privileges and, in some cases, by withdrawing or
refusing to renew accreditations. In 1946, he overstepped his authority, interceding
clumsily in a newspaper strike and, following a series of contretemps, was forced out
of this sensitive position in March 1948. He was succeeded at PIO by Colonel
Marion P. Echols and Colonel George P. Welch. The Section was dissolved on
28 April 1952.
Civil Communications
Civil Communications Section (CCS) was established on 2 October 1945 to
demilitarise and modernise Japan’s communications grid, including domestic and
international postal, broadcasting, wireless and telecommunications networks. In
executing these tasks, CCS broke the monopoly formerly exercised by the Japanese
military over radio and telecommunications by dissolving or converting to non-
military uses the wireless, telegram and telephone branches of the Imperial Army and
Navy. The Section also revived and reorganised public radio, which had been used as
a propaganda organ of the military. It dismantled the International Electrical Com-
munications Company and the Japanese Telegraph and Telephone Construction
Company, the two industrial giants in the communications field. It also modernised
the postal system and introduced advanced telegraph technology. The Section was
located inside the main SCAP headquarters. Its counterpart agency was the Com-
munications Ministry.
The first CCS Chief was Major General Spencer B. Akin, who held that position
until 1947. A graduate of the Army War College, Akin had served as chief signals
officer at divisional, corps and general staff level before joining MacArthur in prewar
Manila. Like Marquat and Willoughby, he was among the handful of officers who
had come off Corregidor with the General in March 1942. Chief Signals Officer at
GHQ/ SWPA in Australia, Akin followed MacArthur to Manila and Tokyo. He was
replaced in 1947 by Brigadier General George I. Back. Under Akin, CCS reorganised
Japan’s postwar broadcasting system. Two important CCS memoranda drafted,
respectively, by C. A. Feissner, Chief of Research and Development Division, and
his deputy, Colonel P. E Hannah, laid down guidelines for removing the Japan
Broadcasting Company (/Vippon Hoso Kyokai, or NHK) from military control, ended
NHK’s broadcasting monopoly and established procedures allowing private radio
stations to go on the air for the first time.”
CCS initially consisted of the Industry, Radio, Telephone and Telegraph Divi-
sions. In late 1946, the Analysis Division and Postal Division were created, the latter
after overseas postal operations had resumed in September. The Broadcast Division
also was established at this time.” From 1950 to 1951, CCS transferred most of its
staff duties to Japanese counterpart groups and, after July 1951, became a consultant
to Japanese telecommunications agencies. The Section was formally disbanded on
3 October 1951, and its remaining duties were transferred to FECOM’s Communi-
cations Section and SCAP’s Adjutant General’s Office.
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 195

Civil Transportation
Civil Transportation Section (CTC) was established on 7 September 1946 under
GHQ/AFPAC’s Transportation Division and assigned offices in the Bank of Chosen
Building in the Marunouchi district. Its counterpart agency was the Japanese Trans-
port Ministry. Transferred to GHQ/SCAP as a special staff section in late 1947,
CTS advised GHQ on the utilisation and rehabilitation of Japan’s land transport
facilities. The US Navy’s Shipping Control Authority for the Japanese Merchant
Marine (SCAJAP) assumed responsibility for Japanese shipping, freeing CTS to
concentrate on restoring the rail system, an urgent priority in light of the extensive
destruction caused by wartime bombing. As a result of the Section’s efforts, one third
of all war-damaged railway equipment had been repaired by July 1947. Other CTS
functions were the augmentation of Japanese truck and bus fleets, the requisition-
ing of US Army surplus trucks for civilian needs and the organisation of special
rail transport for Occupation personnel, a task CTS inherited from G-4 in late
1946.”
The first CTS Chief was Brigadier General Frank S. Besson, a West Point graduate
with an MSc from MIT. During the war, Besson served as Chief Transportation
Officer for American Forces in the Western Pacific and later as Eighth Army Trans-
portation Officer and Director of the Third Military Railway Service. Appointed
CTS Chief in 1945, Besson concurrently headed AFPAC’s Transportation Division.
In late 1949, he was replaced by Colonel H. T. Miller, another West Point graduate
who had served as Deputy Chief of the Army Transportation Office. CTS boasted
several other outstanding executive officers, as well.”
The Section included the divisions of Rail Transportation, Road Transportation,
Municipal Transportation, Plans, Policies and Requirements, Water Transportation
and, from 1948, Highways. It also was charged with streamlining the railway system
under the Dodge stabilisation programme. From mid-1949, CTS phased out its
operational duties and subsequently served as an advisory body to the Japanese
government. CTS was discontinued on 30 June 1951, and its remaining functions
were transferred to the FECOM’s Transportation Section.

Reparations and Civil Property Custodian

Inaugurated on 8 May 1947, the Reparations Section (RS) advised SCAP on the
removal and shipment of wartime plant and equipment to countries that had suf-
fered the brunt of Japanese aggression. RS was located in the Kokubu Building in
Marunouchi and dealt with the Reparations Agency in the Prime Minister’s Office.
The Section created the Reparations Technical Advisory Committee to ensure the
orderly transfer of this matériel, and within two years, the RTAC had restored ¥150
million worth of assets to Allied governments, corporate persons and foreign nation-
als. Reparations Section coordinated its programme with Economic and Scientific
Section’s Industrial Division, but its importance waned as Washington’s enthusiasm
for industrial transfers cooled. Initially, US policy had called for a strict regimen
designed to facilitate economic decentralisation by relocating the bulk of Japanese
196 Organising the Occupation

heavy industry to the war-ravaged countries of Asia (chapter 3). With the intensifica-
tion of the Cold War and increased US intervention in the Japanese economy after
1948, these proposals were softened dramatically. RS was disbanded on 13 Decem-
ber 1948, and its duties were absorbed by the Civil Property Custodian.
The Civil Property Custodian (CPC) was formally established on 8 March 1946
but did not commence operations until later that year. CPC advised SCAP on the
disposition of property and assets in Japan belonging to the Allied powers, enemy
nations and former Japanese colonies. The Section was authorised to seize the
property of ultra-nationalist institutions and war criminals and all precious metals,
jewels and foreign currency held by the central government; appropriate and auction
off Japanese real estate owned by German nationals; seize from the government
illegally acquired foreign films; and operate US bank vaults in Tokyo and Osaka, a
responsibility CPC took over from Eighth Army in late 1949. CPC worked closely
with Reparations Section and the ESS Industrial Division on reparations, being
responsible for the custody, control and maintenance of equipment slated for
removal.
The first CPC Chief was Brigadier General Patrick H. Tansey, a West Point
graduate who had served in the War Department’s Logistics Division. In 1949,
Tansey was put in charge of supplying US Army Forces in southern Korea. He was
later succeeded by Brigadier General John E Conklin. Original CPC sub-units
included Comptroller, Foreign Property, Property Liquidation and Legal Divisions.
Housed in the Teikoku Sdgo Building in Hibiya, the Office was enlarged in 1947
with the establishment of the Patent Division and again in 1948 following the
creation of the Reparations Property Division. CPC worked largely with the Central
Liaison Office and the Finance Ministry. It was dissolved on 1 March 1952, and
remaining staff functions and personnel were transferred to Government Section.

Minor groups
The Statistics and Reports Section, established on 2 October 1945, collected data on
the Occupation and published the Monthly Summation ofNon-Military Activities in
Japan and Korea (edited for Japan alone after 1948). Reorganised as the Civil Histor-
ical Section (CHS) on 1 January 1950, the Section compiled the 55-volume History
of the Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation ofJapan (1952). Edited by William E.
Hutchinson, this vast compendium was produced hastily and, for the most part, by
amateurs, and many of its sections were never completed. Moreover, the volumes
lacked objectivity, describing SCAP as the sole source of Occupation-era policies and
refraining from unfavourable judgments, direct or implied, of General Headquarters.
The series was never properly organised and remained classified until the late
1960s.”” CHS was dissolved on 29 February 1952.
Lesser civil staff sections were the General Accounting Section (24 January 1946
to 28 April 1952), SCAP’s accountant, and the General Procurement Agent (22 May
1946 to 1 May 1950), which was responsible for obtaining materials and man-
power for US Army forces in Japan. General Accounting (GAS) was located in the
 Inside the Special Staff Sections 197

Mitsubishi Shdji Building, General Procurement (GPA) with SCAP in the Dai-Ichi
Mutual Life Insurance Building. GAS worked with the Cabinet Secretariat, GPA
with the Special Procurement Agency in the Prime Minister’s Office.
To address specific problems, ad hoc committees occasionally were convened to
consider questions ranging from currency exchange rates to measures against Com-
munism. Some groups, like the ESS committee that stabilised the yen—dollar ratio,
were intramural. Others, such as the top-secret Committee on Counter-Measures
against Communism in the Far East, were high-powered, inter-service organisations
involving SCAP, Eighth Army and the Far East Command. The Counter-Measures
Committee was set up in May 1951 to coordinate a broad array of anti-Communist
programmes and met regularly until early 1952. It exemplified the hard-line
approach of General Matthew B. Ridgway, who replaced MacArthur as SCAP in the
spring of 1951. The Committee served as a sounding board for various proposals
designed to diminish Communist influence in Japan, but its advocacy of direct
intervention in Japan’s internal affairs just as the Occupation was divesting itself of
administrative duties limited its effectiveness, and few of its recommendations were
implemented.”°
Aha san cera tee
ee rae
 PART III

The Early Reforms

 CHAPTER 5

The Genesis ofReform

With the machinery of occupation in place, MacArthur set about carrying out basic
political, institutional, economic and cultural reforms, An overview of US wartime
planning for post-surrender Japan is essential for understanding the reform process,
its promise, its internal inconsistencies and limitations, and its outcome. Unlike
planning for the German occupation, which was driven in large part by a desire for
revenge, the dynamics of American policy-making for postwar Japan were complex,
reflecting the pull of competing views of Asia and America’s long-term interests there
within the various branches of government.
Washington’s early reform projections and the care with which they were elabor-
ated also afford an illuminating contrast with Japan’s own impromptu planning for
the wartime administration of occupied Asia. Imperial Japan did not produce a basic
plan for military occupation until a few weeks before its invasion and seizure of
Southeast Asia. The “Guidelines for the Administration of the Southern Occupied
Territories’ of November 1941, however, contained no enunciation of guiding pan-
Asian principles. They were rather an ad hoc statement of concrete goals designed to
secure Japan’s short-term military and economic interests in the region. By contrast,
American pre-surrender planning for Japan began in a very general sense with a
declaration of overarching principles formulated more than a year and a half before
hostilities broke out. These tenets were applicable in theory to any occupied territory.
Moreover, they laid down a framework that delineated basic rights and obligations
and was anchored in international law. By the time of Japan’s surrender, a detailed
master plan for occupation tailored to that country’s precise conditions and require-
ments had been perfected and formulated both as a general statement of purpose and
as a comprehensive and detailed military directive. The mission of MacArthur and
his headquarters was to carry out those instructions in spirit and to the letter.

POLICY PLANNING FOR POSTWAR JAPAN

In September 1939, following Hitler’s invasion of Poland and the outbreak of a

generalised war in Europe, the US State Department brought together a small group
of experts to begin planning for the eventuality of American involvement. The
military, too, initiated its own contingency exercises at about the same time. In July
1940, after the fall of France, General Allen W. Gullion issued The United States
Army and Navy Manual of Military Government and Civil Affairs. Gullion drew
heavily on a 1920 military report by Colonel I. L. Hunt, a legal affairs officer and the
202 The Early Reforms

chief civil administrator for the US occupation of the German Rhineland after
World War I. Hunt believed that the greatest single shortcoming of his mission had
been the lack of able and well-trained civil affairs specialists, and his report listed a
number of concrete proposals designed to rectify that difficulty for future operations.
General Gullion’s 1940 monograph also reviewed the 1907 Hague Convention on
the law of military occupation, which defined the authority of the occupying power
and the rights and duties of the occupied. Specifically, Gullion’s handbook urged the
retention of existing governmental agencies, provided for freedom of speech
and press ‘to the extent that military interests are not prejudiced’, called for the
annulment of ‘laws which discriminate on the basis of race, color, creed or political
opinions’, and ordained the liberation of political prisoners."
The Army and Navy Manual defined military government as ‘the supreme author-
ity exercised by an armed force over the lands, property and the inhabitants of enemy
territory.’ Civil affairs was defined as the military control of civilians in an occupied
area. This military master plan for occupation described the organisation of military
rule and stipulated the creation of civil affairs staff sections. It detailed civil affairs
responsibilities in areas such as administration, law enforcement, public health, cen-
sorship, public finance and banking, education, labour, agriculture, industry and
commerce, and displaced persons. It also outlined the training of civil affairs person-
nel; general planning for the control of civil affairs; the issuance of proclamations,
orders and instructions; and the creation of military commissions and courts.
The Manual would become the touchstone for military planners in organising the
postwar occupations of Italy, Germany and Japan.

The Territorial Subcommittee (1942-3)

US planning for post-surrender Asia began shortly after the outbreak of the Pacific
War. On 28 December 1941, President Roosevelt created the Advisory Committee
on Postwar Foreign Policy to devise reconstruction programmes for occupied enemy
territories. Staffed by influential members of the State Department, the Council on
Foreign Relations, Army and Navy officers and Congressional leaders, the Advisory
Committee set up five inter-departmental subcommittees to explore foreign policy
options in a postwar world that few then could envisage with any certainty. One of
these was the Territorial Subcommittee (TS), which was formed on 7 March 1942.
Planning for Japan began in the TS, where issues such as unconditional surrender,
the Imperial institution, economic policies and Japan’s post-defeat boundaries were
discussed for the first time. TS position papers were prepared by the State Depart-
ment’s Division of Special Research, which had been set up in February 1941 to
assist in formulating US foreign policy. The Division would become the centre for
US post-surrender planning on Asia.
Sharp ideological differences soon emerged within the Territorial Subcommittee
between a pro-China group and a pro-Japan group. The so-called China Crowd was
led by Dr Stanley Hornbeck, director of the State Department’s Division of Far
Eastern Affairs, and John Carter Vincent of the Divisions’s China Desk. Hornbeck
 The Genesis ofReform , 203

had a reputation as ‘an anti-Japanese bigot’, but bigotry in the wartime government
was in ample supply. (Captain H. L. Pence of the Security and Technical Sub-
committee and later head of the Navy’s Occupied Areas Section advocated ‘the
almost total elimination of the Japanese as a race.’) Pro-China hardliners in the
Territorial Subcommittee believed that Japanese imperialism stemmed from two
sources: a totalitarian Emperor-centred political system and the domination of heavy
industry by a coterie of giant financial and industrial combines, the zaibatsu. The
Throne, Hornbeck said, was “deistic feudalism.’ To prevent Japan from ever again
posing a military threat, his group urged the elimination of the emperor system and
the enfeeblement of Japanese capitalism, the latter to be accomplished by destroying
the zaibatsu and rebuilding a light rather than heavy industrial base. Like most
Americans, the China Crowd assumed that Republican China, not Japan, would
emerge as the postwar leader of Asia. They intended to strengthen Chinese industrial
capitalism and transform that country into America’s principal trade partner in Asia.
The China experts, advocates of a severe peace, also were radical reformers who
pressed for fundamental changes in Japan’s political and economic structure.”
In contrast, the Japan Crowd were proponents of a soft peace. They argued for a
liberalised restoration of the prewar régime that assured the continuity of the mon-
archy, divested of its anti-democratic features; a demilitarised body politic; and a
revitalised industrial economy. Dean of the Japan experts was Joseph C. Grew, the
venerable former ambassador to Japan, then Special Assistant to Secretary of State
Cordell Hull. The locus of Grew’s power was the Japan Desk in the Far Eastern
Affairs Division. Among this select but conservative group was Grew’s former chargé
d affaires in Tokyo, Eugene H. Dooman, the son of missionaries, who was fluent in
both written and spoken Japanese. Other members were Grew’s private secretary in
Tokyo, Robert A. Fearey; Joseph W. Ballantine, a former counsellor at the Tokyo
Embassy; Earle R. Dickover, a Foreign Service officer with diplomatic experience in
Tokyo; and Cabot Coville, a Japanese language officer and former Embassy secretary.
Coville drafted the first position papers on Japan in which he proposed three guiding
principles for post-defeat policy: a rigid disarmament, a viable economy and a
humanised Throne.’ This, in essence, is very close to what Japan eventually got.
As ambassador from 1932 to 1942, Grew had associated with a group of aristo-
crats close to the Throne that included Prince Konoe Fumimaro, prime minister in
the late 1930s and briefly in the early 1940s, and such ‘moderate’ conservatives as
Yoshida Shigeru and Baron Shidehara Kijiird. Grew shared the so-called peace party’s
belief that the emperor system alone stood in the way of the twin evils of fascism and
Communism. Dooman viewed the Emperor as ‘a living manifestation of the racial
continuity of the Japanese people’ and believed that without the Throne, Japan
would, quite simply, fall apart.‘ The Japan faction condemned the cancer of militar-
ism but held that its cause was not the Imperial system or the zaibatsu per se, but the
“military clique’ and their fanatic followers who had manipulated these institutions
for their own chauvinistic ends. The Japan experts opposed abolishing the monarchy
and imposing radical economic and political reforms. Dismantling the armed forces
204 The Early Reforms

and purging the jingoists from public life, they argued, would be sufficient to prevent
Japan from again threatening the peace. The Japan Crowd received intellectual and
moral support for its ideas on the Emperor from such Japan experts as John FE.
Embree of the University of Chicago, author of the first anthropological study on
Japan in English then on loan to the State Department.’
The debate between the two factions in the Territorial Subcommittee defined the
parameters of postwar US policy toward Japan. The T'S was dissolved in December
1943, by which time its work had devolved to other groups, but the basic dynamism
engendered by this rivalry continued to influence post-surrender issues. In the clos-
ing weeks of the wat, the China Crowd would achieve ascendancy in the State
Department, and its presence was reflected in the first wave of radical reform in
occupied Japan. From mid-1947, however, the Japan Crowd would re-enter the
arena and, in 1948, successfully engineer an abrupt policy shift to the right.

The Inter-Divisional Area Committee on the Far East (1943-4)

In August 1942, as the Territorial Subcommittee pursued its task, the State
Department set up inside the Division of Special Research an independent intra-
departmental think tank, the East Asia Policy Study Group, to develop concrete
proposals for postwar Japan.° The Study Group was chaired by Dr George H. Blake-
slee, a Wilsonian idealist and Far East expert who taught political science at Clark
University and would later serve as US delegate to the Far Eastern Commission.
Blakeslee’s secretary was Dr Hugh Borton, a Quaker and Japan specialist who taught
Japanese studies at Columbia University. Borton had worked in Tokyo with the
American Friends’ Service Committee in the late 1920s. There, he had been
befriended by the British diplomat and eminent Japanologist Sir George Sansom,
who became his mentor. Borton also pursued graduate studies at Tokyo Imperial
University, spoke and read Japanese and authored two influential works on Japan.’
Other prominent members of the Study Group included such Grew intimates as
Robert Fearey and Cabot Coville, both of whom would later work for the Office
of the Political Adviser in Tokyo. Joseph Grew also joined this select group. The
fate of the Emperorswas a subject of particular concern to these Japanophiles.
Borton, for instance, drafted a memorandum proposing to retain an emasculated
Throne in order to ‘assure the good behaviour of the Japanese people’ and secure the
cooperation of the bureaucracy in carrying out Allied reforms, a position Grew
warmly endorsed. Hirohito, Borton said, reigned but did not rule and was not
personally responsible for the war. Moreover, the Imperial institution was potentially
a moderating force and should be reformed, not eliminated.* This essentially is the
position that MacArthur himself would adopt at the start of the Occupation.
On 20 October 1943, the State Department established an integrated intra-
departmental planning group for Japan, the Inter-Divisional Area Committee on the
Far East, with Blakeslee as chair and Borton as secretary. Popularly known as the Far
Eastern Area Committee, this group was one of nine country and four area commit-
tees (Country and Area Committees, or CACs) inaugurated in the summer and
 The Genesis ofReform 205

autumn of 1943 to coordinate post-defeat planning for specific enemy nations at the
administrative level. The Far Eastern Area Committee dealt exclusively with Japan
and, between October 1943 and July 1945, would meet a total of 221 times. Com-
mittee documents included position papers on political problems and the institution
of the Emperor (CAC-93e), unconditional surrender (CAC-267), demilitarisation
(CAC-185), postwar military government and education reform (CAC-238) and a
wide variety of other topics.’
CAC proposals were forwarded to the Postwar Programmes Committee (PWC),
the State Department’s highest decision-making body for post-defeat issues, which
was created on 15 January 1944. Staffed by the Secretary of State, the Under-Sec-
retary and his assistant secretaries and various division chiefs, the PWC considered
the political implications of CAC recommendations, and those it approved became
official Department policy. PWC/CAC memoranda on Japan were extensive, cover-
ing non-military fields from politics and economics to education and culture. Of
particular significance was a PWC/CAC document entitled “The Post War Object-
ives of the United States in Regard to Japan’ (CAC 116b/PWC 108b). Drafted in
May 1944, this was the first comprehensive attempt to delineate occupation object-
ives and programmes, and it would become the basis for the definitive ‘US Initial
Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’, made public on 22 September 1945.
The PWC/CAC paper on ‘Post-War Objectives’ defined America’s policy goals in
Japan as preventing that country ‘from being a menace to the United States and the
other countries of the Pacific area’ and establishing ‘a government which will respect
the rights of other states and Japan’s international obligations.’ To achieve these
fundamental objectives, the study proposed a three-phase occupation. During the
first stage, Japan’s armed forces would be disarmed and disbanded and its military
and naval installations destroyed, and the country would undergo ‘the stern discip-
line of occupation’ under military government. The second period was to be one of
‘close surveillance’ in which there would be military inspections to prevent rearma-
ment, economic controls to thwart the development of war potential, and measures
to encourage democratic and liberal thought and to establish a civil government
‘actually responsible to the people.’ US Army bases would be established ‘to prevent
aggression and facilitate military policing.’ During the final phase, the United States
would realise its ultimate aim: a Japan ‘properly discharging its responsibilities in the
family of peaceful nations.’ Few military occupations have had their mandate framed
so broadly.
The ‘Post-War Objectives’ further stipulated that, in accordance with the 1943
Cairo Declaration, Japan would ‘withdraw from Manchuria, the Mandated Islands
and all areas under Japanese military occupation’ and be deprived of ‘Korea, Formosa
and islands obtained since the beginning of the First World War.’ The country would
be limited to Honshu, Hokaido, Shikoku and Kyushu and certain adjoining islands.
The PWC/CAC series contained other 1944 policy studies that would shape later
occupation programmes, including ‘Freedom of Worship’ (15 March 1944), “Nulli-
fication of Obnoxious Laws’ (22 March), ‘Political Parties or Agencies’ (23 March),
206 The Early Reforms

‘Occupation Problems: War Criminals’ (24 March), ‘Military Government: Treat-

ment of Political Prisoners’ (14 June), “Abolition of Militarism and Strengthening of
Democratic Processes’ (9 May) and ‘Political Problems: Institution of the Emperor’
(9 May).

Military Government schools

While the State Department was drafting post-surrender policy, the War and Navy
Departments were creating special training programmes to turn out the military
governors and civil administrators needed to implement occupation reforms. In May
1942, the War Department set up the School of Military Government at the Uni-
versity of Virginia, Charlottesville, which offered, among other subjects, a com-
prehensive course in the international law of occupation. Jules Bassin, Chief of Law
Division in GHQ’s Legal Section and MacArthur’s final arbiter on questions of
military law under belligerent occupation, received his training there. In January
1943, the Navy Department organised the Office for Occupied Areas (later, Occu-
pied Areas Section) to deal with civil governance and established its own Naval
School of Military Government and Administration at Columbia (a 36-week course)
and later, in October 1944, at Princeton (an eight-week course). The Princeton
school was designed specifically to produce military governors. Many Navy trainees
were conscientious objectors, accounting for 10 out of the initial class of 57 at
Columbia. The same presumably was true of the Army schools. The Military Goy-
ernment schools offered instruction in the geography, history, culture, economy and
government of Germany, Japan and other areas slated for occupation. In the Pacific
region, Army schools focused narrowly on Japan, while Navy schools initially studied
Formosa, an early invasion target, but also Indonesia, Korea and the Philippines
before turning their attention later in the war to Okinawa and Japan. Trainees
generally studied for two months, taking crash courses in international law, psych-
ology, civil administration, political science and the Japanese language. (Columbia
University awarded graduates with sufficient undergraduate credits who completed
its nine-month course an MA in International Administration.)!°
In March 1943, the War Department inaugurated the Civil Affairs Division
(CAD) to plan for the military administration of occupied areas. General John FE.
Hilldring was appointed to lead CAD, which would later draft the military blueprint
for the occupation of Japan, JCS-1380/15, Hilldring’s assistant executive officer was
Lieutenant Colonel Charles L. Kades, later Deputy Chief of GHQ’s Government
Section. In the summer of 1944, the Civil Affairs Division set up Civil Affairs
Training Schools (CATS) at Harvard, Yale, Chicago, Stanford, Michigan and
Northwestern Universities. There, young military officers studied under such pion-
eers in the field of Japanese studies as Harvard’s Serge Elisséeff, the first Westerner to
gtaduate from Tokyo Imperial University; Sir George Sansom, the leading Western
authority on Japan who taught at the Yale CATS; and Columbia University’s
Hugh Borton, who lectured on contemporary Japan. Top policy-planners, such as
Ballantine and Dooman, also were frequent speakers. Graduates of the Military
 The Genesis ofReform ‘ 207

Government schools went on to six months of advanced study at the CAT'S, which
provided intensive language training combined with area studies focusing on the
economies, local governments and education systems of enemy countries.'' An esti-
mated 1,500 civil administrators would be required for Japan, of whom the Army
was to provide three quarters, the Navy the rest.
In addition to formal instruction, teaching staff organised wake-of-battle exercises
and specific problem-solving sessions involving role-playing to prepare students for
every possible contingency. At the University of Michigan CATS, Mark 'T. Orr, later
a division head in GHQ’s Civil Information and Education Section, found these
exercises of particular benefit. Orr was designated chief planner for a simulation
whose target was the city of Sendai in Miyagi Prefecture, northeastern Japan, “The
school exercises assumed that we would follow the fighting troops during an invasion
of Japan.... We were to plan for re-establishing law and order and as much as
possible normal functioning of the government and the life of the population’, he
recalled.‘After the troops had gone through Sendai, we then would come behind
with military government.’ The University of Michigan had collected maps, charts
and other information on the Sendai region. Had the Allies invaded, the ‘big, fat
report’ that Orr and his team compiled from this data would have provided a
detailed guide for the establishment of military rule in Sendai, one tailored to specific
local conditions.'? The CATS conducted similar exercises for each of Japan’s major
cities and prefectures,
Cecil G. Tilton was one of the first instructors at the University of Chicago
CATS, which was attended by 60 to 70 officers, ‘It was hell’, Tilton reminisced later,
‘T cannot tell you. Not one officer wanted to be there. Oh, they hated it. They had to
learn Japanese five hours a day. ‘The Japanese instructors, they were merciless,’ Tilton
eventually worked at all of the CATS except Stanford." After six months of basic
studies, trainees were required to submit a specialised paper on some aspect of
occupation administration. As his graduation report for the Harvard CATS, Captain
(later Major) William Karpinsky, for instance, wrote the extensive ‘Survey of
Japanese Labour’ (7 March 1945), impressing his superiors sufficiently to get him
appointed Labour Division Chief in GHQ’s Economic and Scientific Section
immediately after the war.
After initial training, incipient civil administrators spent two months at the Joint
Army-Navy Civil Affairs Staging Area (CASA), Presidio of Monterey, California,
where they completed their studies. CASA’s Occupation Planning Staff continued to
generate policy proposals for post-defeat Japan. It was there, for example, that basic
education reforms were discussed and refined. More than 1,000 CASA trainees were
appointed to civil affairs positions in Japan, although the majority remained in their
posts only through the early phase of occupation. The War and Navy Departments
also set up the Military Intelligence Service Language School to train Japanese
language specialists (chapter 1). Despite these measures, civil administrators were
a scarce commodity as planning for the Occupation reached completion, When
MacArthur’s AFPAC headquarters in Manila created the Military Government
208 The Early Reforms

Section in early August 1945, Brigadier General Crist, the new MGS commander,
found himself desperately understaffed. During the week of 20 August, about one
tenth of the recently trained CASA officers were rushed from Monterey to Manila.
Crist sent half of the freshly minted Japan hands to Sixth and Eighth Armies and
kept the other half for Military Government Section, which was transferred to Yoko-
hama at the end of the month. Large numbers originally designated for Japan sub-
sequently were diverted to southern Korea. In May 1946, with the Occupation
under way, the Army established the School for Government of Occupied Areas at
Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania as an emergency measure to meet the shortage of
qualified civil affairs experts."

Handbooks and Guides

Special studies, handbooks and guides were used as teaching materials in the Military
Government schools. These were prepared by an inter-departmental Joint Editorial
Committee on Civil Affairs Studies representing the State Department, the Navy, the
Army and the Office of Strategic Services (OSS). The Joint Committee was chaired
by Lieutenant Colonel James Shoemaker of the War Department’s Civil Affairs
Division. A professor of economics at the University of Hawai'i before the war,
Shoemaker knew most of the available East Asian experts. He quickly farmed out the
Committee’s work to those best qualified for the task. Civil Affairs Handbooks were
compiled between the spring of 1944 and 1945 based on data provided by the State
Department, the Office of War Information (OWI), the OSS, the Foreign Economic
Administration (FEA) and other government agencies. The work of compiling and
editing the volumes was performed largely by the OSS Research and Analysis
Branch. The 25-tome Handbook series covered such areas as population, govern-
ment and administration, legal affairs, money and banking, natural resources, agri-
culture, industry, labour, foreign commerce, transportation systems, communica-
tions, public health and sanitation, public welfare, public safety, education, cultural
institutions and the Japanese administration of occupied areas in Burma, Malaya, the
Philippines and Thailand. ;
Whereas the Handbooks were compilations of essential facts, Civil Affairs Guides
included policy alternatives for occupation administrators based on the surveys,
analyses and statistics presented in the Handbooks. Prepared between the summer
of 1944 and the autumn of 1945, the Guides focused on concrete subjects of
special relevance for civil administration. These included the fishing industry, the
police system, aliens, the control of wages and inflation, electric power, public
information, local government, the revival of political parties, food rationing and
price controls, water supply and sewage disposal, and radio broadcasting. The
Guides were drafted by specialists from the OSS, the FEA and the departments of
State, War, Treasury and Agriculture. CAD originally had planned some 70 civil
affairs monographs, and about 50 were commissioned, but Japan’s early surrender
pre-empted the completion of many, and only about 40 Guides actually were
published."
 The Genesis ofReform 209

Three Guides, in particular, all issued in July 1945, influenced subsequent

occupation policies. Theodore Cohen, who replaced Karpinsky as Labour Division
Chief in GHQ’s Economic and Scientific Section, drafted “Trade Unions and Col-
lective Bargaining in Japan’ while in Washington, Cohen’s Guide was based in good
part on the Master’s thesis he had written under Hugh Borton at Columbia, “The
Japanese Labour Movement, 1918-1938.’ Cohen’s proposals were incorporated into
the two basic US policy directives governing the Occupation (see below). Based on
this Guide, Philip Sullivan of the State Department's Division of International
Labour drew up a policy paper entitled “The Treatment of Japanese Workers’
Organisations’, which was adopted as official US labour policy for Japan in
December 1945, By that time, however, many of Cohen’s recommendations already
had found their way into Japan’s new Labour Union Law,'°
A second influential Guide was written by Dr Wolf I. Ladejinsky, then with the
US Department of Agriculture, who had been recruited specifically to study Japanese
agriculture, Disagreements within the State Department over land policy, however,
resulted in only part of the Guide being published: ‘Agriculture and Food in Japan.’
Ladejinsky’s land reform text, ‘Adjustments in Systems of Land ‘Tenure’, was not
approved, but Robert Fearey would bring it to MacArthur's attention in late 1945.
Ladejinsky derived his inspiration, and many of his concrete ideas, from the radical
reform projects of prewar Japanese agronomists.'’ CATS instructor Cecil Tilton,
later head of Government Section’s Local Government Division in SCAP, prepared
‘Local Government in Japan’, whose recommendations later would influence the
reform of local government.

SWNCC and initial post-surrender policy (1945)

In July 1944, the US Navy’s capture of Saipan breached Japan’s defence perimeter,
bringing Tokyo within range of Army Air Force B-29s. At that point, the State
Department began finalising detailed plans for occupation, focusing on the political
and psychological pre-conditions for victory, By late 1944, Military Government
training was in full swing, and a variety of committees and groups in Washington
were drafting postwar programmes for Japan. To coordinate planning among civilian
and military agencies, the State~War-Navy Coordinating Committee (SWNCC,
pronounced ‘swink’) was created in December 1944, SWNCC was a top-secret
organisation whose existence was officially denied until 1946, but rumours of the
Committee’s work spread through Washington as it began evaluating occupation
proposals in the spring of 1945, Full-time members included assistant under-
secretaries of the State, War and Navy Departments supported on an ad hoc basis by
a battery of experts,
State Department policy drafts drawn up earlier by the Postwar Programmes
Committee and the Country and Area Committees were transferred to SWNCC,
which reviewed them for final approval, SWNCC’s Subcommittee for the Far
East (SFE) formulated its own set of proposals for Japan. The SFE was chaired
successively by Eugene H. Dooman, John Carter Vincent, James K. Penfield and
210 The Early Reforms

Hugh Borton. Many SFE recommendations later were adopted as Occupation pol-
icy. Harvard professor and future ambassador to Japan Edwin O. Reischauer, for
instance, drafted the SWNCC-209 document group on the Imperial institution, and
Borton prepared the SWNCC-228 series on reforming Japan’s government system.
In early 1944, Joseph Grew became Chief of the Far Eastern Affairs Division,
replacing Hornbeck, leader of the China Crowd’s pro-Nationalist (Guomindang)
faction. Japanophile Joseph Ballantine was appointed Grew’s deputy director. This
power shift transferred control over America’s Asia policy from the China hands to
the Japan hands. In late November 1944, Secretary of State Hull retired and was
replaced by Under-Secretary Edward R. Stettinius. In December, Stettinius elevated
Grew to Under-Secretary of State and named his protégé Eugene Dooman to head
the SFE. Grew now was ideally placed to track and influence the evolution of US
policy towards Japan.
SWNCC’s War and Navy representatives worked out policy on military matters
while its State Department members drew up plans for civil governance. At this
time, the Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) set up two lower-level planning groups, the
Joint Civil Affairs Committee and the Joint War Planning Committee, to evaluate
the impact of military and non-military policies on US armed forces. Both
committees worked closely with the Subcommittee for the Far East in preparing
SWNCC drafts. The Joint Chiefs approved all SWNCC decisions. Once ratified
by SWNCC and the JCS, SFE documents were signed by the President, becoming
official policy.
As planning proceeded, however, civilian and military officials diverged in their
approach to occupation. In January 1945, CAD Chief Hilldring learned of JCS
plans to invade Japan. Preoccupied with the concrete details of mapping out a
military administration for post-surrender areas, he resumed work on an earlier
directive for military government dating from late 1943. Army planning also would
be influenced strongly by the Morgenthau proposals for Germany of late 1944
(below). Seizing the initiative, on April 6 1945, the Civil Affairs Division asked
SWNCC to work up a short general statement of policy goals to allow the Army to
begin drafting general orders for field commanders and a definitive military govern-
ment directive for Japan.'* This task was undertaken by SWNCC’s Subcommittee
for the Far East. From these initiatives would emerge two basic policy documents for
post-defeat Japan: a concise enunciation of general principles produced by SWNCC
and a military directive to the supreme commander drafted by CAD.
Acting on Hilldring’s request of early April, Dooman, Blakeslee, Borton and other
SFE members prepared a document based on the earlier “Post-War Objectives
of the United States in Regard to Japan’, which had been drafted by the Postwar
Programmes Committee. The new guideline, completed on 19 April, was entitled
‘Summary of United States Initial Post-Defeat Policy Relating to Japan’ (SWNCC-
150). The SFE ‘Summary’ called for unconditional surrender and recommended
that the territorial boundaries of post-surrender Japan be defined according to the
Cairo Declaration. The policy proposal advocated the establishment of a military
 The Genesis ofReform : 211

régime with full powers of government to administer Japan directly, and specified
its objectives and relationship to an occupation army. The military administration
was to eradicate Japanese militarism, strengthen democratic tendencies among the
people and encourage the development of liberal political groups. To implement
these goals, however, occupation authorities would ‘utilise the Japanese adminis-
trative machinery and, so far as practicable, Japanese public officials’, making
them ‘responsible for the carrying out of the policies and directives of the military
government’.
The ‘Summary of United States Initial Post-Defeat Policy’ went on to detail the
‘Initial Tasks of Military Government’. Described in several clauses, these goals
became the core of the wide-ranging directives that MacArthur’s headquarters would
issue to the Japanese government in the early months of occupation. The SFE article
on the ‘Nullification of Obnoxious Laws’, for instance, was later expanded into the
Civil Liberties Directive of 4 October 1945, which freed political prisoners and
abolished restrictions on political and civil liberties. The Purge Directive of 4 January
1946 was based on a clause in the ‘Summary’ calling for the dissolution of “existing
political parties, including totalitarian, political and quasi-political organisations and
ultra-nationalistic societies’. This formed the framework for another SCAP directive
of 4 January 1946 ordering the dissolution of ultra-nationalist organisations and
groups that opposed occupation policy. The ‘Summary’’s ‘Freedom of Worship’
provision became the Shint6 Directive of 15 December 1945, which eliminated state
sponsorship of Shintoism and separated religion and state. A ‘Public Media’ clause
called for the democratisation of press and radio, the use of the media to promote
a full understanding of occupation aims and the banning of propaganda hostile
to Allied forces and personnel. Paradoxically, this proposal also laid the ground-
work for SCAP’s Press and Radio Codes of 19 and 22 September 1945, which
authorised MacArthur’s staff to ban criticism of occupation policies and purge the
mass media.
The SFE ‘Summary’ ordained the elimination of ultra-nationalism and the devel-
opment of democratic ideas. This stipulation would generate a series of major direc-
tives, issued between October and December 1945, instructing the government to
arrest war criminals, democratise the courts and legal system, impose war repara-
tions, democratise the economy and reorientate the schools. The ‘Summary’ also
prohibited the manufacture of armaments, mandated the dissolution of ‘specialised
facilities for the production or repair of implements of war or aircraft of any type’
and ordered the destruction of heavy industrial capacity exceeding normal peacetime
requirements.
The SFE document called for the encouragement of trade unions among indus-
trial and agricultural workers and the promotion of ‘a wide distribution of income
and of the ownership of the means of production and trade’. Although the framers of
the ‘Summary’ outlined a programme of economic recovery, they did not intend that
the country should become a strong economic competitor. A key provision entitled
“The Control of the Japanese Economy’ specified measures to protect essential
212. The Early Reforms

national public services, finance and banking, the production and distribution of
key commodities, and exports and imports, but these measures were designed merely
‘to meet the needs of the occupation forces and to prevent starvation and such disease
and civil unrest as would interfere with the operations of military government’. The
bottom line was clear: “No steps shall be taken by the military government which
would raise the standard of living of the Japanese people to a standard out of line
with that of neighbouring peoples’.

The Morgenthau Plan, the German Directive and SWNCC-150/1

In the meantime, Civil Affairs Division continued work on its military directive,
relying not only on SWNCC planning papers but also on an earlier CAD pro-
posal. In October 1943, the Division, in cooperation with the Army’s Military
Government schools, had drafted a preliminary set of policy recommendations for
the post-defeat control of Japan. Of much sterner stuff than the State Department
scenarios, the CAD document called for the arrest as war criminals of the Emperor
and his household, elder statesmen (Jashin), privy councillors, Imperial Diet mem-
bers, the prime minister, Cabinet ministers, high-ranking bureaucrats, senior
magistrates, and prefectural governors. The plan recommended that occupation
authorities requisition private property and labour and utilise lower-echelon gov-
ernment officials, the courts and the police to enforce military government decrees.
Formulated mainly by middle-ranking staff officers, these policy ideas were rejected
as Draconian by top War Department officials, but they are instructive for the light
they cast on the comparatively benign Allied policies actually implemented.
Reflecting the archetypal military approach to civil government, the 1943 CAD
proposals resembled the punitive post-surrender plans subsequently drawn up for
Germany.
In August 1944, with President Roosevelt's backing, Secretary of the Treasury
Henry J. Morgenthau began work on a set of policy recommendations for Germany.
The so-called Morgenthau Plan called for radical “denazification’, to include the
destruction of centralised state power, direct military rule, a zonal occupation and
the dismantling of heavy industry. Advocating a hard peace, the Plan intended to
dismember Germany and reduce it to ‘a country primarily agricultural and pastoral
in its character’.'? Morgenthau insisted that the programme should apply in
principle to Japan, as well. On 1 September, the Treasury Department submitted
a memorandum entitled “Directives for the Occupation of Germany’. Urging
denazification, reparations and an economic ‘hands-off policy, it was officially
endorsed by Roosevelt and Churchill on 15 September at the Octagon Conference in
Quebec and remained in effect for about one month before critics in the President's
Cabinet, appalled by the proposal’s vindictiveness, discreetly removed it from
circulation.””
Nonetheless, the Civil Affairs Division utilised the Morgenthau document in
preparing an early version of the Army’s occupation directive to General Eisenhower
in Europe, the ‘US Basic Directive for Germany’ (JCS-1067). Later, Charles Kades
 The Genesis ofReform ‘ 213

and other sturdy New Dealers on the CAD staff would refer to JCS-1067 when
drafting the Army’s instructions to General MacArthur in Japan: the ‘Basic Direct.
ive for Post-Surrender Military Government in Japan Proper’ (JCS-1380), Inevit-
ably, some of the former's language, and many of its concepts, would filter into
JCS-1380, leaving a clear trace in the tough economic sanctions the latter envisaged
for Japan. There, as in Germany, the Allies initially would refuse responsibility
for inflation and economic rehabilitation, delegating economic control to local
governments."
On 15 March 1945, Morgenthau convinced Roosevelt to set up the Informal
Policy Committee on Germany charged with coordinating policy for the German
occupation, The Committee resurrected the Morgenthau proposals and formally
endorsed them. Chief among these was the abolition of a central German govern-
ment, a measure that per force would necessitate direct military rule, More import-
antly, the Informal Policy Committee took planning for Germany out of the hands of
SWNCC, which thenceforth would formulate postwar policy for Japan and Korea
alone. On Morgenthau’s advice, the White House urged SWNCC to pattern its basic
directive for Japan on the German model, but the new division oflabour ensured that
SFE policy-making subsequently would follow a different trajectory, one defined by
two new and crucial policy assumptions: 1 unconditional surrender would not entail
the annihilation of the Japanese state; 2 as a result, the occupation would be carried
out indirectly via existing governmental agencies and institutions, although the
degree and modality of indirect control remained to be defined.”
On 12 April 1945, following the death of President Roosevelt, Morgenthau lost
his patron, his constituency and his clout. Roosevelt’s successor, Harry S. ‘Truman,
quickly got rid of the Treasury official and his protégés, inviting the counsel of men
like Grew, Secretary of State Henry L. Stimson and Russian specialist Averell W,.
Harriman. With the unconditional surrender of Germany on 8 May, Allied forces
implemented plans for direct military governance, and the United States turned its
full attention to Asia. The SFE ‘Summary’, now known as SWNCC-150, had been
completed on 19 April, a few days after Roosevelt's death, On 3 May and again
on 11 June, important clauses were inserted into the draft. The first was the
‘revolutionary’ injunction to ‘favour a wider distribution of ownership, management
and control of the economic system’, The second was the restatement of an earlier
principle that the Occupation would ‘encourage the development of democratic
organisations in labour, industry and agriculture’.”’
On 12 June 1945, SWNCC formally adopted the SFE ‘Summary of United States
Initial Post-Defeat Policy Relating to Japan’, incorporating the New Deal tenets of
economic democracy but with few other revisions, and designated it SWNCC-150/1
— the first draft of the US Initial Post-Defeat Policy for Japan (after 15 August,
‘Post-Defeat’ would become ‘Post-Surrender’)., In the fluid final months of the
wat, however, American policy towards Japan would undergo even more dramatic
changes. SWNCC-150/1 went through a final round of rewriting that was to modify
its basic thrust in important ways, particularly with regard to the nature of military
214 The Early Reforms

government and the régime of control. Many of these changes can be traced to the
Potsdam Proclamation.

POTSDAM

The Emperor
Following Germany’s surrender, the United States intensified preparations for the
invasion of Kyushu and Honshu, a campaign that military planners estimated would
be enormously costly in human life. As American troops battled the Japanese, other
Allied armies would have to search out and destroy diehard Imperial soldiers in
China and Southeast Asia. To Under-Secretary of State Joseph Grew, this prospect
was terrifying. Only an early surrender could prevent that apocalyptic scenario, and
the key to a quick capitulation in Grew’s mind was the Emperor, who, he believed,
had secretly desired peace all along. The monarch’s cooperation would provide a vital
rallying point for ‘moderate’ and ‘liberal’ elements in Japan and assure a peaceful
transition to occupation. On 12 December 1944, in testimony before the Senate
Foreign Relations Committee, Grew had compared the Emperor to a queen bee.
‘Remove the queen from the swarm, the hive would disintegrate’, he told Committee
members.”* Grew also was convinced that rapid termination of the conflict would
pre-empt Soviet entry into the war, decisively limiting Moscow’s postwar role in the
region.
Interrogation reports by Captain Ellis M. Zacharias, head of the Psychological
Warfare Section in the Office of Naval Intelligence, and the State Department’s John
K. Emmerson indicated that many Japanese prisoners of war shared Grew’s view.
Emmerson later recalled: ‘It was difficult to persuade these shamed and sickened
veterans even to think about losing the war, a consequence for the homeland no loyal
subject of the Emperor would at first contemplate.’ With some effort, however, he
succeeded in coaxing the bewildered captives to visualise the unimaginable. ‘Soldiers
in the field’, he noted, ‘fought in obedience to the Emperor’s command. Should the
Emperor, in his divine wisdom, order them to lay down their arms, they would of
course do so... . It was that simple.”
On 28 May 1945, Grew visited President Truman with a proposal, drafted at his
request by Eugene Dooman, for bringing the war to a quick conclusion. The Under-
Secretary of State hoped the President would include it in a speech he was scheduled
to give on 31 May. His argument, in brief, was that the Allies’ unconditional sur-
render demand should be modified to allow Japan the possibility of retaining the
Imperial institution. The proposal’s logic was both subtle and compelling. America’s
primary goal, he told Truman, was to destroy totally Japan’s military machine and
blot out the cult of militarism in order to ‘render it impossible for Japan again to
threaten world peace’. But he warned that ‘the Japanese are a fanatical people and are
capable . . . of fighting to the last ditch and the last man’ and noted that the cost in
American lives then would be unpredictable. “The greatest obstacle to unconditional
 The Genesis ofReform 215

surrender by the Japanese’, he continued, ‘is their belief that this would entail the
destruction or permanent removal of the Emperor and the institution of the Throne.’
Grew recommended that Japan be allowed to determine its own political structure to
afford the country a means of saving face. He suggested that, in the wake of the fire-
bombing of Tokyo in March, a public statement on the monarchy would have a
profound psychological impact. The Emperor had signed the declaration of war but
was not war-minded and probably had no choice but to humour the war faction.
‘Japan’, he asserted, ‘does not need an Emperor to be militaristic nor are the Japanese
militaristic because they have an Emperor.’ Finally, Grew told Truman that the mon-
archy could ‘become a cornerstone for building a peaceful future for the country’.
Reworking the unconditional surrender formula to imply preservation of the Throne
would induce an early capitulation. The President listened carefully and seemed to
concur, noting that his own thoughts had been following the same line of reasoning.”®
Truman instructed Grew to take his ideas to Secretary of War Henry Stimson and
the military high command. On 29 May, the Under-Secretary of State conferred
with Stimson, who agreed in principle with his proposal on the Japanese monarchy
_ but noted that it would be premature for the President to make such an overture to
the Japanese at that time. Stimson ascribed his hesitation to “certain military reasons’
~ almost certainly an oblique reference to the development of the atomic bomb. On
16 and 18 June, Grew again put his proposal to ‘clarify’ the meaning of uncon-
ditional surrender before Truman, asking him to time the announcement of the
modified surrender terms with the fall of Okinawa which was imminent (the fighting
ended on 23 June). On 18 June, however, the President demurred, replying he would
wait to reach a decision until he had met Churchill and Stalin at Potsdam in mid-
July. The same day, in a meeting with the Joint Chiefs, he approved their invasion
plan for Japan, ‘Operation Downfall’. Landings on Kyushu on 1 November 1945
were to be followed by an assault on Honshu on 1 March 1946. Other key issues
discussed that afternoon, described in the minutes as ‘certain other matters’, are
believed to have included Soviet participation in the war, the use of atomic weapons
and Grew’s proposed statement on the Emperor.”

The Stimson Memorandum

With presidential approval of a ground invasion, Secretary of War Stimson warmed
to Grew’s ideas on the Throne. A quick end to the fighting and a smooth transition
to peace, he believed, would not only save lives and curb Soviet influence in Japan
but give the Army exclusive control of the occupation. Misgivings about the rigidity
of the unconditional surrender formula were shared by many of Truman’s top
military officials. The Joint Chiefs of Staff believed generally at this point that a
softening of the surrender terms and a Soviet attack on Japan would be sufficient to
achieve peace. ‘[T]he impact of Russian entry on the already hopeless Japanese may
well be the decisive action levering them into capitulation’, a JCS memorandum had
stated in the late spring of 1945.”* Members of the British Imperial General Staff
held similar views.””
216 The Early Reforms

On 2 July, after the top-secret Interim Committee, the President’s atomic bomb
oversight body, had recommended the use of nuclear weapons against Japan, Stimson
presented Truman with the draft of a statement to the Japanese redefining the terms
of surrender. The idea for a final declaration of Allied intentions had originated
with Army Chief of Staff General George C. Marshall and been endorsed by the
government in early June. Truman insisted that the American side present it for
approval to the Potsdam Conference, scheduled to begin on 17 July, rather than
issue it unilaterally. Stimson’s draft, “Proclamation by the Heads of State US-UK-
[USSR]-China’, had been prepared by the Army General Staff's Strategy and Policy
Group under the supervision of Assistant Secretary of War John J. McCloy and was
based largely on the “Summary of United States Initial Post-Defeat Policy Relating to
Japan’, which SWNCC had adopted on 12 June. The proclamation called on Japan
‘to surrender and permit the occupation of her country’ in order to bring about
‘complete demilitarisation for the sake of future peace’.*”
In a note that accompanied his Potsdam draft, entitled ‘Memorandum for the
President — Proposed Programme for Japan’, Stimson warned Truman of the con-
sequences of ‘a last ditch defence such as has been made on Iwo Jima and Okinawa’.
Should that come to pass, he said, ‘we shall . . . have to go through with an even more
bitter finish fight than in Germany’. In Paragraph 5 of the so-called Stimson Memo-
randum, the Secretary of War wrote, ‘I personally think that if in saying this we
should add that we do not exclude a constitutional monarchy under her present
dynasty, it would substantially add to the chances of acceptance.’ Paragraph 12
of Stimson’s Potsdam proclamation draft was in the same vein:

The occupying forces of the Allies shall be withdrawn from Japan as soon as
our objectives are accomplished and there has been established beyond doubt a
peacefully inclined, responsible government of a character representative of the
Japanese people. This may include a constitutional monarchy under the pre-
sent dynasty if it be shown to the complete satisfaction of the world that such a
government will never again aspire to aggression.”!

The State Department, however, was sharply divided over the issue of the Emperor.
Assistant Secretaries Archibald MacLeish, poet and former Librarian of Congress
now in charge of public and cultural relations, and Dean G. Acheson were staunch
abolitionists adamantly opposed to maintaining any vestige of Imperial sovereignty.
In MacLeish’s words, ‘the institution of the Throne is an anachronistic, feudal
institution, perfectly adapted to the manipulation and use of anachronistic, feudal-
minded groups within the country. To leave that institution intact is to run the grave
risk that it will be used in the future as it has been used in the past’. Acheson, who
would replace Grew as Under-Secretary in August, argued that the Japanese sovereign
‘should be removed because he was a weak leader who had yielded to the military
demand for war and who could not be relied upon’. (He would later recant, acknow-
ledging that ‘I very shortly came to see that I was quite wrong’.)** Despite these
 The Genesis ofReform ‘ 217

objections, Grew’s retentionist view prevailed, and on 2 July, Truman and his
Cabinet reviewed and approved the Stimson Potsdam text with Paragraph 12 (Article
12 in the official draft) intact.
On 3 July, Truman replaced Secretary of State Edward Stettinius with James F.
Byrnes. Aligned with the China Crowd, Byrnes was a hard-nosed realist with
immoderate political ambitions who favoured a tough peace. With the ascension of
Byrnes to power, Grew’s days as Under-Secretary were numbered. On 5 July, acting
on his own initiative, Grew personally handed the new Secretary of State a copy of
Stimson’s unofficial Potsdam draft. The next day, 6 July, Byrnes left for Berlin
without formally committing himself to the Stimson document. Former Secretary of
State Cordell Hull earlier had explicitly advised against retaining the Emperor. Public
sentiment against Hirohito was running high, Hull told Byrnes, and cited a June
Gallup Poll indicating that two-thirds of the American public would have the sover-
eign arrested or executed. A guarantee of Imperial immunity, he cautioned, smacked
of appeasement and was likely to whet the appetite for vengeance in the United
States and Allied nations. To make his point with greater force, on 16 July, Hull
cabled Byrnes — then in Potsdam — warning of ‘terrible repercussions’ at home if the
Japanese monarchy were spared and urged the Secretary of State to postpone a final
decision until after ‘the climax of allied bombing and Russia’s entry into the war’.

Potsdam and the Throne

On 17 July, Churchill, Stalin and Truman met in the once plush Berlin suburb of
Potsdam to coordinate strategy towards a defeated Germany, outline post-defeat
policy for Poland and the Balkans and adopt a common approach to Japan. On 16
July, Truman had been informed of the successful Trinity Test at Alamogordo, New
Mexico. With the acquisition of a nuclear capability, the United States could now
bring Japan to its knees without sacrificing additional Allied lives, and Truman
and Byrnes, with Hull’s admonition ringing in their ears, saw no need for a formal
pledge to retain the Emperor. This conclusion received unexpected support from
another quarter. On 18 July, in a memorandum to the President, the Joint Chiefs
noted that Stimson’s Article 12 contained a dangerous ambiguity: it could be read
either as a veiled threat to remove the ‘present dynasty’ or as ‘a commitment to
continue the institution of the Emperor and Emperor worship’. Top military leaders
now believed that while a flexible approach to retention of the Imperial institution
was essential, no change in status should be suggested or implied before the end of
hostilities. Stimson reluctantly agreed, and all explicit references to the Throne were
struck from Article 12.
Other important changes would appear in the text before its final release. The
Proclamation followed generally the points outlined in the ‘Summary’ (SWNCC-
150), which the Japan Crowd’s Subcommittee for the Far East had prepared between
April and June at the request of the Civil Affairs Division. But the final document
was the work of colonels on the Army General Staff, and its stern tenor reflected
CAD’s military preoccupations. In late July, British officials made five last-minute
218 The Early Reforms

proposals at Potsdam that not only moderated the tone of the Proclamation but later
would require Washington to readjust its plans for military government. London,
like Grew, had advocated modifying the surrender terms to allow the Japanese some
leeway for manoeuvre, although it was careful not to incur American displeasure by
pressing the point. Now the British unobtrusively presented their case.
The US draft read “Democratic tendencies among the Japanese people shall be
supported and strengthened’; the British suggested, “The Japanese Government shall
remove all obstacles to the revision and strengthening of democratic tendencies
among the Japanese people.’ Instead of calling on the Japanese people to surrender, as
Washington had done, London’s revision called on the ‘Government of Japan’.
Moreover, the British draft limited unconditional surrender to the Japanese armed
forces, whereas the American version had included the Emperor and the govern-
ment. The US document provided for the occupation of Japanese territory; the
British modified that to ‘points in Japanese territory to be designated by the Allies’,
suggesting that Japan might retain some degree of internal sovereignty. In late July,
after the Proclamation had been issued, a State Department memorandum noted in
retrospect that while these changes left the status of the Imperial State uncertain, they
appeared to assume ‘that a Japanese government will continue and will be responsible
for carrying out the [Potsdam] terms’. This was at odds with the American demand
for the transfer of all governmental authority to the Allies. Furthermore, whereas
Washington insisted that Japan ‘obey all directives which may be given by the Allied
Powers’, the British seemed to offer Tokyo a chance to end the war by agreeing to the
Potsdam text, giving the document an ostensibly contractual character. Despite
reservations, Truman and his staff consented to these amendments, which had the
merit of preserving the basic intent of the US call for complete and immediate
capitulation while making Allied demands more palatable to Tokyo.”°
The British position was understated but consistent. It had been articulated by Sir
George Sansom, Minister at the British Embassy in Washington from 1942 to 1945.
Sansom believed that the Allies could best promote democracy in Japan through
limited reforms that left basic institutions, including the monarchy, intact. He
opposed direct military occupation as ‘both unnecessary and unwise’, barring hostile
resistance from the Japanese. London generally endorsed the views of its senior Japan
specialist. Although the extent of British influence on the evolution of US policy
towards the Emperor should not be exaggerated, it is safe to say that Sansom, Borton
and Grew worked together to save the monarchy, with Sansom and the Foreign
Office discretely endorsing the views of the Japan Crowd to all who would listen.
This influence was particularly manifest in the British alterations to the Potsdam
language.”
All guarantees for the safety of the Throne, however, had been excised from Article
12, which now read: “The occupying forces of the Allies shall be withdrawn from
Japan as soon as these objectives have been accomplished and there has been estab-
lished in accordance with the freely expressed will of the Japanese people a peacefully
inclined and responsible government.’ One Occupationaire has insisted that the
 The Genesis ofReform 219

Photo 30. The Big Three, Churchill, Truman and Stalin, at Potsdam (Kyodo).

phrase ‘freely expressed will of the Japanese people’ was retained at the insistence of
the Japan Crowd as a ‘psychological stratagem’ intended to imply that the Imperial
institution might be preserved should the Japanese people so desire.** On 11 August,
Secretary of State Byrnes would use similar language in a note to the Japanese
designed to imply a loosening of the surrender terms (below). At Potsdam, however,
neither Truman, his staff nor the Joint Chiefs entertained any such subtle design.
On 26 July, Churchill and Truman issued the 13-point Potsdam Proclamation
ordering Japan to surrender unconditionally or face ‘prompt and utter destruction’ —
a cryptic reference to the atomic bomb. The document was released hastily, as soon as
Hiroshima had been scheduled for destruction. It gave no warning of the weapon nor
did it allude to the expected entry of the Soviet Union into the war. The document
appeared to allow Japan some freedom of action, but in fact, its demands were irredu-
cible. The government of Suzuki Kantaré had two choices: accept the Potsdam
demands in their entirety and order Imperial forces to cease fighting immediately or
invite total ruin and a dictated peace. Despite the text’s ambiguities, in the minds of
the Anglo-American leadership, the sole ‘condition’ for Japan’s survival was speedy
and unreserved compliance. “The following are our terms’, the Allies proclaimed.
‘We will not deviate from them. There are no alternatives. We shall brook no delay.’
The Proclamation pledged to dismantle the Greater Japanese Empire, disarm and
demilitarise the nation, deliver stern justice to war criminals and exact war repar-
ations. It decreed a military occupation but also guaranteed such basic liberties as
220 The Early Reforms

freedom of speech, religion and thought and pledged to nurture the emergence of
a democratic, peacefully inclined government. The document was not a legal
instrument. Its proposals amounted to neither an armistice nor a treaty. It was, quite
simply, the Allies’ last warning.

THE EMPEROR AND SURRENDER

Revolution and the ‘Peace Party’

The Japanese government failed to deliver a clear response to the Potsdam Proclam-
ation. On 6 August, an atomic bomb laid waste to Hiroshima. On 8 August, the
Soviet Union declared war on Japan, and on 9 August, as Soviet tanks rolled into
Manchuria, a second nuclear explosion obliterated large parts of Nagasaki. Defeat
was an intolerable notion to the Japanese leadership, but as the end drew near,
officials close to the Throne entertained another, even more compelling reason for
alarm: it was conceivable that the Soviet declaration of war would spark insurrection
at home, precipitating the overthrow of the Imperial Order from within.
The spectre of revolution had been raised in early 1945 by the so-called Yoshida
Anti-War (Yoshida Hansen) Group, a loose coalition of ‘moderate’ political leaders
and upper-class Japanese, thoroughly conservative in outlook but opposed to the war
itself for a variety of reasons. The group had been formed in 1942 by Yoshida Shigeru,
China hand and former ambassador to Rome (1930-2) and London (1936-38), who
was regarded in some circles as an old-style liberalist. In fact, Yoshida had defended
Japan’s Manchurian adventure in Europe and worked to secure Mussolini’s support
for the Imperial cause. He was, as one observer quipped, ‘no man of peace, and he
carried no taint of democracy’.*” Nonetheless, Yoshida worked tirelessly offstage to
bring the war to an end and preserve the monarchy. In April 1945, he and two other
‘peace plotters’ would be arrested for their pains by Military Police. Yoshida was freed
in May, and the incident served to establish his anti-war credentials, facilitating his
rehabilitation and rise to prominence during the Occupation.
Associated with the Yoshida Anti-War Group were Court adviser and former
premier Prince Konoe Fumimaro; Admiral Suzuki Kantar6, premier from April to
August 1945; Count Makino Nobuaki, an Imperial confidant and Yoshida’s father-
in-law; Ikeda Seihin, a Mitsui zaibatsu financier and Yoshida intimate; parliamentar-
ian and ex-minister of education Hatoyama Ichiré; and Ueda Shunkichi, a former
bureaucrat and emperor-system ideologue. Konoe and Makino were members of the
‘peace group’ that Grew had frequented before the war (Makino had represented
Japan at the 1919 Versailles Peace Conference where he fought unsuccessfully for the
insertion in the treaty of an anti-discrimination clause). The anti-war party believed
broadly that the gravest danger to the Throne came from three sources: the ‘military
clique’ that had usurped power and which was said to harbour Communistic lean-
ings; the Communist movement outside of Japan’s borders; and a revolutionary
conflagration inside the country kindled by an Allied victory. The United States, the
 The Genesis ofReform ; 221

group believed, would offer Japan a general peace, keep the Communists at bay and
preserve the Imperial State, or kokka-taisei (‘national polity’, usually shortened to
kokutai) — the euphemism for Imperial rule.
In early 1945, leading members of the Yoshida Group attempted to persuade the
Emperor to end the war. In February, Hirohito discreetly consulted his senior states-
men, the Jashin, about the course of the fighting.“” Prince Konoe seized this oppor-
tunity to present a sharply dissenting view in his Memorial to the Throne, which
Yoshida had helped draft. Delivered on 14 February, the Memorial argued that:

Japan has already lost the war.... From the standpoint of maintaining Japan’s
Imperial system, that which we have most to fear is not defeat itself but, rather,
the threat inherent in the possibility that a Communist revolution may accom-
pany defeat... . I feel that conditions within Japan and those prevailing abroad
are rapidly progressing towards such an eventuality.*!

The Emperor and War

Konoe’s plea was an oblique attack on General T6jo Hideki’s expansionist Control
Faction (Téseiha), the military cabal in power. The Prince’s conspiracy theory fol-
lowed broadly the political line of the discredited Imperial Way Faction (Kodoha),
which regarded the Soviet Union as the real enemy and had opposed war with the
West. (Committed to direct action to achieve its goal of internal reconstruction, the
faction was in no sense liberal, having lost ascendancy only after the bloody coup d état
attempt of 26 February 1936.) Hirohito sided with T6jd and then-Prime Minister
Koiso Kuniaki, rejected Konoe’s arguments and pressed emphatically for “one more
military gain’ to strengthen Japan’s hand in future negotiations and improve the
monarchy’s chances of surviving defeat.” Imperial recalcitrance at this crucial
juncture prolonged the agony of war, making inevitable the debacle of Okinawa and
the devastation of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
By February 1945, Imperial armies were in retreat across Southeast Asia.
MacArthur had captured Leyte, invaded Luzon and was about to take Manila, and a
US task force had converged on Iwo Jima. Indian and British troops were man-
oeuvring to take Mandalay and Rangoon. Particularly worrisome was a report in
mid-February that Moscow might abrogate the Neutrality Pact and enter the war
against Japan. And yet Hirohito clung tenaciously to his obsession with one last
victory. When MacArthur invaded Luzon in early January, the Emperor had argued
for a vigorous head-on confrontation with the enemy and pressed Army Chief of
Staff Umezu Yoshijiré to challenge General Yamashita Tomoyuki’s strategy of attri-
tion (despite Royal prodding, Umezu refused to intervene). As late as May, with
Imperial forces engaged in a bloody and futile rearguard action in Okinawa, Hirohito
was still hoping for a military success there. When defeat loomed inevitably, he
dreamed incredibly of striking a decisive blow at Allied armies in southern China and
Burma, by then no longer major theatres of operations.”
Hirohito’s views on the war reflected those of most of his senior military advisers.
222 The Early Reforms

Japan’s isolation and deteriorating war situation paradoxically confirmed the bureau-
cratic and military establishments in their determination to defend the homeland to
the death. On 6 June, in the presence of Hirohito, an Imperial Conference including
the Supreme Council for the Conduct of the War, the Cabinet and the Privy Council
President adopted a crucial position paper, ‘Fundamental Policy for the Conduct of
the War’, which explicitly committed the nation to fight to extinction rather than
accept surrender. Two days later, on 8 June, the Emperor officially endorsed that
policy.
The bleak prospect of a frenzied finish fight on home soil galvanised the ‘peace
party’, including Lord Privy Seal Marquis Kido Koichi and Foreign Minister Togo
Shigenori. Kido, in particular, shared the fears of Konoe and Yoshida’s anti-war
group that civil insurrection was a greater peril to the Throne than military defeat. In
May, without the Emperor’s knowledge, Togo had obtained the reluctant consent of
the Supreme War Council to put out secret peace feelers to the Soviet Union. As
discussed in chapter 1, in early June, former premier Hirota Koki met Ambassador
Yakov Malik near Tokyo, but the Soviet envoy gave the overture a chilly reception.
By late June, the peace faction had prevailed upon the Suzuki Cabinet and Hirohito
to seek the formal mediation of Moscow, which alone had the diplomatic weight to
intercede effectively on Japan’s behalf. With the fall of Okinawa now a certainty, the
Emperor appears to have undergone a change of heart. The war, he realised, could
not continue without endangering the Throne. On 22 June, Hirohito convoked
another Imperial Conference. Breaking with tradition, he addressed the gathering
first, urging that concrete plans to end the war be drawn up and implemented
speedily. The Japanese leadership had badly misread Moscow’s intentions, however,
and these démarches proved unrealistic and ineffectual. Between 17 and 21 July, with
the Potsdam Conference in progress, Ambassador Saté Naotake in Moscow repeat-
edly warned Togo that Japan’s only hope was to meet all Allied conditions for
surrender while demanding assurances for the survival of the Imperial institution.
His pleas fell on deaf ears. At that point, not even so-called peace advocates were
willing to consider ‘a non-negotiated settlement. The Potsdam Proclamation of 26
July hardened the government in its resolve.

The Emperor and Peace

On 9 August, with two cities levelled by atomic bombs and Soviet troops overrun-
ning Manchuria, Konoe’s ominous scenario of February seemed palpably near at
hand. Continued resistance almost certainly would bring about a Soviet invasion of
Japan proper before the Anglo-American expeditionary force could position itself to
land. In mid-morning of that day, which a historian has termed ‘perhaps the most
critical in Japanese history’, the six-member Supreme Council for the Conduct of the
War convened to consider options for terminating the war.“° Present were Prime
Minister Suzuki; Foreign Minister Togo; Navy Minister Admiral Yonai Mitsumasa, a
former prime minister, Suzuki’s deputy and an avowed peace disciple; Army Minister
General Anami Korechika, a stubborn hardliner; the conservative Navy Chief of Staff
 The Genesis ofReform ‘ 223

Admiral Toyoda Soemu; and the hawkish Army Chief of Staff Umezu Yoshijird.
Foreign Minister Togo now was convinced that Japan had no choice but to accept
the Potsdam terms and surrender without negotiations, news of Nagasaki’s destruc-
tion, received during the deliberations, having steeled his determination. Echoing
Ambassador Sat6’s proposals of late July, the Foreign Minister posed a sole condition
for capitulation: that an understanding be reached allowing the Imperial system to
continue. Suzuki initially agreed with his foreign minister, as did Navy Minister
Yonai.
Earlier, however, Yonai had proposed a negotiated peace plan based on four condi-
tions: 1 that Imperial sovereignty be preserved, 2 that Imperial General Headquarters
disarm and demobilise all Japanese forces, 3 that Japan not be subject to Allied
occupation and 4 that the government itself be allowed to punish war criminals.
Anami, Toyoda and Umezu strongly supported the Yonai Plan, even though its
author no longer did, and stood resolutely opposed to T6g6’s single demand. If the
four conditions could not be met, the military proposed to continue fighting until
the Allies relented. In any event, interposed Umezu, it would be difficult if not
impossible to secure the surrender of Imperial troops to Allied forces. Suzuki, too,
seemed swayed by this rhetoric. When the question was put to the Cabinet in the
afternoon, Yonai and Anami took opposing positions, and after more than seven
hours of debate, the ministers found themselves at an impasse.”
Consultations continued at various levels throughout the day but ended inconclu-
sively. Finally, shortly before midnight, at Suzuki’s request, an Imperial Conference
was convened in the Palace’s underground bomb shelter adjoining the library with
the Emperor himself in attendance. Suzuki now wrongly presented the Yonai Plan as
representing a general consensus, an interpretation that Tdgo contested vigorously.
The Foreign Minister countered that there was no time to negotiate such demands.
Preservation of the Imperial line, he insisted, was the sole criterion for surrender.
After Yonai had again expressed agreement with T6g6, Privy Council President
Baron Hiranuma Kiichird, a former premier and old-school nationalist, took the
floor. Hiranuma generally supported T6g6 but insisted that the sole condition for
capitulation be an explicit Allied pledge, not an implicit understanding, that the
Throne would be spared. He was demanding, as one student of history has aptly
expressed it, ‘the retention of real, substantive political power in the hands of the
Emperor, so that [Hiranuma] and the “moderates” might go on using it to control
the people’.
Generals Anami and Umezu and Admiral Toyoda stood their ground, however,
and again a stalemate was reached. At this point, Prime Minister Suzuki, acting on
Hiranuma’s suggestion, took the unusual step of approaching the Throne for guid-
ance. In the early morning hours of 10 August, Hirohito spoke emotionally but
without hesitation, saying that the time had come to ‘bear the unbearable’ and
‘accept the Allied proclamation on the basis outlined by the Foreign Minister’. Upon
receiving the Emperor’s ‘sacred decision’ (seidan), the Council agreed to accept the
Potsdam terms on condition that they did not compromise the position of the
224 The Early Reforms

Imperial institution and proposed to ask for a clarification of Allied intentions

regarding the Throne. The Cabinet ratified the Conference’s decision, making it
official, and the Suzuki government informed Washington, London, Chungking
(Chongqing) and Moscow of its tentative assent, contingent on Allied recognition of
Imperial continuity, through Japanese legations in Berne and Stockholm.”
The Foreign Ministry’s Kase Toshikazu drafted the original English note, making
acceptance conditional on ‘the understanding that the said declaration does not
comprise any demand which prejudices the constitutional status of the Emperor’.
Baron Hiranuma, however, was adamant that the archaic expression taiken (“powers
inherent in the Throne’) be substituted for ‘constitutional status of the Emperor’.
This term Kase deftly glossed as ‘prerogatives’. Thus, the final text read, ‘with the
understanding that the said declaration does not comprise any demand which
prejudices the prerogatives of His Majesty as a Sovereign Ruler’.””
As soon as Washington received the note, Japan Crowd stalwarts Eugene Dooman
(SWNCC Subcommittee for the Far East) and Joseph Ballantine (Far Eastern Affairs
Division, State Department) prevailed on Secretary of State Byrnes to respond to the
Japanese query with an implied softening of the Allied terms. With the consent of
Truman and Stimson, Byrnes decided to issue a Delphic statement suggesting a great
deal but promising nothing. The proposed text could be construed broadly as a
vague assurance that the monarchy would not be abolished unilaterally but stopped
short of actually guaranteeing Royal prerogatives, or even that Hirohito would con-
tinue as sovereign. In a note dated 11 August, Byrnes instructed the Swiss chargé
d affaires in Washington to inform Tokyo via Berne that: ‘From the moment of
surrender, the authority of the Emperor and the Japanese Government to rule the
state shall be subject to the Supreme Commander of the Allied Powers who will
take such steps as he deems necessary to effectuate the surrender terms.’ The
penultimate paragraph read: “The ultimate form of government of Japan shall, in
accordance with the Potsdam Declaration, be established by the freely expressed will
of the Japanese people.’ The British and Nationalist Chinese governments gave their
concurrence immediately, but Soviet Foreign Minister V. M. Molotov complained
that the text was incompatible with the principle of unconditional surrender. Soviet
agreement eventually was obtained, however, and the Secretary of State had the
statement transmitted to Tokyo.°!
On 12 August, as waves of B-29s blasted Tokyo and other cities, Army Minister
Anami and the war party manoeuvred behind the scenes to obstruct acceptance of
the Byrnes Note and build consensus for a continuation of the war. Privy Council
President Hiranuma, too, rejected the Allied reply, which he astutely perceived was
not a pledge of security for the Throne. To make the message more palatable to the
adversaries of a quick peace, the Foreign Ministry's Treaty Bureau had purposely
toned down its translation of the text. In the Japanese version, the Note simply
enjoined the Emperor and government to continue ‘to carry out their functions
under certain restrictions’. Treaty Bureau translators omitted all reference to Byrnes’
stipulation that the Emperor and the government would be subject to the Allied
 The Genesis ofReform 225

Supreme Commander, conveying the impression that the surrender was an agreement
between consenting parties. The statement “The ultimate form of government of
Japan shall, in accordance with the Potsdam Declaration, be established by the freely
expressed will of the Japanese people’ posed a special difficulty. The Bureau got
around this by noting that the ‘g’ in government was lower case and therefore did not
include the monarchy and rendered the Japanese text accordingly.”
Privy Seal Kido lobbied intensely for acceptance of the Foreign Ministry transla-
tion and Togo managed to win over Prime Minister Suzuki, but their opponents saw
through the Ministry’s subterfuge. On 13 August, the Cabinet deadlocked on the
issue of Imperial sovereignty, prompting Suzuki once again to refer the question to
the Emperor. To compound the peace faction’s difficulties, early in the morning of 14
August, Allied aircraft dropped leaflets on Tokyo publicising the texts of the Japanese
and American diplomatic exchanges, increasing the possibility of insubordination
and even revolt by diehard militarists. That morning, at Hirohito’s urging, a second
Imperial Conference was convened in his presence in the Palace air raid shelter.
There, the monarch delivered his final verdict: ‘I have studied the terms of the Allied
reply and have concluded that they constitute a virtually complete acknowledgment
of the position We maintained in the note despatched several days ago. In short, I
consider the reply to be acceptable.’ At the same time, he ordered an Imperial
rescript prepared for broadcast to the nation the following day and recorded the
message shortly before midnight. The broadcast was aired at noon on 15 August.

FINALISING POST-SURRENDER PLANS

The US initial post-surrender policy

When the Potsdam Proclamation was issued, SWNCC’s Subcommittee for the Far
East was refining its ‘Summary of United States Initial Post-Defeat Policy Relating to
Japan’ (SWNCC-150/1). The SFE ‘Summary’ had envisaged an initial period of
direct rule by military government, but as a result of the British amendments, the
Potsdam document now implied that existing governmental institutions might
implement Allied policy. On 1 August, John Balfour, the British chargé in Washing-
ton, wrote to the State Department suggesting that it would be preferable ‘for the
Allies, instead of assuming all the functions of government in Japan, to work through
a Japanese administration’. In a memorandum to Grew dated 6 August, Joseph
Ballantine, the Far Eastern Affairs Division Chief, discussed the contradiction
between “complete control’ by the Allies, as supposed by SWNCC-150/1, and the
‘supervisory role’ implicit in the modified Potsdam text. He suggested a scenario
where, circumstances permitting, “The Japanese administrative structure would be
used to the fullest extent but all policies would be decided by the supreme
commander’.
As surrender became imminent, activity at the State Department intensified. When
the Department received notice of Japan’s conditional acceptance of the Potsdam
226 The Early Reforms

terms on 10 August, it finalised a draft Instrument of Surrender (SWNCC-21/3).

On 12 August, the SFE issued a modified version of its ‘Summary’ (SWNCC-150/2)
in a first attempt to clarify the principle of indirect rule, but Truman asked for
further changes. On 14 August (EST), the Suzuki Cabinet notified Washington of
its final acceptance of the Potsdam conditions, and US planning reached fever
pitch. Assistant Secretary of War General John J. McCloy, SWNCC’s War Depart-
ment representative, believed that legally the post-surrender policy document
would have to be harmonised with the letter and spirit of the Potsdam Proclama-
tion. On 22 August, bypassing the Subcommittee for the Far East completely,
McCloy on his own authority inserted the phrase, ‘the Supreme Commander
will exercise his authority through Japanese governmental machinery and agencies,
including the Emperor’, into a revised draft, which was adopted as SWNCC-
150/3. The new version represented a compromise between pro-China and pro-
Japan factions. It retained the reformist vitality of the former but acceded to the
indirect occupation advocated by the latter. Moreover, the document explicitly
instructed the Supreme Commander not to remove the Emperor without consulting
Washington.”
Thereafter, only minor alterations would be made to the plan. General MacArthur
received it in substance by radio on 29 August (30 August, Tokyo time). On 31
August, SWNCC-150/4 was formalised, incorporating a few last-minute suggestions
from the Joint Chiefs and other agencies, and on 6 September, President Truman
endorsed the text and forwarded a copy to General MacArthur, On 22 September,
the White House publicly issued SWNCC-150/4/A as the directive ‘US Initial Post-
Surrender Policy for Japan’. The next day (24 September, Tokyo time), the full text
appeared in Japanese newspapers.
With the war over, the Japan Crowd, having laboured mightily to save the mon-
archy, plummeted from grace. Grew resigned on 15 August, and the next day his
arch-adversary Dean Acheson replaced him as Acting Under-Secretary of State (the
appointment would be confirmed in late September). Dooman, Grew’s proxy on
the Subcommittee for the Far East, was replaced by China specialist John Carter
Vincent, who also took over the Far Eastern Affairs Division from Japan-hand Joseph
Ballantine. George Atcheson Jr, another China expert, was appointed special envoy
to GHQ/SCAP in Tokyo, where he set up the Office of the Political Adviser
(POLAD). Atcheson was named to the post because, in his own words, he was
‘familiar with State Department policy but unfamiliar with Japan’.*® Henceforth,
with the US policy-making apparatus controlled by advocates of a harsh peace, the
fate of the Emperor and the actual implementation of the Occupation reforms would
depend on General Douglas MacArthur. In one sense, however, the Japan hands
already had scored their biggest victory, for they had committed the Occupation to
working through the bureaucracy whose entrenched conservatism would preserve a
high degree of continuity with the wartime régime and work to blunt the radical
thrust of many Allied reforms. In late 1947, the Japan Crowd would re-emerge from
obscurity to consolidate that victory (chapter 10).
 The Genesis ofReform 227

The SWNCC Directive

By the time the machinery of Occupation was in place, three control documents
existed for the post-defeat administration of Japan. The “US Initial Post-Surrender
Policy for Japan’ (SWNCC-150/4/A) released on 22 September 1945 described the
structure and objectives of the Occupation. The earlier Potsdam Proclamation was a
restatement of these principles in condensed form. The Army’s ‘Basic Directive
for Post-Surrender Military Government in Japan Proper’ (JCS-1380/15) of 3
November, on the other hand, was a ‘how-to’ guide for translating those principles
into action. It was a military directive based on the two earlier policy statements, and
it became the Occupation Bible.
The SWNCC text’s key provisions defined Allied authority and its relation to the
Japanese government and outlined sweeping political and economic reforms. Japan
would be governed indirectly, but there was a crucial proviso: while the Supreme
Commander would ‘exercise his authority through Japanese governmental
machinery and agencies, including the Emperor’, he was not committed to back the
Emperor or any other government authority. “The policy is to use the existing form
of Government in Japan, not to support it.’
Individual liberties and democratic processes were to be strengthened by guaran-
teeing freedom of speech, religion and political association, and all people unjustly
imprisoned on political grounds were to be freed. A wide spectrum of economic
measures would destroy ‘the existing economic basis of Japanese military strength’
and prevent its revival. These included the dissolution of ‘large industrial and bank-
ing combinations’; the promotion of labour, industrial and agricultural organisations
and other democratic forces; and the resumption of international trade. “Changes in
the form of Government initiated by the Japanese people or government’ to modify
Japan’s ‘feudal and authoritarian tendencies’ were to be permitted and even encour-
aged. The Supreme Commander was authorised to ‘intervene only where necessary
to ensure the security of his forces and the attainment of all other objectives of the
Occupation’, even if such changes involved ‘the use of force by the Japanese people
or government against persons opposed thereto.’
Conservative Japanese complained of the harshness of such measures, but they
were fairly magnanimous compared with Allied terms for Germany. Washington
faced the imposing task in Japan of translating these general prescriptions into work-
able policies. SWNCC was caught unprepared by Japan’s early capitulation and,
apart from the Initial Post-Surrender Policy, had not developed specific guidelines for
administering the country. To remedy this situation, between October 1945 and
March 1946, the Subcommittee for the Far East hastily completed a series of
remarkably comprehensive and detailed policy recommendations. Many of these,
including the paper on military government (SWNCC-52), were based on the
Army’s ‘Basic Directive’ for post-surrender Japan.”
228 The Early Reforms

The military directive and the reform process

JCS-1380/15, the “Basic Directive for Post-Surrender Military Government in Japan
Proper’, issued in its final form on 3 November 1945, was a very different document.
A larger, more detailed and much tougher version of SWNCC’s Initial Post-Surrender
Policy, the “Basic Directive’ gave the Supreme Commander even greater power to
reorient Japan politically, economically and ideologically. The Directive was top
secret and remained so until the latter part of the Occupation. It was not sent to
President Truman or the Far Eastern Commission but went directly to MacArthur,
who received an early version (JCS-1380/5) in mid-September. The manual went
through a total of 15 revisions before it was finalised. Later modifications were
worked out in conjunction with SWNCC’s Subcommittee for the Far East, now
run by the China Crowd, which substantially expanded and refined the Directive’s
provisions. The text of 3 November covered almost every aspect of Japanese society.
In its details, the document was the radical reform that the China hands, military
hardliners and New Deal idealists had worked so assiduously to achieve. As
Occupationaire Theodore Cohen later wrote, the “Basic Directive’ constituted the
real ‘ideology’ of occupation. It was, he noted, ‘in great part a New Deal docu-
ment. ... MacArthur, who disliked the New Deal in the abstract admired it in the
reality of JCS-1380/15’.”*
The ‘Basic Directive’ also was a direct military order defining the framework
within which MacArthur was to operate. In fact, the Supreme Commander was
given wide latitude to interpret it in light of actual conditions, enhancing his broad
discretionary powers, but the ‘Basic Directive’ remained his guidebook. JCS-1380/
15 was, as Cohen wrote, ‘a powerful reform stream running through clearly defined
channels. Its commander did not seek to break the channel walls but rode the stream
along its pre-determined course.’ Indeed, perhaps only a personality as strong as
MacArthur could have navigated so skilfully the powerful, contending currents that
churned and propelled this surge tide of reform.
The ‘Basic Directive’ was the master plan from which GHQ’s special staff sections
worked in implementing policy for Japan. They did this by breaking up the text and
following the instructions contained in each paragraph. The executive officer of each
staff group would compile an assignment schedule, define responsibilities and parcel
out specific paragraphs for implementation in a kind of scissors-and-paste operation.
Cohen recalled afterwards: Economic and Scientific Section ‘split up these para-
graphs . . . and then in some of the bigger divisions, even the sentences were broken
down: this sentence to this branch, and that sentence to that branch.’ On the basis of
these paragraphs, clauses and phrases, ESS and other staff sections drew up Com-
mand Letters to Eighth Army and SCAPINs to the government.”
Although the general contours of policy were set in Washington, the details often
were elaborated at the junior staff level, and many SCAPINs signed by the Supreme
Commander actually were drafted by branch or division heads. Nor were they neces-
sarily verbatim copies of the ‘Basic Directive’. Where precise instructions were
lacking or ambiguities arose, a section chief normally commissioned an internal
 The Genesis ofReform 279

staff study. Compiled in consultation with specialists in other GHQ sections and
their Japanese advisers, staff studies often evolved into lengthy treatises with concrete
recommendations for action. Staff sections communicated their policy proposals
to other sections via memoranda and ‘check sheets’ — inter-sectional circulars
seeking the concurrence of concerned groups in GHQ. Where disagreements arose,
inter-staff conferences, occasionally attended by Eighth Army representatives, were
convened to hammer out a coherent policy approach. The conclusions, endorsed by
the section chief, then were forwarded to the Deputy Chief of Staff and the Supreme
Commander for approval.
After the early reform phase of occupation, unilateralism became the exception,
and policy formulation, from written instruction to implementation, involved some
degree of Japanese participation. A section typically initiated a reform process via
close consultation with in-house Japanese advisers and its counterpart agency in the
government. Japanese officials, for their part, relied heavily on broadly constituted
ad hoc consultative bodies composed of bureaucrats and non-government experts,
thereby assuring a constant influx of ideas from academics, political action groups,
professional associations and informed citizens (many of whom were meeting
simultaneously with GHQ officers or their Japanese assistants). Thus, even where
Allied policy was imposed, it was the bold outlines that prevailed; Japanese input,
usually from a variety of sources, invariably modified the details. In several cases,
the government, private advisory groups and even individuals prevailed on Occupa-
tion staff to approve measures that exceeded their section’s original mandate. One
historian has asserted that ‘“GHQ in Tokyo was little more than an enforcement
agency for policies set in Washington’,® but in fact, between 1946 and 1948,
MacArthur’s super-government, forced to make many of its own decisions, sought
Japanese advice and, until Occupation policy towards Japan shifted rightward in
1948, strove to incorporate liberal Japanese views into its reform projections. The
nuts-and-bolts dynamics of this complex process, the subject of chapters 6 through
9, too often escape the notice of historians concerned exclusively with the ‘big
picture’.

THE LEGITIMACY OF OCCUPATION CONTROL

Surrender: unconditional or negotiated?

On 2 September, the Instrument of Surrender placed Japan under Allied military
jurisdiction and stated unequivocally that “The authority of the Emperor and the
Japanese Government to rule the state shall be subject to the Supreme Commander
for the Allied Powers who will take such steps as he deems proper to effectuate these
terms.”°' The Japanese government hewed to a different interpretation, however. In
concluding his pre-recorded radio address of 15 August, Hirohito had proclaimed
that, “Since it has been possible to preserve the structure of the Imperial State, We
shall always be with ye, our good and loyal subjects.” The same day, Prime Minister
230 The Early Reforms

Suzuki noted in his resignation speech to the nation that Japan’s acceptance of
the Potsdam terms had been contingent upon retaining the principle of Imperial
sovereignty. On 24 August, Hirohito, repeating the subtext of his 15 August pro-
nouncement, exhorted the people to ‘make manifest the innate glory of Japan’s
(Imperial] national polity’. Even ‘liberal’ political commentator and future prime
minister Ishibashi Tanzan assumed continuity of the Throne when, on 1 September,
he urged a return to the ‘democratic’ principles of the Emperor Meiji’s Charter Oath
of 1868 and the Imperial Constitution of 1890. In the minds of the nation’s
leaders, then, capitulation presupposed Allied assent to Baron Hiranuma’s singular
condition: retention of the Imperial Order and the substantive political power that it
embodied. The Byrnes Note, its ambiguity compounded by the Foreign Ministry’s
deliberate mistranslation, was cited as proof of that contention.
The Byrnes Note indeed had purposely encouraged such an interpretation — but
without making a clear commitment — in order to hasten Japanese acceptance of the
Potsdam demands. And the Proclamation itself, although intended as an ultimatum,
displayed a certain flexibility of construction. As indicated above, on British advice,
US policy-makers had revised the text to allow a broader reading of its provisions,
and this modification produced some initial confusion even in Washington.“ On 29
August, Eugene Dooman of the Subcommittee for the Far East told SWNCC that
the State Department considered the surrender a contractual agreement, not an
unconditional renunciation of national sovereignty. By early September, however,
Dooman and the Japan Crowd were on their way out the door. The China Crowd
parsed the Potsdam document as an ultimatum: Tokyo’s surrender was absolute and
without conditions. All of Japan’s institutions, including the Throne, were well
within the purview of reform. President Truman and Secretary of State Byrnes
had adopted this as the official US position all along, and the victorious powers
subsequently ratified it as official Allied policy (below).
In his memoir, Assistant Secretary of State Dean Acheson confessed that the
Potsdam language disturbed him deeply. “Regarded not as an ultimatum but as an
invitation to negotiate, it would [I feared] lead us into a trap both at home and in
Japan’, he wrote in terms reminiscent of the Joint Chiefs’ Potsdam memorandum to
Truman of 18 July (p. 217). The Proclamation was merely a statement of Allied
intentions. It was the deep secret of the atomic bomb, he realised later, that explained
its seemingly contradictory character. For the bomb, not the Proclamation, was
the real ultimatum, but only Truman and a handful of American and British high
officials knew that at the time.® The document did not acquire the force of an
ineluctable demand until the obliteration of Hiroshima on 6 August, almost two
weeks after its publication. In that sense, the atomic bombings destroyed ex post
facto any grounds that might have existed for a contractual gloss.
On 6 September, President Truman and the Joint Chiefs cabled MacArthur a
message clarifying his powers. The communication was in response to queries from
the Supreme Commander and State Department officials who were alarmed by
Japan’s refusal on 17 August to obey a directive to close its diplomatic missions in
 The Genesis ofReform 231

neutral states (the Japanese said the request did not conform to any of the Potsdam
provisions). The text is worth citing at length:

The authority of the Emperor and the Japanese Government to rule the State is
subordinate to you. . . . Our relations with Japan do not rest on a contractual ba-
sis, but on an unconditional surrender. . . . Since your authority is supreme, you
will not entertain any question on the part of the Japanese as to its scope. . . . The
statement of intentions contained in the Potsdam Declaration will be given full
effect. It will not be given effect, however, because we consider ourselves bound in
a contractual relationship with Japan as a result of that document.”

‘Control of Japan’, the President and military high command told MacArthur,
‘shall be exercised through the Japanese Government to the extent that such an
arrangement produces satisfactory results. This does not prejudice your right to act
directly if required. You may enforce the orders issued by you by the employment of
such measures as you deem necessary, including the use of force.’ This broad grant of
authority was fully consistent with the stated intent of the Potsdam document and the
‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy’.
At the same time, Tokyo’s acceptance of the Potsdam terms compelled the occupy-
ing forces to honour certain self-imposed obligations with respect to the defeated
enemy. For instance, Japanese compliance was predicated on an Allied pledge,
derived from the Atlantic Charter, to assure limited sovereignty on the home
islands, not to enslave the Japanese people or destroy the nation and to end the
régime of control and restore full independence once occupation objectives, as
defined at Potsdam, had been attained (Articles 8, 10 and 12). To this extent, a
principle of mutual trust and good faith was implied. It was understood by both
sides, however, that a Japanese refusal to carry out Allied policies could be met by
military force.
The Byrnes Note, mistranslation aside, reiterated that clear limits would be
imposed on the authority of Japan’s existing institutions to govern. By accepting
the Potsdam conditions, Japan’s collective leadership formally acknowledged the
paramount authority of the Allied Supreme Commander. The Proclamation also
required Japan to adopt a peacefully inclined and responsible form of government ‘in
accordance with the freely expressed will of the Japanese people’. The Allied Powers,
not the government, however, would be the final judge of whether that had been
accomplished.® In other words the Occupation sought to ally itself with liberal and
progressive forces among the people against the old régime. The ‘US Initial Post-
Surrender Policy’ gave GHQ dominion over the nation’s governing institutions but
also, in principle at least, empowered the people to revolutionise those same institu-
tions from within. “Changes in the form of Government initiated by the Japanese
people or government in the direction of modifying its feudal and authoritarian
tendencies’, it read, ‘are to be permitted and favored. In the event that the effectu-
ation of such changes involves the use of force by the Japanese people or government
252 The Early Reforms

against persons opposed thereto, the Supreme Commander should intervene only
where necessary to ensure the security of his forces and the attainment of all other
objectives of the occupation.’
In short, MacArthur’s headquarters possessed, in the words of one commentator,
‘the unilateral power to approach the people of Japan without consultation, advice
from, or support of the Japanese Government’.”” MacArthur personally saw in the
tenor of this provision an invitation to bloodshed and for that reason considered it
extreme. Nevertheless, this mandate would produce a bold new experiment in popu-
lar sovereignty, a massive shifting of power from the state to the people, which
Government Section’s Charles Kades later characterised as ‘the Revolution of 1945’.
Ironically, the Supreme Commander subsequently would side with the state against
the people, preventing that democratic process from running its full course.”!

The Occupation and international law

Japan’s capitulation produced an anomalous situation, for the régime of control the
Allies introduced after 15 August 1945 had no precedent in international law.
Japan’s surrender, unlike that of Germany, took place before the imposition of
occupation rule and did not entail the destruction of centralised authority. As a
result, Allied forces were able to utilise the machinery of state and avert recourse to
armed intervention.
International law, however, defines occupation as wartime control under belliger-
ent conditions. Unlike subjugation or conquest, military occupation does not trans-
fer sovereignty to the occupying power, only the authority to exercise some of the
rights of sovereignty, and then for a limited time. Article 43, Section III of the 1907
Hague Convention With Respect to the Laws and Usages of War on Land stipulates
that the occupant must respect the laws in force in the controlled territories and
forbids interference with existing political institutions. The 1918 occupation of
the German Rhineland by the United States and France deviated somewhat from the
norm in that it began after a negotiated armistice had ended hostilities. Legally, the
victors could hold German territory only until such time as Berlin had paid war
reparations and fulfilled other armistice obligations. Although this instance fell
somewhere in between a belligerent and a peaceful occupation, there was no transfer
of sovereignty, and the occupying powers were constrained to work through the local
administration.”
In this sense, the occupation of Japan was unique. Unconditional surrender was a
forced cessation of hostilities, not a negotiated truce. Until 28 April 1952, when the
San Francisco Peace Treaty restored Japanese independence, the country legally was
in a state of war with the occupying powers. The Allied régime of ‘occupation
control’ constituted a novel form of post-defeat political and military authority.
Under this modus operandi, the Emperor and the Japanese government were sub-
ordinated to the Allied Supreme Commander but only to the extent necessary to
enforce the Potsdam conditions and secure a peace settlement. In October and
November 1945, GHQ issued directives placing Japan’s external affairs under Allied
 The Genesis ofReform 250

jurisdiction, but the nation’s sovereignty was compromised only until such time
as MacArthur’s headquarters had achieved these goals. Occupation control, then,
introduced a new concept into international law.
Japan recovered its autonomy in stages. For example, Occupation officials out-
lawed the Hinomaru, the Rising Sun Flag, in late August 1945, but on 28 Decem-
ber, GHQ issued a directive allowing the emblem to be flown for three special New
Years’ celebrations. In March 1948, that permission was extended to all national
holidays, and in early 1949, the ban was lifted entirely. From 1948, GHQ allowed
Japanese to travel abroad for specified purposes on passports authorised by the
Supreme Commander, and in January 1950, it permitted the government itself to
process applications for foreign travel, although SCAP’s consent was still required.
By that time, American authorities had begun turning over to the government
many of the administrative duties they had assumed. In February 1950, Washing-
ton invited Tokyo to establish ‘overseas agencies’ in the United States and
empowered these to report to the Japanese Foreign Ministry but with no exercise of
consular or diplomatic functions. At the same time, Washington and GHQ
inaugurated the Exchange of National Leaders Programme, financed with Govern-
ment and Relief in Occupied Areas (GARIOA) funds, to promote visits by Japanese
leaders to the United States (chapter 3), and Japan was encouraged to participate in
international technical agreements and conferences, subject to Occupation approval.
Washington also authorised the use of international communications services by
private citizens for the first time and condoned direct dealings between the central
government and foreign diplomatic missions in Japan. From August 1951, Tokyo
was able to negotiate with other countries on its own behalf. Participation in the
San Francisco Peace Conference in September of that year was a decisive step in
Japan’s recovery of world citizenship. Full independence was restored on 28 April
1952.”

Revisionist interpretations
The Foreign Ministry’s deceptive translation of the Byrnes Note enabled the gov-
ernment to maintain the fiction that Japan had surrendered with Imperial sover-
eignty intact. It also allowed conservative scholars to assert that the surrender was
negotiated and therefore conditional and contractual. From this premise derives the
argument that the Potsdam Proclamation had no legal authority to curtail Japanese
sovereignty, that SCAP’s power was circumscribed by international conventions on
war and that constitutional reform, in particular, violated the law of belligerent
occupation and was null and void.” The ‘Initial Post-Surrender Policy’ and the
‘Basic Directive’ were dismissed as internal US government documents lacking
international legitimacy. In recent years, these claims have provided an excuse for
increasingly vehement attacks on the Constitution’s peace provisions by revisionist
historians, right-wing politicians and born-again nationalists of various leanings.
Such arguments display an ignorance of what actually transpired in the weeks lead-
ing up to Japan’s capitulation. They also misrepresent the historical context that
234 The Early Reforms

produced the Potsdam Proclamation and other policy instruments defining the
character of the Occupation,
By accepting the Potsdam document and signing the Instrument of Surrender,
Japanese leaders knowingly placed the country’s ruling institutions under Allied
authority. Moreover, as co-signatories to these documents, other Allied powers for-
mally ratified the occupation-control régime, On 25 April 1945, before the Oceupa-
tion commenced, the representatives of 50 countries gathered in San Francisco to
establish the United Nations, producing a Charter that validated policies and actions
taken by Allied governments against the Axis powers during and after World War Il
(Article 107). Adopted on 26 June 1945, the UN Charter entered into force on 24
October of that year. In June 1947, the Far Eastern Commission, the Allied control
body for Japan, issued its own ‘Basic Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’. Initialled by
11 participating nations, nine of which also had signed the Instrument of Surrender,
this document was a replica of the ‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy’, Finally, the San
Francisco Peace Treaty, concluded on 8 September 1951 by 49 nations, including
Japan itself, and implemented in April 1952, added a final cachet of legitimacy to the
Allied control mechanism. Japanese critics of the Occupation, through awed logic
and a distorted historical vision, ignore these salient facts.
 CHAPTER 6

The Political Reforms

The first eight months of occupation laid the foundations for parliamentary dem-
ocracy and left the boldest imprint on Japanese society, During this period, the
reformist zeal of Occupation officials burned brightest, and popular enthusiasm for
change was at its zenith. A flurry of SCAP directives dismantled the military estab-
lishment, tried wartime leaders and purged the political, business and intellectual
élite. During these early months, civil liberties were instituted, the electoral system
was reformed, the first Lower House elections were held and a new constitution was
drawn up and presented to the people. All of these advances were accomplished by
Occupation decree, but newly elected lawmakers would adapt parts of the Constitu-
tion to Japanese conditions and promulgate it as their own creation. As the Old
Order was repressed, Imperial subjects shed their traditional reticence in the face of
public authority and learned to become citizens, and through their empowerment a
new democratic ethos emerged. Central to this process was the position of the
monarchy, which was retained but stripped of its autocratic powers. In preserving the
emperor system, however, MacArthur’s headquarters also perpetuated a powerful and
transcendent symbol around which a conservative hegemony would later coalesce.

CIVIL LIBERTIES

Humanising the Emperor

In MacArthur’s mind, the survival of the Imperial institution was one of the condi-
tions upon which the success of the Occupation hinged, and the General approached
this issue with calculated tact. Uncertainty over the Emperor's fate also loomed large
in the minds of Japan’s ruling élite, whose cooperation was vital to the Americans in
the early reform period. As if to reassure governing conservatives, on 21 September
1945, MacArthur told the US media that, by retaining the Japanese sovereign, the
United States had saved lives, money and time. The Supreme Commander’s press
statement targeted another audience as well: the China Crowd and other advocates
of a hard peace in Washington.
On 27 September, at the end of the first month, Hirohito paid MacArthur an
official visit at the General’s quarters in the US Embassy. The content of the 40-
minute téte-a-téte was secret, but on 29 September, at GHQ’s behest, Japan’s major
dailies ran a photograph of this historic moment taken by a US military photo-
gtapher. The picture was accompanied by an unprecedented New York Times inter-
view with the sovereign in which Hirohito criticised General 'T6j6 Hideki for failing,
236 The Early Reforms

to issue a formal declaration of war on the United States before attacking Pearl
Harbor (in fact, as indicated below, the Emperor had personally assented to that
decision). Front-page coverage, with the photo prominently displayed, caused a
national sensation, for the monarch was sacrosanct, a ‘manifest deity’ (akitsu-
mikamt), and loyal subjects were taught to avert their eyes even from the veiled
Imperial portraits kept in schools and public offices. For the authorities, the graphic
image was sacrilege. The diminutive Hirohito, a youngish 44, stood stiffly in formal
‘claw-hammer’ morning coat, cravat and striped pants next to a relaxed, avuncular
MacArthur, 65, dressed casually in khaki with no insignia of rank, hands in hip
pockets, collar open. Appalled, Home Minister Yamazaki Iwao and his Police Bureau
censors ordered the papers confiscated and attempted to suppress the demeaning
photo by invoking Japan’s /ése-majesté law, Crimes Against the Imperial Household.
MacArthur’s headquarters acted quickly and decisively, ordering the government to
rescind the ban and cease all efforts to censor, suppress or control the media, The
unique ‘photo opportunity’ was MacArthur’s idea, and the skilfully stage-managed
event succeeded brilliantly. The Emperor’s act of homage to the Supreme Com-
mander demonstrated to all that the General wielded supreme authority and yet was
not indifferent to the feelings of the defeated. Moreover, GHQ’s prompt interven-
tion in defence of freedom of the press provided a dramatic public demonstration of
the Occupation’s commitment to democratic reform.
Later, MacArthur told his aides that Hirohito had offered to take full responsibil-
ity for the war, a myth that he cultivated assiduously and later repeated in his
autobiography, but the Japanese record of the encounter indicates no such admis-
sion. Having just pointed the finger of guilt at T6j6, Hirohito is unlikely to have
suddenly pointed it at himself. Nonetheless, the Emperor’s contrite posture report-
edly moved MacArthur to the ‘very marrow’ of his bones. Rather than engage in
mutual recriminations, each man appeared intent on flattering the other and making
the best of an awkward situation. Shortly afterwards, the General confided to aide
Faubion Bowers, who had received the Emperor at the Embassy, ‘I could have
humiliated him, publicly exposed him, but what for? I fought the war; he ended it.
He deserves respect; the magnanimous gesture a noble defeated enemy deserves.
Besides, with him as figurehead, our job is so much more easy.’ This impromptu
aside no doubt summed up MacArthur's real feelings on the subject.'
Working with the government and Court, GHQ oversaw further efforts to
‘humanise’ the Emperor without impugning the moral authority of the Throne. On
New Year’s Day 1946, Hirohito formally renounced his divinity in a deftly crafted
Imperial Rescript. “The ties between Us and Our people’, the Royal statement said,
‘are not predicated on the false conception that the Emperor is divine and that the
Japanese people are superior to other races and fated to rule the world.’ He also
pledged ‘to construct a new Japan through thoroughly being pacific’.
The idea for a ‘declaration of humanity’ had been considered by both Japanese
and Americans separately, the Japanese side being particularly anxious to pre-empt an
anticipated SCAP directive on the subject. The actual text appears to have had its
 The Political Reforms 237

roots in a discussion held in late November between Major Harold G. Henderson, a

Japan specialist then Chief of Education and Religions Branch in the Civil Informa-
tion and Education Section (CI8cE), and Dr Reginald H. Blyth, an eminent British
scholar of Zen Buddhism and Japanese literature. Interned in Japan during the war,
Blyth had just been made instructor at the élite Peers School, the training ground of
the Japanese aristocracy, and English tutor to Crown Prince Akihito. Acting as liaison
with the Court, Blyth worked through Admiral Yamanashi Katsunoshin, President
of the Peers School, to sound out Hirohito’s advisers, who seized on the idea as ‘a
heaven-sent door’. They then agreed on a draft rescript drawn up by Blyth, possibly
with Admiral Yamanashi’s help, and showed it to CI&E Chief Kermit R. Dyke.
Dyke presented the proposal to MacArthur, who endorsed it enthusiastically. The
drafting process was complex and involved many hands, including those of Prime
Minister Shidehara, who had replaced Higashikuni in October; Yoshida Shigeru, his
Foreign Minister; Education Minister Maeda Tamon; and Hirohito himself. Dyke
and MacArthur personally approved the final version.”
Couched in simple language, the Emperor’s so-called renunciation of divinity
appeared to be a firm and unprecedented statement of democratic principle, but the
real message lay cleverly buried in the text. Hirohito’s traditional New Year’s greeting
highlighted two concerns foremost in the monarch’s mind. The heart of the Rescript
was the first six paragraphs, in which he pledged to return to the Emperor Meiji’s
Charter Oath of 1868. The Oath had ‘bestowed’ democracy upon the people and
enjoined the nation to seek wisdom and knowledge throughout the world in order to
strengthen the foundations of Imperial rule (in English, this was rendered mislead-
ingly as ‘the welfare of the Empire’). Nowhere did Hirohito explicitly deny the
ancestral myth of Imperial descent from the Sun Goddess (Amaterasu Omikami).
Later it would be explained by Court officials that the Emperor’s ‘renunciation’
meant simply that he was not a god in the Western sense. In a Japanese context, he
remained a deity incarnate. In addition to this adroit reaffirmation of Imperial
sovereignty, so obvious to Imperial conservatives, Hirohito managed a well-placed
rhetorical jab at his political foes, exhorting the people to beware of gradually spread-
ing ‘radical tendencies in excess’ and the accompanying ‘confusion of thoughts’.
None of this appeared in the Blyth version; it had been added by the Japanese side in
the drafting process and somehow escaped SCAP’s notice, the first of many such
dazzling displays of textual slight of hand.’
MacArthur, deeply moved by Hirohito’s self-effacing act of submission on 27
September, declared himself highly pleased with the monarch’s New Year’s state-
ment. By it, the Supreme Commander asserted, ‘[h]e squarely takes his stand for the
future along liberal lines’. Ironically, to Imperial conservatives MacArthur’s paean
appeared to confer SCAP’s personal cachet on the Emperor’s pledge to make the
Meiji Charter Oath the basis of the postwar state, a truly astounding idea in view of
stated Allied objectives. A devout Episcopalian, the General’s positive assessment of
Hirohito may have reflected an unconscious respect for the religious aura surround-
ing the Emperor’s person. In any event, MacArthur’s September press comments, his
238 The Early Reforms

meeting with the sovereign and the latter’s New Year’s address may be seen as the
opening moves in a campaign to shield the Emperor from war crimes prosecution
and harness the Imperial charisma to Occupation goals.‘

Japan’s Bill ofRights’ and the Five Great Reforms

Allied policy called for the removal of all restrictions on free speech and thought, and
following the deployment of US troops, SCAP issued a press and radio code (19 and
22 September) and took other steps to liberate the mass media from state control.
The Imperial Cabinet of Prince Higashikuni Naruhiko, however, reminded the pub-
lic that while freedom of speech would be recognized, it should conform to the spirit
of the 1925 Peace Preservation Law, under which criticism of the monarchy
was sanctionable in extreme cases by death. The /ése-majesté statute remained on the
books, and as late as 3 October 1945, Home Minister Yamazaki’s police censors were
threatening to imprison anyone who spoke out against the Emperor.
Following the establishment of GHQ/SCAP on 2 October 1945, MacArthur
took more resolute steps to protect basic civil and political freedoms. On 4 October,
the Civil Information and Education Section issued the Civil Liberties Directive
(SCAPIN-93: ‘Removal of Restrictions on Political, Civil and Religious Liberties’) to
encourage the ‘revival and strengthening of democratic tendencies’ as mandated by
the Potsdam Proclamation. Heralded by SCAP as the ‘Magna Carta for Japan’ and
known widely as the Japanese Bill of Rights, this order abolished the Peace Preserva-
tion Law and all other ordinances and regulations restricting “freedom of thought,
religion, assembly and speech’ or operating “unequally in favor of or against any
person by reason of race, nationality, creed, or political opinion’. The directive also
ordered the release of all political prisoners by 10 October; the abolition of secret
police organs, including the Home Ministry’s notorious Special Higher Police (Zokk6
Keisatsu); the dismissal of the Minister of Home Affairs and the chief of the Minis-
try’s Bureau of Police, the heads of the Tokyo and Osaka Metropolitan Police Boards,
and prefectural police chiefs; and the removal of all barriers to ‘the unrestricted
discussion of the Emperor, the Imperial Institution and the Imperial Japanese Gov-
ernment’. As a result of this decree, nearly 5,000 officials in the Home Ministry and
law-enforcement agencies were dismissed, and the Japan Communist Party (JCP),
driven underground and persecuted under the Peace Preservation Law, suddenly
resurfaced as a legitimate political organisation. Moreover, GHQ took special pains
to emphasise that the directive’s free-speech guarantees extended to discussion of the
emperor system as well. CI8&E’s Captain Arthur Behrstock promptly summoned
representatives of Japan’s major dailies, including the Asahi, Mainichi and Yomiuri,
and made this point clear.”
On 5 October, the day after the directive’s promulgation, the Higashikuni Cabinet
resigned en masse. The Peace Preservation Law was the state’s primary weapon
against the Emperor’s enemies. With the statute gone, its guardians dismissed
and Communists organising freely, Higashikuni’s government could not fulfil its
sacred office to vouchsafe the Imperial status quo. On 9 October, the relatively
 The Political Reforms 239

moderate Baron Shidehara Kijiiré acceded to the premiership. The Shidehara

Cabinet included several ministers who had been jailed or placed under house arrest
for their ‘liberalist’ views during the war, including Ashida Hitoshi (Welfare), Maeda
Tamon (Education) and Yoshida Shigeru (Foreign Affairs). All three were outspoken
Imperial conservatives, but they had opposed the war, and their presence was widely
seen as heralding the start of a new order.
GHQ had turned its attention to civil liberties following US press reports in early
October that political prisoners were still detained under appalling conditions. The
well-known philosopher Miki Kiyoshi, incarcerated for harbouring a Communist
friend, had died in the Tokyo Detention House on 26 September, and the health of
others was precarious. Many of those imprisoned were Communists, anarchists and
Korean nationalists. Koreans, liberated by Japan’s defeat, took the lead in pressing for
their release. Since September, the Korean community had leafleted and organised
rallies demanding freedom for all political detainees.
Between 1 and 3 October, French correspondent Robert Guillain and two Ameri-
can journalists, learning that Communists were still in jail, visited Fucht Prison
outside of Tokyo and interviewed several leaders there.° Alerted by these reports,
John K. Emmerson of the Political Adviser’s Office (POLAD) brought the plight of
these men to MacArthur's attention, On 5 October, the day after the Civil Liberties
Directive, Emmerson and E, Herbert Norman, the Canadian scholar and diplomat

POREAN ASSOCIATION
1H), JAPAN

Photo 31. Koreans celebrate the release of political prisoners in front of GHQ, 15 October
1945. They are waving the Korean national banner and the Stars and Stripes. Koreans and
Communists both welcomed the Occupation army as liberators (US National Archives).
240 The Early Reforms

then attached to Civil Intelligence Section, drove to Fuchi Prison and met promin-
ent Communists incarcerated there, including Tokuda Kyiichi, Shiga Yoshio and
Korean activist Kim Ch’6n-hae. On 7 October, the two men escorted Tokuda, Shiga
and Kim to SCAP headquarters for a day-long debriefing on the Party’s postwar
plans — and then returned them to jail. The three leaders were among the 439
Communists, Korean nationalists, liberal intellectuals and religious pacifists freed on
10 October. Police were forced to suspend immediately the surveillance of another
2,060 ‘subversives’. On 19 December, GHQ formally reinstated the civil rights of
these individuals with a directive, ‘Restoration of Electoral Rights to Released Polit-
ical Prisoners’.’ To test the water, on the day of their release, Tokuda, Shiga and other
freed comrades, writing in the first postwar edition of Akahata (The Red Flag), hailed
the ‘democratic revolution’ brought about by the Occupation forces, pledged to
overthrow the emperor system and called for a united front under Communist
leadership. Democracy indeed had arrived.
In line with the broad US commitment to support progressive forces, Emmerson
recommended to the State Department a positive policy of encouraging all political
tendencies that might be united in creating a democratic Japan, including the Com-
munist Party. This approach, he said, served America’s long-term interests in Asia
better than a negative policy of repressing the left. The so-called Emmerson Plan
commanded wide respect in SCAP in the early days of occupation. Initially, GHQ
was willing to regard the JCP as a potential ally in combating militarists and the Old
Guard, and the Party returned the compliment by characterising the US garrison
force as a ‘liberation army’. Emmerson ran into strong opposition, however, from
POLAD Chief George Atcheson and intelligence officers in G-2, who saw Com-
munism as the antithesis of democracy and an impediment to the Occupation’s
objectives. With his ideas in poor repute, Emmerson returned to Washington in
February 1946.°
On 11 October 1945, Prime Minister Shidehara Kijiré, who had formed his
government two days earlier, paid his first visit to MacArthur. The General told
Shidehara to liberalise the Meiji Constitution and then handed the surprised premier
a paper listing five fundamental reforms to be implemented immediately. The Five
Great Reforms, as they became known, were 1 the enfranchisement of women, to
make “government directly subservient to the well-being of the home’ (pre-surrender
planning had made no such provision), 2 the encouragement of labour unions and
the abolition of child labour practices, 3 the reform of education, 4 the elimination
of ‘secret inquisition and abuse’ that had oppressed the people, and 5 promotion
of a ‘wide distribution of income and ownership of the means of production and
trade’. With the exception of the first point, these measures, included in substance
in Washington’s ‘Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’, belonged to the urgent
changes that MacArthur had outlined passionately to Courtney Whitney on 30
August en route to Atsugi.
 The Political Reforms 241

A liberal Japanese agenda

MacArthur’s choice of priorities also reflected the long-standing demands of
liberal Japanese. Indeed, the Supreme Commander had assigned these particular
policies pride of place at the recommendation of a select group of Japanese advisers
hand-picked from a list of potentially pro-American opinion leaders compiled in
Washington between 1944 and 1945. In late September 1945, for example, CI8&E’s
Captain Arthur Behrstock and Lieutenant Taro Tsukahara approached the husband-
and-wife team of Kato Kanji, a left-wing Socialist imprisoned for his views, and
Kato Shizue, a radical feminist also jailed for her liberal opinions, for advice on trade
unions and the status of women. When asked to become an adviser to GHQ, Kat6
Kanji agreed and recommended three other Socialists as well. Lieutenant Tsukahara
personally accompanied the Katés to General Headquarters, where they met Occu-
pation officials, including Lieutenant Ethel Weed, the CI&¢E Women’s Information
Officer. Both Katés would be elected to the Lower House on a Socialist ticket in the
first general elections of 1946. GHQ also solicited the views of right-wing Socialists
who had refused to cooperate with the militarists, among them Matsuoka Koma-
kichi, Nishio Suehiro and Christian social reformer Suzuki Bunji. Two liberal labour
specialists, Suehiro Izutard and Ayusawa Iwao, were tapped by Economic and Scien-
tific section, and CI&E Chief Dyke recruited prominent educator Kaigo Tokiomi
and Kishimoto Hideo, a Harvard-trained scholar of religion, to assist his section with
education and religion reforms. In similar fashion, a number of other out-
standing intellectuals lent their knowledge and prestige to the multifaceted task of
building democracy. Without their wise counsel and enthusiastic backing, many
GHQ initiatives would have fallen wide of the mark.’
Pressure for fundamental change also came from the people. Even before the
Occupation began, women, for instance, had organised to press for basic freedoms.
On 25 August 1945, three influential feminists established the Women’s Postwar
Counter-Measures Committee (Sengo Taisaku Fujin I’inkai) to renew the fight for
universal suffrage. They were 85-year-old Ichikawa Fusae, founder of the prewar
Women’s Suffrage League; Akamatsu Tsuneko, a shopfloor union organiser who
had headed the Women’s Division in the prewar Japan General Federation of
Labour; and liberal educator Kawasaki Natsu. On 10 September, the Committee
presented a list of five demands, including the right to vote, to GHQ and the
Higashikuni government. Although Higashikuni was favourably disposed towards
the proposals, opposition from Vice Premier Prince Konoe Fumimaro frustrated
the initiative. Nonetheless, on 10 October, the newly formed Shidehara Cabinet
agreed in principle to enfranchise women and lower the voting age and indicated
its intention to revise the Lower House Electoral Law accordingly. MacArthur’s
strong endorsement of universal suffrage the next day thus came as no surprise to
Ichikawa’s group, which shortly afterwards formed the New Japan Women’s League
(Shin Nihon Fujin Domei)."°
The Supreme Commander was personally committed to the ‘essential equality’ of
the sexes, but the presence of a political action group advocating the same liberal
242 The Early Reforms

project may have convinced him to place that measure at the top of his list of five
reforms. In any event, the franchise was an idea whose time had come. MacArthur's
intervention ensured that it arrived sooner rather than later, and perhaps more
completely. Other SCAP reforms, too, found well-organised public constituencies
determined to hasten their implementation. The demands put forward by prewar
labour leaders, agrarian reformers, liberal educators, professional organisations and
private citizens’ groups were welcomed by middle-ranking ‘social-reform’ bureau-
crats, many of them in the Home and Welfare Ministries, who had supported
forward-looking social policies in the 1930s in order to preserve public order and
enhance basic governance. Consequently, in some instances, the first faltering steps
towards institutional reform would be taken well before GHQ had organised its own
agenda (chapter 7).

Testing the limits of reform

By May 1946, the first heady wave of reform had swept the country. The civil rights
directives of late 1945 had been rigorously enforced, establishing fundamental civil
and political liberties, which now were codified in a draft constitution (below). The
new national charter divested the monarchy of its former powers and manifest claims
to divinity but nonetheless guaranteed it a secure place in the new political order.
Anxious to define the parameters of change on its own terms, the government now
cracked down on critics of the Emperor by invoking the Meiji-era /ese-majesté law,
which was still in force. GHQ’s response to official censorship, some nine months
after the start of the Occupation, now was surprisingly restrained and nuanced.
In the spring of 1946, urban dwellers were fighting mass hunger. Chronic food
shortages had produced widespread discontent, and demonstrations for the free
delivery of rice and other food stores erupted across the nation. On 19 May, more
than 250,000 demonstrators staged the People’s Rally for Obtaining Food. Con-
verging on the Imperial Plaza in front of the Palace (now popularly called the
People’s Plaza), they demanded entrance to the Palace kitchens, which reportedly
were stocked with rice and other staple provisions. During the protest, which became
known as Food May Day, Matsushima Shotaro, a factory worker and member of the
Communist Party, hoisted a placard reading: ‘Imperial Edict: The Emperor system
has been preserved. I, the Emperor, have eaten my fill, but you, his subjects, may
starve to death! Signed: (Imperial Seal).’ The reverse side of the sign demanded that
Hirohito give a public accounting of the food shortages.
This expression of popular frustration and rage alarmed both GHQ and the
government. The next day, 20 May, MacArthur denounced what he termed “mass
violence’ and ‘intimidation’, and on 24 May, the Emperor addressed the nation in
his second and final radio broadcast of the Occupation era, exhorting Japanese to
‘stand aloof from individual interests’. Scarce food supplies, he said in language
reminiscent of wartime propaganda, should be distributed fairly, ‘the distress shared
by all’. The authorities did not stop there, however. With SCAP watching from the
sidelines, in late June, the government applied the /ese-majesté statute and indicted
 The Political Reforms 243

the placard-wielding Matsushima for impairing the dignity of the Emperor. In

November, he was sentenced to eight months’ imprisonment (ironically, the govern-
ment pardoned him immediately under an Imperial amnesty commemorating the
new Constitution).
GHQ intervened only to the extent of having the charges against Matsushima
changed to libel, for by the spring of 1946, MacArthur had decided to retain the
Imperial institution and exempt the Emperor from war crimes prosecution (below).
In June, roughly a month after the placard incident, Donald R. Nugent, Chief of
Civil Information and Education Section, reportedly killed a CI8&E proposal to
encourage critical public discussion of the Throne. Nugent was said to be acting
on secret instructions from Washington in mid-April to avoid direct attacks on
the emperor system for fear of strengthening Communist and ultra-nationalist
tendencies. In August, as Matsushima’s trial wore on, G-2 Chief Charles Willoughby
intervened at Yoshida Shigeru’s request to suppress a new film critical of the
monarch, overriding a CI&E decision to approve it (chapter 8).
SCAP had no intention of condoning blatant suppression of free speech, however.
In October 1946 when the Yoshida Cabinet reluctantly dropped /ese-majesté charges
against the Communist Party organ Akahata, MacArthur praised the action as
conducive to ‘the free criticism of officials and institutions’, and he eventually
ordered the statute struck from the Criminal Code, which was revised in October
1947 over the strenuous objections of Yoshida and his Liberal Party. Nonetheless,
General Headquarter’s vacillatory behaviour in allowing the placard demonstrator to
be dragged through the courts over a period of months sent a mixed message to the
Japanese public, reflecting the Occupation’s new stance in support of the Emperor
and its growing distrust of the Communist Party."

THE TOKYO WAR CRIMES TRIBUNAL

In June 1945, representatives of Britain, France, the Soviet Union and the United
States met in London to discuss the issue of trying German war crimes under existing
international law. Britain favoured a quick ‘executive’ solution, Churchill proposing
to shoot the German leaders summarily. The Soviets and the French were not con-
vinced that there was sufficient legal precedent for such a trial. Nonetheless, the
Allies bowed to US pressure and in August 1945 signed the Charter for the Nurem-
berg Trials. Armed with this instrument, the four nations convened the Nuremberg
International Military Tribunal in November to try Nazi military and civilian leaders
for offences against peace, the laws of war and humanity. Article 11 of the Potsdam
Proclamation (26 July) committed the Allied Powers to conduct similar trials in
Japan, and as soon as the Occupation commenced, SCAP ordered the Japanese
government to locate suspected war criminals. On 11 September, US Military Police
rounded up the first 39 suspects.’
At the top of SCAP’s list was General T6jo Hideki, one of the chief architects
244 The Early Reforms

of Japan’s military expansion and prime minister for most of the war. Tojo saw
American agents coming for him from a window in his home and shot himself
with his service revolver in an effort to cheat justice, but he was nursed back to health
by US Army doctors and subsequently indicted. Without him, the Tokyo War
Crimes Tribunal would not only have been deprived of its star witness, it would have
been unthinkable, for the General was to be made responsible for the war in a
scenario scripted by American and Japanese officials to shield the Emperor from
prosecution.
On 6 October 1945, Washington directed MacArthur to proceed with the trials of
the major suspects, and in early November, the Supreme Commander instructed
Elliott Thorpe’s Counter-Intelligence Section and POLAD to compile further lists of
suspects. Names also had been suggested by the US State Department, the Australian
and Chinese governments and various Allied agencies. Japanese officials close to the
Throne, too, collaborated with MacArthur’s headquarters in naming names, hoping
to steer Occupation authorities away from Hirohito. MacArthur made the final
decision on whom to detain. By the time US prosecutors arrived in Japan in early
December 1945, 103 warrants had been issued. A total of 1,128 suspects accused of a
wide range of offences eventually would be incarcerated in Tokyo’s Sugamo Prison,
where more than half remained for the duration of the trial.
This irony of fortunes was not lost on the Japanese people. Built in the late
1920s, Sugamo was one of the country’s most modern prisons, and when the war
ended it held 60 political prisoners. The German spy Richard Sorge and his
contact, the brilliant journalist Ozaki Hotsumi, had been executed at Sugamo in
1944. Now the tables were turned: Ozaki was a martyr, and Japan’s wartime
leaders were on trial for their lives; seven would meet Ozaki’s fate on the Sugamo
gallows.’?
On 19 January 1946, MacArthur inaugurated the International Military Tribunal
for the Far East (IMTFE) and on 15 February approved the appointment of 11
justices by each of the nations on the Far Eastern Commission. Sir William F. Webb,
Chief Justice of the Australian Supreme Court, was Tribunal President. The chief
prosecutor and US chief counsel was Truman-appointee Joseph B. Keenan, who was
assisted by 10 associate prosecutors. Chosen to mount the defence was University of
Tokyo professor Takayanagi Kenz6, a jurist of international repute who had studied
at Harvard Law School and London’s Middle Temple and was considered Japan’s
leading authority on Anglo-American law. The tall, erudite legal scholar conducted
his defence before the Tribunal in English, lending an aura of dignity to the proceed-
ings that otherwise might have been lacking. He was assisted by Uzawa Somei, a
renowned legal expert and President of Meiji University, and Kiyose Ichir6, an arch-
conservative but highly competent defence counsel who had been elected eight times
to the prewar Diet.’
Following the Nuremberg precedent, the Tokyo Charter, promulgated on 26
April 1946, listed three types of criminal wartime activity: Class A crimes against
peace, including the planning, initiating or waging of a declared or undeclared war of
 The Political Reforms 245
aggression; Class B conventional war crimes involving violations of the customary
laws of war, including the maltreatment of civilians and prisoners of war; and
Class C crimes against humanity, such as extermination, enslavement, deportation,
persecution on political or religious grounds, and other acts of inhumanity.
British Associate Prosecutor Arthur Comyns-Carr prepared the indictments, which
contained a total of 55 counts: 36 for Class A transgressions, 16 for Class B offences
and 3 for those falling in Class C. The indictment extended the period of liability
backward from the signing of the Instrument of Surrender (2 September 1945) to 1
January 1928, when the ‘criminal, militaristic clique’ that had conspired to commit
those wrongs achieved political supremacy.
In general, the Tokyo Charter stipulated that individuals would be held personally
accountable for illegal acts they had committed, including those ordered by military
superiors and the state. Class C violations held leaders who had planned such
depredations responsible for the actions of subordinates and the rank-and-file
military personnel who carried them out. In Germany, four Allied Powers had tried
Nazi leaders for the Holocaust and related horrors under Class C crimes against
humanity, but in Japan this category became blurred with Class B offences, and
most of the so-called B/C war crimes covering conventional brutalities and murder
were tried in local military tribunals throughout Asia. In Japan, B/C suspects were
arraigned before the Yokohama Military Tribunal.
The Class A war crimes trial in Tokyo was a showcase production that initially
riveted the attention of the nation and the world. Of those accused of Class A crimes,
28 were indicted on 29 April 1946 by the IMTFE. The Tribunal began on 3 May
1946 and did not conclude its arguments until 16 April 1948, but eight more
months would elapse before the last of the verdicts was read on 12 November. By that
time, public interest in the proceedings had slackened perceptibly. Among those tried
were T6jo and top military leaders, Foreign Minister Togo Shigenori and Marquis
Kido Koichi, the Emperor’s closest adviser. Hirota Koki, former foreign minister
and premier, also was arraigned, as was Matsuoka Yésuke, the architect of Japan’s
Axis alliance with Germany and Italy. The indictments included two men who had
signed the Instrument of Surrender on behalf of Japan: career diplomat Shigemitsu
Mamoru, former ambassador to Moscow and London and foreign minister from
August to September 1945, and General Umezu Yoshijir6, former chief of the Army
General Staff (1944-1945). T6jd’s successor, Koiso Kuniaki (prime minister, July
1944—April 1945), too, was placed on trial. Such members of the aristocracy and
Royal family as Baron Hiranuma Kiichird and Hirohito’s uncle Field Marshal
Prince Nashimoto Morimasa also were detained, and Hiranuma was indicted. Prince
Konoe, thrice prime minister in the late 1930s and early 1940s, also came under
suspicion. The Prince would have been apprehended as well but swallowed poison in
the early morning hours of 16 December 1945, the day he had been ordered to turn
himself in. In the suicide note he left for his son, he protested, “The winner is too
boastful, the loser too servile.’®
Of the original 28 accused, two died during the proceedings and one was placed
246 The Early Reforms

Photo 32. Japanese Class A war crimes suspects listen impassively to Tribunal proceedings.
From left to right (front row): Doihara, Hata, Hirota, Minami, T6jé, Oka, Araki, Muté,
Hoshino, Kaya, Kido, and Kimura. Back row (left to right): Hashimoto*, Koiso, Oshima",
Matsui, Togo*, Sato, Shigemitsu, Shimada, Suzuki and Itagaki (Mainichi). (*Partially obscured)

under psychiatric care, leaving 25 to face sentencing. Eight of the 11 Allied justices
found all of the accused guilty of some of the 55 charges against them — a blanket
finding that did not occur at Nuremberg. All but two of the defendants were
convicted of ‘conspiracy to wage aggressive war’. The verdicts delivered from 4
November to 12 November 1948, condemned seven to death and ordered 18 to
serve prison terms ranging from seven years to life. Capital punishment was decreed
for T6jd, Hirota and five generals. The condemned appealed the decision to
MacArthur, who personally consulted Allied representatives in Tokyo on 22 Novem-
ber. Australia, Canada and France indicated that they would not oppose mitigation
of the sentences. B, N. Chakravarty of India asked that all death sentences be com-
muted to life imprisonment, and Baron Lewe von Aduard of the Dutch Mission
recommended lesser punishments for five prisoners. MacArthur turned down all
requests for clemency. As a last resort, defence lawyers appealed to the US Supreme
Court, which dismissed the motion for lack of jurisdiction — a decision that
MacArthur hailed as a reconfirmation of his authority as SCAP."°
The seven condemned men were executed by hanging in Sugamo Prison on 23
December 1948. The sentences of the remaining 18 were later commuted, and in
1958, 10 remaining defendants, already paroled, were freed unconditionally. Veteran
diplomat Shigemitsu Mamoru, released in late 1950, became foreign minister in
1954 and played a central role in securing Japan’s entry into the United Nations. On
24 December, the day after the executions, the Tribunal released 19 Class A suspects
who also had been held but not indicted.
The reasons for suspending prosecution at this point are unclear (in Germany,
 The Political Reforms ‘ 247

smaller trials had continued after the major suspects had been tried), but public
ennui and the reorientation of Occupation priorities with the deepening of the Cold
War are no doubt largely responsible. Among those freed were Kishi Nobusuke, a
former Manchukuo bureaucrat and prominent member of the T6j6 Cabinet, and the
notorious right-wing racketeers Kodama Yoshio and Sasagawa Rydichi. Upon their
release, these men were placed under purge constraints, but GHQ found their anti-
Communism sufficiently useful to overlook their wartime misconduct and reaction-
ary ideas. They subsequently joined the ‘vast and powerful nationalist underground’
of which journalist Mark Gayn had warned in 1946, After the Occupation, these
figures were catapulted back into public life. Kishi, who had been responsible for the
enslavement of tens of thousands of Chinese labourers in Manchukuo in the late
1930s, would become prime minister in 1957.'”

Victor's justice?
In December 1946, the UN General Assembly formally endorsed the Nuremberg
Charter as international law, conferring fresh legitimacy on the Tokyo Charter. Both
instruments, however, purported to derive their authority from the Kellogg—Briand
(Paris) Pact of 27 August 1928, formally the General Treaty for the Renunciation
of War, which abjured belligerency as an instrument of national policy. Japan was a
signatory. Indeed, aware of its treaty obligation, Tokyo had purposely categorised its
attacks on China as ‘incidents’ to avoid a declaration of war (ironically, school texts
and most history books still use that deceptive word today). The legal validity of
this and other assertions of jurisdiction, however, were challenged by defence attor-
neys and at least one Allied justice. A major problem, critics contended, was the
‘Tribunal’s mandate to seek convictions based on legal precepts not yet established
in international law at the time the offences occurred, notably the crime of con-
spiracy to commit aggression and crimes against humanity. The Tribunal’s self-
proclaimed mission seemed to conflict with its claim to be rooted in the ‘expression
of international law existing at the time’.
Specifically, Chief Defence Counsel Takayanagi argued that the Kellogg—Briand
Pact, while it renounced war, neither defined aggression nor made it an actionable
offence. He also noted that criminal conspiracy was an exclusively Anglo-American
doctrine, one with the potential to make even innocent acts of cooperation subject to
‘the innate prejudices or social ideas of an unknown judge’. President Webb con-
curred, declaring in a final separate opinion that creating ‘a crime of naked conspir-
acy based on the Anglo-American concept’ was tantamount to ‘judicial legislation’.
Justice Radhabinod Pal of India, the only member of the Bench trained in inter-
national jurisprudence, asserted that conspiracy could not be considered a crime
under current world law. Pal also attacked the charge of ‘crimes against peace’ as
retroactive legislation that made the Tribunal an instrument of political, not judicial,
power. These contradictions did not necessarily invalidate the proceedings, however.
A majority of the justices, including the liberal Dutch jurist Bert V. A. Réling who
criticised the trial on other grounds, argued convincingly that the magnitude of the
248 The Early Reforms

transgressions committed and the imperatives of morality and justice compelled the
Allies to make new rules and render judgment after the fact."
Defence chief ‘Takayanagi also challenged the legality of prosecuting individuals
for obeying the orders of superiors or implementing policies of state, a position that
Justice Pal of India strongly endorsed, Not surprisingly, perhaps, many of the profes-
sional military men in MacArthur's headquarters also agreed heartily, SCAP’s intelli-
gence chiefs Willoughby and Thorpe, for example, objected both to the trial and its
premises, which they derided in private as vindictive ex post facto law. Thorpe wrote
afterwards that ‘the business of trying these people before a completely prejudiced
court of angry men from the Allied nations that had suffered at Japanese hands
smacked strongly of hypocrisy’. The State Department's George FR. Kennan, head
of the powerful Policy Planning Staff, criticised the proceedings as ‘political’ and
‘ill-conceived’,"”
The Tokyo ‘Tribunal took the argument of individual responsibility to a new
extreme, introducing the notion, absent at Nuremberg, of ‘negative criminality’:
failure to take positive steps to prevent atrocities and other breaches of the laws of
war. Takayanagi reminded the Bench that American members of the Commission of
Responsibilities at the Versailles Peace Conference in 1919 had heatedly opposed this
concept, and French Justice Henri Bernard and Justice Réling of Holland both
attempted to narrow the scope of the charge. Nonetheless, a slim majority sentenced
Hirota Koki to death on this count (he also was foundguilty of conspiracy). Hirota
had been foreign minister during the 1937 Nanjing massacre. Matsui Iwane, the
commanding general at Nanjing, was hanged on that charge alone.”
‘There were also unsettling questions about the qualifications and objectivity of the
Bench, Pal was the only expert in international law; the Nationalist Chinese justice,
Mei Ju-ao, although holding a law degree from the University of Chicago, had never
served as a magistrate (in China, he was a politician); the Soviet justice, Major
General I, M, Zaryanovy, spoke neither Japanese nor English, the official languages of
the trial, Justice Delfin Jaranilla of the Philippines was a survivor of the Bataan Death
March, and President Webb had personally investigated and tried Japanese atrocities
in Australia, Such experiences cast serious doubt on the impartiality of both men,
Janarilla was predictably hawkish on most of the issues before the court, demanding
stiffer punishments, and the proud, arrogant Webb bullied defence witnesses and
counsel. Webb’s credibility came into question again when he returned to Australia
from 12 November to 12 December 1947, missing 22 consecutive days of court
proceedings. (It should be noted that all of the justices were absent part of the time,
for periods ranging from two weeks to two months, Webb missed a total of 53 days,
Pal 109 days.) New Zealand Justice Sir Erima Harvey Northcroft, a member of the
New Zealand Supreme Court, felt that Webb was unqualified on other grounds, as
well. The President, he said, had ‘an indifferent knowledge of the rules of evidence’
and was not only unreliable and vain but stupid into the bargain. Northcroft
led a revolt by the British and Canadian justices, Lord Patrick and Edward S.
McDougall, who threatened to resign unless Webb were removed. Smelling a scandal
 The Political Reforms 249

and unnecessary complications with the Americans, their respective governments

promptly vetoed this move.”
The Cairo Declaration had condemned the ‘enslavement of the people of Korea’,
yet no Korean justice participated in the judgment, and two of the three Asians on
the Bench, Pal and Jaranilla, represented at the start not independent nations but
colonies of Britain and the United States (the Philippines acquired full independence
on 4 July 1946, shortly after the trial began, and India became independent in
August 1947). The British, Dutch and French members of the Bench represented
imperialist powers with extensive colonial possessions in Asia, and the Anglo-Saxon
bloc, which alone accounted for five of the 11 justices, collectively defended in
practice the prerogatives of empire. With the exception of the Philippines and
Burma, which was allowed to place a prosecutor on the British team, none of the
other Southeast Asian countries that had suffered under the Japanese was given a
voice in the trial. The Indictment, too, failed to take adequately into account the
wartime experiences of these countries. The associate prosecutor for the Philippines,
Pedro Lopez, took exception with the document for not addressing the establishment
of puppet régimes. ‘In many ways’, two British writers conclude, ‘the Tribunal was
the last bastion of colonialism.”
Moreover, the Allies prevented representatives of the Japanese people from taking
any positive part in the proceedings or conducting their own trials, despite calls from
progressive intellectuals for people’s courts. This shortsighted policy made it difficult
then and later for many Japanese to confront their nation’s war responsibility, More-
over, the physical organisation of the Tribunal, which took place in the former War
Ministry Building in Ichigaya, sent an unmistakable message to the conquered, for
the building was rigorously segregated. Allied jurists, prosecutors and staff entered by
the front door, Japanese lawyers and defendants by the rear. Toilets were segregated,
with those in the basement reserved for Japanese, from lawyers to maintenance
personnel. Inside the court room, even Japanese and American defence counsels
were seated separately, and the gallery, too, was divided into sections for Japanese and
non-Japanese.”
There were procedural flaws, the most serious of which was the simple majority
required to pass a sentence of death. All capital verdicts but one were approved by
seven of the 11 justices. In the case of Hirota, however, the decision was six to five;
the former diplomat was sent to the gallows by a one-vote majority. Justice Réling,
who supported a verdict of not guilty, argued that the Tribunal had failed con-
vincingly to prove Hirota guilty of even a single charge. The Bench was divided on
other issues as well, and five justices issued separate opinions, three of them dissent-
ing. President Webb, while voting with the majority, submitted a concurring opinion
expressing grave reservations about the absence of the Emperor as a defendant, a flaw
that he cited as an argument for commuting the death sentences. Jaranilla of the
Philippines, however, in another individual opinion, not only endorsed the majority
judgment but called for harsher punishments in some cases.
Bernard, Réling and Pal filed dissenting views. Bernard protested vigorously that
250 The Early Reforms

gross procedural errors had invalidated the judgments; he also objected on the
grounds that the Japanese sovereign had escaped indictment. Réling dissented on the
definition of aggressive war and the doctrine of civilian responsibility for military
crimes and contested five convictions, including that of Hirota. He also believed that
the fire-bombings of Tokyo and other urban centres from early 1945, as well as the
atomic destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, had violated the laws of war. In the
most famous of the dissenting opinions, Justice Pal not only shared the misgivings of
Bernard and Réling but offered a book-length critique of the trial’s premises and
acquitted all of the defendants on all counts.”
Right-wing Japanese intellectuals seized on Pal’s anti-colonial, anti-Communist
views in an effort to discredit the Tribunal and its findings. It was true that Japan
stood accused of aggression in an Asia whose broad political, economic and social
contours had been moulded by more than a century of Western imperialism. More-
over, Japan’s expansionist policies in China, like Western colonial practice, had been
motivated partially by anti-Communism. Ultra-nationalists, however, wielded the
accusation of ‘victor’s justice’ in order to obscure the root issue of Japan’s war guilt,
implicitly justifying their country’s wartime record. But that was the position of a
minority. Popular interest in the Tribunal waned as the proceedings dragged on, and
there was no strong public reaction to the verdicts. Few people thought that the trial
was fair, only that it was inevitable, and the condemned leaders were widely seen as
scapegoats. Yet a perceptible shift of opinion had occurred since the defeat, and
despite the Tribunal’s glaring defects, there was a broad tacit understanding of the
need for some kind of reckoning. Some progressive scholars and writers openly
supported the judgments; others called for independent trials by the Japanese them-
selves. Nearly 40 years later, a noted philosopher who remains critical of the victors’
overweening self-righteousness and arrogant belief in the superiority of Western
values pronounced the Tribunal revolutionary in its intent to establish in inter-
national law the legal norms necessary to prevent war. Therein lies the real signifi-
cance of the Tokyo Tribunal.”

CRIMES OF COMMISSION AND OMISSION

Class B and C war crimes

Japanese maltreatment of prisoners of war and interned enemy civilians was notori-
ous. The brutality routinely meted out to Allied captives forced to work on the
Burma—Thailand Railway, for instance, defied description. Some 12,000 Allied
prisoners and as many as 70,000 Asian internees may have died building the 412-
kilometre rail link through dense jungle. Whereas only about 4 per cent of US and
British POWs held by German and Italian troops died in captivity, the average rate of
death for those in Japanese hands was 27 per cent. More than 34 per cent of
Australian POWs perished in internment camps. No comparable statistics exist for
captive Asian civilians, but death rates there undoubtedly were even higher.”°
 The Political Reforms : 251

The transgressions committed by Imperial troops against interned enemy

soldiers and civilians were extreme and abhorrent. Yet there was nothing innately
‘Japanese’ about such behaviour. Troops on both sides committed atrocities in the
heat of battle (chapter 1). In the case of Japanese combatants, however, several
factors conspired to make such conduct inevitable and pervasive. In 1929, Japan
had signed the Geneva Convention Concerning the Treatment of Prisoners of
War, but the Imperial Diet never formally ratified it. The Emperor’s troops were
not even told of its existence, for suicide was preferable to surrender. The Field
Service Code (Senjinkun) of 8 January 1941 ordered soldiers: “Do not accept the
humiliation of capture alive’. This injunction was literally pounded into recruits’
consciousness, and the ‘civilian instinct’ was virtually extinguished in the ranks.
Orders were to be followed exactly and absolutely, and brutal physical punishment
was the price exacted for the slightest deviation. Personal responsibility for obeying
unjust orders was an alien concept. With no sense of their own human rights,
Japanese troops had little reason to honour those of enemy prisoners. These
ingrained attitudes were compounded by feelings of inferiority and repressed
animosity towards Western POWs and a strong sense of superiority towards Asian
internees, leading Japanese captors to treat both groups with brutal contempt, albeit
for different reasons. This ‘combination of regimentation, brutalisation and racism’
produced a dehumanising psychology of cruelty that was amplified by a general
war psychosis and the increasing desperation of Japan’s military position in the
field.””
Massacres, murder, death marches, torture, cannibalism, forced labour, starvation,
systematic ill treatment and other horrors committed by Japanese soldiers were
prosecuted in less spectacular military trials conducted by Australian, British, Dutch,
Filipino, French, Nationalist Chinese and US courts acting independently on the
authority of the Potsdam Proclamation. From October 1945 to April 1951, about
5,700 Japanese were brought before 49 Allied military tribunals in Batavia (now
Jakarta), Hong Kong, Kuala Lumpur, Manila, Manus, Rabaul, Saigon, Shanghai,
Yokohama and elsewhere in Asia. A total of 4,405 were convicted, of whom 904 were
executed and 475 given life sentences.” At the Yokohama Tribunal alone, run by the
Eighth Army at its Yokohama headquarters, 2,214 suspects had been apprehended
for B/C offences by mid-1947. Of the more than 1,000 brought to trial there, 124
were condemned to death, and 62 received life sentences.
The B/C trials got underway immediately and punishment was swift. The Yoko-
hama Court began hearing cases on 18 December 1945 and hanged its first criminal
in early March 1946. The last case was disposed of in October 1949, after the close of
the IMTFE. In the Philippines, where the United States conducted separate trials,
two high-ranking Japanese were executed just before the Tokyo Tribunal began.
General Yamashita Tomoyuki, who had masterminded the capture of Singapore
from Commonwealth forces in February 1942, was hanged on 23 February 1946 for
the Rape of Manila after losing an appeal to the US Supreme Court. Lieutenant
General Honma Masaharu, who had seized the Philippines from MacArthur in
252 The Early Reforms

Photo 33. “This is the man who beat me.’ An American soldier, flown in from Manila, testifies
against his former captor at the Yokohama Tribunal for Class B and C War Crimes, 27 May
1946, American plaintiffs were encouraged to be confrontational and dramatise their accusa-
tions (Mainichi).

1942, was executed by firing squad on 3 April 1946 for the Bataan Death March and
other alleged atrocities.
The Soviet Union is believed to have tried as many as 10,000 former Japanese
soldiers in separate clandestine tribunals. Some 3,000 may have been executed
secretly — more than three times the number shot or hanged by the other Allies
combined. Among those prosecuted were 12 soldiers and scientists belonging to the
notorious Unit 731 (see below) and other Kwantung Army biological and chemical
warfare groups. In December 1949, they received prison sentences of up to 20 years.
In China, however, the People’s Liberation Army prosecuted only 45 of 1,108
Japanese war crimes suspects and did not execute a single one. Preferring self-
criticism and ‘re-education’ to forced confession, the People’s Republic encouraged
the accused to reflect on their actions and repent. The trials took place after the
mid-1950s, and detainees subsequently were returned to Japan.”
Most of those jailed or executed for Class B and C crimes undoubtedly deserved
their fate, but justice was not administered evenly. Generals Honma and Yamashita,
for instance, were tried by US Army officers, not lawyers, acting on direct orders from
MacArthur. Due process was ignored, and the rules of evidence were suspended.
Both officers were charged with ‘command responsibility’ for atrocities committed
by their troops, but neither ordered those actions nor even had knowledge of them at
 The Political Reforms 253

the time. No evidence was ever adduced linking Honma to the Bataan Death
March. Yamashita was accused of massacres committed in the Philippines in Sep-
tember 1944 while he was stationed in Manchuria. In February 1945, he was in
Baguio some 240 kilometres from Manila when the capital was sacked by troops he
earlier had ordered to withdraw. The US Supreme Court upheld the sentences even
though two dissenting justices denounced the trials as ‘legalised lynching’. In the
stern judgment of a contemporary observer, ‘Homma and Yamashita — MacArthur’s
chief adversaries — were tried and convicted by kangaroo courts which flouted justice
with the Supreme Commander’s approval and probably at his urging’.
In other cases, the severity of sentences reflected the rank of the Allied victim,
offences against officers being punished more harshly than those against enlisted
men. In one well-documented instance, an Allied military court tried and hanged an
apparently innocent man after a flawed and perfunctory investigation. In 1951,
Lieutenant General Nishimura Takuma, commander of the Konoe Imperial Guards
in Malaya, was executed by an Australian court on Manus Island, Papua New
Guinea, for allegedly ordering the massacre of 110 Australian and 45 Indian soldiers
at Parit Sulong in 1942. The death sentence was carried out even though Nishimura
did not match the only eyewitness description of the officer in charge, and despite
the fact that a Japanese of lesser rank had already confessed to the crime. In the view
of one writer, Nishimura was railroaded because the Australians, bent on revenge,
were determined to execute the highest-ranking Japanese they could find.”
Issues of guilt and innocence were sometimes complex. Among the B and C
suspects were 148 Koreans and 173 Formosans, Japanese colonial subjects forced to
work in internment camps as ‘auxiliaries’ to alleviate Japanese labour shortages. Of
these, 42 were executed. Many of their crimes, however, were carried out under direct
orders from Japanese superiors on pain of death. Indeed, as defeat neared, Japanese
forces reportedly were told not only to destroy documents relating to the maltreat-
ment of POWs but, where possible, to shift the blame for such behaviour onto
colonial soldiers. With the return of Japanese sovereignty in 1952, Japanese war
criminals became eligible for pensions and other veterans’ benefits, but Korean and
Formosan war criminals resident in Japan were barred from receiving any form of
state assistance, war-related or other (see chapter 10).*”
Several Japanese Americans also became tragically enmeshed in Japan’s war ma-
chine, and two were later tried by US courts for treason. One of these was Iva Ikuko
Toguri, a Nisei born in Los Angeles, who had worked for Radio Tokyo during the
war and was pressured by US journalists after the defeat to claim she was “Tokyo
Rose’. Toguri had gone to Japan to visit a sick relative on the eve of the Pacific
conflict and was one of a dozen English-speakers subsequently pressed into making
propaganda broadcasts for Japan. Toguri rejected Japanese demands to renounce her
American nationality, however. Apprehended in September 1945, she was confined
in Sugamo’s Blue Prison for women but was released after one year for lack of
sufficient evidence to support Class B or C charges. Rearrested upon her return to
the United States, she was convicted of treason in 1949 on the basis of evidence that
254 The Early Reforms

was later retracted. She was sentenced to 10 years’ imprisonment and a $10,000 fine
and was stripped of her US citizenship. Toguri was pardoned in early 1977 by
President Gerald Ford.”
Brutalities committed against Asian internees received less attention than those
perpetrated against Caucasians, and entire categories of crimes against Asians escaped
close scrutiny by the war crimes trials. Two prominent examples are forced labour
and sexual slavery. Dutch tribunals in the Netherlands East Indies prosecuted Japa-
nese for compelling white Dutch women to serve as military prostitutes, but the
private entrepreneurs and military officials who organised and exploited non-white
‘military comfort women’ (jigun-ianfu) on a massive scale were never brought to
justice. From the late 1930s, Japanese military leaders had been directly implicated in
procuring Asian women - listed as ‘military supplies’ — for the brothels they licensed
throughout the war zone to ‘service’ Imperial forces. From 1930 to 1945, it is
estimated that between 80,000 and 100,000 — and perhaps as many as 200,000 —
women, most of them between the ages of 14 and 18, were mobilised for this
purpose. About 80 per cent are believed to have been Koreans; 10 per cent Chinese,
Burmese, Dutch, Filipinas, Indonesians, Malayans, Formosans and Vietnamese;
and 10 per cent Japanese. Ostensibly set up to prevent reoccurences of the Rape
of Nanjing, the military brothel system proved ineffectual in curbing the rapacity of
soldiers in the field — indeed, there is evidence that the military condoned sexual
violence against women to whet the aggression of its combat units. The war crimes
trials failed to address this question, and the plight of the ‘comfort women’ did not
become a public issue in Japan until the early 1990s (chapter 11).*°

Crimes of omission
The case of the “comfort women’ was one of several crimes of omission. The war
crimes trials were distinguished as much by the nature of the depredations they
chose to ignore as by those they prosecuted. A defence bid to raise the issue of the
atomic bombings, a command decision that Justice Pal compared to the actions of
top Nazi war criminals, was summarily rejected. (Justice Réling implicitly concurred
with Pal, later writing that ‘from the Second World War, above all two things are
remembered: the German gas chambers and the American atomic bombings.’)** The
US terror bombings of major Japanese cities also were discounted, as was the Soviet
Union’s unilateral declaration of war against Japan in violation of the bilateral
Neutrality Pact of 1941, which was legally binding until April 1946. Dominated by
Western colonial powers, the Tribunal turned a blind eye to abuses Japan committed
in its Korean and Formosan colonies, of which slave labour and forced prostitution
were but two examples. The Class B and C trials failed to consider Allied war
crimes, including the murder of Japanese POWs and the battlefield destruction of
hospitals.
Another group that escaped prosecution were leaders of the infamous biological
warfare (BW) groups that operated in China and northern Manchuria under Lieu-
tenant General Ishii Shird. Ishii had established a research laboratory in Tokyo and a
 The Political Reforms 255

bacterial production plant at Pingfang near Harbin, Manchuria in 1932. From 1940,
his Manchurian command, the Kwantung Army’s Unit 731, began field-testing
toxins by dropping them from aircraft on Chinese villages in Chejiang, Hunan and
other provinces. Unit 731 tested anthrax, botulism, bubonic plague, cholera, dys-
entery, ganders, smallpox, typhoid and tuberculosis pathogens and later conducted
grisly medical experiments using gas gangrene, syphilis, frostbite, pressure chambers
and vivisections. The subjects, described by their tormentors as maruta, or ‘logs’ (the
same term Nazi executioners used for their victims) included Chinese, Koreans,
Manchurians, Mongolians and a small number of Allied prisoners of war (Ameri-
cans, Australians, British, Dutch and New Zealanders). An estimated 3,000 were
killed at Pingfan alone. At the war’s end, the Japanese government gave Unit 731
cadre top evacuation priority, enabling these scientists to reach Japan before other
Army groups, after disposing of evidence, including their human guinea pigs.”°
US Army Intelligence had received word of Ishii’s BW research in late 1944 and
the spring of 1945. In September 1945, the US Army Chemical Warfare Service at
Camp Detrick, Maryland sent a microbiologist to Tokyo to investigate Ishii and his
cohorts. Over the next two years, three more BW specialists would be sent to debrief
members of the ‘Ishii infrastructure’ and collect information. In July 1946, following
the second BW mission to Tokyo, the Pentagon ordered MacArthur to protect all
scientific intelligence impinging on US national security. The Army was determined
not to allow such information to fall into the hands of the Soviets, who also had
shown an interest in Ishii. On 8 May 1947, Ishii offered to share his knowledge and
data with the Americans in return for immunity from prosecution for himself and his
colleagues and asked the US Army to hire him as a bio-war expert.
The Japanese had attempted to conceal the facts of human experimentation from
US investigators, but by this time, it was clear that living human beings had been
used in laboratory and field tests. Nonetheless, MacArthur, Willoughby and Colonel
Alva C. Carpenter of Legal Section, presumably acting on higher instructions,
decided not to prosecute Ishii. On 22 May 1947, two weeks after Ishii’s offer of
cooperation, Legal Section issued SCAPIN-1699 ordering the Japanese government
to exempt Ishii and six of his collaborators from arrest as war crimes suspects. On 20
June, Dr Norbert H. Fell, a US bacteriologist who had debriefed Ishii in early May,
wrote in his final report that the ‘data on human experiments, when we have corre-
lated it with the data we and our allies have on animals, may prove invaluable’. Fell
was personally interested in using the Ishii archives to develop effective vaccines for
anthrax, plague and glanders. He concluded: ‘It is hoped that individuals who volun-
tarily contributed this information will be spared embarrassment because of it.’ That
same month, a report by Willoughby’s Military Intelligence Section (Far East Com-
mand) praised Ishii as ‘pro-American and [someone who] respects the mental culture
and physical science of the US’. On 1 August 1947, SWNCC’s Subcommittee for
the Far East formally recommended against trying the Ishii group. In a paper of that
date, the Subcommittee concluded that ‘the value to the US of Japanese BW data is
of such importance to national security as to far outweigh the value accruing from
256 The Early Reforms

“war crimes” prosecution’. Ishii was true to his word. In November 1947, the last US
bio-war mission to Tokyo took home to Camp Detrick 15,000 pathology slides
from more than 500 of Ishii’s victims, as well as test protocols and autopsy reports
on 850 cadavers. Japan’s leading bio-war scientist subsequently received a large
retirement pension from the government (this despite SCAP’s order of November
1945 to end such payments by 1 February 1946) and lived quietly at his country
estate in Chiba Prefecture until his death in 1964.°°
Unit 731 was not the only Japanese BW operation in China. Other groups
included Unit 100 (Changchun), Unit Ei-1644 (Nanjing), Unit 2646 (Hailar, Inner
Mongolia) and Unit 9420 (Singapore), some of which were under Ishii’s command.
Not one of the cadre of top-level officers and scientists who actually directed the
gruesome experiments ever faced a US or British military tribunal. Certainly, Ishii
and at least two other bio-warriors, Lieutenant General Wakamatsu Yajiro (Unit
100) and Major General Kitano Masaji (Units 731 and Ei-1644), deserved to be
tried as war criminals and punished accordingly.

The ‘leader in the crime’

The most glaring omission of all was the Emperor. President Webb in his separate
concurring opinion complained that the ‘leader in the crime, though available for
trial, had been granted immunity’. Justice Bernard of France echoed that concern,
writing in his dissenting brief that failure to indict Hirohito was one of three
serious defects that justified nullification of the Tokyo Tribunal. Webb acquiesced in
the immunity decision, citing ‘the best interests of all the Allied Powers’, but stressed
that the monarch’s role in beginning and ending the war was incontrovertible.”
Considering the high ideals espoused by the Tribunal, it is indeed astounding that
the Emperor was not even called upon to testify. Between March and April 1946, five
Imperial Court officials, fearing just such a summons, formally put a number of
questions to Hirohito and recorded his answers. The resulting statements were
recorded over five sessions lasting a total of eight hours. The partially amended
‘Imperial Soliloquy’ was circulated among MacArthur’s top staff but mysteriously
disappeared soon afterwards, and a copy did not resurface until after the sovereign’s
death in 1989, In the document, Hirohito, looking back on his decision of late 1941
to approve the military's war plans, affirmed that he had made the proper choice.
Had he not permitted the armed forces to take prompt action, he stated, Allied
demands would have led to an even more brutal war and Japan would have been
crushed utterly.”
There was no moral or legal justification for making an exception of Hirohito.
Recent scholarship indicates that while the sovereign did his best to avoid war with
the Western powers, his primary concern was not humanitarian but military: whether
or not Japan could emerge victorious. Vested with the power of supreme command
(tosuiken), Hirohito was as firmly committed as his military commanders to achiev-
ing Japanese hegemony in Asia; the question was one of timing and means. When
the dictates of empire made war in the Pacific inevitable, the Japanese sovereign
 The Political Reforms 257

threw his full support to General Tojo in whom, as he later admitted, he had
complete trust. Hirohito was informed of military contingency planning for war at
least six years before Pearl Harbor. He received the Imperial Navy’s battle plan for the
assault on the US Pacific Fleet in early November 1941, a full month in advance (not
even the Imperial Army had the details). He ordered the preparations for war and
signed the declaration of war (which, delayed by human error, did not reach Wash-
ington until affer Japan had initiated hostilities), As the Pacific conflict progressed,
the monarch monitored combat operations, participated in top-level planning ses-
sions, was privy to key military discussions and presided over Imperial Conferences.
His Army and Navy ministers briefed him frequently and thoroughly on administra-
tive matters pertaining to the war, and the Army and Navy chiefs of staff informed
him in person of military developments.”
Although Hirohito did not dictate policy, he was able to influence the agenda for
important policy debates, and on occasion he exercised his Royal prerogative to grill
the military high command and support or oppose specific policies. The sovereign
was as integral to the decision-making process as T6j6 or any other wartime leader.
As discussed earlier, in February 1945, Hirohito dismissed a direct appeal by his top
adviser to terminate the conflict at an early date, insisting that Japan first improve its
military position in the field. He continued to eschew serious efforts for peace until
the atomic bombings and the entry of the Soviet Union into the war left no other
alternative (chapter 5). By virtue of his position, Hirohito was more than a mere co-
conspirator, however, for it was in his name that state policy was made. Indeed, the
Emperor’s instructions to the nation’s fighting men was to ‘consider an order from
your superior as an order from Myself’. As a military official remarked laconically to
the Imperial Vice Chamberlain in early November 1945, ‘it is obvious that, as the
ruler, he bears responsibility for the nation’s war unless he is a robot’.“° Certainly, if
senior advisers and officials such as Hiranuma, Kido, Shigemitsu and Tdg6 could be
tried, convicted and sentenced for crimes against the peace, so should their supreme
leader have been. Several of these men had actively sought to end the war while their
sovereign chased the chimera of ‘one more victory’.
Allied opinion on the subject of the Emperor was vitriolic. In a Gallup Poll of 29
June 1945, one third of Americans queried wanted Hirohito executed summarily,
and one fifth favoured imprisonment or exile. Only 3 per cent supported his reten-
tion and use by the Allies. On 18 September, Congress introduced a joint resolution
demanding that the monarch stand trial as a war criminal, and on 29 November, the
Joint Chiefs of Staff informed MacArthur that Hirohito was not immune from
prosecution and ordered the Supreme Commander to gather evidence for a possible
trial. The Australians, in particular, were determined to bring the Emperor to justice,
and on 21 January 1946, Canberra’s representative to the United Nations War
Crimes Commission in London formally recommended that the Japanese sovereign
be brought up on war crimes charges.
MacArthur’s headquarters baulked. Four days later, on 25 January, the Supreme
Commander replied to the Joint Chiefs’ directive of November. In a secret telegram
258 The Early Reforms

to Army Chief of Staff Dwight D. Eisenhower (below), MacArthur stated that

‘no specific and tangible evidence has been uncovered with regard to [Hirohito’s]
exact activities’ and recommended against arraignment. (Indeed, as argued below,
MacArthur’s top lieutenants had conspired with the Court to conceal such evi-
dence.) This message was probably the determining factor in Washington’s decision
not to try the monarch. In late January, when members of the Far Eastern Advisory
Commission (FEAC)’s fact-finding mission visited Tokyo and broached the issue to
SCAP, they were told that attempting to place Hirohito on trial would provoke a
violent reaction among the public, possibly endangering the Occupation mission.
According to Sir Carl Berendsen, the New Zealand member, MacArthur called the
Emperor ‘a cipher, a puppet rather than a leader’, implying that he was not worth
pursuing in court.”
On 30 January, the State Department cabled the US Embassy in London ordering
it to oppose the Australian move to indict the Emperor. Great Britain, equally
determined to spare the Japanese monarchy, cooperated with Washington, working
behind the scenes to postpone consideration of the measure. Undeterred, Australian
Associate Prosecutor Sir Alan Mansfield redoubled his efforts to persuade Britain,
India and New Zealand to follow Canberra’s lead, but his quest ended abruptly
in early April when it became clear that neither Washington nor the recently
empanelled Far Eastern Commission, successor to the FEAC, intended to press
charges.” The final word from Washington came on 17 June 1946 in the form of
SWNCC-55/7, a basic policy document that explicitly removed the Emperor as
a war crimes suspect. The next day, 18 June, Chief Prosecutor Keenan publicly
confirmed that Hirohito would not stand trial.

Saving the Emperor

Keenan’s anti-climactic announcement was the denouement to a concerted effort on
the part of the Throne, Japanese civilian and military leaders and the highest ech-
elons of SCAP to protect the person of the Emperor and preserve the Imperial
dynasty. Efforts to exculpate the sovereign, however, pre-dated the surrender.
At the Imperial Conferences of 9-10 August and 14 August, Hirohito had made
his ‘sacred decision’ (seidan) to end the fighting (although, by then, he had prolonged
the war’s agony for half a year). In the weeks following defeat, this ‘sacred decision’
would form the central motif in a scrupulously fabricated narrative of high drama
designed to foster the image of ‘a figurehead Emperor who dared face down his own
fanatic militarists, usurp their power, and compel them by sheer strength of will to
surrender a defeated country to a superior enemy’. Shigemitsu Mamoru, Shidehara
and other high officials sounded this theme constantly in their encounters with
MacArthur and his staff. But they were preaching to the choir.
These distortions and embellishments fit the scenario scripted in wartime
Washington by the Japan Crowd. Hugh Borton, Joseph Ballantine and Joseph Grew
had lobbied on behalf of the monarchy, arguing that the Japanese sovereign was an
unwilling pawn of the militarists (chapter 5). They blamed Tojo and the “military
 The Political Reforms 259

clique’ for the war and portrayed the Emperor as a crypto-pacifist who could play a
useful postwar role. Inside GHQ, a key proponent of this Royalist ‘wedge’ strategy
was MacArthur's military secretary and psychological operations specialist, Brigadier
General Bonner F. Fellers. Fellers believed that the Emperor had a ‘mystic hold’ on
his people and that he had been manipulated and misused by ‘gangster militarists’.
Like Grew, he was convinced that the Imperial institution was the spiritual core of
the nation and therefore indispensable in securing a speedy surrender and smooth
transition to democratic government. On 1 October 1945, Fellers recommended to
MacArthur that ‘in the interest of peaceful occupation and rehabilitation of Japan,
prevention of revolution and communism . . . positive action be taken to prevent the
indictment and prosecution of the Emperor as a war criminal’. On 2 October, he
justified that course of action in a rambling memorandum, part of which read: ‘If
the Emperor were tried for war crimes the governmental structure would collapse
and a general uprising would be inevitable.’ He warned ‘there would be chaos and
bloodshed . . . and the period of occupation would be prolonged and we would have
alienated the Japanese’.
Fellers coordinated this strategy with Terasaki Hidenari, the spouse of Fellers’
cousin Gwendolyn, Court liaison to SCAP and head of the Foreign Ministry’s
Information Bureau. Acting as intermediary between MacArthur and the Throne,
Terasaki also worked with the Tokyo Tribunal’s International Prosecution Section
(IPS), secretly conveying to Roy Morgan, Chief of the IPS Investigative Division, the
views of the Court and gathering information about IPS intentions towards the
Emperor. With Hirohito’s blessings, Terasaki gave Morgan the names of diplomats
and high-ranking military officers who had played a leading part in the war. Terasaki
also wondered why Army Lieutenant General Arisue Seizo, Willoughby’s protégé,
had not been indicted. Through these efforts, conducted simultaneously on several
fronts, Hirohito betrayed-his loyal subordinates in order to purchase immunity for
himself.”
With the connivance of Terasaki and Willoughby, Fellers appears to have buried
potentially incriminating evidence against the monarch, including the so-called
Imperial Soliloquy mentioned above. He also attempted to stifle talk of abdication,
an option that some of the Court were entertaining seriously. In early October, for
instance, Prince Higashikuni had personally proposed that course of action to Hiro-
hito, his nephew by marriage, and, in late October, Prince Konoe had embarrassed
both the Imperial household and SCAP by raising the question publicly. Fellers
bluntly told the Palace to contain such loose talk. On 27 February 1946, however,
Prince Mikasa, Hirohito’s younger brother, urged the monarch to step down, and
Higashikuni leaked details of Palace discussions to the press. Leading liberals, includ-
ing Nanbara Shigeru, President of Tokyo Imperial University, and even such con-
servative constitutional scholars as Sasaki Sdichi favoured abdication. Yabe Teiji, law
professor at Tokyo Imperial University, urged this path as the best means of deflect-
ing pressure from the Allies and preserving the Throne itself. MacArthur’s staff
campaigned against abdication, which was officially shelved in September 1946, but
260 The Early Reforms

the issue was revived again in 1948 as the Tokyo Tribunal prepared to render its
verdict and one last time in late 1951 on the eve of Japanese independence.“
Ultimately, the decision to protect the Throne was MacArthur's. On 25 January,
the General informed his superiors in Washington in magniloquent prose that repro-
duced the gist of the Fellers Memorandum but rather extravagantly embroidered on
its apocalyptic vision, that if the Emperor were to be tried, the Japanese would regard
this:

as the greatest betrayal in their history and the hatreds and resentments engen-
dered by this thought will unquestionably last for all measurable time. A vendetta
for revenge will thereby be initiated whose cycle may well not be complete for
centuries, if ever. The whole of Japan can be expected ... to resist the action
either by passive or semi-active means. . . . [It] is not inconceivable that all gov-
ernment agencies will break down . . . and a condition of underground chaos and
disorder amounting to guerrilla warfare in the mountains and outlying regions
result.

MacArthur continued: ‘I believe all hope of introducing modern democratic

methods would disappear and that when military control finally ceased some form of
intense regimentation probably along Communistic lines would arise for the muti-
lated masses.’ This turn of events, he said, would make it ‘absolutely essential’ to
augment the occupational forces by at least 1 million and install a complete civil
service of up to several hundred thousand. ‘An overseas supply under such conditions
would have to be set up on a war basis’, he declared. The Supreme Commander’s
exculpatory peroration was freighted with an emotional vigour that few in Washing-
ton felt prepared to challenge.*” MacArthur’s personal intervention saved the
Emperor, a decision whose long-term consequences for Japanese society remain a
subject of passionate debate (chapter 11).

EMPOWERING THE PEOPLE

GHQ followed up its Civil Liberties Directive with a series of measures designed
to empower the people. The human rights order of 4 October 1945 had removed
all restraints on organised political activity, and political parties reformed almost
overnight, each with its roots in the past, each articulating its particular vision of
the future. MacArthur’s headquarters gave a further nudge to democratisation by
ordaining the revision of the Election Law in late 1945 and supervising Japan’s first
postwar elections in April 1946. Finally, SCAP’s purge directives of January 1946
removed from office the most prominent enemies of democracy, creating the
conditions for the emergence of a new political leadership.
 The Political Reforms : 261

Political parties
The Japan Communist Party, reorganised in early October 1945, became the first
political grouping to re-emerge. In December, it elected Tokuda Kydichi chair,
reconfirmed the Party’s policy of overturning the Imperial institution and called for
the establishment of a broad popular front uniting workers, farmers and the urban
poor. In the nation’s factories, it attempted to set up inter-shop councils as a base for
the formation of a national labour organisation. Tokuda and Shiga Yoshio, editor of
the Party organ Akahata, were intent on using the Occupation army to help achieve
their programme. Thus, the JCP espoused gradual reform rather than revolutionary
change. This tendency emerged more clearly after Nosaka Sanzo returned to Japan
from Yenan, China in early January 1946. In late February, Nosaka summed up the
new line neatly in two slogans: ‘peaceful democratic revolution’ and the ‘lovable
Communist Party’.
The Japan Socialist Party (JSP) was created on 2 November 1945 by non-
Communist proletarian and peasant groups of various persuasions. SCAP considered
the JSP a liberalising force, but the Party was an unwieldy conglomeration of
incompatible ideological tendencies. Some members, such as Asanuma Inejird, a
future chair of the Party who would be assassinated in 1960, had supported the
wartime régime. Left-wing Socialists, such as Katé Kanji, Kuroda Hisao and Suzuki
Mosabur6, had been arrested in late 1937 for opposing the war effort. Another left-of-
centre Socialist politician and activist was Matsumoto Ji’ichird, head of the Buraku
liberation organisation, who had served in the wartime Diet on a ticket independent
of the militarists. Takano Minoru, future secretary general of the Socialist-dominated
labour front Sédémei (Japan Federation of Labour) and later Séhyo (General Council
of Trade Unions of Japan), was a radical shopfloor organiser. Labour movement elders
Takano Iwasaburé, Abe Iso’o and Kagawa Toyohiko oversaw the formation of the new
grouping, but right-wing Socialists, such as Hirano Rikiz6, Nishio Suehiro, Matsuoka
Komakichi and Mizutani Chdzaburé, seized the initiative. Hirano, a founding
member of the ultra-nationalist Imperial Way Society (Kéddkai), had headed the
right wing of the prewar peasant movement; Nishio maintained close ties with the
zaibatsu; and all had held seats in the wartime Diet, although opposing the Tojo war
cabal’s Imperial Rule Assistance Association. The JSP chose as its chair Katayama
Tetsu, a Christian Socialist and former adviser to the labour movement, who would
head a Socialist-led coalition government from June 1947 to February 1948.
Reflecting the Party’s heteroclyte composition, the Socialist platform was a
hodgepodge of contending ideas but nonetheless included bold recommendations
for human rights legislation; political, economic and labour reforms; a land redistri-
bution scheme; and a new cultural and educational programme. On the question of
the Emperor, the Socialists were divided. In late August 1945, Hirano, Nishio and
Mizutani had secretly explored with conservative leaders Ashida Hitoshi and
Hatoyama Ichiro the possibility of joining ranks, and when the Communists
attempted to woo the JSP into forming a popular front in late 1945, the Party’s
virulently anti-Communist right-wing frustrated the overture.”
262 The Early Reforms

Three conservative parties, two of them heirs to the prewar Seiyikai (Friends of
Democratic Government Party) and Minseité (Constitutional Democratic Party),
also formed in short order. In contrast to the JCP and JSP, all three drew their leaders
from the wartime Diet and, while differing in their evaluation of the militarists and
the war, were firmly committed to the Imperial institution. The Japan Liberal Party,
the first conservative grouping to reappear, was formed on 9 November by Hatoyama
Ichird, an experienced politician associated with the Yoshida Anti-War Group who
had held prewar Cabinet posts. The Liberals included Ashida Hitoshi, who had
resigned from the Foreign Ministry in 1932 in protest of the Manchurian adventure
and subsequently ran the English daily The Japan Advertiser, Ishibashi Tanzan, Key-
nesian economist and editor of the 706 Keizai Shinpo (Oriental Economist); prewar
politician Kono Ichiré; and Yoshida Shigeru. The Liberal leadership had been critical
of the war faction, and the Party registered the largest gains in the first postwar
elections of April 1946, but Kono would be purged soon afterwards (Ishibashi would
meet the same fate a year later). In early May, Liberal President Hatoyama, too, was
purged, throwing control of the Party to Yoshida, who capitalised on the Liberal’s
electoral triumph to form his first cabinet in May 1946. The Liberal Party changed
its name to Democratic Liberal Party in March 1948 and then back again to Liberal
Party in March 1950 but remained essentially the same organisation. In March 1947,
Ashida Hitoshi broke ranks to form the centrist Democratic Party, which joined
Katayama’s Socialist-led coalition in June 1947. From March to October 1948,
Ashida would head his own coalition government.
The Japan Progressive Party, established in November 1945, drew the bulk of its
membership from the Imperial Rule Assistance Association, a reactionary state-run
organisation set up in October 1940 merging the major prewar parties into a single
pro-military bloc to assist Imperial rule. The Progressives’ nominal head, however,
was ex-foreign minister Shidehara Kijird, who had replaced Prince Higashikuni as
premier in early October 1945. An Anglophile known for his scholarly grasp of
English, Shidehara had advocated a policy of peaceful diplomacy in the late 1920s.
He would remain in office until May 1946. The Progressive Party was disbanded
in March 1947, its tanks decimated by war crimes arrests and the purge, and its
leadership joined Ashida’s Democratic Party, created the same month.
The third conservative formation was the Japan Cooperative Party, the only new
political organisation of the early postwar period. Founded on 18 December, the
Cooperative Party drew its strength from Japan’s small middle class, espoused a
corporatist ideology and situated itself to the ‘extreme left’ of the conservative
mainstream. The Cooperatives’ ranks, too, were thinned by the purge, however,
and, in March 1947, the group was reorganised as the People’s Cooperative Party
under the leadership of centrist Miki Takeo (prime minister, 1974-6). The People’s
Cooperatives participated in both the Katayama and Ashida coalition Cabinets.”
 The Political Reforms ‘ 263

Electoral reform
MacArthur was faced with the difficult task of eliminating the wide-ranging powers
of ultra-conservative wartime Diet members, 80 per cent of whom had been
seated in the 1942 election with the endorsement of the Imperial Rule Assistance
Association (IRAA) and the 'T6j6 Cabinet. ‘To accomplish this, SCAP directed the
government to revise voting requirements and broaden the electorate. Enacted on 17
December 1945, the Lower House Election Law lowered the voting age from 25
to 20, vastly expanding the range of representation; reduced the age requirement
for candidates from 30 to 25 years; and gave the vote to women, the disenfranchised
half of the population. The new statute more than doubled the size of the voting
population. Under the prewar system, Japan had multi-member, medium-size pre-
cincts, but voters could cast a ballot for only one candidate. The enhanced Election
Law now provided a limited plural vote for two or three of the candidates competing
for 10 to 14 seats in each of Japan’s 46 electoral districts and increased the size ofthe
constituencies, thereby opening the way for newcomers.”
Some GHQ officials had advocated a more far-reaching American-style reform.
They argued that Japan’s write-in ballot system — ballots were blank instead of
printed as in the United States — and the new large, multi-member precincts with
limited plural balloting still inhibited political expression. ‘They urged the creation of
medium-sized electoral districts where people could vote for as many candidates as
there were seats, door-to-door canvassing and the introduction of printed ballots,
But they failed to convince MacArthur and Government Section’s Whitney, who felt
strongly that the Occupation should avoid even the appearance of tinkering with
the electoral system. Whitney’s orders to Eighth Army commander Eichelberger,
charged with supervising the polling, echoed this sentiment: ‘Remember that this is a
Japanese election under a Japanese law, . .. The charge that [it] is being conducted
under the threat of Yankee bayonets must not be permitted to arise.’”
On 6 March 1946, the government publicised a summary of its revisions to the
draft constitution MacArthur had submitted in February (below), and soon after-
wards, the Supreme Commander directed the Shidehara Cabinet to schedule Lower
House elections for April. ‘To MacArthur, general elections were a pre-condition
for enactment of the new national charter: only a Parliament truly reflecting the
popular will could legitimately promulgate the Constitution. As indicated below, a
purge of the political lite had just begun in January, however, and the newly
convened Far Eastern Commission, worried that Old-Guard politicians would use
their influence to retain their seats in Parliament, urged GHQ to postpone the
balloting until the dismissals could run their course. In fact, the FEC also was upset
that MacArthur had not consulted it about constitutional reform, The Supreme
Commander ignored the advice and proceeded as planned,
In many respects, the polling of 10 April 1946 was a resounding success that
altered the composition of the Lower House, bringing many new faces to the fore.
Three-quarters of eligible voters cast a ballot and returned only six T6j6-era represen-
tatives. About 80 per cent of those elected were running for the first time, including
264 The Early Reforms

Photo 34. Female Socialist candidate Kato Shizue delivers a campaign speech to a crowd of
impoverished Tokyoites, many of them women. The shantytown is one of several that sprang
up around the National Diet Building (background). 8 April 1946 (Kyodo).
 The Political Reforms ‘ 265

independents, candidates from minor parties and women. A total of 257 parties,
many of them tiny regional groups, fielded prospective lawmakers, although only 32
would actually win a seat in the National Diet. The Liberal Party made the greatest
gains, garnering a slim plurality of 140 out of 464 Lower House seats. It was followed
by the Progressives, with 94 seats, the Socialists with 92 and the Cooperatives with
14. Before the election, the Communists had modified their call for the overthrow of
the emperor system, urging its peaceful elimination instead, but despite the immense
prestige it enjoyed among the intelligentsia, the Party captured only 5 seats. Smaller
political groupings took a total of 38 seats, however, and 83 independents also were
elected. Although conservatives outnumbered progressives by a ratio of seven to
three, a redistribution of political power had nonetheless taken place.”
Contrary to predictions, large numbers of female voters — 66 per cent of those
eligible, or some 14 million — turned out at the polls (79 per cent of eligible males
also cast a ballot). The new Election Law’s multi-member constituencies with plural
voting encouraged many citizens to write in women as their second or third choices,
and a total of 39 out of 79 female candidates were voted into office. Among them
was Kato Shizue, a Christian humanist and Socialist, follower of American birth-
control advocate Margaret Sanger and one of “Weed’s Girls’, the group of forward-
looking Japanese women working with CI&E’s Ethel Weed. In March, at Weed’s
suggestion, Kato and other feminists had formed the Women’s Democratic Club
(Fujin Minshu Kurabu) to promote the participation of women in politics. Included
in this group were Akamatsu Tsuneko; Hani Setsuko, liberal educator and social
critic; Matsuoka Yoko, a graduate of Swarthmore College (1939) and literary critic
who in February 1947 would help re-establish the Japan PEN Club; Miyamoto
Yuriko, Communist and novelist of the proletarian school; writer Sata Ineko; femi-
nist author and Marxist critic Yamakawa Kikue; and Yamamoto Sugi, medical doctor
and women’s rights activist. The Women’s Democratic Club, Ichikawa Fusae’s New
Japan Women’s League and other feminist organisations mobilised to get out the
vote, but the overwhelming majority of women who cast a ballot were unaffiliated.
Their newfound sense of empowerment was reflected in the stunning polling results.
MacArthur gave the female parliamentarians his personal endorsement, sending each
a letter of congratulations and meeting a group of 35 on 20 June.
The elections changed the social composition of the Diet, adding farmers, phys-
icians, teachers, writers and a former prostitute (who captured 250,000 votes). They
also brought marginalised groups such as Buraku people into the political arena. In
the second general elections of 1947, 10 members of this persecuted former outcaste
group would win seats in the Lower and Upper Houses, among them Matsumoto
Jiichiro, head of the National Committee for Buraku Liberation. Ironically, however,
some 650,000 Koreans and 30,000 Formosans and Chinese, former Imperial sub-
jects with nominal Japanese nationality, found themselves excluded from the ballot-
ing on the grounds that their household registers were maintained in Formosa and
Korea, not Japan proper (chapter 9).
As the Far Eastern Commission had foreseen, many conservative lawmakers
266 The Early Reforms

Photo 35. Japan’s first women parliamentarians take their seats in the Lower House, 16 May
1946, The introduction of universal suffrage made women eligible to vote and hold office, and
a total of 39 female candidates were elected in the nation’s first postwar elections (Kyodo).

managed to elude the purge and return to office, Purgees marshalled money and
influence to name replacements, often relatives or friends, and have them elected,
and right-of-centre parties captured more than half of the 466 Lower House seats.
On 19 April, the victorious Liberal Party led the Socialists, Cooperatives and Com-
munists in forming a four-party coalition calling for the resignation of the Shidehara
Cabinet, which had been unable to wrestle inflation under control or restart the
economy. The Shidehara government finally fell in late May, Liberal Party leader and
Foreign Minister Yoshida Shigeru became prime minister and formed his cabinet on
22 May with support from Shidehara’s Progressives, The new Election Law favoured
women and smaller political parties, but in March 1947, Yoshida revised it to restore
the pre-surrender electoral precincts and replace limited-plural balloting with a single
vote, producing bitter controversy (chapter 7). Yoshida’s conservatives used their
parliamentary majority to railroad the bill through the Diet, setting an unhappy
precedent that has since encouraged governments to ignore minority views in
enacting unpopular legislation.”

The purge ofpublic officials

The Potsdam Proclamation had ordained the removal from authority and influence
‘of those who have deceived and misled the people of Japan’. Consequently, on 4
January 1946, MacArchur’s staff issued two purge directives to the government:
 The Political Reforms 267

SCAPIN-548 (‘Abolition of Certain Political Parties, Associations, Societies, and

Other Organisations’) and SCAPIN-550 (‘Removal and Exclusion of Undesirable
Personnel from Public Office’). Appalled at the prospect of losing key legislators, the
entire Shidehara Cabinet announced that, unless the purge orders were retracted, it
would resign, allowing Shidehara to form a new government. When Foreign Minis-
ter Yoshida informed MacArthur of this, the General quipped stiffly that, should the
Cabinet dissolve itself, “Thereafter Baron Shidehara may be acceptable to the
Emperor for reappointment as prime minister, but he will not be acceptable to me.’
MacArthur’s veiled threat to appoint his own government had the desired effect, and
the ministers withdrew their resignations.”
The ‘political purge’ was carried out by Government Section, a duty that vastly
enhanced its influence within GHQ. General Willoughby, ever jealous of his pre-
rogatives, attempted to narrow the range of the programme and wrest control of
it from GS. Whitney had just been appointed GS Section Chief in December,
and Willoughby was anxious to assert his authority over a potential rival. More to
the point, Willoughby was alarmed at the thought of removing potential anti-
Communist allies from the political arena. Max Bishop in the Political Adviser’s
Office argued forcefully for disqualifying only war crimes suspects. MacArthur backed
Whitney, however, and the purge rolled on, expanding in intensity and scope from
1946 to 1947. Charles Kades, GS Deputy Chief, drafted the exclusion orders, which
applied to individuals in fixed purge categories covering the period from 1931, when
Japan invaded Manchuria, to 1945. About 77 per cent of those affected were career
military men, many of them lower ranking officers, and members of veterans’ associ-
ations. The directives listed seven “removal and exclusion’ categories, barring from
public life such ‘active exponents of militant nationalism and aggression’ as war crim-
inals, professional military officers, leaders of ultra-nationalist and terrorist societies,
influential IRAA members, officials of overseas financial and economic organisations
involved in Japanese expansion, governors of former Japanese colonies and occupied
territories, and a vague grab-bag of ‘additional militarists and ultra-nationalists’.
Kades later commented: “We didn’t enjoy the purge. It was not constructive work like
the Constitution or the reformation of the code of civil procedure, criminal procedure
and family law . . . but we were in the Army and those were our orders.’””
Political figures were a prime target, and the purge disqualified more than 600
conservative party cadres and lawmakers from running for office in the April 1946
balloting. Five members of the Shidehara Cabinet were removed from their posts just
before the election, and a year later, five more ministers were dismissed from the
Yoshida Cabinet. The purge was implemented administratively, not by judicial pro-
ceeding, and it was unilateral: there were neither hearings nor due process, and
appeal on limited grounds was possible only after one had been debarred. Some
notable exceptions were made, however, for Japanese in key positions whose services
were deemed vital to the Occupation mission. As indicated earlier, Willoughby, in
particular, used this loophole to recruit former Imperial Army and Navy staff officers
for use by G-2 in its archival and intelligence work.
268 The Early Reforms

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es Nf ji Eg a
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Photo 36. Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru, elder statesman and pre-eminent politician of the
Occupation era (Kyodo).

A purge order with far-reaching consequence was that signed for Liberal Party
founder and president Hatoyama Ichird, one of Japan’s most senior parliamentar-
ians. As minister of education from 1932 to 1934, Hatoyama had suspended Taki-
gawa Yukitoki, a well-known law professor at Kyoto Imperial University, for his
liberal views, prompting the resignation of the university president and 36 faculty
members. During the war, however, Hatoyama had opposed the formation of the
IRAA, winning election to the 1942 Diet as an unofficial candidate. On 4 May
1946, the day before he was to become premier, SCAP purged Hatoyama as a rightist
 The Political Reforms 269

collaborator, invoking the ambiguous ‘additional militarists and ultra-nationalists’

category.”* This bolt from the blue catapulted his lieutenant Yoshida Shigeru into the
premiership. Hatoyama the parliamentarian took a back seat until his depurge
and rehabilitation in 1951; Yoshida the wily bureaucrat became the dominant figure
in national politics for the duration of the Occupation, forming five cabinets
between 1946 and 1954. (After the Occupation, Hatoyama would return to political
life, heading three conservative governments between 1954 and 1957, and Yoshida’s
fortunes would wane accordingly.)
The political first phase of the purge was complemented and expanded by the
‘education’ purge of May 1946, which was overseen by Civil Information and Edu-
cation Section (chapter 8). A year later, in January 1947, the second phase of the
purge got underway, merging these efforts with a less ambitious ‘economic’ purge,
which weeded out 1,535 captains of industry, finance and commerce. GHQ simul-
taneously extended the removal exercise to local government officials and media
moguls. MacArthur initially assigned the economic purge to Economic and Scien-
tific Section (ESS), but G-2, the G-4 Petroleum Advisory Group, SCAP’s civil
engineers and other Occupation agencies objected strenuously to a broadening of the
exclusion lists, which they claimed endangered the success of their work. The
removal orders ultimately were applied only to executives, financiers and others in
‘key positions of high responsibility’, not to operational managers, in order to avoid
hampering the recovery of industrial production. In late August 1946, MacArthur
transferred responsibility for this phase of the programme from ESS to Government
Section, where the purge machinery was already in place, and in January 1947, the
Yoshida government promulgated the enabling Cabinet legislation.”
The government, and even the British, protested that the purge would steam out
of control, producing “chaos, confusion and Communism’, but to no avail. In
early 1947, Yoshida, who had wearily resigned himself to the mass dismissals, told
his Finance Minister Ishibashi Tanzan, recently blacklisted for “continuous
obstructionism toward occupation economic objectives’, to imagine simply that he
had been bitten by a mad dog. Yoshida also lamented the active part played by many
‘obnoxious’ Japanese in the exclusion programme. Liberals and leftists, men and
women, denounced ultra-rightists to Government Section, especially during the
media purge, resulting in the removal of many chauvinist elements from the press
and publishing world. An unexpected result was the exclusion from public life of
feminist Ichikawa Fusae for having cooperated with the wartime régime (she had led
the Greater Japan Women’s Association). Australia, New Zealand and the USSR,
however, complained that the purge policy was not radical enough. The Soviet
member of the Allied Council for Japan, Kuzma Derevyanko, advocated destroying
the leadership of middle-of-the-road political parties, including the Socialists, as well,
and took the Occupation to task for not pursuing its elimination objectives more
aggressively. Ultimately, SCAP screened a total of 717,415 individuals, forcing
201,815 from key positions in public life, but even that figure was modest compared
to the Allied purge in Germany, which dismissed twice that number.”
270 The Early Reforms

The purge-by-category approach amounted to a presumption of guilt by associ-

ation and was doubtless unfair, and even some liberalists were snared in its fine meshes
and forced, in Kades’s words, to take ‘early retirement’ from public affairs. While
many purgees richly deserved their fate, others were simply unlucky, such as governors
and mayors debarred because their position had conferred on them another title which
fell, ex officio, in a targeted category. Despite its inequities, however, the exclusion
campaign effected a change of leadership in key areas of social, political and economic
life. Many of the middle-echelon officials who had loyally served the Imperial state
managed to retain their positions or find comparable work, but the purge decisively
ended the political ascendancy of the officer corps and other reactionary elements in
society, clearing the way for younger political and business leaders relatively untainted
by ultra-rightist ideology. These latter would become the driving force behind postwar
Japan’s rapid economic recovery and its emergence as a democratic nation.
On the debit side, many who should have been purged found bolt-holes in muni-
cipal government or private enterprise. Among the latter, firms such as the advertising
giant Dentst (the name dates from 1955) hired so many former police, military
officers and bureaucrats from the former puppet state of Manchukuo that its Tokyo
headquarters was nicknamed the ‘Second Manchurian Railway Building’. Paradoxic-
ally, the purge also strengthened the national bureaucracy, which was assigned the task
of screening those slated for removal and administering the dismissals, albeit under
the close scrutiny of SCAP. Conservative mid-echelon functionaries who escaped
careful scrutiny attempted to impede the reform process or co-opt it to serve their
own interests. Despite its achievements, the exclusion programme also suffered from
the internal inconsistency of attempting to attain a democratic objective through
essentially authoritarian means. This dilemma became palpably real after late 1949
when the purge machinery was cranked up again to cull from the public and private
sectors Japanese now suspected of harbouring leftist sentiments (chapter 10).

A NEW CONSTITUTION

The primary impediment to reform was the Prussian-inspired Constitution of the

Empire of Japan, which had been promulgated in 1889, entering into force in 1890.
The Meiji Constitution invested the Emperor, ‘sacred and inviolable’, with supreme
political power, including legislative authority. The Cabinet was responsible to the
sovereign, not to the Imperial Diet, which functioned as an advisory organ. The duty
of the prime minister, Cabinet members, Privy Councillors and the Lord Keeper of
the Privy Seal was to assist the monarch in carrying out the Imperial will. The House
of Peers consisted of non-elected members — mainly Imperial princes, hereditary
nobles, Royal nominees and large taxpayers — and enjoyed equal power with the
House of Representatives, which was composed primarily of wealthy industrialists
and landlords and defended the interests of the affluent and powerful. Both bodies
excluded women.
 The Political Reforms Al

Under this system of monarchical quasi-absolutism, the people enjoyed few civil
liberties. Police powers were extensive, and real political authority was wielded by a
tiny cabal close to the Throne. This group included the Genré, or elder statesmen;
the Jashin, former premiers and ex-presidents of the Privy Council; Imperial family
and Court officials; and officers of the Imperial General Staff. These advisers either
belonged to or were under the sway of the military, the industrial combines and top
bureaucrats. Important decisions of state were made not in the Imperial Diet but
behind the Chrysanthemum Curtain, at a far remove from the public eye. Moreover,
as Commander-in-Chief of the armed forces, the Emperor enjoyed the prerogative of
supreme command, a power outside the purview of Cabinet and Diet and not
subject to civilian control. Consequently, Army and Navy leaders held themselves
accountable solely to the Emperor.
Faced with the daunting task of revamping this system, MacArthur encouraged
the government to amend the Imperial charter in line with democratic principles.
When the Japanese side failed to produce an acceptable proposal, SCAP worked up
its own between 4 and 10 February 1946 and presented it to an astonished govern-
ment on 13 February. After a complex process of review and revision, a modified
version of the American draft was announced to the public on 6 March as the work
of the Shidehara Cabinet. The government submitted its own revised draft to the
Diet on 21 June. Following several months of deliberation and debate, the new
Constitution was promulgated on 3 November — the Emperor Meiji’s birthday — and
went into effect on 3 May 1947.
The Constitution of Japan, consisting of 11 Chapters and 103 Articles, renounced
the Meiji charter’s authoritarian Prussian legacy, replacing it with liberal Anglo-
American legal concepts. Chapter I (Articles One through Eight) unilaterally and
dramatically transferred political power from the Emperor — now reduced to ‘the
symbol of the State and the unity of the nation’ with no ‘powers related to govern-
ment — to the people, ‘with whom resides sovereign power’ (Article One). Chapter II
consisted solely of Article Nine, which renounced war as a sovereign right of the state
and forever outlawed the maintenance of armed forces. Chapter III (Articles 10
through 40) detailed the rights and duties of the people. The guarantees enshrined in
these 31 articles ensured basic human and civil liberties, including equality under the
law, freedom of thought and expression, and due process. One of the many dramatic
changes was gender equality. Article 14 made men and women equal under the law
and prohibited discrimination based on sex. Article 24 was equally far-reaching. It
stated that marriage was to be based on mutual consent and gave women an equal
voice in ‘property rights, inheritance, choice of domicile, divorce and other matters
pertaining to marriage and the family’. The provisions of this article were radical
even by US standards: only the constitutions of then-Communist countries such as
the USSR and Poland guaranteed sexual equality in family life.°!
The new Constitution also boldly recast the machinery of government. Chapter
IV (Articles 41 through 64) made the National Diet, consisting of elected representa-
tives in both houses, the highest elected body and organ of state power. Membership
272 The Early Reforms

qualifications were to be fixed by law, but discrimination based on creed, sex, social
status, family origin, education, property or income was prohibited. Subsequent
chapters separated and defined the legislative, executive and judiciary functions of
government. Chapter V (Articles 65 through 75) invested the Cabinet with executive
power but made it collectively responsible to the Diet, and a majority of its members
had to be chosen from among incumbent parliamentarians. The authority of the
prime minister, who was empowered to appoint and dismiss state ministers, also was
strengthened. Chapters VI through IX (Articles 76 through 96) dealt variously with
the judiciary, finance, local government and amendments. Chapter X (Articles 97
through 99) concerning supreme law, affirmed that the fundamental rights guaran-
teed by the Constitution ‘are fruits of the age-old struggle of man to be free’ and
noted that they ‘are conferred upon this and future generations in trust, to be
held for all times inviolate’. Chapter XI (Articles 100 through 103) consisted of
supplementary provisions for ratification.

Early proposals
Initially, neither Washington nor MacArthur had intended to replace the Meiji
Constitution; both expected the government to democratise the existing charter
itself. As discussed earlier, the 1907 Hague Convention expressly prohibited an
occupying power from altering the political structure of an occupied state, and the
1941 Atlantic Charter had proclaimed the right of all peoples to self-determination.
Unilaterally tampering with the Imperial Constitution would have left SCAP, and
the United States, open to charges of violating international law.
On 4 October 1945, MacArthur personally suggested to Prince Konoe, minister of
state in the Higashikuni Cabinet, that he attempt to liberalise the Meiji charter.
Konoe took the assignment seriously, but on 14 October, Higashikuni’s successor
Shidehara Kijiird independently entrusted the same task to Matsumoto J6ji, a former
professor of commercial law at Tokyo Imperial University and his new minister of
state. Working in total secrecy, Matsumoto set up the Committee to Study Consti-
tutional Problems on 25 October and appointed a panel of distinguished legal experts
and high-ranking bureaucrats to assist him. Members of the Legislation Bureau, the
Cabinet’s legislative watchdog body, also participated. Among the academics was
Minobe Tatsukichi, Professor Emeritus of Tokyo Imperial University. Minobe was
the author of a constitutional theory that held the Emperor to be an organ of
the state, not its divine embodiment, and in 1935, he had been forced to resign
from the House of Peers following an acrimonious debate over charges that the
Emperor-as-organ concept denied the Imperial family-state tenet. Nonetheless,
along with his erudite colleagues on the Committee, Minobe believed that Imperial
rule and the Meiji Constitution that had established it in law were entirely
compatible with democratic principles and did not require fundamental revision.
In late October, as it became clear that Konoe would be charged with war crimes,
SCAP distanced itself from the Prince. On 1 November, MacArthur publicly dis-
avowed the Konoe project, and although the beleaguered court noble eventually
 The Political Reforms PAE

submitted an outline of his ideas to the Emperor in late November, his work ended
there. Full responsibility for constitutional revision now shifted to the Matsumoto
Committee, but its élitist orientation, its grounding in German legal theory and solid
commitment to the status quo — notably the principle of Imperial sovereignty — gave
it a decidedly conservative cast. Substantive reform, clearly, was not on Matsumoto’s
agenda.
Momentum for constitutional revision was not generated by SCAP alone. Power-
ful pressures for a fundamental overhaul of the national charter were building at the
grass roots, and from late 1945 through March 1946, private associations and even
individuals spontaneously published constitutional proposals, a number of them
original and far-sighted. The mass media gave extensive coverage to many of these,
reflecting a new popular commitment to change. Private groups included the Consti-
tutional Research Association (Kenpd Kenkyukai), the Constitutional Discussion
Group (Kenpé Kondankai) and the Japan Bar Association. Influential liberals, such as
Takano Iwasaburé, labour leader, scholar and founder of the Ohara Institute for
Social Research, put forward radical proposals that included strong human rights
guarantees and advocated abolishing the Imperial institution. Favouring a US-type
republican system, Takano helped draft proposals by the Constitutional Research
Association and the Socialist Party, as well. Matsumoto Ji’ichird, Socialist leader of
the Buraku liberation movement, published a personal document advocating a
Union of Japanese Republics, each with its own government structure.”
Four political parties also published drafts. The Communist Party argued for the
abolition of the emperor system and proposed an extensive bill of human and social
rights that drew heavily on the 1936 Soviet (‘Stalin’) Constitution. The Socialists
advocated what amounted to a ‘symbolic emperor’ without governmental powers.
Kato Kanji, the well-known Socialist leader and polemicist, suggested that the mon-
archy was the ‘symbol of national harmony’ and that retaining a politically powerless
sovereign for purely ceremonial purposes was ‘neither unnatural nor irrational’.°? The
right-of-centre Liberals and Progressives sought to preserve the Imperial dynasty and
its prerogatives, although they took pains to cast their proposals in a liberal idiom.
Many of the above projects, personal and collective, made detailed recommendations
for human, social, political and economic rights, but only one demanded political
equality for women, and those of Takano and the Communist Party alone called for
eliminating the Throne.
SCAP scrutinised all of these proposals. The document unveiled by the Consti-
tutional Research Association on 27 December 1945, in particular, held its attention.
The Association’s key members included Takano and a young constitutional scholar,
Suzuki Yasuz6. Following his purge from Kyoto Imperial University, Suzuki had
studied the popular constitutions (shigi kenpd) of the Meiji-era Freedom and People’s
Rights Movement. (Soon after the surrender, E. H. Norman had urged him to develop
a personal critique of the Imperial institution and elaborate his own constitutional
draft.) The Association studied various national charters, including the American and
German Weimar models, and its proposal, while stopping short of abolishing
274 The Early Reforms

the emperor system, stripped the monarchy of all government powers and made the
Cabinet the highest organ of state power. Significantly, under Suzuki’s influence, the
Association drew much of its inspiration from grass-roots shigi kenpd initiatives that
the Meiji oligarchs had ignored or suppressed. Ouchi Hyde, a Marxist economist
formerly of Tokyo Imperial University (he had been dismissed for his views), critiqued
the document and contributed a section on public finances. On 11 January 1946,
Lieutenant Colonel Milo E. Rowell of Government Section prepared an extensive
analysis of the Association’s proposal for GS Chief Whitney. Rowell praised its ‘out-
standing liberal provisions’ on popular sovereignty and human rights and concluded
that, despite shortcomings, its ideas were “democratic and acceptable’. Whitney signed
Rowell’s memorandum, an indication of serious Government Section interest.
Meanwhile, in early January 1946, Washington had put the finishing touches on a
policy guide for the political reform of Japan, the 14-page “Reform of the Japanese
Governmental System’ (SWNCC-228). The document outlined broad goals for
Occupation policy, including constitutional amendments and even the adoption
of a new constitution ‘in a manner which will express the free will of the Japanese
people’. It also affirmed that the Allies were ‘fully empowered to insist that Japanese
basic law be so altered as to provide that in practice the government is responsible
to the people’. The SWNCC guideline’s view of the emperor system was explicit
and emphatic: “The Japanese should be encouraged to abolish the Emperor Institu-
tion or to reform it along more democratic lines.’ The policy paper emphasised,
however, that the Supreme Commander should order the government to take such
action ‘only as a last resort’. Knowledge that these reforms had been imposed by the
Allies, it warned, would undermine their future acceptance by the Japanese people.
The State Department issued the final version of SWNCC-228 on 7 January, and
MacArthur received it on 11 January.”
On 17 January, members of the soon-to-be-reorganised Far Eastern Advisory
Commission (chapter 3) visited MacArthur’s headquarters on a fact-finding mission.
At a conference with Whitney, Kades and other Government Section officials, Sena-
tor Tomas Confessor, the Philippine FEAC representative, pointedly asked GS why
constitutional change was not on SCAP’s agenda. On 29 January, the delegation met
MacArthur. Responding to a similar query, the Supreme Commander told the FEAC
mission that suggestions for such reform had been made to the government but that
the Moscow Agreement had taken matters out of his hands. Echoing SWNCC-228,
he also noted that ‘a constitution, no matter how good, no matter how well written,
forced upon the Japanese by bayonet would last just as long as bayonets were pres-
ent’. Nonetheless, Confessor’s bold question of 17 January triggered a process that
would culminate in the writing of a model constitution.”

The ‘MacArthur Constitution’

MacArthur was in a quandary. The Four Power Moscow Agreement of December
1945 had entrusted constitutional revision to the Far Eastern Commission, the
FEAC’s successor; any changes SCAP contemplated would have to be cleared with
 The Political Reforms 275

Photo 37. Members of the Far Eastern Advisory Commission arrive in Yokohama on 9 Janu-
ary 1946 to observe the Occupation in action. From the bottom left, in ascending order, are
Frank R. McCoy (US), Lieutenant General Chu Shih-ming (Republican China), Francis
Laoste (France), Major J. Plimsol (Australia), and Nelson T. Johnson (US). At the right, from
the bottom up, are Sir Carl Berendsen (New Zealand), Sir George Sansom (UK), Thomas
Confessor (Philippines), R. Saksans (India), Colonel L. M. Cosgrove (Canada), and Dr D. Kat
Angelino (Netherlands). Confessor’s blunt queries on constitutional reform were one factor
prompting MacArthur to draft a new constitution. The FEAC was reorganised as the Far
Eastern Commission in February 1946 (US National Archives).

that body. To escape Allied, and particularly Soviet, scrutiny, a new constitution
had to be produced before the new Commission convened its first session in late
February. Moreover, it would need to be presented as a Japanese initiative. Whitney
276 The Early Reforms

was particularly anxious that SCAP meet that deadline. He believed the Matsumoto
Committee incapable of producing an acceptable draft. Unless MacArthur acted
immediately, the reorganised Far Eastern Commission was likely to impose its own,
much harsher document, which might well abolish the emperor system (in point of
fact, the Commission never pressed the issue of Imperial continuity).
Shortly after the FEAC meeting in Tokyo, Whitney ordered a review of SCAP’s
prerogatives to determine whether MacArthur had the power to revise the Meiji
charter. Kades prepared the staff advisory, which informed the General that ‘you have
authority from the Allied Powers to proceed with constitutional reform’, but only
until such time as ‘the Far Eastern Commission promulgates its own policy decision
on this subject’. Whitney forwarded this finding to MacArthur on 1 February. On
that day, however, the daily Mainichi Shinbun secretly acquired and published one of
the Matsumoto Committee drafts. Essentially a rewording of the Meiji Constitution,
this conservative document retained the principle of Imperial sovereignty and
introduced no substantive changes. The Japanese media derided it as an exercise in
tokenism that had misread the mood of the nation. The Mainichi scoop clinched
Whitney’s arguments and set constitutional revision in motion. On that same
day, the GS chief ordered a reorganisation of the Section’s Public Administration
Division in preparation for a ‘constitutional convention’ (Whitney’s term).
Sometime in the next three days, MacArthur reached a decision. On 3 February,
he instructed Whitney to produce a constitutional text incorporating three non-
negotiable principles. In his message, pencilled on yellow note paper and entitled
“Three Basic Points’, the General outlined his ideas on the new charter. Point I, the
first paragraph of the so-called MacArthur Notes, stated that the Emperor would be
head of state but that his powers would derive from the constitution and be subject
to the basic will of the people. Point II renounced Japan’s sovereign right to wage war
— ‘even for preserving its own security’ — and to maintain armed forces. The third
paragraph, Point III, called for the abolition of ‘the feudal system of Japan’ and
the reform of the peerage. Point I was consistent with SWNCC-228 and Point III
with SCAP’s Potsdam mandate. Point II, renunciation of the right of belligerency
echoed many US and British wartime pronouncements about total and complete
disarmament for Japan, but its inclusion in the constitutional draft was a remarkable
innovation. Linking a depoliticised monarchy with radical pacifism was a masterful
stroke of political engineering that would effectively assure the survival of the
Imperial institution, albeit in a very different form.”
On 4 February, Whitney assigned the drafting of the document to his restructured
Public Administration Division and ordered it completed by 12 February, Abraham
Lincoln’s birthday. In fact, the document was finished in exactly one week’s time,
slightly ahead of schedule. Between 4 and 10 February, a GS Steering Committee
chaired by Deputy Chief Kades and eight working subcommittees acted as an ad hoc
constitutional convention. Sequestered in a ballroom at the top of the Dai-Ichi Insur-
ance Building, the group laboured day and night to produce a series of drafts, each of
which was discussed with the Steering Committee and revised after extensive debate.
 The Political Reforms 277

The work began by collating the liberal Japanese proposals and comparing them with
other national charters, including the constitutions of France, the Scandinavian coun-
tries, the Soviet Union, the United States and Weimar Germany. The subcommittees
worked with a high sense of purpose in an informal and congenial atmosphere free of
interference from ‘upstairs’. MacArthur remained aloof from the drafting process but
closely followed the work in progress through Whitney. The group also toiled in
absolute secrecy. Washington was not informed of the endeavour, nor initially were
other SCAP sections. SWNCC-228 was consulted but used primarily as reference.
Nor was Japanese input solicited. A plea by Lieutenant Milton J. Esman of the
Executive Committee to dispense with secrecy and seek the advice of forward-looking
Japanese scholars resulted in his temporary banishment from the project.

The Civil Rights Subcommittee

The Steering Committee consisted of Kades, who wrote the anti-war clauses; Com-
mander Alfred R. Hussey Jr, who drafted the Preamble; and Milo Rowell, who
also served on the Judiciary Committee with Hussey. They were assisted by Ruth
Ellerman, who was appointed chief secretary (Ellerman, who would later play a
role in the labour reforms, was one of four women contributing in some capacity to
the work of the convention). This core group coordinated the progress of the eight
subcommittees (Legislative, Executive, Civil Rights, Judiciary, Local Government,
Finance, Emperor and Enabling Provisions, and The Preamble) and fashioned the
respective reports into an integrated text. This they carefully fitted within the skeletal
framework of the Imperial Charter, for SCAP was at pains to preserve the appearance
of legal continuity with Meiji law in deference to the Hague Convention. In some
areas, the GS team went beyond MacArthur’s terse handwritten instructions. On 10
February, Whitney submitted the draft to the Supreme Commander, who approved
it the following day, on 11 February, and ordered it presented to the unsuspecting
Japanese on 13 February.
The architects of the MacArthur draft were Kades, Hussey and Rowell — all highly
able and experienced lawyers — who strove to produce a model document that would
set a new world standard of government. The actual reform provisions themselves,
however, were elaborated by the individual subcommittees. A prime example was the
Civil Rights Subcommittee, which wrote a full one third of the 92 articles appearing
in the MacArthur draft. These articles, eventually encoded as Chapter III of the
Constitution, “Rights and Duties of the People’, effectively demolished the social
basis of ‘the feudal system of Japan’ as the MacArthur Notes had insisted. The
Subcommittee was led by Colonel Pieter K. Roest and included Dr Harry Emerson
Wildes and 22-year-old Beate Sirota, a naturalized US citizen who had grown up
in Tokyo and spoke Japanese fluently. None of the three had legal training, but all
had extensive experience living in other cultures and an acute awareness of the
importance of universal human rights legislation.
Sirota was particularly distressed by the position of women in Japanese society.
From childhood experience, she knew that they ‘had always married men chosen for
278 The Early Reforms

them by their parents, walked behind their husbands, and carried their babies on
their backs’, ‘Husbands’, she noted, ‘divorced wives just because they could not have
children, Women had no property rights.’ In translating the Japanese Civil Code, she
discovered that ‘Women are to be regarded as [legally] incompetent’ (Article Four).
Determined not to omit anything ‘that might benefit Japanese women in the future’,
Sirota rushed through Tokyo in a jeep, requisitioning from university and other
libraries a dozen or so European constitutions, These she parsed, but the most useful
for her purposes were the Weimar Constitution, the Soviet Constitution and the
charters of the Scandinavian countries, Based on these, she drafted two key provi-
sions guaranteeing equality of the sexes in society and in the family, which eventually
became Articles 14 and 24."
Sirota proposed seven additional articles according women and children extensive
social welfare rights, including free education and medical and dental care. Specific-
ally, she wanted protective legislation to ‘aid expectant and nursing mothers, pro-
mote infant and child welfare, and establish just rights for illegitimate and adopted
children, and for the underprivileged’, Despite strong support from her colleagues on
the Civil Rights Subcommittee, however, these proposals were eliminated at the
insistence of Kades and Rowell, who found them too specific and ‘not constitutional
material’, Rowell argued that the social guarantees also were controversial and would
arouse stiff opposition from the Japanese, perhaps even endangering the SCAP draft
in its entirety, He added, “You cannot impose a new mode of social thought on a
country by law,’ But wasn’t that exactly what SCAP’s constitutional convention was
proposing to do, Sirota wondered, The debate pitted idealist against pragmatist, and
the clash of opinion became so heated that Whitney finally intervened, siding with
his deputy chief. “To this day’, Sirota wrote later, ‘I believe that the Americans
responsible for the final version of the draft of the new constitution inflicted a great
loss on Japanese women,’ Nevertheless, when bilateral negotiations over the final
form of the text began, Kades gave Sirota his full support. During the all-night joint
session of 4—5 March, the Japanese argued fiercely against the draft’s equal rights
provisions, but Kades stood firm. “There is no way in which the article can be
faulted’, he insisted, and the Japanese side gave in."
In the context of the times, Sirota's contribution to the text was revolutionary. The
US Constitution contains no explicit protections for women. In 1972, after a debate
spanning 50 years, the US Congress finally passed the Equal Rights Amendment,
but the measure failed to obtain the necessary ratification of 38 states by 1982
and was never incorporated into the Constitution, Japan’s national charter protects
the position of women in marriage and in the family and in this respect is more
progressive even than most European charters.
Esman’s call for active Japanese participation in the drafting process was rejected,
but, while Japanese were not present physically, many of their ideas were very much
alive in the minds of the GS working committees. The popular constitutional pro-
posals submitted by various Japanese groups have already been discussed, but there
were other avenues of influence, as well, As a member of Weed’s informal policy
 The Political Reforms 279

alliance, Sirota, for instance, was certainly aware of the demands of the Japanese
women’s movement through activists such as Kat6 Shizue, who frequented the Weed
group. The Civil Rights Subcommittee’s labour provisions (Articles 27 and 28), too,
may have been enriched indirectly by Japanese input. Article 27 states that ‘All
people shall have the right and the obligation to work. Standards for wages, hours,
rest and other working conditions shall be fixed by law. Children shall not be
exploited.’ Article 28 stipulates that “The right of workers to organise and bargain
collectively is guaranteed.’ Nearly identical demands had been advanced in late 1945
by the Japanese Labour Legislation Commission, an ad hoc consultative group of
union activists, reform bureaucrats and liberal academics created by the Shidehara
Cabinet. The Commission worked closely with Economic and Scientific Section’s
Labour Division in enacting the Labour Union Law of 22 December. In the drafting
process, Labour Division consulted frequently with Government Section, which was
kept informed of the Japanese proposals, particularly the insistence on fixed working
standards. Labour Division Chief William Karpinsky later asserted that many of the
principles formulated conjointly by the Labour Legislative Commission and Labour
Division found their way into the GS constitutional draft.”
The accuracy of that statement cannot be corroborated, but it is reasonable to
assume that Japanese ideas percolated into the MacArthur text from many sources,
Unlike the Soviet and Weimar charters, the US Constitution contains no explicit
labour rights guarantees. The inclusion of such provisions in Japan’s 1946 Constitu-
tion probably reflects not only the influence of European and Soviet models but
also the long-standing Japanese demands incorporated, with GS concurrence, into
the Labour Union Law some six weeks before Government Section’s constitutional
convention took up its work.

Japan's ‘second surrender’

On 13 February, officials of the Shidehara government, as yet unaware of the
MacArthur draft, met with GHQ officials in the Sun Room of Foreign Minister
Yoshida Shigeru’s official residence in Azabu, Tokyo. They were there, they thought,
to discuss the final Matsumoto draft. Present for the Japanese side were Yoshida,
Matsumoto, Shirasu Jird (adviser to the Central Liaison Office), and the Foreign
Ministry’s interpreter Hasegawa Motokichi. All of the Japanese knew English well.
Representing Government Section were Whitney, Kades, Hussey and Rowell.
Shirasu, Yoshida’s ‘front man’, acted as go-between for the two sides in intensive
negotiations that would extend into early March.
Whitney immediately stunned the Japanese by telling them that the Matsu-
moto effort was ‘wholly unacceptable as a document of freedom and democracy’.
The Americans then abruptly handed the Japanese the MacArthur draft. Whitney
explained:

The Supreme Commander . . . being fully conscious of the desperate need of the
people of Japan for a liberal and enlightened Constitution that will defend them
280 The Early Reforms

from the injustices and the arbitrary controls of the past, has approved this
document and directed that I present it to you as one embodying the principles
which in his opinion the situation in Japan demands.”!

Whitney and company then adjourned to the sunlit garden. When the urbane
British-educated Shirasu joined Whitney’s group later, the General delivered ‘one
more psychological shaft’, remarking that he had been enjoying the warmth of
Japan’s atomic sunshine. At that instant, a B-29 bomber happened to roar overhead,
leaving, in Whitney’s words, ‘an indescribable but profound’ impression.”
After the Japanese had read the draft, Whitney continued his psychological
assault, noting that MacArthur ‘has been unyielding in defence of your emperor
against increasing pressure from outside to render him subject to war criminal
investigations’. But, he warned, “The Supreme Commander is not omnipotent. He
feels that acceptance of the provisions of this new Constitution would render the
Emperor practically unassailable’. Whitney went on to say that the Japanese were
under no compulsion to accept SCAP’s constitutional draft but added bluntly — and
without MacArthur’s authorisation — that, if they did not accept it before the next
elections, the Supreme Commander was prepared to submit this statement of prin-
ciples directly to the people. ‘By this instrument’, Whitney said, the Supreme Com-
mander ‘has offered Japan, a nation in defeat, the opportunity to assume moral
leadership among the other nations of the world.’
The Japanese side reacted with shock and dismay, characterising the MacArthur
text as ‘thoroughly alien’, ‘something out of the ordinary’ and ‘no small embarrass-
ment’. The minutes of the 13 February conference, however, show Whitney anxious
to avoid any overt suggestion of force. Like the Supreme Commander and his closest
aides, he was intent on saving the Royalists from themselves. The consequences of
outright rejection were clear, he said. “General MacArthur feels that this is the last
opportunity for the conservative groups, considered by many to be reactionary, to
remain in power. . .. |cannot emphasize too strongly that the acceptance of the draft
Constitution is your only hope of survival.’ Whitney's psychological ploy, as it
turned out, was simple good advice.”
Matsumoto informed the Shidehara Cabinet of the content of the American
version on 19 February, Several ministers objected strenuously, but Welfare Minister
Ashida Hitoshi argued that mounting pressure from popular pro-democracy forces
made acceptance unavoidable. Should General Headquarters take the Matsumoto
and MacArthur drafts to the people, he said, the Japanese public would vote over-
whelmingly for the SCAP document, humiliating the government and no doubt
precipitating its fall. Furthermore, MacArthur was prepared to see the charter pro-
mulgated as the work of the government. (In fact, he could not do otherwise.
SWNCC-228 had warned against imposing basic reforms unilaterally, and
MacArthur had to convince the Far Eastern Commission that he was acting with-
in his authority.) Nonetheless, the Cabinet asked Shidehara to make a final per-
sonal appeal to the Supreme Commander. First, however, the Prime Minister asked
 The Political Reforms 281

Whitney for more time, The GS Chief gave the Japanese side until 22 February (not
by coincidence George Washington's birthday) to reach agreement on the GHQ text.
On 21 February, Shidehara met MacArthur in one of the most significant per-
sonal encounters of the General's career in Japan, The ewo men shared some common
ground, and the discussion lasted three hours, Shidehara was known as a ‘liberalist’.
As foreign minister from 1924 to 1927 and again from 1929 to 1931, he had
advocated peaceful diplomacy and cooperation with China as opposed to the policy
ofcoercion advocated by hard-liners in the military, Genuine anti-militarism was not
an option in Shidehara’s day, but he consistently opposed the bellicose policies of the
wat cabal, Unable to prevent the Manchurian invasion in late 1931, he resigned,
retiring from the forefront of political life, Shidehara’s meeting with MacArthur deale
mainly with Article Nine, The Premier noted that he approved of the anti-
belligerency concept in principle but expressed reservations about the wisdom of an
absolute ban on waging war or maintaining armed forces, MacArthur replied that
Australia and the Soviet Union feared that Japan might one day embark on a war of
vengeance, Japan therefore should avoid even the appearance of rebuilding its armed
forces, If the government rejected the peace clauses, he said, it would never regain the
trust of the international community; Japan had nothing to lose and everything to
gain by accepting the pacifist article, Shidehara reluctantly agreed, Uppermost in his
mind was Whitney's warning that anything less than full compliance could jeopardise
the Emperor's personal safety as well as the future of the Throne,”
Popular sovereignty, non-belligerency and basic civil liberties were bitter pills to
swallow, but the Old Guard reluctantly conceded defeat, On 22 February, the Cab-
inet agreed that acquiescence was ultimately in the ruling élite’s best interests and
tentatively accepted the MacArthur document as the basis for a Japanese text, No one,
however, seemed to grasp fully the political import of the American model ~ indeed,
the English version had not been circulated, By 5 March, however, at least some of its
implications had become clear, On that date, Shidehara’s ministers wept openly when
the Prime Minister informed them they had no choice but to endorse formally a
summary government draft based on the American transcript. Given the document's
revolutionary implications, its acceptance, one historian has written, represented
Japan's second surrender, On 6 March, the government made the text public, for-
mally submitting to the Japanese people the draft of ‘a new and enlightened constitu-
tion’ that preserved the Throne but left ic ‘without governmental authority or state
property, subject to the people's will, a symbol of the people's unity’.””

THE EMPEROR AND ARTICLE NINE

‘Imperial democracy’
The most compelling reason for official Japanese acceptance was uncertainty about
the fate of the Emperor, a concern that MacArthur's headquarters fully shared,
Chapter I of the MacArthur version, entitled simply "The Emperor’, established the
282 The Early Reforms

principle of popular sovereignty and made the monarch the symbol of the state. The
Byrnes Note of 11 August 1945 had implied vaguely that the Japanese people might
be permitted to determine the fate of the monarchy themselves, but SWNCC-228 of
7 January 1946 made that point explicit. Preservation of the Throne also was consist-
ent with the Initial Post-Surrender Policy (SWNCC-150/4A), which authorised
Occupation authorities to work through, without necessarily supporting, existing
governmental institutions. None of these documents made an unequivocal commit-
ment to the emperor system, however, and from late 1945 through early 1946, there
were indications that a significant segment of Japanese opinion actually was indiffer-
ent to the monarchy, despite the Supreme Commander’s extravagant predictions of
governmental breakdown and social chaos should the Emperor be tried for war
crimes. Once again, the final decision would be MacArthutr’s.
As indicated above, at his first meeting with Hirohito on 27 September 1945, the
Supreme Commander had professed to be deeply moved by the Emperor’s alleged
offer to accept sole responsibility for the war. The General later recalled that he
decided then to exempt the sovereign from war crimes prosecution. These are ques-
tionable assertions, however, and independent research has never substantiated them.
The evidence suggests that MacArthur, in basic sympathy with his military secretary
Bonner Fellers, had made up his mind to retain the emperor system at a much earlier
date. In any case, a series of rapidly converging events, all of them a potential threat
to Imperial sovereignty, spurred MacArthur to action in late January 1946. These
included lobbying by the China Crowd in Washington for a punitive peace, the Joint
Chiefs’ war crimes query of November 1945, Allied public opinion, the Australian
crusade to indict Hirohito, SWNCC-228 of early January, the Tokyo visit of the Far
Eastern Advisory Commission in mid-January and rumours from within the Palace
itself of a possible abdication. On 25 January, as discussed, MacArthur cabled the
Pentagon advising against indictment, and a week later, following the premature
release of the Matsumoto Constitution and the adverse public reaction to it, decided
to work up a charter of his own — one that would anchor a politically powerless but
intact Imperial system firmly within the framework of a democratic and radically
demilitarised body politic. In early February, when Whitney and Kades charged
Government Section’s drafting committee with the task of producing a new national _
charter, a staff officer asked if it were to be assumed that Hirohito would not be tried
as a war criminal. Whitney and Kades reportedly confirmed that supposition, noting
that the Emperor had rendered service and support to the Occupation.”°
The draft of Article One on the Emperor delivered up by the GS Committee shortly
afterwards, however, exceeded what even MacArthur had envisaged. The General’s
notes had called for a constitutional monarch to serve as head of state. Lieutenant
George A. Nelson and Ensign Richard A. Poole, in consultation with the Steering
Committee, made the sovereign ‘the symbol of the State and of the Unity of the
People’, eliminating any political role but preserving the prestige of the Imperial
institution and its potent ideological (‘spiritual’) dimension. The origins of this
clause are not clear. One historian has suggested three convergent sources which by
 The Political Reforms 283

February 1946 had been assimilated as ‘givens’ by the drafting committee. These
were the British monarchy, derivative American wartime conceptions and post-
surrender Japanese proposals.”
As noted in chapter 5, the Royalist views of Sir George Sansom were shared by his
disciple Hugh Borton, friend Joseph Grew and other highly placed Japan special-
ists. Britain’s softening of the Potsdam language to suggest the possibility of indirect
rule, and imply some degree of post-defeat Imperial continuity, reflected that view-
point. It seems safe to say that Grew and, indeed, most American policy-makers
implicitly used the British monarchy as their point of reference when considering the
Japanese system. English theorists had long posited the Crown as an abstract integra-
tive symbol necessary to deflect class antagonisms and maintain domestic order. The
1931 Statute of Westminster, drafted by Arthur Balfour, greatly enlarged on that
interpretation, proclaiming the Royal institution, in addition, ‘the symbol of the
British Commonwealth’. In 1942, Grew used a similar argument when he wrote
that Japan’s Imperial system should be preserved ‘as a symbol’ and enlisted in the
cause of peace. Japan specialist Helen Mears sounded a similar note in a 1943 essay
on the Emperor, who was, she said, a ‘symbolic leader’ representing ‘the idea of
national unity’.” Fellers couched his ideas in a similar idiom. Moreover, Grew,
who had read Mears’s essay and recommended it highly to friends, maintained a
correspondence with MacArthur and discreetly advised him to tread softly on issues
affecting the Throne.
Finally, on the Japanese side, liberal and progressive thinkers also grasped the
utility of a reformed monarchy. As indicated above, the Socialists and the Consti-
tutional Research Association both had advocated retaining the emperor system but
divesting the sovereign of his secular powers and restricting his duties to purely
ceremonial functions. Conservatives, for whom such Imperial symbolism signified
something quite different, would later appropriate this discourse, investing it with
their own ultra-traditionalist meanings. In 1932, Satomi Kishio, a commentator on
the Imperial system, had defined the monarchy as ‘the highest symbol in Japanese
society and state’. In 1962, Satomi noted that the new Constitution had simply
codified what already existed as ‘an unwritten category’. There is evidence that the
Matsumoto Committee consulted Satomi’s writings in October 1945. Yoshida
Shigeru, too, afterwards noted matter-of-factly that this ‘is what Japanese Emperors
have always been’.” In any event, when the concept of a ‘symbolic emperor’ sprung
fully formed and conceptually untroubled from the American drafting board, it found
immediate acceptance on all sides.
Whatever the origins of the symbolic emperor system, Hirohito, under intense
pressure to abdicate by early 1946, also understood its usefulness. On 22 February,
he gave his unreserved consent to the MacArthur constitutional draft. When
the government announced the outline of the new Constitution on 6 March, the
Emperor, in the pre-surrender tradition, issued an Imperial rescript ordering the
government to ‘revise drastically’ the Meiji charter. On 20 June, Hirohito personally
presented the finalised draft to the National Diet as an amendment to the 1890
284 The Early Reforms

Imperial Constitution. And, on 3 November, it was another Imperial rescript —

vetted by Occupation censors — that promulgated the new charter. This was done with
SCAP’s full concordance. Indeed, at MacArthur’s behest, Whitney had assigned
Chapter I of the Constitution to the monarchy ‘in deference to the Emperor and his
place in the hearts of the Japanese people’. Thus, with Occupation encouragement,
the sovereign was able to place his imprimatur on the document, fusing, in the words
of one scholar, ‘revolution from above’ with ‘imperial democracy’."°
The tradition of divine right died hard. The crowds that gathered in front of the
Imperial Palace to celebrate the birth of the Constitution in early November 1946
were cheering the Emperor, not their revised national charter. As well they might, for
some nine months earlier, on 19 February 1946, at the urging of CI&E’s Kermit
Dyke, Hirohito had begun a five-year pilgrimage around the country designed to
bolster his personal popularity and ensure the preservation of the dynasty. The idea
of a Royal tour is thought to have originated with British Japanophile Reginald
Blyth, who, with Dyke’s assent, sounded out the Imperial household through his
primary conduit to the Palace, Peers’ School Principal Yamanashi Katsunoshin. The
Emperor readily agreed, and MacArthur embraced the proposal with enthusiasm.
The sovereign was accompanied on his regal peregrinations by Imperial household
staff and protected by a phalanx of US Military Police in Army jeeps, that puissant
Occupation symbol now inextricably associated in the popular imagination with the
Imperial charisma.
The Emperor embarked on his ‘auspicious visitations’ (gyokd) with famine loom-
ing, strikes proliferating and the war crimes trials in full session, touring isolated farm
and fishing villages, factories, mines, schools and hospitals. His zeal for the task was
unmistakable, and, in the words of one historian, ‘not even enlightened statesmen
could have matched this performance’. The reaction of his erstwhile subjects was
described as frenzied. At government expense, Hirohito eventually visited every pre-
fecture except Okinawa (he would not reach Hokkaido until 1954), interrupting his
trips only briefly in 1948 when GHQ asked him to assume a low profile prior to the
war crimes judgments. From the start, the Imperial cavalcade drew hostile comment
from the Communist Party and the Far Eastern Commission in Washington, where
objections were raised by Australia, New Zealand and the Soviet Union. In late 1947,
an American correspondent warned that ‘Japanese emperor-worship is like a stout
tree that bends before a Western breeze but does not break’. SCAP’s efforts to
democratise the monarch, he wrote, ‘bid fair to make him an even greater symbol
of Japanese nationalism than ever before’. Prophetic words, indeed.*"

Article Nine
Chapter II of the ‘MacArthur Constitution’ was entitled ‘Renunciation of War’.
This, too, was cause among Imperial conservatives for weeping and the gnashing of
teeth. The first clause of the ‘no-war, no arms’ provision read: ‘Aspiring sincerely to
an international peace based on justice and order, the Japanese people forever
renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the threat or use of force as means
 The Political Reforms 285

Photo 38. Flanked by American MPs and Japanese police officials, Emperor Hirohito visits
Ogaki City in Gifu Prefecture, 25 October 1946. The GHQ-sponsored Imperial tours were
designed to give the monarchy a democratic face lift and counter Allied efforts to make the
sovereign testify before the Tokyo Tribunal (Kyodo).

of settling international disputes’. The second clause stipulated that: ‘In order to
accomplish the aim of the preceding paragraph, land, sea and air forces, as well as
other war potential, will never be maintained. The right of belligerency of the State
will not be recognized.’
SCAP derived the title and spirit of Chapter II from the Kellogg—Briand (Paris)
Pact of 1928 — the same instrument of international law to which the Tokyo War
Crimes Tribunal traced its legitimacy. The so-called Pact of Paris required the 65
nations (including Japan) that eventually ratified it to “condemn recourse to war for
the solution of international controversies, and renounce it as an instrument of
national policy in their relations with one another’ (Article One). Contracting parties
agreed that the settlement of all disputes or conflicts ‘shall never be sought except by
pacific means’ (Article Two). Nor was radical disarmament a novel concept. The
Moscow Foreign Ministers’ Conference, for instance, had discussed a proposal to
prohibit Japan from possessing arms for 25 years, and during the war, both Washing-
ton and London had made similar pronouncements. MacArthur’s initial proposal
went far beyond such considerations, however. In his three ‘musts’ of constitutional
revision, the General had included a phrase that specifically banned wars ‘even for
preserving [Japan’s] own security’. From this flowed naturally the notion of perman-
ent disarmament. Kades, however, personally considered the principle that a country
286 The Early Reforms

could not defend itself from external aggression troubling, unrealistic and legally
dubious. He promptly excised this phrase from the GS draft, thereby altering the
content of MacArthur’s memo and opening an area of ambiguity that would gener-
ate intense constitutional debate over ‘legitimate self-defence’ in the years to come.
Kades later explained his decision as follows. ‘I thought the elimination of “even for
preserving its own security” from Point II of the MacArthur notes left Japan with its
inherent right of self-preservation.’ Had he pondered the issue more deeply at the
time, he noted, ‘I probably would have written in: “except to repel invasions or
suppress insurrection” .”*”
There can be no doubt, however, that Japan had foresworn the right of national
self-defence. Both MacArthur and Yoshida Shigeru were convinced at the time that
such was the case. On 26 June 1946, Prime Minister Yoshida told the House of
Representatives’ Special Committee on the Constitution that Japan had renounced
‘the right of armed self-defence as well as of belligerency’. He asserted that ‘self-
defence’ had been used by the militarists to justify Japan’s recent wars of aggression.
Yoshida remained consistent in his views of the non-belligerency clauses through
early 1950, and even after the Korean War, he steadfastly opposed rearmament
(albeit not from pacifist principle: Yoshida was not against remilitarisation at some
future date but felt that publicly endorsing such a policy prematurely would exacer-
bate international distrust and frustrate his hopes of ending the Occupation quickly
— see chapter 10). As late as 1961, Yoshida asserted that he still adhered to the view
that Article Nine did not require amendment. Until 1950, MacArthur, too, defended
Article Nine in its entirety, rejecting out of hand a Pentagon overture to partially
rearm in 1948 (chapter 10). More importantly, however, many Japanese also were
committed to a strict pacifist interpretation. When Japan, at SCAP’s insistence,
began rearming in mid-1950, most people believed that the government was violat-
ing the Constitution; there was a deep sense of betrayal, and the public reacted with
indignation and angry protest.”
The precise origins of Article Nine remain obscure. According to Shidehara, the
war-renouncing clause was the brainchild of MacArthur. MacArthur later attributed
the idea to Shidehara, as did Justin Williams Jr, although recent scholarship casts
doubt on that thesis. Political scientist Theodore McNelly believes that Article Nine
was first suggested by Whitney and Kades, and Kades himself, in an article written
before his death, lent support to that view.** There are other possibilities, as well.
Japan’s was not the first charter to draw its inspiration from the Kellogg—Briand Pact.
The Philippine Constitution of November 1935 had claimed that distinction 11
years earlier by renouncing war as a means of conducting national policy. MacArthur
had just been appointed military adviser to the Philippines when the charter
was promulgated, leading some scholars to assert that the origins of Japan’s
war-renouncing clauses are to be sought in the 1935 Philippine Constitution.”
Article Nine, of course, was a far more explicit and radical renunciation of belli-
gerency than the Pact of Paris. Whatever its exact lineage, Chapter II had stamped on
it the bold, iconoclastic style of MacArthur. Certainly, the Supreme Commander’s
 The Political Reforms 287

lavish praise for the anti-war article suggests a creator’s pride. The General lauded
Article Nine as one of the Occupation’s most important contributions to Japan and
to humanity. It was, he boasted at the time, ‘one further step in the evolution of
mankind, under which nations would develop, for mutual protection against war, a
yet higher law of international social and political morality’. MacArthur even
recommended that the United Nations adopt Japan’s anti-war clauses. “Thereby’, he
said, ‘may we further universal adherence to that higher law in the preservation of
peace which finds full and unqualified approval in the enlightened conscience of the
peoples of the world.’**
Article Nine indeed reflected the aspirations of a war-weary world for a lasting
peace. Its originality lies in the premise that peace and security are better secured
through diplomacy and the non-violent resolution of international conflicts than the
stockpiling of armaments and war matériel. In other words, world peace actively
pursued by an aware citizenry and its democratically elected representatives is the
surest means of national self-defence — a revolutionary proposition, surely, but one
that embodied the highest ideals of the immediate postwar world. It is small wonder
that so many Japanese, spiritually exhausted and disillusioned by 15 years of militar-
ism culminating in humiliating defeat, would embrace this pacifist Constitution as
their own.”

Japanising’ the constitution

After 13 February, when MacArthur’s headquarters handed its draft to the govern-
ment, the document underwent a series of revisions. The Japanese side presented
their first revisions to Government Section on 4 March. Following intense bilateral
negotiations, the government publicly announced its amended version on 17 April.
Submitted to the 90th Imperial Diet on 20 June, the charter underwent further
modification and was finally passed by both houses on 7 October.
Occupation censors worked hard to disguise SCAP’s role in drafting the docu-
ment and maintain the fiction that it was an exclusively Japanese endeavour. On the
face of it, this thin pretence was difficult to uphold. A Canadian journalist expressed
the reaction of many observers, Japanese and foreign, when he called it an alien
instrument imposed by force and then ‘represented as a native product, when any
Japanese high school student simply by reading it could perceive its foreign origin’.*®
In a sense, however, the document was readily understandable, for the language was
familiar. Unlike the Meiji Constitution, which had been written intentionally in a
laboured, archaic legalese (Gungotai) difficult for ordinary Japanese to comprehend,
the new charter was phrased in the vernacular tongue (Aégotai), partly as a result of
intense lobbying by citizens’ groups such as the People’s National Language Alliance
(Kokumin no Kokugo Renmei).
In yet another sense, the final result, although close in form and substance to the
MacArthur model, was more than a simple translation of the English text. A group of
Japanese officials led by Sato Tatsuo, Deputy Director of the Cabinet Legislation
Bureau and a member of the defunct Matsumoto Committee, carefully reworked the
288 The Early Reforms

GHQ version, subtly ‘Japanising’ it in the process. Sato was assisted in this effort by
Irie Toshiro, Director of the Cabinet Legislation Bureau, and Kanamori Tokujiro,
the author of the Liberal Party’s early constitutional proposal and, from June 1946,
Matsumoto’s replacement as minister of state in the Yoshida Cabinet.” Despite the
undeniably foreign flavour of parts of the document, Saté and his colleagues used the
ambiguities of Japanese syntax to alter or nuance the connotation of the original
English. Government Section acquiesced to many changes in wording in order to
preserve the main features of its draft. Kades’s standing orders from Whitney were to
pose no objection to any Japanese proposal that did not violate basic principles. In
general, the government succeeded in imparting to the text an ‘illocutionary force’
not present in the English, implying that the state, supported by the people, is
responsible for ensuring democracy and civil liberties. The MacArthur version made
the people alone ultimately responsible for their form of government.”
Some government changes were obvious and inevitable, such as the substitution of
a bicameral legislature for the GHQ-proposed unicameral body (MacArthur’s staff
had assumed that abolition of the peerage would entail the elimination of the House
of Peers). SCAP agreed to the modification on condition that both lower and upper
houses consist of elected members and that the House of Representatives dominate
the House of Councillors. The Japanese side also scrapped an article, dubbed the
‘Red Provision’, that would have enabled the government to nationalise the country’s
land and natural resources.”!
In several instances, however, Japanese jurists attempted to weave a conservative
bias into the text by deleting passages and manipulating phraseology. In some cases,
the government's finest legal minds failed to achieve their aims. For example, Irie,
Kanamori and Sat6 tried to substitute shiko (‘highest’), an archaic weasel word
devoid of substantive meaning, for the perfectly clear shuken (‘sovereignty’) to dilute
the potency of the Anglo-American doctrine of popular will. The use of vague
phrases to rob concrete rights guarantees of their content was a common ploy. In late
June, two Lower House members, Communist Nosaka Sanz6 and Socialist Kuroda
Hisao, spotted the disparity in the Japanese and English drafts and demanded an
explanation. Shortly afterwards, on 2 July, the Far Eastern Commission issued a
policy paper (‘Basic Principles for Japan’s New Constitution’) asking for a clear
statement that sovereign power resides in the people. Whitney promptly despatched
Kades to meet Saté’s group and press for an unambiguous rendering of the phrase
‘sovereignty rests with the people’. At Kades’s insistence, the Japanese side reluctantly
agreed to the change, abandoning this attempt to preserve a suggestion of Imperial
authority and weaken the thrust of Article One. Sato and company employed other
ruses, such as placing the war-renouncing and no-arms clauses in the Preamble
instead of in Chapter II, but these, too, failed.”
In a few instances, representatives of the people had their say. The Socialist Party
presented a motion to abolish the peerage, and surprisingly the Diet passed it, elimin-
ating the ranks and special privileges of 913 families. Barons, marquises, dukes and
princes passed into history, and another pillar of Imperial authority crumbled. The
 The Political Reforms 289

Socialists also successfully inserted Article 25 in Chapter III (‘Rights and Duties of
the People’) guaranteeing the public ‘the right to maintain the minimum standards
of wholesome and cultured living’. A second clause obligated the state to ‘use its
endeavours for the promotion and extension of social welfare and security, and of
public health’. At the centre of this initiative was Kat Shizue, the Socialist feminist
and Upper House representative, who fought an uphill battle, remarkably similar to
that waged a few months earlier by Beate Sirota, to secure virtually the same guaran-
tees: the protection of mothers and the rights of working women. “Women’s unique-
ness’, Kat6 said, ‘must be recognized and provisions for the special protection of
pregnancy, birth and care for children must be stated clearly.’ Like Sirota, Kato lost
the battle, but in Article 25, the Socialists introduced a general statement of principle
extending social protection to all people.” Kato and other women, both inside and
outside of MacArthur’s headquarters, would carry this struggle into the legislative
arena in 1947, winning important victories in the Civil and Criminal Code reforms,
the passage of the Labour Standards Law and the establishment of a Women’s and
Minors’ Bureau inside the new Labour Ministry (chapter 7).
Elsewhere, however, Japanese legal experts, employing a kind of legislative leger-
demain, registered subtle but significant gains, one of which vitiated a provision in
Chapter VIII on local self-government that would have granted municipalities a
substantial degree of home rule (chapter 7). Another flick of the draftman’s wrist
effectively wrote Korean and Formosan residents out of the Constitution. This was
accomplished between early March and June 1946 when the government submitted
its final draft to the Diet. Saté and colleagues deleted or altered two key articles
that the Civil Rights Subcommittee had inserted in the MacArthur version protect-
ing the rights of foreigners in general. This very deliberate revision, part of a seem-
ingly minor debate that SCAP lost perhaps without fully realising it, denied these
minorities equal protection under the law (chapter 9).

Article Nine modified

The Japanese side scored another victory by artfully manipulating the wording of
Article Nine to suggest a finely shaded interpretation different from the purport of
the original English. This modification has been attributed to Ashida Hitoshi, but
Kanamori Tokujiré is probably the real author. In late June, following the govern-
ment’s submission to the Diet of its fourth and final draft, Ashida was elected to head
the Lower House’s Special Committee on Revision of the Imperial Constitution.
From 25 July to 20 August, he also chaired a Lower House subcommittee charged
with producing an amended version of the government draft.
In a complex process that remains unclear, Ashida placed qualifying phrases at the
beginning of each of Article Nine’s clauses. At the head of the renunciation of war
paragraph was added ‘Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice
and order’. In front of the ‘no-arms’ clause was added ‘For the above purpose’, which
was later changed to ‘In order to accomplish the aims of the preceding paragraph’.
But Ashida also had reversed the order of the clauses in the government draft, so that
290 The Early Reforms

0 A
Photo 39. From riches to working garb, The abolition of the peerage and postwar inflation
forced many former aristocrats to earn a living the hard way. Here Prince Kaya Tsunenori and
his wife sell ice cream from a small shop in Kamakura owned by the Prince. 31 July, 1948
(New York Times).
 The Political Reforms 291

the ‘no-arms’ provision came first, the stronger ‘no-war’ statement second. Kanamori
suggested delicately that the renunciation of war should come before that of arms,
telling the House subcommittee in convoluted but carefully contrived language that
the change might enable Japan to retain a military capability for its own defence.
Kanamori’s proposal carried the day, although only he and Sat6 Tatsuo appear to have
understood its full implications. The article as finally adopted read:

Aspiring sincerely to an international peace based on justice and order, the

Japanese people forever renounce war as a sovereign right of the nation and the
threat or use of force as a means of settling international disputes.
In order to accomplish the aims of the preceding paragraph, land, sea, and air
forces, as well as other war potential, will never be maintained. The right of
belligerency of the state will not be recognised [author’s italics].

Article Nine conceivably could now be construed as renouncing the maintenance

of armed forces only as a means of settling international disputes. In other words,
abjuring the right of belligerency in aggressive war did not necessarily nullify the
right to deter aggression against Japan. Ashida later insisted that this had been his
intention all along, although there is no evidence to support such an assertion. In any
event, he claimed sole credit for the additions, which subsequently became known as
the ‘Ashida Amendment’. On 3 November 1946, the day the Constitution was
promulgated, he proclaimed that Article Nine applied to wars of aggression only and
did not preclude the threat or use of force to defend the nation from external attack.
Kades, who assumed that Japan would be able to maintain at least a home guard,
understood the change and approved it immediately, and without informing Whit-
ney or MacArthur. In 1954, when Japan’s Self-Defence Forces were created, the new
Defence Agency would invoke the Ashida Amendment to defend the constitutional-
ity of the SDE telling the Lower House that Article Nine does not prohibit military
preparedness to ensure national security.”
Like Washington, the Far Eastern Commission had been kept in the dark about
the MacArthur Constitution, but once informed, it made a number of recommenda-
tions. Among these were demands for a clear statement on popular sovereignty, a
strengthening of the universal suffrage clause, insuring the primacy of the Diet
and the selection of a majority of cabinet members and the prime minister from
sitting legislators. With respect to the Ashida Amendment, the FEC raised a major
objection. On 21 September 1946, at the 27th meeting of the Commission, Dr S. H.
Tan, Nationalist China’s representative, noted in alarm that the ‘Article has been so
revised . . . as to permit of an interpretation which might in effect permit the main-
tenance by Japan of land, sea and air forces for purposes . . . such as, for instance,
self defense.’ Tan suggested that militarist elements planned to rearm using the
loopholes in the revised peace clauses. The Canadian delegate and deputy chair of
the Third Committee (Constitutional and Legal Reform), Ralph E. Collins, agreed
with Tan and recommended that the Commission introduce a Soviet-proposed
292 The Early Reforms

stipulation that all Cabinet members be civilians (6unmin). On 25 September, the

Commission adopted that proposal as a safeguard against a government attempt to
circumvent Article Nine’s ban on a standing military. SCAP bowed to FEC pressure
and prevailed on the Japanese to incorporate into Article 66 the phrase, “The Prime
Minister and other Ministers of State must be civilians.” The insertion of this clause
was paradoxical, however, for it implied the existence of the very armed forces whose
authority it was designed to deny, a nuance that has not escaped the contemporary
foes of Article Nine.

Constitutional review
When the Japanese government unveiled its outline draft on 6 March 1946, a
stunned FEC responded by demanding the right to ‘pass on’ the final text and deter-
mine whether it was consistent with the Potsdam Proclamation. The great haste with
which SCAP had orchestrated the drafting process, it said, raised questions about the
extent to which the document represented the ‘freely expressed will of the Japanese
people’. MacArthur ignored the request, and on 10 April, the FEC passed a reso-
lution demanding that GHQ send a representative to Washington to report in
person. This time, the Supreme Commander replied, telling the Commission that,
in Japan, he alone was vested with executive powers and that his decisions were not
subject to FEC approval. Members took this as an affront to the dignity of the Allied
body, but the American representative successfully forestalled further action on the
issue, and all members but the Soviet Union approved the document in principle on
25 September 1946.
Australia and New Zealand were not placated, however, and at their insistence, on
17 October, the FEC called for a review of the Constitution within one to two years
of its entry into effect. MacArthur notified Yoshida of this in January 1947, but the
Japanese premier took no action. A constitutional review, he feared, would encourage
liberal and left-of-centre opinion to demand a clearer statement of the Emperor's
status, stronger labour guarantees and other measures at odds with the conservative
position. At MacArthur’s request, the FEC decision was not announced publicly in
Japan until March 1948, and when it was, as Yoshida had foreseen, it prompted
several proposals for fadical reform from private groups. One of these, the Public
Law Forum (Kohé Kenkyitkai), recommended changing the conservative Nihon
kokumin (‘Japanese nationals’) to Nihon jinmin (‘Japanese people’); strengthening
the popular sovereignty clause; making the Emperor the emblem, not the symbol, of
the state; and prohibiting individuals as well as the nation from waging war. Yoshida
and MacArthur discouraged these dangerous thoughts, and a popular review of
the national charter never took place. The FEC began its pro forma scrutiny
of the Constitution in January 1949, completing it in early May of that year. The
Commission raised three points for clarification: the position of aliens under the
Constitution, the power of the Supreme Court in constitutional matters and rules for
the dissolution of the House of Representatives. But this was a footnote to history
that passed without public notice or official comment.”
 PART IV

The Later Reforms

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 CHAPTER 7

Institutional and Economic Reforms

With the purge and war crimes trials underway, a democratically elected Diet in
place and a new constitution being deliberated, SCAP turned its attention to the
institutional mainstays of the Old Order: police and local government, the bureau-
cracy, labour controls, the zaibatsu, and landlordism. The reform of these systems
was carried out under the close supervision of GHQ by the first Yoshida Cabinet
(May 1946—May 1947) and its successor, a tripartite coalition headed by Socialist
Katayama Tetsu, which governed from June 1947 to February 1948. The Katayama
coalition — the only Socialist-dominated government of the Occupation period —
included right-wing Socialists and two conservative parties, the Democrats and the
People’s Cooperatives. MacArthur’s New Dealers welcomed the centrist Katayama,
whom they viewed as Japan’s first truly democratic prime minister and, during
his stewardship, established a close working relationship with the government.
Katayama was replaced by Ashida Hitoshi in March 1948, by which time, the major
administrative and economic reforms had been implemented.

LOCAL GOVERNMENT AND THE BUREAUCRACY

GHQ had relied on the police, local government and bureaucracy to carry out its
early reform objectives, and these institutions received minimal attention during the
first phase of the Occupation. The police and the bureaucracy, in particular, were too
entrenched, too vital to public order and too central to the implementation of
SCAP?’s liberalising project to be immediately and drastically overhauled. By 1947,
however, they had become a threat to the continued success of the reform effort, and
MacArthur’s headquarters set about diffusing this concentration of bureaucratic
power.

The police state

Organised under the Home Ministry’s Police Bureau, the prewar police system was
the backbone of the powerful and highly centralised state created during the Meiji
era. Together with the Imperial Army, it emerged as one of the twin bulwarks of
militarism during the 1930s. The police were a paramilitary organisation wielding
judicial and semi-judicial powers and broad administrative authority in addition to
their responsibility for maintaining public order. They had been trained, in the
words of SCAP analysts, ‘to protect the government from the people’, and their
duties covered every aspect of public and private life. Many police functions, such as
296 The Later Reforms

the surveillance and censorship of individuals and organisations, government officials

and even elections, clearly were incompatible with a democratic society. Law-
enforcement agencies worked through a national network of local neighbourhood
associations (tonari-gumi) that functioned collectively as a communal spy system.
Imposed first in Formosa, Korea and Manchuria, the tonari-gumi were reorganised in
Japan proper in 1940 by Imperial Ordinance no. 17 and placed under the Imperial
Rule Assistance Association. In the eyes of SCAP, the ‘block organisations’ were a
‘feudalistic . . . institution, by means of which the personal lives, activities and even
the thoughts of the people of Japan were brought under the effective overall control
of a mere handful of central government officials’.'
Police control was an integral facet of Japanese modernisation. In 1887, the Meiji
government enacted the Peace Preservation Law to curb popular dissent in general
and suppress the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement, then advocating civil
liberties and a democratic constitution, in particular. The law was overhauled and
strengthened in 1925 and then reinforced again in 1928 to deal with Communists,
anarchists, union organisers, liberals, and virtually anyone whose beliefs challenged
the legitimacy of Japan’s emperor-centred ‘national polity’ or the sanctity of private
property. Political and ideological control was the domain of the Special Higher
Police (Tokkd Keisatsu), created in 1911 to combat socialist and anarchist ideas and
whose roots lay in the elaborate internal espionage system perfected by the old feudal
régime. Between 1928 and 1942, more than 65,000 Japanese reportedly were
arrested by the ‘thought police’ under the Peace Preservation Law. Communists,
Socialists, anarchists, Korean nationalists, Christians, pacifists and liberal thinkers of
various hues were ruthlessly repressed, and under the heel of the 7okkd, freedom of
thought, expression and assembly virtually ceased to exist. Many detainees were
summarily tortured and forced to recant their alleged ‘thought crimes’ via a process of
forced conversion (tenkd), and a few died in the process. Some, such as Communist
organiser Tokuda Kyiichi who endured 18 years of imprisonment and thought
reform, managed to remain true to their beliefs, but others emerged from prison in
1945 broken men. Repression peaked in the years 1931-3, when some 10,000 people
were jailed for ideological deviation, but continued unabated until the end of the
war. The Military Police (Kenpeitai) added military authority to the panoply of
police powers and competed with the Special Higher Police in enforcing the rule of
law through terror and brutality.
Dismantling this police state and creating a modern decentralised system of
democratic law enforcement became a top SCAP priority in 1947. MacArthur dis-
banded the Special Higher Police on 4 October 1945, but the Instrument of Sur-
render had exempted general police forces from disarmament and dissolution. On 17
October, MacArthur's staff ordered the Military Police dismantled and directed the
civil police to take over their duties. GHQ purged police ranks from January 1946,
but surveys taken in May and June indicated that more than 600 former police
officers and Special Higher Police had found asylum in the labour sections of
prefectural governments.
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 297

Amid Japan’s chaotic post-surrender conditions, however, police forces were in

disarray. Demoralised by defeat, ranks had thinned due to voluntary departures and
illness, and disaffection was widespread. At Takasaki in Gunma Prefecture, police
went on strike for two days in November to protest against unfair rationing practices,
and in December, 50 out of 600 officers of the Imperial Guard demanded democra-
tisation of the Guards Section and the dismissal of their chief. Such labour actions
were unprecedented and, before the defeat, unimaginable. Nonetheless, the police
retained many of their authoritarian powers of enforcement. In late 1945, the
government asked SCAP to augment police manpower, which then stood at about
94,000 effectives, and fully re-equip the force. Worried that a refurbished and con-
fident constabulary would hamper the implementation of reform policies, GHQ
rejected the proposition.” Occupation authorities were well aware that the expansion
of German police forces after World War I had hastened the remilitarisation of
Germany under the Nazis. They were determined not to repeat that mistake.

The Police Law

A Civil Affairs Guide, “The Japanese Police System Under Allied Occupation’, pro-
vided a blueprint for remoulding the law-enforcement establishment. Compiled by
the Research and Analysis Branch of the Office of Strategic Services, it was not
published until 28 September 1945. The Guide analysed the prewar police system,
detailing its many abuses and problems, but the manual’s primary focus was on
the task of maintaining internal order in post-defeat Japan. This concern pinpointed
a dilemma at the very heart of occupation control: the principle of indirect rule
necessitated close cooperation with and even reliance on the traditional forces of
order. GHQ was committed to dismantling authoritarian police controls but was
constrained to preserve and work through the existing system of law-enforcement in
order to do so.
The Guide was sceptical about the Occupation’s ability to completely eliminate
police interference in the political process. The only sure means of preventing the
abuses of the past, it noted, was to ensure civilian control by guaranteeing freedom
of expression and encouraging public scrutiny and criticism of guardians of the
peace. To create a force that served the people, not the state, the Guide proposed to
limit police authority, purge ultra-nationalist elements, re-educate law-enforcement
personnel, improve working conditions, abolish third-degree methods and other
authoritarian procedures and decentralise police powers.’
To implement these recommendations, in the autumn of 1945, the Civil Intelli-
gence Section’s Public Safety Division commissioned two in-depth studies on the
police by Lewis J. Valentine of the New York City Police Department and Oscar G.
Olander, head of the Michigan State Police Force. The Metropolitan Police Mission
arrived in Japan in March 1946. Assisted by Frank Meals of the US Coast Guard,
Valentine and Olander submitted their final reports in June, recommending a radical
decentralisation of police administration and operations. Public Safety Division had
insisted on a two-track reform for rural and urban areas. Accordingly, the two police
298 The Later Reforms

specialists proposed the establishment of autonomous Municipal Police forces based

on the New York City model in towns and cities of more than 50,000 people, and
the creation of a National Rural Police system to serve rural agglomerations of less
than 50,000. In both instances, police were to be subject to the authority of elected
government officials.
G-2’s Charles Willoughby and Public Safety Division Chief Colonel Howard E.
Pulliam reportedly forwarded the plan to the Yoshida Cabinet, suggesting rather
deviously that it present the proposal to SCAP as a Japanese initiative. On 28 February
1947, Yoshida responded with a counter-plan that was based generally on the
two reports but retained many of the old system’s centralised features and proposed
to boost overall police strength from 94,000 to 125,000. The Yoshida Plan
immediately produced ‘a certain pulling and hauling’ between G-2 and Government
Section. Willoughby favoured a strong gendarmerie sufficiently centralised to deal
with civil disorders and national emergencies stemming from the ‘Communist
menace’. With some emotion and considerable hyperbole, Pulliam asserted that, as
Hammurabi, Ghengis Khan and Cesare Borgia had relied on a centralised police,
Japan could do no less. Whitney, on the other hand, demanded a radical deconcentra-
tion of authority and stoutly opposed the Yoshida Plan. An internal GS memo-
randum of 17 July 1947 compared the Japanese police to the Gestapo and warned
that ‘the maintenance of a centralised police force is a complete repudiation of the
basic tenets of the Occupation and of the principles of the new Constitution’. The
memorandum urged a ‘full and final’ decentralisation. Failure to act on the matter, it
warned, constituted a threat to the future of the democratic project in Japan.“
Following the passage of the Local Autonomy Law in April 1947, police reform
became a pressing issue that increasingly pitted Government Section against the
Occupation’s intelligence establishment. The inter-sectional quarrel was part of a
long-running feud to determine ascendancy over basic policy, and it produced a
flurry of check sheets that circulated among staff groups, carrying the battle into
every corner of MacArthur’s command. On 3 September, Prime Minister Katayama
wrote to the General promising to revise the Yoshida Plan, which he did. While
Katayama’s provisions for a gradual decompression of police powers were a clear
improvement over the earlier proposal, these, too, failed to satisfy Whitney. At this
point, MacArthur stepped into the fray with a compromise that provided for limited
centralised control via a national constabulary with circumscribed operational duties
and a decentralised, independent police force at the municipal level. In a letter to the
Prime Minister dated 16 September, the Supreme Commander asserted that decon-
centrating the police system ‘in accordance with the principle of local autonomy
embodied in the Constitution’ would avoid ‘the potentiality of a police state’ while
satisfying ‘all requirements of public safety’.’ In fact, some degree of centralised
authority had been preserved, but the initial victory went to Whitney's Government
Section. MacArthur gave Katayama 90 days to carry the provisions in the Diet.
The Police Law was enacted on 17 December 1947, meeting MacArthur’s dead-
line, and went into effect on 8 March the following year. It established a centrally
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 299.

directed National Rural Police force of 30,000 with administrative authority at the
prefectural level and above and operational jurisdiction only in rural areas and
municipalities with fewer than 5,000 inhabitants. The bulk of the nation’s law-
enforcement duties were assigned to an independent Local Municipal Police of
95,000 with administrative and operational responsibility for cities, towns and vil-
lages larger than 5,000. Moreover, women were now eligible to apply for these
positions, and within a relatively short time, 2,000 uniformed female police officers
were on duty in Tokyo alone, a startling reversal of traditional sex-linked roles.
The National Rural Police, financed by the central government, were placed under
the Prime Minister’s Office rather than the Home Ministry and made accountable to
a National Public Safety Commission. Designed to guarantee the neutrality of police
in political affairs, the Commission was composed of members appointed by the
prime minister but remained independent of the Cabinet. The country was divided
into six police regions, with public safety commissions organised at the national,
regional, prefectural, and local levels, each tier enjoying a degree of independence. In
a state of national emergency, however, the prime minister was authorised to take
control of all law-enforcement bodies, subject to Diet approval. The administrative
authority of the national police stopped at the prefectural level, where elected gov-
ernors working through prefectural public safety commissions exercised operational
control. The prefectural commissions were independent of the National Public
Safety Commission, their members being nominated by the governor with the
consent of the prefectural assembly. Below the prefecture, the Local Municipal Police
maintained order in most of the nation’s cities, towns and villages. They were
financed locally and overseen by politically neutral municipal public safety commis-
sions whose members were appointed by an elected mayor subject to the approval of
the local assembly. By early 1948, there were nearly 1,400 local autonomous police
forces across Japan.
The Police Law and the Police Duties Execution Law of 1948, which reformed
police procedure, transformed Japan’s law-enforcers from an élite group loyal to the
Emperor and the state into a citizen’s constabulary responsible, in principle, to the
general public. Police functions were restricted to such duties as preserving public
order, protecting lives and property, crime prevention and traffic control. Torture,
illegal detention and other abusive practices were abolished. Law officers were
expressly prohibited from suppressing political dissent or engaging in any form of
‘thought-control’. As pre-surrender police controls dissolved under SCAP’s watchful
eye, the baton replaced the sabre, the traditional symbol of gendarme authority. In
many respects, the police reform represented a clean break with the past. Although
Government Section had won the battle, however, in the long run, the government
and Willoughby’s G-2 would win the war. Their combined opposition to a complete
overhaul of the peace-keeping establishment would ensure the restoration of a high
degree of centralised authority after 1951 (chapter 11).
300 The Later Reforms

Photo 40, Female law-enforcement officers on parade after graduating from the police acad-
emy, The unprecedented sight of policewomen directing traffic and patrolling neighbourhood
streets epitomised the sweeping change in values that accompanied many Occupation reforms.
Tokyo, 27 April 1947 (Kyodo).
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 301

Restructuring local government

Police reform was part of a broader attack on a system of authoritarian control that
had its pinnacle in the Home Ministry and its base in 1.3 million neighbourhood
tonari-gumi associations. The Prussian-inspired local government structures that
relayed orders from the apex of this pyramidal edifice to the bottom were adminis-
tered by the Home Ministry’s Local Affairs Section. The Ministry appointed all
prefectural governors, career bureaucrats whose chief ambition was to secure a post in
Tokyo. Local officials were bound by a web of restrictive financial and legal regula-
tions. SCAP characterised the Japanese administrative system as ‘a monster that
reached with thousands of tentacles into the home and private life of every individual
Japanese’. Government Section was charged with the task of slaying this Medusa by
decentralising local government and promoting municipal self-rule. Ironically, the
machinery of SCAP’s own highly centralised super-government, which depended on
the Japanese bureaucracy to carry out its directives, tended to narrow the parameters
of reform. Nonetheless, MacArthur was committed to the principle of autonomous
local self-government, which he proclaimed ‘a schoolhouse for democracy’, and
under Cecil G. Tilton, the GS Local Government Division laboured mightily from
early 1946 through late 1947 to restructure municipal administration.
Local-government reform proceeded in three phases. The first consisted of a series
of organic laws that revised prefectural, city, town and village codes, including those
for Metropolitan Tokyo and Hokkaido. Submitted to the Diet in early July 1946,
these bills contained a number of innovations, such as the right of local residents to
recall public officials and demand the enactment of legislation and the right to
manage local elections. Other features, however, reflected Japanese proposals for local
reform that had been advanced since the 1920s. Among these were the strengthening
of the power of local assemblies and the direct election of mayors and other
local officials by expanded popular vote. The organic laws were drafted by SCAP’s
constitutional reformers, passed by the Imperial Diet and entered into force on 27
September 1946.° The second and third phases of local reform were the passage of
the Local Autonomy Law in April 1947 and the dissolution of the Home Ministry in
December 1947. Collectively, these statutes constituted the implementing legislation
for the Constitution’s local self-government provisions (Chapter VIII, Articles 92
through 95).

Local autonomy and the Constitution

Local Government Division’s mandate was to create a grass-roots democracy by
taking the administration of local affairs away from central authorities and placing it
in the hands of the people. Division Chief Cecil Tilton was an ardent devolutionist
whose basic tenet was ‘a local answer for local problems’. In February 1946, he had
drafted an early version of the MacArthur Constitution’s Chapter VIII on the
powers of local government, but GS Deputy Chief Charles Kades and the Steering
Committee found his proposals too radical. Tilton planned to make the prefectures
virtually independent of central authority by granting them the right to tax and
302 The Later Reforms

maintain their own police forces, Municipalities also would wield broad powers
of government not specified in the Constitution or parliamentary legislation, He
envisaged ‘something like a Greek city state’, complained Kades, who dismissed
Tilton’s ‘Chapter on Local Government’ as excessive. The state, Kades asserted
later, ‘had a very important part to play in government. It couldn’t abdicate to the
localities.’ Tilton enjoyed the strong backing of the Steering Committee's Lieu-
tenant Colonel Milo Rowell, however, and the final version of Chapter VIII was a
compromise between Rowell, ‘a strong home-rule man’, and Kades, ‘a warm central
government man’, The GS draft of 13 February 1946, stipulated that local public
entities be responsible to local assemblies; that city, town and village officials and
assembly members be elected by direct public vote; and that communities manage
their own property, internal affairs and administration, At the same time, it gave
local inhabitants the right to draft their own home-rule ‘charters’, a kind of de
facto local constitution.”
Predictably, the Home Ministry stubbornly opposed this unprecedented award of
autonomous powers. The traditional bureaucratic ethos was summed up by the
expression kanson-minpi, ‘revere officialdom, despise the people’, The Ministry
found the idea of making public officials the servants, not the masters, of the people
incomprehensible, and the public election of prefectural and local officials was
anathema. To preserve its autocratic authority, the Ministry argued forcefully that
municipal self-rule should be based on the principle of local collective responsibility
to the state and that this “communal spirit’ be made explicit in the Constitution,
When Government Section rejected the proposal, the Ministry ostensibly endorsed
the idea of autonomy but clung tenaciously to its own interpretations of statist
principle, which it managed to insinuate into the government's constitutional draft,
The Home Ministry was particularly alarmed by GHQ’s home-rule clause; “The
inhabitants of metropolitan areas , . . shall be secure in their right... to frame their
own charters within such laws as the Diet may enact,’ In the government's first
official revision of 4 March 1946, Sat6 Tatsuo and his team of legal experts replaced
the word ‘charter’ with ‘by-laws and regulations’ and added the stipulation that
‘Regulations concerning organisation and operations of local public entities shall
be fixed by law insaccordance with the principle of local autonomy,’ Curiously,
Government Section failed to challenge these modifications, led astray perhaps
by the inclusion of the phrase ‘principle of local autonomy’. By the time the
Constitution was adopted by the Imperial Diet on 7 October, the word ‘inhabitants’
had been replaced by ‘locally constituted public bodies’, which were authorised
simply to ‘enact their own regulations within law’ (Article 94), These changes
effectively nullified the radical character of the original GS draft,"
Thus, the principle of local self-rule came to inhere not in the locality but in the
state, which was empowered to ‘grant’ limited authority to the municipalities. This
interpretation, so at odds with Occupation intent, nonetheless was consistent
with the prewar theory of delegated powers elaborated by constitutional scholar
Minobe Tatsukichi and other experts in administrative law, Municipal government,
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 303

Minobe said, derives its authority from the state and can have no existence prior
to that of the state, a gloss that has been broadly endorsed by postwar Japanese
scholarship. (The Communist Party, it should be noted, also opposed the notion
of local autonomy, but for a different reason: no independent governing body, it
argued, should mediate between the people and their representatives in Parliament.)’

The Local Autonomy Law

Despite this subtle shift in emphasis, Local Government Division’s Tilton was
determined to put teeth into the Constitution’s local self-government guarantees,
and he succeeded in engineering a thorough overhaul of the existing legislation
affecting municipal government. Tilton’s objective was to make the management
of regional affairs by self-regulating local public entities relatively independent of
central control, allow local residents to participate freely in municipal politics and
give their representative bodies a voice in shaping national policy.'° Constitutional
interpretations notwithstanding, this far-reaching redistribution of power was codi-
fied in the Local Autonomy Law of 17 April 1947 and became effective simul-
taneously with the entry into force of the new Constitution on 3 May. Under the
new law, the old city and local councils were dissolved; incumbent prefectural gov-
ernors, town and city mayors, village heads and other local officials were dismissed;
and new governors and municipal heads were elected by popular ballot. Representa-
tive assemblies were empowered to approve key appointments by local chief execu-
tives, override their veto by a two-thirds majority, and call for their resignation. Local
inhabitants acquired the right of direct petition to enact or revoke legislation and the
right to recall officials derelict in their duties. To further diffuse bureaucratic author-
ity, a clear division of rights and duties was established between local and national
administrations.
Tilton’s success was short-lived, however. With the return of Yoshida Shigeru to
power in October 1948, the central government sponsored a series of ‘rectifying’ laws
and ordinances which over the next few years would gradually restore a substantial
degree of centralised administrative control over the municipalities. National author-
ities imposed various duties on governors and municipal heads — a process known as
‘agency delegation’ (kikan inin jimu) — and arrogated the right to dismiss local
executive officers who ignored or violated such directives. The Local Autonomy
Law’s greatest weakness, however, was its failure to provide an adequate financial
base for local self-government. Required to pay for municipal police forces and
build new schools in line with educational reforms, many governments were placed
under insupportable fiscal strain and found themselves increasingly dependent on
government subsidies, with the usual strings attached.
Central authorities played the situation both ways. During the Imperial tours
organised after 1946 by the Imperial household (with SCAP approval) to popularise
the Emperor, hosting municipalities spent millions of yen in local revenues to
welcome and entertain the monarch and his entourage. When Government Section’s
Kades and Commander Guy Swope, then Chief of the Political Affairs Division,
304 The Later Reforms

demanded an accounting of these expenses in late 1947, national officials replied that
the Local Autonomy Law prohibited the central government from interfering with
local finances. Swope accused the Imperial Household Agency of attempting to
remove the Imperial budget from public scrutiny and abruptly put an end to the
municipal disbursements."
In the face of entrenched conservative opposition, then, SCAP’s efforts to devolve
power to the localities could only be partially successful. (It is also true that, by early
1947, MacArthur's headquarters was struggling to contain the powerful pressures for
change from below that its early reforms had generated.) On 30 April 1947, the first
nationwide elections for prefectural governors, mayors, village heads and local
assembly representatives were held on the basis of universal suffrage. Despite SCAP’s
legislative recasting of local administration, at the grass roots, the neighborhood
tonari-gumi and other mechanisms of local political control remained in the hands
of the Old Guard, and most of the officials voted into office were conservative
candidates."? Balloting alone could not break the stranglehold of the old régime, but,
as an exercise in democratic process, the elections were an unprecedented event that
signalled a break with the past, infusing communities everywhere with new vigour. A
sign of the times was the election of 23 women to prefectural assemblies, 74 to city
councils and 707 to town assemblies.

Dissolving the Home Ministry

The 1947 Local Autonomy Law prohibited the delegation of municipal duties to
quasi-governmental bodies such as the sonari-gumi, the compulsory groups of five to
ten families engaged in mutual surveillance. These tiny units at the base of Japan’s
Imperial system epitomised the authoritarian reach of the all-powerful Home
Ministry. In the early months of occupation, local citizens’ committees sprang up
to challenge the authority of these formal associations, and at SCAP’s insistence,
on 22 January 1947, the Home Ministry rescinded Imperial Ordinance no. 17 of
1940, relinquishing its control over them, and their remaining functions, such as
the issuance of residence certificates and food rationing, were gradually turned over
to the municipalities. The Home Ministry encouraged the tonari-gumi to continue
as voluntary groups, however, and the old block organisations retained many of
their former local-control functions, although these no longer had the sanction
of law. Government Section ordered the groups formally disbanded by 31 May
1947,"°
Abolition of the tonari-gumi was aimed at loosening the Home Ministry's grip on
the citizenry. Following the entry into force of the Constitution and the Local
Autonomy Law on 3 May 1947, SCAP targeted the Ministry itself. Established in
1873 as the watchdog of Japan’s Imperial polity, this immense control apparatus
wielded broad legal and extra-legal powers over all aspects of national life and was
staffed by élite career bureaucrats each considering himself ‘the inviolable agent of an
infallible Emperor’. Collectively, this group constituted the vital core of the national
bureaucracy and a pillar of Imperial rule. The purge of January 1946 delivered a
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 305

first blow to this citadel, removing 340 out of 564 officials, or 60 per cent of
the Ministry’s top-echelon staff." On 30 April 1947, General Whitney issued a
directive to the Central Liaison Office ordering the Ministry to decentralise. The
agency countered that its existence was indispensable for carrying out Occupation
directives and argued for a token reorganisation. In June, Kades and Guy Swope fired
back a riposte comparing the dark history of the Ministry’s notorious police network
to the Nazi and Soviet secret police. World opinion, they asserted, would settle for
nothing less than the full emancipation of the Japanese people from the Home
Ministry’s awesome powers.”
Despite ministerial evasions, delays and, in some instances, blatant obstruction-
ism, SCAP prevailed, and in late November and early December, the Upper and
Lower Houses passed a law dismantling the Ministry, which was formally dissolved
on 31 December. Its functions were parcelled out to other ministries and agencies,
including the Home Affairs Bureau, which was established in January 1948 and
placed under the Prime Minister’s Office, and the Construction Agency, which took
charge of rivers, ports, water supply and drainage, roads and urban planning. The
Ministry's top-ranking officials were moved to other positions in the national
and prefectural governments. Many middle-echelon officials, too, successfully trans-
ferred their talents to other positions in the bureaucracy, A large number, including
key security personnel, were relocated to the Attorney General’s Office, created in
February 1948. The Special Investigation Bureau established there soon afterwards
would assume many of the internal security functions of the old Home Ministry
(chapter 10).

Civil service reform

Pre-surrender planning had made bureaucratic deconcentration a key Occupation
goal. Police and local government reforms were merely the first step. Only a complete
reconstruction of the bureaucratic edifice itself, SCAP believed, could transform the
arrogant minions of Imperial authority into humble servants of the people. On 30
January 1946, Lieutenant Milton J. Esman, a political scientist attached to the GS
Public Administration Division, fired the first salvo. In a memorandum to Whitney,
he urged a prompt and thorough-going reform of the bureaucracy. ‘Modern demo-
cratic government requires a democratic and efficient public service’, he declared.
‘The present Japanese bureaucracy is incompetent to manage a modern democratic
society. Only relentless pressure from Headquarters will induce the Japanese to make
these essential and fundamental changes.’'®
In early February, Esman, also a member of the GS constitutional team, intro-
duced into the draft constitution a system of legislative controls over the bureaucracy
and later recommended the visit of a high-profile US civil service mission to Japan.
The views presented in the Esman Memo were shared by many in Government
Section. Thomas A. Bisson, a GS economic adviser, regarded the bureaucracy as a
bastion of the Old Order comparable in importance to the T6j6 war cabal, the great
financial combines, reactionary political parties and large landlords. John M. Maki,
306 The Later Reforms

another GS official involved in government reform, warned that the bureaucrats had
so firmly ensconced themselves that only a radical reformation forcibly imposed by
SCAP could dislodge them and dissolve their power base. In July 1946, Maki drafted
a separate memorandum recommending measures to ‘eliminate the militaristic and
authoritarian characteristics of Japanese government’.’”
SCAP postponed action on the Esman Memo and Maki’s recommendations until
November 1946, when, ostensibly at the request of the Japanese — who in fact were
responding to prodding from MacArthur’s headquarters — it brought to Japan the
US Personnel Advisory Mission headed by Blaine Hoover to assess the problem and
propose solutions. Hoover was a personnel and management specialist who had
headed the Civil Service Assembly of the United States and Canada and worked as a
consultant to the US Civil Service Commission, but he possessed little knowledge of
Japan. In April 1947, he submitted an interim report to SCAP castigating Japan’s
top-heavy administrative apparatus as feudalistic and riddled with favouritism and
factionalism. In Hoover's inimitable rhetoric, the task was to break up the ‘tightly
knit, exclusive and self-perpetuating bureaucracy which exercised the powers of gov-
ernment over the people in the feudal concept of dynastic rule by divine right’. In its
place, he envisaged “a body of democratically selected officials who will administer
the laws in the concept of a service to the people’.'* The Mission issued its conclu-
sions in June. The Hoover Report called for the creation of a National Personnel
Agency and the enactment of a national public service law to ensure fair and uniform
standards of personnel administration. It also recommended the creation of a merit
system for promotions based on performance and efficiency.
On 21 October 1947, under strong pressure from MacArthur’s headquarters, the
Diet enacted the National Pubic Service Law on the basis of Hoover’s proposals. The
law streamlined and modernised the Japanese bureaucracy by instituting a single
nationwide civil service examination and establishing a classified system of advance-
ment by job category. It also assured fixed salaries and avenues of advancement and,
in principle at least, sought to eliminate favouritism and self-perpetuating distinc-
tions based on social status. This latter was an effort to undermine the preponderant
influence of the University of Tokyo Law School as a source of upper-echelon func-
tionaries. Hoover’s.attempt to transplant a US-inspired model to Japan, where very
different realities obtained, succeeded in some areas, but his attempt to eradicate
educational élitism failed dismally. And, when in 1948 he attempted to impose
American concepts of labour discipline on government employees as a group, he
caused a political furor that had domestic and even international repercussions
(see below).
In retrospect, bureaucratic reconstruction was more radical in its intentions than
in substance. As with the Home Ministry, many central administrators survived the
purge, and fierce turf battles later erupted to contain and divert the impetus for
reform. Despite its modernising influence on the civil service, which is undeniable,
SCAP ultimately was more concerned with improving bureaucratic efficiency than
with reshaping the bureaucracy itself. As a result, the apparatus of state remained
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 307

prey to the vested interests of its diverse constituencies, with each ministry and
agency determined to defend against all comers its prerogatives and particularistic
agenda,

ECONOMIC RECONSTRUCTION

The antecedents for Japan's dramatic postwar recovery may be traced in part to
reforms begun in the 1920s and 1930s and implemented sporadically and partially
until the end of the war. Pre-surrender currents for change resurfaced with fresh
vitalicy in the postwar world, but in a radically altered national and international
context, ‘Today's prosperity rests solidly on the pedestal of economic reform that
SCAP built between 1946 and 1947.
The Occupation’s economic programme began as a process of ‘defeudalisation’
whose objective was not to promote full industrial recovery but to destroy the
institutional roots of militarism and the social and economic forces that had impelled
Japan on a course of imperialist adventure. The ‘Initial Post-Surrender Policy’
(22 September 1945) and the Joint Chiefs’ ‘Basic Initial Post-Surrender Directive’
(3 November 1945) authorised General Headquarters to destroy Japan’s economic
war potential, exact reparations and, in the words of the ‘Basic Directive’, ‘encourage
the development within Japan of economic ways and institutions of a type that will
contribute to the growth of peaceful and democratic forces’, Only later, after 1948,
and against the backdrop of new Cold War exigencies and the reconstruction of a
world market, did rapid industrial recovery become a pressing Occupation concern
(chapter 10),"

The economic roots ofaggression

US pre-surrender planning traced the economic causes of Japan’s imperialist ambi-
tion to the country’s narrow, undeveloped domestic market, skewed income distribu-
tion, and the ensuing export drives that had given Japanese products an unfair
competitive edge in the 1930s, Japanese finished goods had undercut American
and European commodities to devastating effect as a result of what was termed
‘social dumping’. In this view, the mainsprings of economic expansionism were: | a
labour force that was underpaid, overworked and docile by Western standards; 2 a
few large industrial and financial combines, the zaibatsu, which monopolised the
capital-intensive export sector of the economy via semi-feudalistic labour and man-
agement practices; and 3 a land-holding system dominated by a relatively small
number of landlords, many of them absentee owners, who kept the producing tenant
majority in a state of unrelieved misery,
The decisiveness of such socio-economic factors in fuelling Japanese aggression
had been a subject of intense debate in US policy and academic circles. Occupation
planners sided with those experts who located the underlying cause of this process in
Japan’s incomplete transformation into a capitalist society. Of particular concern
308 The Later Reforms

were high ground rents that often exceeded half of a tenant’s crop. These exploitative
practices channelled manpower out of rural areas and into the city, supplying urban
industry with a steady flow of cheap labour and enabling the zaibatsu to create a
servile work force deprived of basic rights. This mutually reinforcing system had
depressed labour costs, kept export prices artificially low and given Japanese big
business a one-sided advantage in international markets.
MacArthur’s staff promptly launched a three-pronged assault on the economic
underpinnings of Japanese militarism. Specifically, SCAP sought to improve wages
and working conditions in the cities by creating a dynamic labour movement and
dissolving the zaibatsu oligopolies and the paternalistic labour practices on which
they thrived. In the countryside, American agrarian reformers set about uprooting
‘feudalistic landlordism’ by restructuring the land-tenure system, transferring land to
the tillers and raising farm productivity. The three democratisations — of labour, the
combines and the tenancy system — would liberate productive forces and meet con-
sumer demand while eliminating the unfair competitive position previously enjoyed
by Japanese industry .
The long-term objective of these reforms was a reconstructed, non-predatory
capitalist Japan fully reintegrated into the world market as a fair but subordinate
trade partner. To this end, the Occupation worked to strengthen the economic and
political status of workers and farmers — two groups that had the most to lose from a
military resurgence — by giving them a vital personal stake in the new economy.
These overarching goals converged roughly with the ideas of moderate Japanese
intellectual, business and political leaders and reform-minded bureaucrats, some of
them Marxists, who not only recognised the inevitability of change but actively
championed it. These progressive academics and policy specialists were the natural
allies of SCAP’s New Deal reformers, and both Occupation idealists and the first
Yoshida Cabinet turned to them for advice and assistance.

Bureaucratic reformers
It is useful to distinguish two groups whose ideas, in the context of the times, were
forward-looking: intellectuals, among them former functionaries, who gathered
around Yoshida Shigeru, and reform bureaucrats in the Welfare Ministry espousing a
social agenda that dated from the 1920s.
Reformist intellectuals included the German-educated left-wing statistician Ari-
sawa Hiromi; Inaba Hidezé, formerly of the wartime Cabinet Planning Board; polit-
ical scientist and educator Nanbara Shigeru, a Christian liberal and the first postwar
president of the University of Tokyo (1945-51); Okita Saburé, a liberal economist;
neo-Marxian theorist Ouchi Hy6e; Tsuru Shigeto, a Harvard-trained economist with
Marxist leanings, close friend of E. H. Norman and nephew-in-law of Marquis Kido
Koichi; and Wada Hiro’o, an agrarian economist with radical leanings and, like
Inaba, formerly of the Cabinet Planning Board. Some of these men had been
recruited by Yoshida in the closing days of the conflict to begin planning for a
different future. Arisawa and others had been members of Ouchi’s economics
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 309

seminar at Tokyo Imperial University before the war. Conversant with Marxist
theory, they were critical of the abuses of capitalism, which they believed could be
transcended. Several, including Arisawa, Inaba and Wada, had been purged or
arrested for their Socialist ideas.
A second group consisted of bureaucrats in the Welfare Ministry's Labour Policy
and Social Bureaux. During the 1920s and 1930s, these officials, then with the
Home Ministry, had proposed social welfare legislation designed to keep the labour
and tenants’ movements within bounds controllable by the state. They joined the
Welfare Ministry when it separated from the Home Ministry in 1938 and were
responsible for expanding workers’ medical insurance and pension coverage and
enacting other laws designed to reduce labour mobility and dissatisfaction and assure
cooperation with the war effort. The welfare bureaucrats subsequently assumed
broad powers over management and labour in an effort to allocate manpower effec-
tively and boost productivity. They also supervised the wartime patriotic labour
fronts that had absorbed the labour movement. Several months before the defeat,
these pragmatists had begun considering a new labour union law as a more efficient
way of regulating labour-management relations. Sound unionism, they believed was
the only solution to labour radicalism and Communist influence.
Thus, as the Occupation got underway, antimilitarists in academia, business and
government were contemplating some degree of institutional and economic reform.
And if, in the words of one of them, such ideas ‘did not have the force of imperative
necessity’, they nonetheless offered a degree of consensus upon which the Occupa-
tion could build.”” Shortly after the surrender, presumably at Yoshida’s behest,
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs convened the first meeting of the Special Survey
Committee, whose members included Arisawa, Okita, Ouchi, Tsuru and Inaba.
As Foreign Minister under Prime Ministers Higashikuni and Shidehara, Yoshida
oversaw and coordinated the Committee’s work — indeed, early economic planning
appears to have taken place exclusively inside the Foreign Ministry. In March 1946,
the group submitted a final report recommending the development of a viable
domestic consumer market, support for labour unions, reform of the bureaucracy
and financial institutions, the elimination of landlordism and the modernisation
of food production. The report proposed that Japan focus on developing export
industries through technological progress and advocated economic planning, with
democratic reform and a strong centralised state as prerequisites.
The Special Survey Committee was ambivalent about whether ‘selfish capitalism’
was the best system for Japan. Its innovative blueprint for reform envisaged a
civilian-orientated economy, but one based on cutting-edge technologies and
centralised planning. Although many of these proposals coincided generally with
GHQ’s own reform agenda, they were at variance with the Occupation’s early
vision of Japan as a producer and exporter of cheap, labour-intensive light manu-
factures, Nonetheless, the Committee agreed with MacArthur’s economists on the
need to curb inflation, restore production in mining and other basic industries and
reduce unemployment. Japanese reform functionaries, used to a wartime command
310 The Later Reforms

economy, found intellectual common ground with their New Dealer counter-
parts in MacArthur’s highly centralised military super-government. The Supreme
Commander himself urged the government to adopt an integrated approach to
economic recovery.”!
When Yoshida replaced Shidehara as premier in May 1946, he tapped Ouchi
Hy6e to serve as his finance minister, but the Marxist academic refused, and
Yoshida appointed Keynesian economist Ishibashi Tanzan to fill that position
instead. Ishibashi favoured government spending to stimulate production and
increase employment. Borrowing selectively from the ideas advanced by the Foreign
Ministry planning group, he established the Reconstruction Finance Bank (RFB) in
August to pool investment funds and channel them to heavy industry. Capital was
subscribed by the Bank of Japan through the sale of RFB bonds. In December 1946,
Ishibashi implemented the Priority Production Plan — the brainchild of Arisawa
Hiromi — under which available capital, natural resources and labour were concen-
trated in coal, steel and other strategic industries. At the same time, under strong
pressure from SCAP, the Economic Stabilisation Board (ESB) was created as an
emergency measure to coordinate the new system of economic targeting, reconstruc-
tion financing and macto-level policy-planning. Arisawa, Inaba, Tsuru and Wada
were called upon to play key roles in the life of the Board, which also imposed price
and wage controls.” In August 1946, as the government gradually moved to restore
economic planning, industrialists anxious to regroup their forces established the
Keidanren (Federation of Business Organisations) to hasten the recovery of big
business.
These were defensive actions, however, implemented a full year after the defeat
and in response to powerful social forces unleashed at the grass roots by Occupation
policy. The US agenda provided the framework and initial impetus for reform, but it
was an independent labour movement, self-confident and buoyant, that generated
the real momentum for economic democracy, making that process irreversible.
Indeed, from late 1945, worker activism collided head-on with the bureaucracy—
zaibatsu complex that had dominated the pre-surrender economy. This dramatic and
unprecedented clash of interests radically shifted the axis of economic activity,
realigned basic production relations and reshaped Japan’s industrial policy-making
process.

THE LABOUR MOVEMENT

The workers organise

The democratisation of labour was near the top of the Occupation agenda. Between
1945 and 1947, under SCAP guidance, the labour movement revived and flourished
as never before. GHQ boldly encouraged trade unionism — another of MacArthur's
‘schoolhouses of democracy’ — which it regarded as a positive influence that would
deter future aggression, imbue workers with democratic ideals and serve as a general
 Institutional and Economic Reforms eye

index of political liberalisation. A labour expert with Economic and Scientific Sec-
tion noted later, “We have been accused of promoting economic trade unionism, but
the purposes were political. ... We wanted to see the Japanese unions not only as
economic organisations but as a political force on the side of democracy.”
SCAP cleared the way for a viable labour movement in September 1945 by abol-
ishing the Patriotic Industrial Association (Sanpa) and the Patriotic Labour Associ-
ation (Rdhé), reactionary labour fronts established by the militarists in the late 1930s
to allocate labour to war industries and dampen worker activism. Sanpé alone
grouped about 6 million employees from 87,000 companies into a vast nationwide
organisation espousing a corporatist ‘enterprise family’ ideology.” Among the polit-
ical prisoners released on MacArthur’s orders in early October 1945 were a number
of influential labour leaders, and in his first meeting with Prime Minister Shidehara
shortly afterwards, the Supreme Commander told the premier to encourage union-
isation. Consequently, on 24 October, Shidehara appointed a 130-member ad hoc
Labour Legislation Commission composed of scholars, prewar labour activists, poli-
ticians, company presidents and Communist leaders (including the volatile Tokuda
Kyiichi) to consider legislative reform. A working committee of five — two promin-
ent academics and three bureaucrats of the Welfare Ministry’s Labour Policy Bureau
— drafted a labour union bill, which Economic and Scientific Section (ESS)’s Labour
Division Chief William Karpinsky steered quickly into law.
In shepherding the bill through the Diet, Karpinsky relied heavily on the expertise
of the Commission chair, Dr Suehiro Izutard, former dean of Tokyo Imperial Uni-
versity’s Law School and one of Japan’s foremost legal minds, and Dr Ayusawa Iwao,
a pacifist and ex-official of the International Labour Organisation in Geneva with a
PhD in labour economics from Columbia University. The legislative draft owed
much to the 1931 trade-union bill that social bureaucrats in the Home Ministry had
written and to proposals advanced by Shidehara’s Labour Legislation Commission,
but Karpinsky himself acknowledged the direct influence of a union group, the
Sodomei Preparatory Council, and such right-leaning Socialists as Nishio Suehiro and
Matsuoka Komakichi with whom he worked closely. The postwar legislation was a
collaborative effort that represented the best thinking of prewar union leaders,
reform bureaucrats, academics and American labour specialists.”
Enacted on 22 December, the Labour Union Law was hailed as a Magna Carta for
Japanese workers. Modelled loosely on the US National Labour Relations (Wagner)
Act of 1935, it guaranteed the right to organise, bargain collectively and strike, and
established labour relations boards at the central and prefectural levels to mediate
disputes — in fact, the only truly new feature. Despite its sweeping provisions, how-
ever, the legislation had a serious defect: Article 15 enabled the courts to disband
unions that “disturbed the peace’. Theodore Cohen, who replaced Karpinsky as ESS
Labour Division head in January 1946, managed to vitiate that stipulation by amend-
ing the enabling Cabinet ordinance that brought the law into effect in March 1946,
The new statute gave labour unprecedented freedoms and effectively liberated work-
ers from control of the bureaucracy. In the spring of 1946, Labour Division began
312 The Later Reforms

purging former police officials from labour-related positions in the Welfare Ministry,
then in charge of labour affairs, removing a major impediment to union organising.”°
Some workers did not wait for GHQ’s go-ahead to take remedial action. In April
1945, there were some 135,000 Korean labour conscripts working as virtual slaves
in Japan’s coal mines. Immediately following the surrender, they struck for more
food, better treatment and back wages or simply walked off the job, actions that
occasionally led to bloody clashes with Japanese police. Even before the war’s end,
Korean and Chinese workers had risen up in protest of inhuman living and working
conditions. On 30 June 1945, for instance, some 850 Chinese at the Hanaoka Mine
in Akita Prefecture rebelled against particularly brutal treatment at the hands of the
Kajima Gumi (now the Kajima Corporation), killed five supervisors and fled into
surrounding hills. Local authorities mobilised thousands of militia, veterans’ groups,
police, young men and even schoolboys to track the escapees down. In suppressing
the revolt, military police and local militia are believed to have stabbed, beaten, shot
or tortured to death more than 400.”
In November 1945, SCAP prohibited strikes in mining and other areas such as
railroads and communications considered vital to the Occupation mission. Korean
and Formosan conscripts, ostensibly ‘liberated nationals’, were forced to remain on
the job until production could be stabilised. Elsewhere, however, GHQ assumed a
stance of non-intervention and in many instances tacitly condoned spontaneous
work stoppages. In November, MacArthur issued a Command Letter to Eighth
Army ordering it not to interfere in labour disputes. As basic labour legislation was
drafted, ESS despatched officials to factories and dockyards to encourage workers to
organise. Travelling around the country to speak at workers’ rallies, these specialists
patiently explained the new policies, offering advice on bargaining, bookkeeping, the
conducting of meetings, and the drawing up of employment contracts.
At first, the formation of unions owed more to necessity than to SCAP exhort-
ation. Uncertain employment conditions, raging inflation and hunger forced workers
to act collectively to protect jobs and wages. Labour organising began slowly in the
near-chaotic post-defeat conditions but rapidly gathered steam, involving both
white-collar and blue-collar workers. Right-wing Socialist leaders such as Nishio
Suehiro and Matsuoka Komakichi advanced narrow economic agendas, stressed
cooperation with management and attempted to rally workers using prewar
methods, an approach that soon alienated many rank-and-file. Grass-roots labour
radicalism spread rapidly in basic industries and the public sector, and left-wing
Socialists such as Takano Minoru, Secretary General of the Kanto Metal Workers’
Union, and Communist leaders, including Dobashi Kazuyoshi of the communica-
tions workers and Sakaguchi Yasuo of the national railway workers in Tokyo, became
adept shopfloor organisers. By early 1946, union membership had reached half a
million, and wages had risen between three and five times. (Spiralling inflation,
however, accounted for most of these gains, which were quickly eroded by food
shortfalls, black-marketeering and the absence of effective price controls.) Within
a year, there were some 17,000 unions with a total membership of 4.8 million,
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 313

representing about half of all non-agricultural wage earners. By February 1947, there
were roughly 19,000 unions boasting more than 5 million members.”
Labour demonstrations and parades became commonplace, and unions sprouted
up like bamboo shoots after an early spring rain. ‘All I did was hand a circular to the
neighbours next door and across the street, and the next thing I knew, we had us a
union’, wrote one contemporary. Industrial disputes broke out everywhere. The
strike quickly became the symbol of the working class’s new-found freedom, and
employees from factory workers to school teachers and journalists availed themselves
of this potent new weapon. In the autumn of 1945, Sendai telephone operators went
on strike, and those who remained at the switchboards answered callers with the
greeting: “Hello, we are on strike. Long live democracy. Number please.”
Japan’s three major dailies, the Asahi, Mainichi and Yomiuri, which had been
mouthpieces for the militarists, attempted to purge themselves of ultra-nationalist
elements and liberalise management and editorial content. The Asahi and Mainichi
succeeded in doing so with little difficulty, but at the Yomiuri, President Shoriki
Matsutar6, a former member of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Board and ardent
ultra-nationalist, refused to budge. Staff and workers demanded that management
resign to take responsibility for its blind wartime support of militarism and that
editorial control and internal organisation be thoroughly democratised. When
Shoriki rejected their revendications, Yomiuri employees formed a union and elected
Suzuki Témin, a non-Communist, to chair it. On 25 October, rather than declare a
strike, the union opted to take control of production and put out the paper them-
selves following Italian and French examples of worker self-managed production. In
December, Shoriki was forced to accept arbitration and agreed to resign. The com-
pany was reorganised as a corporation, Baba Tsunego, a right-wing Socialist, became
the publisher, and a management council was created to reform the editorial process.
Thus began Japan’s first ‘production control’ (seisan kanri) struggle. SCAP saw the
Yomiuri dispute as a test case for the success of unionisation. In December, it arrested
Shoriki as a suspected war criminal and lauded the workers’ arbitration accord as free
labour’s first effective collective bargaining agreement. Shopfloor organisers flocked
to the Yomiuri to learn first-hand about production control.”°
MacArthur’s headquarters also backed employees of Keisei Electric Railway
Company when they locked out management in December and began to operate the
railroad on their own. At the same time, miners at the Bibai Mine in Hokkaido took
a lesson from the Yomiuri and Keisei actions and seized command of the mine’s
management rather than go out on strike and cripple output. Production control was
a spontaneous response to specifically Japanese post-defeat conditions and an altered
power relationship now favourable to labour. Such struggles proliferated, with work-
ers taking charge of manufacturing and running their companies until a settlement
with management could be reached. SCAP initially took a hands-off attitude, and in
late January 1946, when the government attempted to prevent production takeovers
using the police and public prosecutors, the ESS Labour Division, with SCAP’s
backing, publicly aired its objections to such tactics and backed the unions.”!
314 The Later Reforms

Until late 1946, the corporate élite, still reeling from the dual shocks of defeat
and occupation, had developed no coherent economic vision around which man-
agement might rally its energies and resources. Through shopfloor production
struggles, the unions in effect took on that responsibility. Demanding a voice in
how their companies were run, they pressed for higher wages, recovery through
priority growth in basic industries and long-term, comprehensive economic plan-
ning. The Electric Power Workers Union (Densan), for instance, created a new
industry-wide system for calculating labour costs by pegging wages to the cost of
living rather than productivity. In short, during the first year of occupation, unions
seized the initiative in reordering the economy, and they did this by giving their
members a say in the everyday decisions that affect production, imparting substance
to the ideal of economic democracy. From late 1946, however, as labour launched a
major offensive to test its newly acquired power, government and big business
closed ranks in what became a protracted contest to wrest the initiative for change
from the unions and restore the primacy of management. In this struggle, which
would culminate in the Red Purge of 1949-50, the Occupation threw its support
to the conservative establishment. The first battle in that long war of attrition was
fought in early 1947, with the last of SCAP’s labour-reform legislation still on the
drafting board.”

The labour offensive

By mid-1946, the upsurge in labour militancy and popular participation in mass
demonstrations with clear political objectives had set off alarm bells in the corridors
of the Dai-Ichi Insurance Building. Willoughby’s intelligence empire, in particular,
girded for battle. Successful production-control struggles, such as those at Toshiba
Rolling Stock and Japan Steel Tube in early 1946, helped radicalise the push
for worker self-management. In January, 13 attempts by labour engaging 29,000
workers to take over production were recorded; by May, that number had grown to
56 involving some 39,000 workers. These initiatives received broad popular support
from farmers and city consumers, and there were even attempts to forge incipient
farmer—worker alliances.’ |
Two intriguing examples of such cooperation are the Toyd Gései workers in
Niigata City and the Edogawa Union in Tokyo. Téyé Gosei was a small chemical
factory belonging to the Mitsui combine. From March through August 1946,
workers took over and managed the enterprise to prevent Mitsui from closing it
down. T6y6 Gései workers reached a barter agreement with a Ni’igata farmers’
association, which supplied the factory with coal acquired via a similar contract with
local mine workers, in return for fertiliser. The three-way trade benefited all parties.
Edogawa Manufacturing was a small Tokyo factory producing formalin and affiliated
with Mitsubishi. Formed in January 1946, the union set up elective workers’ coun-
cils mirroring the structure of management and took over production in March.
Edogawa Union negotiated directly with agricultural associations to supply formalin
to farmers in northeastern Japan and Hokkaido, sent two envoys to Hokkaido for
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 315

Photo 41, Communist firebrand Tokuda Kyiichi delivers an oration at the first May Day
celebration of the postwar era, 1 May 1946. In the back, a US intelligence officer, camera
around his neck, monitors the speech. GHQ’s initial tolerance of the Communist Party as a
progressive force was short-lived (Kyodo).

liaison purposes and arranged with railway workers to transport the cargo. These
innovative challenges to corporate authority, however, did not survive the counter-
attack coordinated by SCAP and the Yoshida government in the summer of 1946.*4
In the face of dire food shortages, agricultural producers, workers and the war
displaced cooperated in setting up regional councils to uncover and seize hoarded
goods, establish “food committees’ and organise voluntary grain deliveries by farmers.
‘Livelihood-protection’ associations grew up in local neighbourhoods in an effort to
displace the tonari-gumi and seize control of the government rationing system. On 7
April, three days before Japan’s first postwar general elections, labour leaders joined
Communists, Socialists, Koreans, women’s groups and the urban poor in a march on
Prime Minister Shidehara’s residence to demand food and jobs. A scuffle broke out
in which several police were injured. On May Day, 500,000 demonstrated in the
streets of Tokyo, and on 14 May, residents of Setagaya Ward in Tokyo attempted to
force their way into the Palace to protest at a delay in issuing rice rations. On 15 May,
George Atcheson Jr, US delegate to the Allied Council for Japan, rejected a petition
submitted to the ACJ by the protesters, which he said smacked of ‘Communist
propaganda’. In his speech, he noted that, while the Communist Party was free to
develop, “The United States does not favour Communism at home or in Japan’.
Thus, Atcheson managed to imply that all popular dissent was Communist-inspired,
reflecting an emerging Occupation consensus on the need to dampen public dissent
and contain radicalism.
On 19 May, more than 250,000 Tokyoites staged ‘Food May Day’, demanding
the liberation of grain stores in the Imperial Palace, the resignation of the inept
316 The Later Reforms

Photo 42. Food May Day, 19 May 1946. People from all stations of life mobilise in front of
the Imperial Palace to denounce food shortages and the policies of the Shidehara Cabinet.
The massive display of popular anger at the conservative government alarmed Occupation
officials. In the background is SCAP headquaters (Kyodo).

Shidehara government and the establishment of a democratic popular front. Demon-

strators also called for the purge of war criminals, popular control of hoarded goods
and worker control over production. In March 1946, MacArthur had waxed elo-
quent on unions, proclaiming with typical hyperbole, ‘I do not think the history of
labour throughout the last 2,000 years has shown such an extraordinary, magnificent
development in such a short space of time.’ But on 20 May, the day after the massive
labour-backed food rallies, the Supreme Commander abruptly cautioned the Japa-
nese people that ‘the growing tendency toward mass violence and the physical pro-
cess of intimidation under organised leadership [constitutes] a menace not only to
orderly government, but to the basic purposes and security of the Occupation
itself’.
MacArthur’s admonitions were no idle threat. SCAP promptly drafted a harsh
public security ordinance and ordered the government to enact it as a Potsdam
decree. On 12 June, the Cabinet issued Imperial Ordinance no. 311, which created
prohibitive fines and prison terms of up to 10 years at hard labour for engaging in
‘acts prejudicial to Occupation objectives’. Such acts included violations of orders of
US army commanders and of all Japanese laws and ordinances promulgated to
implement SCAP directives. Ironically, the first group to be tried under this
 Institutional and Economic Reforms By

ordinance were not Japanese demonstrators but 10 Koreans who broke into Prime
Minister Yoshida’s residence in December 1946 to present a petition demanding
greater civil and political rights for the Korean minority.
In the summer of 1946, SCAP’s Civil Information and Education Section
(CI&E), stung by the Yomiuri’s enthusiastic support of the May Day and food
rallies and angered at reporting it considered biased and in violation of the Press
Code, encouraged the paper’s publisher, Baba Tsunego, to reassert editorial control
and break the grip of the union, sparking the second Yomiuri struggle. Here, CI&E
received a decisive backstage assist from Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru. GHQ’s
intervention was convoluted, however, and reveals some of the inner tensions ani-
mating its staff sections.
After taking over the paper in late 1945, Baba quickly had lost all influence over
editorial policy. When the Yomiuri ran an article in early June suggesting that the
government, and by implication GHQ, was siding with landlords against their ten-
ants, he threatened to resign rather than brave the wrath of CI8&E’s press censors.
At that point, an alarmed Yoshida Shigeru intervened. On 11 June, Yoshida sent
his lieutenant Shirasu Jiré to General Frayne Baker, MacArthur’s Public Relations
Officer, with the names of six alleged Communists on the Yomiuri editorial staff. On
his own initiative, Baker summoned the despondent Baba and handed him the list.
Reassured by this gesture of support, Baba promptly fired the six, who refused,
however, to vacate the editorial room and carried on as usual. In late June, over the
opposition of Theodore Cohen’s Labour Division, GHQ condoned massive police
raids on the Yomiuri staff — the first of their kind since the war years — and the sack-
ing of prominent union officials. According to Cohen, MacArthur had given CI&¢E
Chief Donald R. Nugent a secret order to ‘get the Communists out of the Yomiuri’.
Nugent’s conservative Press Division Chief, Major Daniel C. Imboden, manoeuvred
behind the scenes to orchestrate the crackdown.”
On 21 June, Cohen recalled, police trucks sped past GHQ towards the Yomiuri
Building sirens screaming. He followed, and by the time he arrived, ‘the police were
pulling people up and throwing them into the truck like they were sacks of potatoes’.
When he tried to go upstairs to see what was happening, he was met by ‘pairs of
policemen coming down the staircase with someone in between them, that is. . . two
policemen would arrest somebody and then would go running down the stairs
pulling him along’. Eventually, 56 people were detained. This was intimidation, not
law enforcement, Cohen decided. Angry at the use of police power to break up a
strike, the Labour Division Chief called in the police authorities responsible and
berated them for interfering with a labour dispute in violation of ESS policy. The
Metropolitan Police backed down but complained to Eighth Army Headquarters.
Eighth Army approached Willoughby, who attempted to intercede with the Supreme
Commander, ultimately obliging Cohen to explain his actions to MacArthur in
person.”
In August 1946, two great, competing labour federations came into being. The
Japan Federation of Labour (Sédémei), with somewhat less than 1 million workers,
318 The Later Reforms

was anchored in the private sector. Led by Matsuoka Komakichi, it drew its
leadership chiefly from the right wing of the Socialist Party and was centralised
and authoritarian in structure. The left-of-centre Japan Congress of Industrial
Unions (Sanbetsu Kaigt), headed by Kikunami Katsumi of the All Japan News
and Radio Workers’ Union, was a loose council of autonomous unions set up
along the lines of the US Congress of Industrial Organisations. Its leaders had
close ties to the Japan Communist Party. Public and private unions affiliated with
Sanbetsu boasted a combined membership of 1.6 million workers, representing
roughly half of organised labour. Occupation authorities viewed the new labour
centre with growing suspicion, which intensified when Sanbetsu rallied in support of
the Yomiuri workers and called for a general offensive against the anti-labour Yoshida
administration.
Strike actions were already underway on several fronts when, in September 1946,
MacArthur refused to cancel a planned walkout by railroad workers, although it
threatened to cripple the economy. The Supreme Commander’s principled defence
of a labour action forced National Railway Director Satd Eisaku, a Yoshida protégé
and future prime minister, to back down on planned dismissals, handing Sanbetsu a
major victory. Disputes proliferated. At Tdéshiba, workers set up a strike head-
quarters and collected strike funds from nearby factories. They published a news-
paper, organised cultural and educational activities for workers’ families and kept
GHQ informed of their plans. When the strike was over, they loaned the balance of
their fund to the hard-strapped company. In October, as strike activity reached fever
pitch, Yoshida denounced the work boycotts as ‘a criminal act of hostility’ and
characterised the left-wing union leadership as ‘avowed enemies of the people in
scheming the downfall of our country’. The resulting clash of wills led to SCAP’s
outlawing of a general strike planned for 1 February 1947. MacArthur had switched
sides.**

The general strike ban

Unions affiliated with Sanbetsu had begun preparing for a general strike following
the autumn labour offensive. This movement initially involved both right and left
Socialists, Communists and independents and was intended to assist and amplify
six ongoing labour disputes involving coal miners, newspaper and radio workers,
electrical workers, seamen, national railway workers and government employees.
These actions had been taken in response to rampant inflation, severe and chronic
food shortages and the need for wage hikes, tax relief and job security. Among the
workers’ demands was the resignation of the Yoshida government. This position
seemed entirely legitimate to union leaders and was formally endorsed by a policy
directive emanating from the Far Eastern Commission at the end of the year. On 6
December 1946, the FEC had adopted the 16-point ‘Principles for Japanese Trade
Unions’. Point no. 6 stated clearly that “Trade unions should be allowed to take part
in political activities and to support political parties’. This statement was the work of
the FEC’s Commonwealth representatives, Australia, Britain and New Zealand, all
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 319

of which had labour governments in power at home. MacArthur believed that the
FEC had gone too far and later commented disparagingly, “Very good, but it was like
giving second-grade students the calculus.”
A strike organising committee, the Joint Struggle Committee of Public Employees’
Unions (Kyat), was established on 26 November, and in mid-January 1947, a
broader ad hoc coalition, the Joint Struggle Committee of National Labour Unions
(Zento), came into being to unify public and private sector workers in a single labour
front. On 18 January, union leaders issued an ultimatum to the government threat-
ening a general strike for 1 February if demands for a minimum wage system,
substantive wage hikes, an end to dismissals and other reforms were not met by 31
January. :
In the meantime, Labour Division’s Cohen had sent ESS Chief William F
Marquat a memorandum warning that the unions were moving towards a general
strike and recommending that SCAP prohibit such action immediately. Marquat
took the issue straight to MacArthur. The Supreme Commander opposed issuing a
formal ban and ordered ESS to deliver an informal warning instead. On 22 January,
Marquat and Cohen met with strike leaders and read them a statement they had
prepared outlining MacArthur’s views. The document stated that SCAP would not
permit ‘a coordinated action by organised labour to provoke a national calamity by a
general work stoppage’.“” The organisers, sure of their cause, ignored the warning
and continued to mobilise. It was inconceivable to them that GHQ, having just
enshrined the rights of labour, would suddenly override the law to prevent workers
from exercising those rights. On the afternoon of 31 January, MacArthur issued a
formal directive outlawing the strike, and Marquat promptly summoned the union
high command to General Headquarters and ordered them to call off the action.
MacArthur declared that he would not permit ‘the use of so deadly a social
weapon in the present impoverished and emaciated condition of Japan’. SCAP feared
that the resulting shutdown of transportation, communications and other vital ser-
vices would devastate the economy, disrupt food deliveries and create enormous
hardships for ordinary people. More to the point, the General was convinced that the
overriding objective of the general strike was a political one: to bring down the
Yoshida Cabinet. As Supreme Commander he could not allow a duly elected gov-
ernment to be toppled by ‘irresponsible’ mass action. Nationwide strikes also would
have vastly complicated SCAP’s efforts to secure Congressional appropriations for
emergency food relief and other basic aid to Japan. Finally, MacArthur had a compel-
ling personal interest in calling off the work boycott: the resulting negative publicity
would be potentially damaging to his presidential ambitions.
The labour unions quickly gave in. Had they defied SCAP’s banning order, Eighth
Army would certainly have broken the strike by force. Indeed, Military Police and
Counter-Intelligence Corps teams had drawn up lists of names and stood ready to
arrest union leaders. The resort to armed force would have been disastrous for Japan’s
fledgling labour movement. Theodore Cohen later recalled: ‘one thing about Mac-
Arthur was that he was not going to be shy. ... MacArthur never, never took half
320 The Later Reforms

Photo 43. A despondent i Yashir6 after announcing cancellation of the general strike planned
for 1 February 1947. His broadcast on the evening of 31 January marked a major setback for
Japan’s radical labour movement but averted the threat of armed intervention by Eighth Army
troops, who stood ready to break the strike at bayonet point (Kyodo).

measures that way.’ “What I was trying to explain to union leaders the week or so
before’, he said, ‘was that an army is like a steamroller. You cannot control it deli-
cately. Once you start driving the steamroller, everything in the way is going to be
crushed. And they were likely to end up without a union movement.’ Cohen con-
cluded: ‘If there had been a general strike, I think the jails would have been full.’””
Japan, indeed, seemed to stand at the precipice.
At 8 pm. on 31 January, in an emotional public broadcast, I’i Yashir6, coordinator
of the Joint Struggle Committee and a leader of the radical National Railways
Workers’ Union, formally cancelled the planned labour shutdown. In tears, he con-
cluded his announcement by citing the words of Lenin, ‘one step backward, two
steps forward’, and enjoined the working class to continue the struggle. But the strike
ban was a palpable defeat for organised labour. SCAP had stepped in on behalf of a
weak, unpopular government to police the workers’ movement, driving home the
message that there were limits beyond which labour activism would not be tolerated.
In retrospect, the decision to prohibit the general strike marked a turning point in
the Occupation. By denying employees the right to strike, Occupation authorities
violated the spirit and letter of their own reformist legislation, but given the condi-
tions of the day, that decision probably was unavoidable. Had MacArthur called out
the troops, as he was prepared to do, the result would have been the direct control of
labour by the Occupation army and, possibly, the imposition of military govern-
ment, an even greater setback to working people and to the country as a whole.
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 321

Nonetheless, the consequences for labour were traumatic and long-lasting. The fail-
ure discredited the radical leadership of the strike, which was criticised by the public
for its confrontational tactics, and redounded to the benefit of right-wing Socialist
labour organisers. More importantly, the threatened work stoppage prompted Mac-
Arthur to back the conservatives in their efforts to defuse labour militancy. His
staff subsequently used the strike ruling to discourage other coordinated union
struggles and to justify SCAP’s intrusion into labour relations in 1948 with the
anti-strike provisions of the revised National Public Service Law (below).

Aftermath
Abortion of the strike also had political repercussions. Yoshida’s policies had exacer-
bated rather than cured inflation, producing a further decline in living standards, and
popular resentment of his government was at its peak. Trade union membership now
exceeded 5 million, and more than 1 million farmers had joined peasant unions,
accelerating the momentum for change. Heightened labour unrest in the wake of the
failed general strike coincided with popular outrage at the Yoshida government's
heavy-handed reconfiguring of the 1945 Election Law, which his conservative coali-
tion steamrollered through Parliament on 31 March 1947, producing ugly brawling
on the Diet floor. The legislative revision replaced the large-constituency, plural
ballot system with the traditional medium-sized constituency and single vote, which
favoured Old Guard machine bosses.
On 6 February 1947, in a personal letter to Yoshida, MacArthur directed the
premier to hold new general elections prior to the entry into force of the Constitu-
tion in May in order to stabilise the political situation and ‘obtain another demo-
cratic expression of the people’s will on the fundamental issues with which Japanese
society is now confronted’. Consequently, Upper and Lower House elections were
held, respectively, on 20 April and 25 April. Voter dissatisfaction with the conserva-
tives handed the Socialists a plurality in the Lower House, increasing their represen-
tation from 20 per cent to 30 per cent. Nearly four fifths of the candidates were
newcomers. The Socialists captured 143 seats, the Liberals 131, the Democrats 124,
the People’s Cooperatives 31, the Communists 4 and smaller parties and independ-
ents 33. The postwar era’s first Upper House election also gave Socialists a broad
mandate. Women, however, fared poorly, winning only 15 places in the Lower
House, less than half their showing of 39 seats a year earlier. In the Upper House, 10
women, including Socialist feminists Akamatsu Tsuneko and Kawasaki Natsu, were
elected for the first time. Unable to find a niche in the male-dominated electoral
process that governed access to the House of Representatives, many prominent
women adopted the strategy of running on national tickets for the House of Council-
lors. The Japan Socialist Party now was the strongest political force in the National
Diet. In the face of this victory, the Yoshida Cabinet resigned on 20 May, ushering in
a 16-month interregnum that momentarily broke the stride of the conservative élite.
In March, Ashida Hitoshi, seeing the writing on the wall, had seceded from
Liberal ranks to form the Democratic Party, and the Progressives, with their numbers
322 The Later Reforms

Photo 44. Socialist Katayama Tetsu confers with top advisers, 17 April 1947. From the far left,
Matsuoka Komakichi, Nishio Suehiro and Katayama. On 1 June, nearly six weeks later,
Katayama would inaugurate the early postwar era’s only Socialist-led coalition following the
resignation of the Yoshida Cabinet in May. New Dealers in GHQ hailed the Katayama victory
as the advent of responsible government in Japan (Kyodo).

pruned by the purge, merged with the new political grouping in a bid to dissociate
themselves from Yoshida’s unpopular policies. Although Liberals and Democrats
finished second and third in the polling, both lost seats. Conservative forces retained
their absolute majority in both houses, but the Socialist plurality enabled Katayama
Tetsu to inaugurate a Socialist-dominated coalition on 1 June, with the participation
of Ashida’s Democrats and Miki Takeo’s People’s Cooperatives. Katayama and his
adviser Nishio Suehiro, soon to be Chief Cabinet Secretary, offered the defeated
Liberals a portfolio, but Yoshida, leery of the JSP’s influential left wing, refused to join
the coalition. Yoshida’s misgivings were unfounded, however, for Katayama and
Nishio were determined to exclude left-wing Socialists from the Cabinet in any event.
Barred from influence, the Party’s Marxists became an internal opposition group. The
elections represented the first full flowering of Japan’s incipient postwar democracy,
and a full 68 per cent of the electorate turned out for the polling, underscoring
the extent of public dissatisfaction with Yoshida’s neo-conservative agenda. Kades
and others in Government Section actively championed the Katayama coalition,
and MacArthur himself delighted in the fact that a Christian (Katayama was
Presbyterian) had been chosen to lead Japan. Katayama reciprocated enthusiastically,
tightening his relations with GS.
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 323

Elsewhere in General Headquarters, however, changes were afoot signalling a shift

away from the Occupation’s early liberalising mission. After the strike ban, Cohen
had been Red-baited in the American press, and in March he was removed from
ESS’s Labour Division for his ‘pro-labour’ views and booted upstairs to serve as
Marquat’s economic adviser. In April, James S. Killen, a former American Federation
of Labour (AFL) official with pronounced anti-Communist sentiments, took over as
Division chief. Killen immediately went after the Communist-dominated Sanbetsu,
and particularly the militant National Railways Workers’ Union (Kokuré).
In May 1947, Killen and Richard L.-G. Deverall, head of the Division’s Labour
Information and Education Branch, drafted a position paper entitled “Counteracting
Communist Activities in the Labor Movement’, which Chief of Section Marquat
approved in June. The document urged a policy of supporting moderate forces in the
union movement in a bid to undermine Communist influence. This led to the active
encouragement of so-called Democratisation Leagues (Minshuka Dimei, or Mindb),
anti-Communist cells set up inside the major unions to ‘bore from within’ and
discredit and isolate Communist leaders. Killen and Deverall met regularly with the
right wing of Kokuréd, inciting workers to ‘overthrow the Red Fascists’ running
the union’s executive committee. When the Mindo launched their campaign in the
autumn of 1947, Killen solicited outside moral and material support from the AFL
and its foreign policy arm, the Free Trade Union Committee. For Deverall, however,
the real cause of the problem lay within. ‘From the very beginning,’ he asserted, ‘the
right-wing Japan Federation of Labour (Sédémei) was discriminated against by the
left-wing agitators inside General MacArthur’s Headquarters.’ Without this Fifth
Column, he implied, Sanbetsu could not have flourished.”
In February and March 1947, the leadership of the failed general strike attempted
to repair some of the damage to union ranks by organising the National Labour
Union Liaison Council (Zenroren) to continue the work of the Joint Struggle
Committee. Composed of left, right and neutralist tendencies, the Council was a
brave effort to re-establish the unity of labour. Soon after its formation, Zenroren
was visited by Willard Townsend, the African-American founder of the US Red-
caps’ Union and a member of the World Federation of Trade Unions (WFTU).
MacArthur intercepted Townsend before he could meet with union leaders and
brought him to General Headquarters for a personal interview. Favourably impressed
by the activist, the General agreed to allow a WFTU delegation to visit the new
labour council, raising hopes among left-of-centre unionists that international con-
tacts would invigorate its work.“ Zenrdren was unable to staunch the growth of the
Mindé movement, however. Thriving on the disarray in labour’s ranks, this tendency
gathered steam in late 1947 and early 1948 as conservative activists established
“democratisation cells’ inside Sanbetsu. Although actively promoted by GHQ, the
Democratisation Leagues also attracted the spontaneous support of Socialists,
independent labour leaders and former Communist organisers. In 1949, Sanbetsu
expelled the Mindo groups as anti-labour, but by then, irreparable damage had
been done. A year later, in 1950, left-wing Socialists in Séddmei would join with
324 The Later Reforms

like-minded Mind6 groups and other democratic elements in Sanbetsu to form a new
labour centre, Sdhyé (General Council of Trade Unions of Japan), and articulate the
views of the non-Communist left.

THE LABOUR LAWS

Underlying SCAP’s labour reforms was a New Deal ideology that strove to free
labour from its authoritarian past while binding it anew with a ‘web of rules’ to a
revitalised capitalist system. The reform project was designed to reintegrate trade
unions into a pre-existing framework of industrial relations rather than empower
workers to restructure hierarchical shopfloor relations themselves and create a new
framework. When the union movement threatened to chart its own course, assert
direct control over production and organise to achieve political objectives, SCAP
intervened decisively on behalf of big business and the conservative establishment.
MacArthur’s headquarters was assisted in this task by Japanese social bureaucrats
who had dealt with labour before the defeat. Ironically, this group, which had dis-
solved trade unions during the war, would help rebuild them in the early liberal
phase of occupation, only to attempt once again to curb their influence after 1948.
These reformationists, with a dual agenda combining reform and control, would find
a home in the postwar Labour Ministry, providing a link with the pre-surrender era.”
Despite SCAP’s aversion to radicalism, however, the Occupation’s accomplish-
ments in the domain of labour reform were substantial and, in many cases, irrevers-
ible. The institutional framework of its labour programme rested on three ‘legs’: the
Labour Union Law (December 1945), the Labour Relations Adjustment Law (Sep-
tember 1946) and the Labour Standards Law (April 1947). On the American side,
the driving forces behind the reform effort were Karpinsky and Cohen of ESS’s
Labour Division, assisted by Captain Anthony Costantino, a labour lawyer, former
union activist and head of the Division’s Labour Relations Branch. As in the case of
the Labour Union Law, the advice and cooperation of Japanese reform bureaucrats
often proved decisive, however. The Labour Standards Law, for instance, sprang fully
formed from the drafting pens of Labour Policy officials in the Welfare Ministry; ESS
merely gave its assent and smoothed the way for enactment. Passage of this legislative
package was facilitated by an exceptionally strong assist in the Allied Council
for Japan from Soviet delegate Kuzma Derevyanko, giving the reform process an
international cast.

Basic legislation
The Labour Union Law of December 1945 went into effect in March 1946 and, as
noted, provided the catalyst for the rapid emergence of a dynamic and powerful
union movement. Subsequent legislation was the joint product of a US advisory
mission on labour and Japanese reform bureaucrats. Early in his tenure, Karpinsky
had requested expert assistance from Washington, and in February 1946, the
 Institutional and Economic Reforms B25.

Department of the Army’s Civil Affairs Division despatched the Advisory Commit-
tee on Labour in Japan. Led by government adviser Paul L. Stanchfield, the 12-
member delegation included representatives from the CIO, the AFL, labour econo-
mists, Labour Department officials and a specialist on female labour, Helen Mears.
In June, the Committee compiled the ‘First Interim Report on the Treatment of
Workers’ Organisations Since the Surrender’, and in July, it submitted its 148-page
final report, ‘Labour Policies and Programmes in Japan’. SCAP approved the
recommendations in August. Specifically, the advisory mission proposed a com-
prehensive labour relations system, a labour union law (already in force), a labour
conciliation mechanism, a labour ministry, a wage policy, a labour standards law and
an unemployment compensation régime. Based on these proposals, on 25 August
1946, Economic and Scientific Section directed the government to enact a labour
relations law.
Draft legislation submitted by Suehiro Izutard and Ayusawa Iwao of the Labour
Legislation Commission failed to meet ESS expectations, however, and Cohen and
Costantino, assisted by Stanchfield and two other members of the US labour mission
now attached to ESS, wrote their own version. This the Japanese side accepted with
few modifications. The Labour Relations Adjustment Law, enacted on 27 September
1946, laid down conciliation, mediation and arbitration procedures in cases where
collective bargaining failed. The law was angrily condemned by labour leaders for
restricting strikes by public-sector workers in certain essential services (non-essential
government-enterprise employees, however, retained full rights). Nonetheless, it
represented a major advance in labour—management relations, raising Japan’s
notoriously poor working standards to a level commensurate with ILO conventions.
The third pillar of SCAP’s labour reform, the Labour Standards Law, originated
with social bureaucrats in the Welfare Ministry, notably Teramoto Késaku, Chief of
the Labour Control Section in the Labour Policy Bureau, and Matsumoto Iwakichi,
a ministerial councillor. Teramoto had served in the Special Higher Police during the
war — a routine assignment for career bureaucrats — and joined the Welfare Ministry
after the surrender. Working closely with Dr Suehiro, the Labour Legislation Com-
mission and union leaders, including Communists, these men drafted a comprehen-
sive labour-protection code for industry based partly on prewar proposals shelved by
the military régime and partly on the ILO conventions. A labour standards law was
not high on SCAP’s agenda, but Teramoto appeared at Cohen’s door one day in
mid-1946 with a completed draft of the legislation in hand. He won over the
surprised Labour Division chief and enlisted the enthusiastic cooperation of Golda
G. Stander, head of the Division’s Wages and Working Conditions Branch, and her
assistant, Meade Smith.
The Labour Standards Bill’s extensive provisions for women and minors fired
Stander’s imagination, and she worked closely with Teramoto to win SCAP approval
for the legislation, so much so that in ESS the Bill became known as ‘Stander’s and
Teramoto’s baby’. After successfully wooing Labour Division, Teramoto adroitly
presented the reform package to the Yoshida government as a GHQ initiative and
326 The Later Reforms

implied that opposition would not be tolerated, At this crucial juncture, Soviet
intervention in the Allied Council for Japan unexpectedly accelerated the mo-
mentum for acceptance. On 10 July 1946, Derevyanko boldly challenged SCAP’s
labour reform programme, submitting to the ACJ a list of 22 demands. The Soviet
recommendations recapitulated the basic principles advanced by the US Advisory
Committee on Labour, differing largely on questions of detail, but the initiative
placed the government on the defensive and forced it to publicise Teramoto’s
legislative draft prematurely, thereby insuring the Bill’s prompt deliberation.”
Assisting Teramoto and Stander was ‘Tanino Setsu, a rare female social bureaucrat
who in May 1947 would become Chief of the Women’s and Minors’ Section in the
Welfare Ministry's Labour Standards Bureau. ‘Tanino argued that the anti-
discrimination provision (Article 3) in ‘Teramoto’s draft should specifically ban
unequal treatment based on sex. ‘Teramoto rejected this proposal, insisting that the
principle of gender equality was incompatible with the Bill’s protective measures for
women, Teramoto’s views prevailed, and Article 3 omitted any reference to sex-
linked discrimination, creating a basic ambiguity in the law that would allow
employers and conservative lawmakers to justify lower wage scales for working
women, Curiously, Stander and others in ESS objected to one of ‘Teramoto’s more
innovative proposals, monthly menstrual leaves. No such guarantee existed under US
law, and Stander argued that it would not only violate the principle of sexual equality
but encourage absenteeism (would women past menopause also be entitled to such
leave, some ESS officials wondered), With Division Chief Cohen’s backing, however,
the measure was retained, and the Bill was passed in both houses without major
revision. The statute represented the culmination of the social bureaucrats’ prewar
social policy projections of the 1920s and 1930s.“
Enacted on 7 April 1947, the Labour Standards Law went into effect on 1 Sep-
tember, The statute established a maximum eight-hour work day and a 48-hour
work week, guaranteed non-exploitative working conditions for women and minors,
introduced the principle of equal pay for equal work, and gave labour a voice in
determining shopfloor and company work regulations. It also included a non-
discrimination clause, Article 3, which read ‘No person shall discriminate against or
for any worker by reason of nationality, creed or social status in wages, working hours
and other working conditions.’ Moreover, the law abolished such abusive traditional
labour practices as the dormitory system, which had confined workers to closely
guarded cell-like rooms known as tako-beya (literally ‘octopus traps’), and the labour-
boss (oyabun) system that had allowed labour contractors and brokers to pocket a
part of their workers’ wages in the form of payroll deductions and kickbacks. Finally,
it went far beyond the US Fair Labour Standards Act, requiring employers, for
instance, to give dismissed workers 30 days’ advance notice as compared to 15 days
in the United States, In September, Teramoto was named to head the new Labour
Ministry's Labour Standards Bureau (in 1950, he would become vice minister).
Labour Division also sought to modernise employment practices. With strong
backing from the Katayama Cabinet, the Employment Security Law (30 November
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 327

1947) and the Unemployment Insurance Law (1 December 1947) were enacted,
setting up municipal employment offices, providing for the free mobility of labour
and streamlining and democratising the prewar system of unemployment relief
(chapter 9). These measures complemented a mandatory health insurance pro-
gramme introduced earlier by the Workman’s Compensation Insurance Law (7 April
1947), which remunerated victims of industrial accidents and disease. Labour Divi-
sion also worked to improve the quality and productivity of labour by introducing
modern vocational training techniques and facilities into the workplace. These
sweeping reforms laid the foundations for Japan’s subsequent emergence as a major
economic power.

The Labour Ministry

Finally, on 1 September 1947, the Ministry of Labour was established as a service-
orientated agency specialising in labour relations. This, too, ultimately was the
achievement of reform-minded Japanese, in this instance Socialists, Labour minis-
tries existed in virtually all of the world’s advanced capitalist societies, and in
November 1945, Shidehara’s Labour Legislation Commission had urged the crea-
tion of a comparable labour-administration body. Consequently, a recommendation
to that effect was attached as a rider to the Labour Union Law of December 1945, In
May 1946, the new Yoshida Cabinet announced it would proceed with plans to
establish a ministry, and in July, the US Advisory Committee on Labour included an
identical provision in its final report. The plan foundered, however, when Welfare
Minister Kawai Yoshinari pledged his absolute opposition, the Finance Ministry
protested on grounds of cost and the Home Ministry, afraid of losing control of its
extensive police files on labour, attempted to obstruct the measure. As the govern-
ment dragged its feet, the Socialists lobbied intensively for a Cabinet-level labour
agency, a Socialist goal from the prewar era. In late September 1946, Party leaders,
including Socialist Diet woman Akamatsu Tsuneko, head of the Party’s Women’s
Affairs Division, and Katé Shizue met Cohen and Government Section’s Ruth
Ellerman. They proposed the establishment of a viable labour ministry and the
creation inside the Cabinet of an autonomous women’s and minors’ bureau, a long-
standing item on the feminist agenda. Cohen suggested incorporating the latter into
the proposed labour ministry, pledged Labour Division’s backing and assured the
group that GHQ, too, would support such a project. The JSP subsequently
incorporated these proposals into its party platform.”
In the meantime, the Yoshida Cabinet, in the midst of its anti-labour crusade,
came up with a revisionist proposal for a Labour Office to be created as an external
agency of the reorganised Welfare Ministry. SCAP turned the proposal down, and
the government resorted to delaying tactics, engaging ESS in a contest of wills. A
turning point was reached with the aborted general strike. In early February 1947,
lack of progress on the issue amid deteriorating labour relations spurred Cohen to
action. On 10 February, the Labour Division chief conferred with Ellerman and
Alfred R. Hussey Jr of GS, Ethel B. Weed of CI&E and a Public Health and Welfare
328 The Later Reforms

officer. That afternoon, Cohen, Ellerman and Hussey met top bureaucrats from the
Welfare Ministry, the Cabinet Legislation Bureau and the Central Liaison Office to
consider a preliminary Cabinet order that the government had prepared and to
make a counter-proposal of their own. The GHQ draft, largely the work of Cohen,
called for six bureaux, among them a Women’s and Minors’ Bureau. The American
officials curtly rejected the government plan as a poorly disguised reformulation of
the earlier labour office scheme and insisted that their own version be issued as a
Cabinet order. MacArthur, they said, would accept nothing short of an effective
labour ministry. Negotiations quickly bogged down, and the deadlock was not
broken until the collapse of the Yoshida Cabinet in May 1947 and the advent of
the Socialist-led Katayama government. The Katayama Cabinet adopted the GHQ
proposals with few modifications and vigorously guided the Labour Ministry Bill
through the Diet, securing its passage in the autumn. (With the new Constitution
now in force, the measure was promulgated as a law, not a Cabinet order.) Yonekubo
Michisuke, a right-leaning Socialist parliamentarian, was named to lead the
new ministry. Wartime social reform bureaucrats would dominate the Ministry,
monopolising the positions of bureau chief and vice minister well into the 1960s.”

The Women’s and Minors’ Bureau

One item in the Labour Ministry Bill to which the Yoshida government had objected
with particular vehemence was the creation of the Women’s and Minors’ Bureau.
Before the war, Kato Shizue and other women’s rights activists, many of them
Socialists, had lobbied to endow a government bureau with broad powers to enhance
the status of women. Soon after the surrender, feminist leaders revived that demand.
They found an ardent ally in Lieutenant Ethel Weed, CI8¢E’s Women’s Information
Officer. This talented group, dubbed “Weed’s Girls’, was barred from direct participa-
tion in Occupation policy decisions, but through Weed and her associates in GHQ,
it was able to articulate to Occupation authorities the needs and aspirations of
Japanese women. In March 1946, Weed’s informal policy alliance called for the
creation of a women’s bureau. This demand was incorporated in a CI&E report,
‘The Status of Women in Japan’, which Weed had been instrumental in drafting.
Kato Shizue, a key member of “Weed’s Girls’ who met frequently with the women’s
policy group inside GHQ, may have transmitted the request to Weed.”' In the spring
of 1946, as Weed’s group began to press for a special agency to protect and promote
the rights of women, the US Advisory Committee on Labour began work on its
interim report. In July, Helen Mears, the Committee’s only woman, included a
recommendation nearly identical to Weed’s in the advisory group’s conclusions. A
specialist on working women, Mears also was a well-known Japanologist who had
lectured on Japan at the Civil Affairs Training Schools during the war.
Armed with the Mears proposal, Weed’s group had two final hurdles to clear,
the first an internal one. Surprisingly, the women’s policy coalition ran into stiff
opposition from GS Deputy Chief Kades and his liberal colleague, Alfred Hussey. In
mid-August, Hussey, after consulting Kades, penned a memorandum vetoing the
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 329

concept of a separate bureau for women on the grounds that it would highlight
rather than resolve differences between men and women and would arouse ‘serious
resentment and reaction’ among the Japanese. These essentially were the same
arguments Kades and Milo Rowell had advanced to discourage Beate Sirota’s
social welfare provisions earlier that year. Hussey specifically argued against the
‘encouragement of a feminist movement in Japan’ and any “direct assault on the male
position’ liable to incite a proverbial “Battle Between the Sexes’.
Weed’s lobby inside GHQ did not toil in isolation, however. Universal suffrage
and Articles 14 and 24 of the Constitution (promulgated in November 1946) estab-
lished the principle of gender equality at home, in the workplace and in society at
large, and women’s rights activists rallied around Weed and her American sup-
porters. In addition to Kat6 Shizue, this select English-speaking group of Japanese
included Kume Ai, the first female lawyer admitted to the Japanese Bar; Fujita Taki,
leader of the New Japan Women’s League; Tanaka Sumiko, subsequently a Socialist
Diet member and scholar; and Watanabe Michiko, a well-known attorney. More-
over, these women wanted not a ministerial bureau but an independent Cabinet
agency, and they went public with their demands.” As indicated above, when Kato
and other Socialists met Cohen and Ellerman in late September 1946, the Labour
Division chief convinced them to press for the creation of a specialised women’s
bureau inside the proposed labour ministry rather than an autonomous Cabinet-level
group. GHQ included that provision in the legislative draft it presented to the
government on 10 February 1947.
As Hussey had foreseen, MacArthur’s headquarters encountered stubborn resist-
ance from the government, which objected that the Labour Ministry Bill should not
include ‘unimportant and minute’ bureaux. A Women’s and Minors’ Section already
existed in the Welfare Ministry’s Labour Standards Bureau. Transferring that to the
new Labour Ministry would be sufficient, they argued. For several months, Weed’s
group negotiated directly with the Yoshida Cabinet, and the Japanese women’s
movement brought intense public pressure to bear from the outside. In the end,
GHQ and the women’s alliance prevailed, and on 1 September 1947, with the full
backing of the Katayama government, the Women’s and Minors’ Bureau (WMB)
came into being with the new Labour Ministry. GHQ officials were adamant that the
government should not staff the new Bureau with élite bureaucrats, opening the way
for the appointment of women to head the new agency.
The Bureau was composed of three sections: Women Workers, Minor Workers
and Women. It’s first director, Yamakawa Kikue, a well-known feminist writer and
Marxist intellectual, delivered strong leadership, and as a result, women subsequently
were appointed to head other Ministry bureaux as well, a landmark development.
Predictably, the WMB met internal resistance from the male hierarchy. The Labour
Ministry attempted on three occasions to legislate it out of existence, but by 1948,
the agency had established offices in every prefecture, and opposition from women’s
organisations at the national and local levels and from Weed’s group inside GHQ
successfully derailed these efforts. Several of the Japanese women Weed employed as
330 The Later Reforms

her assistants went on to head the WMB and later achieved social prominence.
Among these were feminist leader Fujita Taki, later President of Tsuda College
for Women; Takahashi Nobuko, who would serve as Japanese delegate to the ILO
and ambassador to Denmark; and veteran bureaucrat Tanino Setsu, who became a
well-known author and women’s rights advocate.”
The Women’s and Minors’ Bureau became a focus of activity for such women’s
organisations as the League for Democratising Family Law and the Women’s Demo-
cratic Club. These groups joined forces with Weed and others in GHQ to ensconce
women’s rights in the Civil and Criminal Codes, whose revision the Constitution
had made mandatory. Women such as Kawasaki Natsu, a liberal educator elected to
the Upper House in the April 1947 elections, fought for these reforms as members of
the Judiciary and Legislative Council created by the government to study the issue.
Alfred Oppler, then of Government Section, and Legal Section’s Kurt Steiner played
a crucial supporting role in this process, assisted by a dynamic group of forward-
looking academicians. Among these were Miyazawa Toshiyoshi, a constitutional
scholar at Tokyo University in. whom Oppler found ‘a kind of spiritual ally’;
Kawashima Takeyoshi, a young Tokyo University law professor and ‘courageous
critic of the feudal features of Japanese society’; civil law expert Wagatsuma Sakae;
and two specialists in criminal and civil procedure, Dando Shigemitsu and Kaneko
Hajime. Together, this diverse coalition realised some of the goals that Sirota and
Kato had struggled for unsuccessfully a year earlier.
The Criminal Code, revised on 26 October 1947, abolished the crime of adultery,
which formerly had applied only to women. Under pressure from Japanese women’s
groups and MacArthur’s headquarters, male bureaucrats and lawmakers opted to do
away with this provision rather than make men equally liable under the statute. The
revised Civil Code of 22 December reformed the household (ie) system; abolished
male primogeniture and discriminatory clauses governing marriage, divorce and
property rights; and enabled women, in principle at least, to register marriages under
their own names. Family courts were established to settle property and child-custody
disputes equitably. The de facto evisceration of the ie system, in particular, went well
beyond what even SCAP’s civil rights experts had anticipated and aroused bitter
opposition from conservative lawmakers. An impassioned defence of the proposed
revisions by Diet woman Kawasaki Natsu, however, swayed the members of the
Judiciary and Legislative Council, and the measures subsequently passed into law.”

Revision of the National Public Service Law

At the tail end of the labour reforms was the 1948 revision of the National Public
Service Law, the work of civil-service expert Blaine Hoover. Hoover was scandalised
by the notion that government workers should be allowed to defy the state through
collective bargaining and strike action. His final report of June 1947, reflecting
the anti-strike provisions in the Wagner Act of 1935, had recommended that laws
be passed allowing civil servants to organise but not to negotiate collectively or
strike. Similarly, public enterprise workers were to have the right to organise and
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 331

Photo 45. Ex-Prime Minister Ashida Hitoshi banters with journalists as he prepares to enter
the Tokyo Prosecutor’s Office to answer corruption charges in the Showa Denko scandal, 12
December 1948. Ashida’ policies seriously weakened the labour movement and assured a
conservative takeover of power that would last until the early 1990s (Kyodo).

bargain collectively but not to strike. Prime Minister Katayama strongly objected
to the Hoover recommendations, for the public-sector unions constituted the Social-
ist Party’s primary base of support. GHQ subsequently agreed to drop these proposals
from its October 1947 civil service reform, to Hoover’s chagrin. The American per-
sonnel specialist, however, had succeeded in convincing SCAP to set up a Civil
Service Division inside Government Section and appoint him to lead it. From this
position of strength, Hoover began work on a revision of the National Public Service
Law, and this time his efforts were crowned with success.
In the meantime, the Katayama Cabinet collapsed. The Socialist Party had pur-
sued a policy of nationalising major industries, but the implementing legislation it
sponsored in the Diet failed to pass muster. The split between the Socialist right and
left wings widened, as Marxists refused to support a supplementary budget raising
railway fares in a bid to increase government revenues. Another blow was the purge
of Katayama’s Agriculture Minister, the right-wing Socialist Hirano Rikiz6, for his
wartime ultra-nationalist ties. Finally, in early March 1948, Shidehara and 30 con-
servative Democrats broke away from the coalition and joined Yoshida’s Liberals,
forming the Democratic Liberal Party. The Katayama administration disintegrated,
and on 10 March, Ashida Hitoshi, the Democrat’s moderate leader, inaugurated a
new government. The Ashida Cabinet was built on the same three-party coalition
as its predecessor (Democrats, Socialists, People’s Cooperatives), and enjoyed the
332 The Later Reforms

continuing support of Kades and Guy Swope. MacArthur, however, had not person-
ally endorsed the new leader’s ascension to power, leaving the premier somewhat
insecure in his relations with GHQ.
Ashida’s Labour Minister, Socialist Kato Kanji, had pledged publicly not to revise
the labour laws, but the new prime minister was ill-prepared to oppose a concerted
effort by MacArthur’s headquarters to amend the National Public Service Law. On
22 July 1948, the Supreme Commander sent Ashida a strongly worded letter endors-
ing Hoover’s views and stating that strike action by government workers, ‘looking
toward the paralysis of government by those who have sworn to support it, is
unthinkable and intolerable’. (MacArthur upheld the right to bargain collectively for
certain public-enterprise employees, such as National Railway workers, however.)”°
Ashida quickly conceded defeat, and on 31 July, his government issued Cabinet
Order 201 making the Hoover plan operational pending final legislation by the Diet.
The interim order immediately denied 2.5 million workers — 40 per cent of the
nation’s public employees — the right to strike and to bargain collectively, as guaran-
teed by Article 28 of the Constitution, and the full protection of the Labour Union
and Labour Relations Adjustment Laws. The Diet formally enacted the revised
National Civil Service Law on 3 December.”
MacArthur’s letter of 22 July represented SCAP’s first institutional encroachment
on post-reform labour relations in the public sector. The General penned the brief
the day after a dramatic six-hour, one-to-one confrontation between Hoover and
Labour Division Chief Killen that took place in his presence. Killen had entered
GHQ as a conservative (AFL) replacement for the liberal Cohen, but even he was
appalled by SCAP’s intensifying anti-labour stance. Paul Stanchfield, his lieutenant
in Labour Division, agreed with him. Killen concurred that government employees
should not be allowed to go out on strike but bitterly resented Hoover’s attempt to
deny them the right to bargain collectively. When the Supreme Commander, with
GS Chief Whitney’s support, sided with Hoover, Killen was livid. On 30 July, the
day before Cabinet Order 201 was promulgated, he resigned in protest, and Stanch-
field followed his example. MacArthur's decision, Killen believed, was ‘another step
— albeit a long one — in the rather sharp swing to the right gradually evidenced in
the policies of this Headquarters’. In a press conference, he characterised that move
as ‘ill-conceived’ and warned that it would ‘retard a healthy labour movement’.
Killen left Japan shortly afterwards, his angry departure a vivid testimony to the
Occupation’s accelerating abandonment of its early reformist mission.”
MacArthur’s support for Hoover was motivated in large part by his fear of growing
Communist influence in public-sector unions, which, GHQ held, was injecting ‘a
generally discordant, fractious and disorganising element in government and indus-
trial relations’. In December of that year, the General justified his decision to a visiting
US advisory group, asserting that in more stable countries, when labour arbitration
failed in the public services ‘there was always the Army’, but Japan, he said, would not
have an army for a long time.” The new civil service provisions amplified labour
agitation, however, exacerbating rather than remedying social turbulence.
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 333

The union movement in general condemned the strike-busting order as a viola-

tion of constitutional freedoms and basic labour law and vowed to overturn it.
National Railway workers staged walkouts across the country leading to more than
100 arrests; teachers, postal employees and telecommunications workers organised
massive protests; and, for the first time, millions of ordinary Japanese found them-
selves openly opposed to a SCAP policy. The measure also was challenged by the
Soviet representative in the Allied Council for Japan in ‘Tokyo. In the Far Eastern
Commission in Washington, all members except the Americans opposed GHQ's
action. Australia and the Soviet Union presented counter-proposals that would have
overturned MacArthur’s decision, but although the FEC debated the issue until
November 1949, it was unable to force a show of hands.” Even the US Army and the
State Department looked askance at the anti-strike provision. In practical terms,
however, there was little Japanese opponents could do other than register their dis-
sent in the streets and on the shopfloor, and the temporary Cabinet Order stood,
soon to be codified in law. Its unpopularity was an underlying factor in the fall of the
Ashida government, which dissolved in early October under the weight of corrup-
tion allegations in the Showa Denko affair. Ironically, the implementing legislation
of 3 December was rammed through the Diet by the second Yoshida Cabinet, which
replaced Ashida’s discredited administration on October 15.
The denial of fundamental labour rights to public workers had far-reaching social
and political repercussions. It opened GHQ to accusations that it was subverting its
own reforms, that prohibitive law had now become basic policy and not a limited
response to emergency situations. At the same time, it made the civil service as a
whole a more pliant instrument of centralised authority (an undemocratic feature
that the Occupation was committed in principle to rectify), Revision of the civil
service law also generated widespread anti-American sentiment, discrediting Social-
ists in the Ashida government such as Katé Kanji, the hapless Labour Minister. It
was one of the factors that elevated left-wing Socialist Takano Minoru to the position
of Secretary General of Sédomei and contributed to Nishio Suehiro’s expulsion from
that labour federation in late October 1948. The more militant national centre then
publicly opposed the new Yoshida Cabinet. The revised law cost Katayama ‘Tetsu,
Kato Kanji and spouse Shizue, Mizutani Chozaburé, Nishio and other right-wing
Socialists their Diet seats in the general elections of January 1949 and shifted popular
support towards the Party’s left wing and the Communists. Progressive Socialists
gravitated further leftward, and in January the Party split, ending its influence as a
unified political force. The new Socialist Party installed non-Communist radical
Suzuki Mosabur6 as chairman. Talented bureaucrats such as Wada Hiro’o, Agri-
culture Minister under the first Yoshida Cabinet and director of the Economic
Stabilisation Board under Katayama, also joined the Socialist left at this time. Finally,
the no-strike provision would give public-sector employers an excuse to dismiss some
11,000 workers for various degrees of labour activism, real and imagined, during the
Dodge retrenchment of 1949, producing an unprecedented wave of labour dissent
and protracted social strife (chapter 10).°!
334 The Later Reforms

ZAIBATSU DISSOLUTION

With the enactment of basic labour reforms, SCAP turned to the second phase
of economic democratisation, zaibatsu dissolution. By 1946, Japan’s four largest
family-controlled holding companies — Mitsubishi, Mitsui, Sumitomo and Yasuda —
together accounted for nearly 25 per cent of the paid-up capital of all incorporated
businesses. In addition, there were six major ‘new’ zaibatsu that had tied their for-
tunes to the military and risen to positions of dominance in the economy: Asano,
Furukawa, Ayukawa (Nissan), Okura, Nomura and Nakajima. In 1945, the com-
bines collectively controlled 49 per cent of capital investment in mining, machinery
and heavy industry, 50 per cent in banking and 61 per cent in shipping.” Thus, a
few powerful families virtually monopolised basic resources, services, commerce,
industrial production, banking and finance. Free enterprise was confined to a
small segment of the total economy whose activities were tightly constrained by
the giant industrial-financial empires. This created a dualistic economy, where a
small but modernised capital-intensive industrial sector dominated a much larger
labour-intensive, under-capitalised and relatively backward sector.
SWNCC’s ‘Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’ called for ‘the dissolution of
Japan’s large industrial and banking combinations which have exercised control of a
great part of Japan’s trade and industry’. Washington was intent on destroying the
cartels, as it had done in Germany, for two reasons. First, US policy planners were
convinced that the Big Four — Mitsubishi, Mitsui, Sumitomo and Yasuda — had been
in league with the militarists since the 1930s. Together with the ‘new’ zazbatsu, they
stood accused of having built Japan’s engine of aggression and then reaped colossal
profits from wartime collusion. The destruction of this dense concentration of
economic power and the industrial-military complex that sustained it was a pre-
condition for demilitarising and democratising the economy. Yoshida Shigeru main-
tained close personal ties with Ikeda Seihin, chief manager of the Mitsui complex and
a member of the wartime Yoshida peace group. The Prime Minister and the con-
servative élite around him argued that war responsibility lay not with the ‘old
zaibatsu, which they characterised as peacefully inclined, but with upstart groups of
‘new’ zaibatsu that-had cashed in on military contracts and operated freely in the
territories under Japanese occupation. In fact, both groups had cooperated closely
with the military, profiting handsomely from the war effort, and both were thor-
oughly undemocratic in structure and operation. SCAP was determined to dismantle
these oligopolies and break their stranglehold on the economy.”
A second motivating factor was America’s own tradition of decartelisation dating
from the Sherman Anti-Trust Act of 1890. US hostility to the monopolistic suppres-
sion of free enterprise also had produced the Clayton Anti-Trust Act of 1914.
Although anti-cartel fervour cooled during the 1920s, it rekindled in the 1930s
under the New Deal, culminating in the Robinson—Putman Act of 1936. This
reformist zeal carried over into planning for post-surrender Japan. Inside MacArthur's
headquarters, the officials most closely involved in zaibatsu-dissolution were either
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 335

New Dealers themselves or had helped plan the Japanese deconcentration pro-
gramme in wartime Washington. Among them were Charles Kades, Thomas
Bisson and Eleanor Hadley of Government Section, and J. McI. Henderson and
Edward C. Welsh of the Economic and Scientific Section (Anti-Trust and Cartels
Division). Welsh had served previously on the Temporary National Economic
Committee, a joint legislative-executive body set up during the 1930s to oversee US
monopoly-busting policies.
In October 1945, SCAP proposed that the zaibatsu dismantle themselves volun-
tarily. Colonel Raymond C. Kramer, the first ESS chief, met zaibatsu representatives,
anxious to avoid radical dismemberment, and ordered them to draw up plans for their
own demise. Reading the writing on the wall, Yasuda complied immediately and
submitted a proposal that became known as the Yasuda Plan. Mitsui and Sumitomo,
however, stalled for time, while Mitsubishi rejected the suggestion outright and
refused to cooperate. Ultimately, under firm pressure from the government, all three
would relent and adopt the Yasuda Plan as the basis for dissolution.
The Yasuda Plan was patently self-serving and full of loopholes, a transparent
‘easy-out’ for the zaibatsu. The combines were integrated vertically in a four-tiered
pyramid. At the top was a family council and, just under it, a main holding company.
The third and fourth levels consisted of major subsidiaries, below which were smaller
affiliated firms owned or controlled by the subsidiaries. The Yasuda Plan proposed to
disband the holding companies by selling family shares and forcing family members
to resign their positions in the large subsidiaries. It conveniently left these subsidiaries
and their lower-level affiliates and subcontractors intact, however, thereby preserving
the vital infrastructure of the zaibatsu organisation. Under the Yasuda Plan, the
controlling families could sell their stock to loyal subordinates and reclaim their
former jobs at a later time.

The Edwards Report

MacArthur originally displayed scant enthusiasm for decartelisation. On 6 Novem-
ber 1945, he hastily accepted the lenient Yasuda proposals and issued SCAPIN-244
(‘Dissolution of Holding Companies’) ordering the combines to liquidate their fam-
ily holdings. The State and Justice Departments were disturbed by SCAP’s seemingly
lackadaisical attitude toward the zaibatsu empire. In January 1946, they despatched
a joint departmental mission to Japan led by Northeastern University economist
Corwin D. Edwards to report on the dissolution programme and make broad
recommendations for decentralising the economy.
In March 1946, the Edwards Mission presented a report that was highly critical of
the anti-monopoly programme. The ‘Report of the Mission on Japanese Combines’
noted that the current reform left major operating subsidiaries untouched and
ignored such practices as interlocking directorates and the cross-holding of corporate
stocks. It proposed a two-stage decartelisation policy based on the US model that
would dissolve the combines and prevent the emergence of new monopolies through
tough anti-trust legislation. The Edwards Report did not stop at the dissolution of
336 The Later Reforms

the large family companies but urged the breakup of all economic enterprises consti-
tuting ‘an excessive concentration of economic power’ and a ‘potential threat to
competitive enterprise’. The adjective ‘excessive’ was applied to any economic entity
deemed large enough to restrict competition or independent business activity.“ To
ensure the thorough breakdown of the giant family concerns into smaller unrelated
units and prevent the divestment of assets to relatives, the report redefined a family
firm to include relations by adoption and marriage. It also recommended that the
government buy up real estate and other assets belonging to the holding companies
at low postwar market prices and convert those assets into 10-year non-negotiable gov-
ernment bonds for sale to company smallholders, including executives, employees,
labour unions, cooperatives and the general public. The Edwards Report also tar-
geted the interweaving of personnel and capital assets between zaibatsu banks and
individual subsidiaries. It recommended that preferential treatment of holding-
company financial institutions by the government be outlawed; that the amount of
stock held by any financial institution in a company be limited to 25 per cent; and
that officials from the Ministry of Finance and state-controlled financial institutions
be prevented from owning stock in private banks or finance companies, or from
seeking employment in those institutions for at least two years after retiring from
government.
MacArthur deeply resented Edwards’s criticisms, which he viewed as outside
meddling, and ESS Chief Marquat characterised the report’s recommendations as
too sweeping, too liberal and too unrealistic. In May 1947, after more than a year of
SCAP inaction, SWNCC, the primary US policy-making body, asked the Far East-
ern Commission to approve the Edwards proposals as basic Occupation policy. The
FEC complied in June, drafting FEC-230, “US Policy with Respect to Excessive
Concentrations of Economic Power in Japan’. The document was kept secret so that
MacArthur could present it to the government as a direct order. FEC-230 became
the most controversial of the FEC’s position papers, but the Commission never
formally adopted it as policy.”

Anti-trust action and reaction

Meanwhile, SCAP, now firmly committed to the Yasuda Plan, had begun to imple-
ment it with a vengeance. In August 1946, the government set up the Holding
Company Liquidation Commission (HCLC), which set out to dispose of the shares
of 83 holding companies. A total of 16 were dissolved, among them all 10 of the
major zaibatsu family companies. Some 26 conglomerates were dismantled and then
restructured, Eleven were reorganised, and the remaining 30 were left intact. This
offensive was accompanied by the introduction of anti-trust legislation, enacted on
12 March 1947 as the Law for Prohibition of Private Monopoly and Methods of
Preserving Fair Trade (the so-called Anti-Monopoly Law). This statute prohibited
the formation of holding companies, sole-agency contracts and cartels, and created
the Fair Trade Commission to enforce its provisions. At the same time, GHQ con-
ducted a moderate purge of zaibatsu and other top business leaders considered to
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 357

have engaged in blatantly monopolistic practices. The economic purge began in

January 1947, exactly one year after the political and labour purges. By June 1947, it
had removed, directly or indirectly, more than 1,500 executives and corporate offi-
cials, although they remained free to seek employment outside their former business
groups.”
MacArthur, in an apparent reversal of roles, now became the foremost proponent
of radical dissolution, ostensibly embracing the Edwards proposals he earlier had
derided. His change of attitude may have been due in part to the influence of Kades
and other trust-busters in Government Section who had MacArthur’s confidence.
The radical Edward Welsh, Chief of the ESS Anti-Trust and Cartels Division, was
waging a one-man crusade against the combines. At his insistence, on 3 July 1947,
GHQ ordered the disbanding of Japan’s two largest trading companies, Mitsubishi
Sh6ji and Mitsui Bussan, which together had cornered 70 per cent of Japan’s prewar
foreign trade. Both were giant operating subsidiaries, the only groups in fact that
GHQ actually deposed directly. SCAP had decided to allow foreign firms to begin
doing business in Japan in August of that year, and Welsh was intent on completing
decartelisation before foreign businessmen descended on Tokyo. The Mitsubishi
and Mitsui companies were broken up into some 213 successor firms, but they
maintained their internal integrity, reorganising around former division and section
chiefs, and within five years, they had basically reconstituted themselves.”
Welsh’s determination to break up operating industrial firms and transform Japan
into a country of small- and medium-sized businesses collided with the Katayama
Cabinet’s commitment to nationalisation. It also ran counter to the desperate efforts
of the Economic Stabilisation Board and SCAP’s own ESS to streamline production
and raise productivity. ESS’s Cohen, an advocate of moderate deconcentration, found
Welsh’s idea of using the Holding Company Liquidation Commission to oversee this
massive dissolution of productive capacity ‘vague and arbitrary’, even ‘unreal’.
By mid-1947, US policy makers, too, had undergone a change of heart, but in a
different direction. Now wary of undermining Japanese capitalism, they strove to
restrain the pace of zaibatsu dissolution. MacArthur’s strong stand on behalf of
economic democratisation brought him and his anti-cartel programme into a head-
on confrontation with Washington and US business interests. A new emphasis on
economic recovery, containing Communism and strengthening conservative rule in
Japan would evolve over the next year into a major reorientation of Occupation
policy. SCAP’s efforts to pass a new industrial deconcentration bill with more muscle
than the Anti-Monopoly Law of March 1947 provided the first crucial test of this
policy shift. Based on FEC-230, whose recommendations he now fully endorsed,
MacArthur geared up to enact a particularly tough piece of legislation modelled on
the anti-trust laws US occupation forces had implemented in Germany. The ‘Bill for
the Elimination of Concentrations of Economic Power’, introduced to the Diet in
July at MacArthur’s insistence, took aim at leading subsidiary firms powerful enough
to restrict market access.
MacArthur’s apparent war on oligopoly raised eyebrows in Washington. The US
338 The Later Reforms

Chamber of Commerce, the National Association of Manufacturers and other busi-

ness lobbies were alarmed, and Fortune Magazine denounced what it labelled ‘Scapi-
talism’. Deconcentration also aroused the ire of James L. Kauffman, a high-powered
New York corporate lawyer who had represented major US companies in prewar
Japan and taught English at Tokyo Imperial University. Kauffman had been rebuffed
by Welsh in the summer of 1947 when he sought an exemption for the dissolution of
a company in which his client, the glassmaker Libby-Owens—Ford, had an interest.
Dismayed by Welsh’s ‘extremist’ notions, he raised the alarm in Washington with his
‘Report on Conditions in Japan as of September 6, 1947’. Circulated that autumn
among top policy-makers and business leaders, the Kauffman Report warned that
MacArthur’s ‘radical reformers’ and ‘crackpots’ were attempting to destroy big busi-
ness in Japan and impose a form of Socialism on the country. Particularly unpalatable
to Kauffman was the notion of allowing labour unions to acquire corporate shares.
SCAP policies, he fumed, were endangering the US goal of making Japan a self-
supporting anti-Communist ally. Secretary of Defense James F. Forrestal and Under-
Secretary of the Army William H. Draper — both former partners of a major Wall
Street investment house — lent Kauffman a ready ear. They solicited the support
of Secretary of the Army Kenneth Royall and embarked on a closely coordinated
campaign to eviscerate MacArthur’s deconcentration bill — and sink the Supreme
Commander’s prospects in the 1948 presidential election.
On 1 December 1947, Newsweek's foreign editor Harry F. Kern launched a broad-
side against MacArthur’s policies. The article sparked a debate in Congress, where a
Republican Senator from California, William F, Knowland, attacked the deconcen-
tration plan on the Senate floor, brandishing a copy of FEC-230 that Draper had
leaked to him. The Newsweek article was blistering. It quoted extensively from
FEC-230 and printed generous excerpts from the Kauffman Report, reinforcing the
message that SCAP’s purge, reparations and deconcentration policies were extremist
and incompatible with America’s national interests. Earlier, Kern himself had edi-
torialised that, unless MacArthur were stopped, ‘the chances of making Japan into
“the workshop of the Far East” as part of the American policy of rebuilding the world
and containing Communism will have gone glimmering’. This sentiment echoed the
credo of the emerging Japan Lobby, a group of wealthy industrialists, Eastern Estab-
lishment intellectuals, generals and policy experts, including key members of the
original Japan Crowd, that would play a decisive role in crafting and orchestrating a
basic revision of Occupation objectives (chapter 10).
MacArthur harboured a deep distrust of big finance, however, and had committed
himself to a course of action. In this, he enjoyed the constant support of Kades, a
fierce critic of the US business lobby, who accused Kauffman of attempting to
‘preserve in Japan those very institutions, influences and practices which brought on
the war’. Enraged by the simultaneous attack on Occupation policy and his political
ambitions, the Supreme Commander railroaded the deconcentration bill through
the Diet. To get the law that MacArthur wanted, Justin Williams of Government
Section’s Legislative Division was despatched to monitor Upper House deliberations
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 359.

on the bill. On the last day of the session near midnight, Williams stood up and
dramatically insisted that the adjective ‘excessive’ be inserted into the Elimination of
Concentrations of Economic Powers Bill. He suggested that the Diet clock be
stopped to gain the time needed to clear the provision and refused to budge from the
spot until the legislation was passed as SCAP intended.”” On 8 December 1947, the
bill was enacted as the Law on the Elimination of Excessive Concentrations of
Economic Power and put into force on 18 December, giving the Holding Company
Liquidation Commission the power to ensure competition by designating and dis-
solving monopolistic concentrations. MacArthur’s insistence on the word ‘excessive’
was his way of letting Washington know who was boss. The General’s victory was
short-lived, however. The Department of the Army, having reversed its stand on
deconcentration, would effectively negate this legislation three months later, handing
MacArthur a humiliating defeat (chapter 10).

LAND REFORM

The third pillar of SCAP’s economic democracy programme (alongside the libera-
tion of labour and economic deconcentration) was land reform, one of the most
ambitious and successful initiatives of the Occupation. Here, the Jeffersonian ideal of
independent yeoman producers — small ‘independent capitalists’ providing through
their industry and egalitarian ownership of the means of production a solid base for
the development of democratic institutions — was realised to a remarkable extent.
The result was a peaceful agrarian revolution that swept aside pre-modern social
relations and transformed the Japanese countryside.
In the 1930s, rural distress brought about by the collapse of the world silk
market, lower rice prices — partly a consequence of importing cheaper Korean and
Formosan grain — and generally depressed economic conditions had produced a
rapid increase in rates of tenancy and deepened rural distress. This was accompanied
by a corresponding rise in the wealth and political influence of the landlord class,
which included many absentee owners. The delivery of between one third and half
or more of their harvest to landlords left many tenants in great extremity. Such
oppressive conditions provided a bumper crop of new recruits for the military and
right-wing ideologues and accelerated agricultural colonisation by Japanese settlers in
Manchukuo. Landlordism not only assured the militarists of crucial political support
for their expansionist policies but helped channel rural unrest into external aggres-
sion, diffusing internal class tensions. By war’s end, nearly 50 per cent of all Japanese
lived in farming areas, but almost half of all land under cultivation was being worked
by non-owners, and roughly 70 per cent of the nation’s cultivators were involved in
some degree of tenancy. Holdings were divided into small, scattered plots averaging
less than 1 hectare (2.47 acres). A majority of landlords themselves owned only a few
hectares, but the social, economic and political disparities that set them apart from
smallholders and tenants were glaring.
340 The Later Reforms

Land redistribution, like the Labour Standards Law, owed much of its success to
reform-minded Japanese bureaucrats. In early 1946, the Foreign Ministry’s Special
Survey Committee proposed the elimination of landlordism, which, like US policy-
makers, it blamed for constricting the domestic market and depressing industrial
wages. Paradoxically, however, Washington was divided on the land question as the
Occupation began. Three distinct pre-surrender positions had emerged on this issue.
The State Department’s China Crowd, calling for a punitive peace, saw land reform
as necessary to increase food production and eliminate reactionary elements in the
countryside. Conservatives in the Japan Crowd, notably Joseph Grew and Eugene
Dooman, believed that radical land reallotment would undercut conservative farm
support for the Occupation. Other Japan Crowd members, notably Hugh Borton,
George Blakeslee and Robert Fearey, supported land reform in principle, believing it
to be the only means of alleviating rural poverty and stabilising the economy. As a
result of such policy disagreements, the “US Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’
did not include land reform, and the controversy remained unresolved as MacArthur
established his headquarters.”’
Indecision in Washington enabled the Shidehara administration to seize the initia-
tive and draft a reform of its own liking. The first government proposal, however,
proved too radical for conservative lawmakers in the Cabinet. On 13 October 1945,
the Ministry of Agriculture publicised the outline of a reform draft prepared by Wada
Hiro’o, the radical agrarian expert jailed in 1941 for his leftist views, and Tohata
Shird, another reform bureaucrat. The Wada Plan would allow tenants to buy land
held by non-absentee landowners in excess of 3 hectares; make farm rents payable as
fixed cash amounts rather than in kind; and reorganise and expand the role of land
commissions, the local agencies designated to buy up and redistribute tenanted land.
As Yoshida later recalled, the Shidehara government greeted Wada’s scheme ‘with a
chorus of objections’ and submitted in its place a watered-down proposal that raised
the ceiling on ownership to 5 hectares and added other provisions advantageous to
landowners.”

GHQ’s agrarian emancipation directives

By mid-October 1945, SCAP, too, had begun to mull the merits of land reform.
When Natural Resources Section failed to move quickly on the issue, MacArthur
assigned this task to Civil Information and Education Section. On 9 November,
General Headquarters issued SCAPIN-257 (‘Agricultural Programme’) directing
the government to submit a plan on its long-range food-production goals by the end
of December. The plan did not concern land reform per se but was to include
counter-measures for the problems of tenancy, credit, ground rents and taxes.
In the meantime, Robert Fearey, recently attached to the Political Adviser's Office
in Tokyo, was dusting off a copy of the unpublished proposal that Russian-born
agrarian specialist Dr Wolf I. Ladejinsky had drawn up in Washington, “Adjustments
in Systems of Land Tenure’ (chapter 5). Ladejinsky’s father was a Ukrainian land-
lord, but his Russian experience and studies of Japanese tenancy in the 1930s had
 Institutional and Economic Reforms _ 341

made him a believer in egalitarian land reallotment. Ladejinsky’s ideas on Japanese

land holding derived largely from a group of radical Japanese agronomists, includ-
ing Yagi Yoshinosuke and Kawada Shiro of Kyoto Imperial University. Another
formative influence on Ladejinsky was Nasu Hiroshi, an advocate of land redistribu-
tion at Tokyo Imperial University and author of the influential Aspects ofJapanese
Agriculture: A Preliminary Survey (Institute of Pacific Relations, 1941).”
Fearey summarised the Ladejinsky proposal in a memorandum and passed it
on to POLAD Chief George Atcheson. Atcheson presented the so-called Fearey
Memorandum to MacArthur, who endorsed its ideas with enthusiasm. By abolishing
tenancy and alleviating rural misery, the Memorandum said, an Occupation-directed
agrarian reform would not only prevent a resurgence of militarism but nip radical
Socialist and Communist ambitions in the bud. The General’s prewar experience in
the Philippines convinced him of the merits of giving land to the tiller. His father
had advocated land reform there as part of the effort to subdue Aguinaldo’s national
liberation movement in the early 1900s, and MacArthur himself had proposed
similar action to counter the influence of Communist-dominated Hukbalahap
insurgents.”
Fearey’s recommendations also found a strong supporter in the person of William
J. Gilmartin of Natural Resources Section, who added a provision covering land
owned by absentee landlords. On 9 December 1945, the Supreme Commander
incorporated these proposals into SCAPIN-411 (‘Rural Land Reform’), drafted by
CI&E’s Arthur Behrstock, which instructed Shidehara to submit a comprehensive
land-reform programme by 15 March 1946. The new directive was explicit: the
government would buy up land from non-operating owners, sell it to the tillers and
eliminate absentee landlordism by transferring their property to landless tenants.
This was necessary, the document said, in order to “exterminate those pernicious ills
which have long blighted the agrarian structure’.”
The Imperial Diet, unteformed and still dominated by big landlords, responded
by promulgating on 28 December the conservative measures it had substituted for
the Wada Plan. The Agricultural Land Adjustment Law permitted landlords to retain
5 hectares, delegated the vital task of purchasing and redistributing hectarage to
landlord—tenant negotiations and failed to define absentee landlords precisely. The
law was scheduled to go into effect on 1 February 1946, but strong opposition from
SCAP consigned the so-called first land reform to oblivion. The government’s failure
to draft an acceptable law transferred the initiative for reform to MacArthur’s staff,
which set about formulating its own agrarian programme, the so-called second land
reform.
CI&E had drawn up SCAPINs 257 and 411, but now Government Section
and Economic and Scientific Section also became involved. Work got under way
in February 1946 and, in March, primary responsibility for the reform shifted from
CI8&E back to Natural Resources Section. The drafting committee included William
T. Gilmartin and Ladejinsky of NRS (the latter having transferred to Japan in
December for that purpose); Lieutenant W. Hicks of CI&¢E; and Thomas Bisson and
342 The Later Reforms

Dr Andrew J. Grajdanzev of GS. On 9 May, Ladejinsky completed a staff study

borrowing heavily from ideas that Yagi Yoshinosuke had advanced in 1936: national
expropriation of tenanted land and its sale to the tillers, compensation for landlords
and entrenched tenancy rights.”°
On 21 May, as NRS put the finishing touches on its legislative draft, Yoshida
named reformist Wada Hiro’o as his new Agriculture Minister (Wada’s predecessor
had been purged in January). Yoshida originally had approached Tobata Sei’ichi, a
liberal non-Marxist agrarian economist at Tokyo Imperial University, but the widely
respected scholar blanched at the enormity of the task of restoring food production
and declined the offer. Wada’s appointment thoroughly alarmed the conservatives. A
man of intellectual brilliance, Wada had been jailed for three years (1941—4) under
the Peace Preservation Law for attempting to insinuate Socialist ideas into the war-
time Cabinet Planning Board. Before the war, he had organised study groups seeking
solutions to the problems of farm tenancy and landholding. Yoshida clearly was
desperate to remedy the food situation. The collapse of farm production, recent food
rallies, forcible grain seizures by local ‘food-control committees’ and the growth of
peasant—worker alliances were potent threats to his government. Although opposed
to land redistribution in principle, the Prime Minister was resigned to the American
reform initiative and later accounted it a great success.””
The irony now was nearly complete: Wada, the social radical, would implement a
land redistribution programme drafted by the son of a Jewish Ukrainian landlord
based on the ideas of prewar Japanese agrarian reformers. The final result, however,
would go beyond what even Ladejinsky had envisaged. It remained for the Soviet
and Commonwealth delegates on the Allied Council for Japan to intervene boldly,
propelling the process rapidly to the left.
In late May and June of 1946, the ACJ took up the land question. On 29 May,
Kuzma Derevyanko proposed a reallocation scheme that was even more far-reaching
than SCAP’s. The Soviet delegate urged the state to buy up and resell all tenant-
cultivated land, compensate landlords only for the transfer of holdings of up to 6
hectares but at prices that amounted to de facto expropriation, confiscate every-
thing over 6 hectares, subsidise tenant land acquisitions and complete the reform
within one year. On 12 June, British Commonwealth representative MacMahon
Ball unexpectedly came to GHQ’s rescue. Without consulting London, which was
studiously unenthusiastic about land redistribution, the Australian tabled a counter-
proposal drafted by his economic adviser Eric Ward. Ward noted that the govern-
ment’s proposed upper limit of 5 hectares on landlord-retained land would free only
30 per cent or less of all tenanted land, whereas the 3-hectare limit favoured by
Ladejinsky would liberate about half of such land. After consulting with Ladejinsky
and Gilmartin, Ward proposed to lower that ceiling to one hectare, which he esti-
mated would emancipate 70 per cent of Japan’s tenant farmers. Consequently, Ball
recommended that the government fix the amount of tenant-cultivated property a
landlord could retain at 1 hectare, impose an absolute limit of 3 hectares (12 in
Hokkaido) on all holdings and make the acquisition programme compulsory.”
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 343

The Derevyanko and Ball proposals were debated at length in an Allied Council
meeting on 17 June, as were subsequent compromise measures submitted by Derev-
yanko and the Chinese delegate, General Chu Shih-ming. MacArthur was incensed
at the Soviet project, which he reviled as an effort ‘to disrupt Allied plans for the
democratisation of Japan’. Derevyanko, he stormed, was ‘endeavoring to show
himself to the Japanese public and the world at large as taking the lead in, and as
forcing SCAP to effect necessary ... land and labour reforms’.” Determined to
deflate the Soviet initiative, the SCAP team quickly adopted Ball’s plan, and Lade-
jinsky incorporated its salient points into a new directive, which was shown infor-
mally to Agriculture Minister Wada on 28 June. MacArthur had insisted that the
sweeping reform be presented as a Japanese project, and NRS Chief Hubert G.
Schenck read the draft directive aloud to Wada and told him to revise the Japanese
legislation accordingly. Wada, afraid the Cabinet would shrink from such a radical
reform, asked NRS to make the directive public in a bid to circumvent govern-
ment obstruction. Schenck, however, had instructions to keep SCAP out of the
picture and refused the request. From 28 June to 9 August, the NRS team and
Wada’s group met 14 times to iron out a final draft, which MacArthur approved on
14 August.
The bill was submitted to the Diet on 7 September 1946, but opposition surfaced
from an unexpected quarter. Andrew Grajdanzev of Government Section’s Local
Government Division protested that the programme was too extreme; what was
needed, he said, was ‘reform, not a revolution’. Grajdanzev convinced GS Chief
Whitney to back his demand to clarify exceptions to the 3-hectare upper limit on
holdings in a way that would benefit large landowners. Whitney also agreed to
modify the composition of the land commissions to favour landlords. Wada, how-
ever, dug in his heels and refused to budge on the issue, and Schenck threw his full
support to the plucky Agriculture Minister, embroiling NRS in a battle royal with
the more powerful GS, which won the day. Whitney accused Schenck, in effect, of
kowtowing to the Japanese and ultimately browbeat the NRS chief into compliance.
Government Section obliged Wada to make exceptions to the 3-hectare limit and
impose a land-price ceiling. As Diet deliberations on the amended bill proceeded,
NRS abandoned its earlier strategy of secrecy, Schenck warning a Liberal Party
delegation of ‘dire consequences’ should Parliament fail to carry the legislation. In
that case, he said, the Supreme Commander would have no alternative but to issue a
formal directive.*° The law was enacted without incident on 21 October.
The agrarian legislation incorporated the key points of the NRS directive, but
the nuts and bolts of reform were worked out by a highly qualified group of agro-
nomists in the Ministry’s Agricultural Administration Bureau. One of these, Ogura
Takekazu, later complained that ‘NRS had few reliable and capable staff members
(for) land reform and other related important agricultural polic{ies]’. Neither
Chief of Section Schenck nor his agrarian expert Warren Leonard had specialised
knowledge of agricultural economics or social issues, Ogura said. He concluded that:
‘In short, the staff members of GHQ did not appear to be able to initiate and draft
344 The Later Reforms

the second land reform.’ The details were provided by the Japanese themselves,
within the parameters established by the NRS team.”

The quiet ‘revolution’

The October 1946 reform was codified in two statutes, the Agricultural Adjustment
Law and the Special Measures Law for the Establishment of Owner—Cultivators,
which together incorporated most of Ladejinsky’s ideas. The Ball proposals had
proved decisive, however. Individual landholdings were limited to 3 hectares across
the board and tenant-farmed land to 1 hectare. The law backdated landownership
to November 1945 to prevent landlords from evicting their tenants. The state was
authorised to purchase land belonging to absentee landlords and uncultivated
holdings for redistribution to tenants, who also had the option of buying the land
they worked, either immediately or over a 30-year period at low early postwar
interest rates. Land prices were pegged to 1937 values, a pittance compared to the
inflated prices of 1947 and 1948. Thus, tillers of the soil acquired property rights
for what amounted to the cost of one salted salmon per 0.1 hectare. Moreover,
annual payments for land could not exceed one third of the value of a farmer's
crop, after taxes. Landlords were reimbursed for the value of their estates in long-
term government bonds. Rents, limited to cash payments, were not to exceed 25 per
cent of annual crop values, and tenants gained important contractual rights. The
programme was implemented by tripartite village, prefectural and national land
commissions composed of tenants, landlords and owner-cultivators, with tenants
accounting at village and prefectural levels for 50 per cent of commission members
(landlord representation was 30 per cent, owner—cultivator participation 20 per
cent).®
The reform was largely completed between 1947 and 1948. By 1949, it had
reallocated 2 million hectares of arable land, or about 80 per cent of all tenanted
holdings, and rented property had fallen from the prewar figure of 46 per cent to 10
per cent. Some 57 per cent of rural families became farm owners, and 35 per cent
became part-owner, part-tenants. By the end of the reform, 90 per cent of all land
under crops was being cultivated by independent growers, and the number of land-
less tenants had declined to a mere 7 per cent of farm producers. The long-term
consequence of redistribution was a steady decline in the percentage of Japanese on
the land as farm mechanisation proceeded apace and high urban wages siphoned
young people into the industrial work force.
The Supreme Commander was elated. The day the two reform bills became law,
he issued a statement heralding the event as ‘one of the most important milestones
yet reached by Japan in the creation of an economically stable and politically demo-
cratic society’. With a potent MacArthurian flourish, he concluded: “By it there will
be here established the basic policy [that] those who till the land shall keep the profit
of their toil. There can be no firmer foundation for a sound and moderate democracy
and no firmer bulwark against the pressure of any extreme philosophy.’*’ For Japan’s
impoverished tenant farmers, the reform was a windfall, and MacArthur was widely
 Institutional and Economic Reforms 345

Photo 46. Farmers read an announcement on the community bulletin board declaring the
start of the land reform in Saitama Prefecture, 24 June 1947. The epochal reform transformed
a majority of cultivators from tenants into independent small-scale farmers, boosting agri-
cultural production and eroding Socialist and Communist influence in the countryside
(Mainichi).

acclaimed a friend and liberator. As GHQ had foreseen, the programme defused
rural radicalism and kept the countryside conservative — a factor that doubtless
encouraged Washington and MacArthur’s critics to allow this particular assault on
excessive economic concentration to run its full course.
In early February 1948, with its zaibatsu dissolution programme under attack,
GHQ issued a new directive (SCAPIN-1855, ‘Rural Land Reform’) to accelerate the
pace of land reallocation. Indeed, the striking success of the reform took some of
the sting out of the failure of MacArthur’s industrial deconcentration plan. The
Occupation did not insist on redistributing forest and pasture, however, which
accounted for a large percentage of rural land, and such holdings allowed many
landlords to retain a degree of their former influence. Conservative governments
346 The Later Reforms

quickly turned the reform to their advantage by paradoxically offering producers

and agricultural cooperatives generous subsidies and financial incentives while
pursuing industrial policies that undermined the overall position of agriculture in the
economy. Today, in an age of globalism, the survival of Japanese agriculture seems
uncertain, but the countryside remains a bastion of conservative sentiment.
 CHAPTER 8

The Cultural Reforms

The Occupation sought to transform not only Japan’s political, administrative and
economic institutions but also the attitudes, values and beliefs the militarists had
distorted to inculcate, in the idiom of American policy-makers, ‘an extreme national-
ism and a glorification of war’.’ Redirecting an entire nation’s thought processes in
the short space of six and a half years was, of course, an unachievable task. Moreover,
SCAP’s own shifting priorities compromised that objective: after 1948, MacArthur’s
headquarters would retreat from its early commitment to reform, violating principles
that it had struggled to establish in the first two years of occupation. Nonetheless, in
many areas, the Occupation’s programme of social and cultural reorientation laid the
groundwork for a decisive rupture with the authoritarian past.
Washington ascribed the popular acceptance of Japanese militarism to ideological
manipulation in three areas: education, religion and information. Since the Meiji era,
the explicit purpose of formal instruction had been to serve the Imperial state, and
children were taught absolute loyalty to the Emperor, love of country and devotion
to duty. Girls and young women learned ‘national morality and womanly virtues’;
boys wete inculcated with martial values and received paramilitary training. Ultra-
nationalist course content was strengthened after Japan’s invasion of Manchuria in
1931, and with the beginning of the Sino-Japanese War in 1937, education became
overtly militaristic. Following the onset of the Pacific War, in addition to traditional
military drills, boys now were taught how to fire rifles and light machine guns and hurl
grenades. Unquestioning obedience to higher authority and self-sacrifice became
supreme virtues. The cult of State Shintd was strengthened, and the mass media
became an organ of state propaganda.
The ambitious reforms that SCAP’s Civil Information and Education Section
undertook from late 1945 through 1948 were an exercise in moral and psychological
disarmament balanced by a positive project of institutional reform and collective re-
education. Here, however, SCAP was obliged to rely extensively on Japanese admin-
istrators, intellectuals, teachers and others with hands-on expertise to achieve its basic
goals. In the field of education, Occupation authorities found themselves working
closely with their Japanese counterparts to implement what would turn out to be in
some important respects a Japanese programme of reform.
348 The Later Reforms

REORIENTATING YOUNG MINDS

The State Department recommendations

State Department Asian specialists, including Japan scholars Hugh Borton and
George Blakeslee, first broached the question of education reform in early 1943,
advocating changes in Japan’s political philosophy through ‘supervision of the educa-
tion system and of other media of indoctrination’.? In mid-July 1944, the State
Department’s Postwar Programmes Committee (PWC) approved a basic proposal
for restructuring Japanese schooling: ‘Japan: The Education System Under Military
Government’ (PWC-287). PWC-287 would evolve into the Occupation’s master
plan for education reform.’ The policy paper asserted that traditional education had
supported an authoritarian social and political régime. Universal education based
on advancement by merit, while admirable in many respects, served the interests of
the state, not the people. Japan’s highly centralised and selective school system
transformed ‘the best brains of the nation’ into an élite loyal to the state and big
business but discouraged individual initiative and original thinking. Courses such
as ethics (shishin), history and military training, which taught students to ‘offer
[themselves] courageously to the State’, were regarded as pernicious and slated for
elimination.‘
PWC-287 contained 10 recommendations. The first, that schools remain open to
ensure public safety, acknowledged the role that the education system had played in
maintaining internal order and sought to utilise it in establishing occupation control.
Thought regimentation was to be abolished, militaristic textbooks revised and chau-
vinistic school curricula abandoned. Japanese educated in foreign mission schools or
abroad and Japanese Americans might be used, the paper suggested, to enforce Allied
education directives, and ‘progressive and forward-looking Japanese’ could be mobil-
ised to prepare new textbooks and curricula. PCW-287 also called for the prohib-
ition of nationalistic school ceremonies and observances. Finally, schools, radio
broadcasting and motion pictures would be utilised to break down Japan’s insularity
and promote a world outlook.’
Nearly one year later, Washington’s top policy-making body, the State-War—Navy
Coordinating Committee, took a fresh look at the school question. In April 1945,
it issued a control document, SWNCC-108, as the basis for a comprehensive
policy statement on postwar education reform. The task of drafting this crucial
document was assigned to a Japan specialist, Gordon T. Bowles. Working from
PWC-287, Bowles completed his policy draft on 30 July, incorporating many of
the earlier paper’s recommendations.° His brief urged a series of radical changes,
some of which went beyond the 1944 State Department proposals. First, it noted,
the Education Ministry’s use of textbooks recommended by the military had been a
powerful influence on young minds. SWNCC-108 proposed to abolish textbooks
espousing jingoism and ultra-nationalism. As a first step, it advocated replacing
Showa-era readers, introduced in 1934 to glorify Japan’s military exploits, with less
objectionable Taishé-era texts compiled during the peaceful 1920s.”
 The Cultural Reforms 349

SWNCC-108 recommended that courses in ethics, Japanese history and para-

military training be removed from school curricula. It called for a ban on all
forms of emperor worship in the schools, including the display of Imperial portraits
(goshin’ei), ritual mass bowing in the direction of the Imperial Palace, formal recita-
tions of the Meiji Imperial Rescript on Education and special convocations on
national holidays. The document also decreed the purge of nationalistic teachers and
administrators and the dissolution of the Education Ministry's Education Bureau,
which was responsible for implementing thought-control policies. Where possible,
sympathetic educators and officials willing to cooperate with the Occupation were to
be retained. To instil in teachers a democratic viewpoint, the Bowles paper gave
special weight to the reform of teacher’s colleges. Finally, it urged a thorough
decentralisation of the school system and greater educational and vocational
opportunities for women.
On 19 July 1945, as Bowles was finalising SWNCC-108, the State-War—Navy
Coordinating Committee forwarded a second document of equal importance to its
Subcommittee for the Far East (SFE). The memorandum had been prepared at the
behest of the Navy member of SWNCC, Artemus Gates, a former banker and
president of Time, Inc., and reviewed by Borton and Bowles. ‘Positive Policy for
Reorientation of the Japanese’ (SWNCC-162/D) called for major changes in
‘ideologies and attitudes of mind .. . designed to bring about a Japan which would
cease to be a menace to international security’. The crux of the problem, SWNCC-
162/D asserted, was Japan’s feudal outlook, Imperial cult and ‘an extreme racial
consciousness and an anti-foreign complex’ which produced a chauvinistic ‘common
attitude of mind’.
Japan’s surrender on 15 August brought the planning process to a temporary halt,
but on 18 August, preparations resumed in the SFE under the direction of Borton
and Bowles. By then, the Bowles’ SWNCC-108 proposals had been incorporated
into the “US Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’. In early September, the SFE
revised the second planning paper, SWNCC-162, to urge support from US civilian
experts outside of the Occupation structure. Taken together, SWNCC-108 and
SWNCC-162 called for a dual strategy of reforming the school system and redirect-
ing the nation’s habits of mind. These documents would form the backbone of
the four implementing directives on education issued by GHQ in October and
December (below). Many of the points in Bowles’ study of July 1945 would be
incorporated into the recommendations of the US Education Mission to Japan in
early 1946. Adopted by the State-War—Navy Coordinating Committee as SWNCC-
108/1 in September 1946, they would be approved by the Far Eastern Commission
as official Allied policy in March 1947.’
The task of recasting Japan’s education system was enormous. At the start of the
Occupation, there were approximately 40,000 schools, 400,000 teachers and 18
million pupils. The burden of overhauling this colossal apparatus perforce would be
borne largely by the Japanese. Early State Department plans to recruit Japanese-
American civil affairs officers and foreign-educated Japanese to oversee reform at the
350 The Later Reforms

central and prefectural levels were abandoned as unfeasible. GHQ might provide the
framework and impetus for change, but the real work of reform would devolve on
progressive Japanese educators. In the meantime, the Americans would have to work
through existing institutional channels to eliminate the school system’s ‘pernicious’
and ‘obnoxious’ features and win over the hearts and reorientate the minds of the
nation’s students and teachers.

Japan’s ‘educational somersault’

By the time Civil Information and Education Section had been established in the
autumn of 1945, the Japanese Education Ministry already had plotted the first
tentative coordinates of reform. CI&E possessed only the general guidelines laid
down by the ‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’ and the two SWNCC
policy drafts (108 and 162) to go by and would not issue its first formal directive
to the government until late October. When the Section first approached the
Education Ministry, a new Minister, Maeda Tamon, and reform-orientated bur-
eaucrats stood ready with their own preliminary programme for change. Like most
old-style liberals, Maeda’s views on the Throne were solidly traditionalist.'° Never-
theless, on 25 August 1945, before MacArthur’s arrival, he suspended all laws and
ordinances pertaining to military training in the schools. On 15 September, a
week before CI8¢E was detached from AFPAC’s Military Government Section as
an independent staff group, the Ministry announced a comprehensive plan to
revitalise education in a bid to pre-empt a more radical SCAP reform. The Minis-
try’s ‘Education Policy for the Construction of a New Japan’ called for preser-
vation of the Imperial institution, an end to militaristic and ultra-nationalistic
practices and preachments in the schools and the establishment of a peace-loving
nation. To this end, textbooks would be cleansed of unsuitable content, military-
related instruction eliminated and a new emphasis placed on scientific education
(a response to the atomic bomb). Consequently, on 3 October, the Ministry
formally abolished military training in the schools, purged its bureaux and agen-
cies of active-duty military officers and drew up plans for re-educating the nation’s
teachers.
Initially, CI&¢E was pleased. The ‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy’ had authorised
Japanese officials ‘to exercise the normal powers of government in matters of
domestic administration’, and MacArthur’s headquarters, not yet sufficiently organ-
ised to make informed policy proposals, appears generally to have welcomed the New
Education Policy as a positive contribution to reform. Navy Lieutenant Robert K.
Hall of CI8&E’s Education Branch termed the Japanese initiative ‘the most dramatic
educational somersault in modern times’ and noted that the Ministry had so com-
pletely anticipated US intentions that his staff was forced to devote many hours to
the systematic scrutiny of the voluntary reforms for possible omissions."!
Education Minister Maeda’s position on the Emperor, however, while typical of
many liberalists and consistent with the government's self-serving gloss of the Pots-
dam Proclamation, was wholly at odds with basic Occupation policy. During his
 The Cultural Reforms 351

brief tenure, Maeda would seek to preserve Imperial sovereignty as a basic tenet of
education by reinscribing it in an ostensibly democratic discourse. In numerous
public pronouncements, he stressed the importance of moral education and the
primacy of the Meiji-era Imperial Rescript on Education, which he acclaimed as an
inviolate pedagogical principle and a precondition for democracy. His views would
be shared by his immediate successors, Abe Yoshishige (January to May 1946) and
Tanaka Kotar6 (May 1946 to January 1947).'? If GHQ looked askance at the Minis-
try’s Imperial conservatism, the State Department took extreme umbrage at Maeda’s
attempt to perpetuate Royal authority in the schools. Following acerbic State
Department criticisms, CI8&E intervened, and the New Education Policy, fatally
compromised by its commitment to the Throne, was soon superseded by sterner
measures.
On 4 October, the day after Maeda announced his reform agenda, GHQ issued
its Civil Liberties Directive (SCAPIN-93), toppling the Higashikuni Cabinet and
ushering in the Shidehara government. As noted earlier, on 11 October, MacArthur
handed Shidehara a list of basic changes he expected the new premier to make. The
third of the so-called Five Great Reforms was education. On 13 October, Civil
Information and Education Section summoned Maeda to its headquarters in the
Radio Tokyo Building and ordered him to rewrite school texts, reorganise the school
system and decentralise the Education Ministry. CI&E followed up those instruc-
tions with four ‘negative’ directives, largely reformulations of the earlier SWNCC
planning papers, designed to tear down the impediments to liberal education and
radically revise classroom content.
The first directive was ‘Administration of the Educational System of Japan’
(SCAPIN-178 of 22 October), a broad charter for change that outlined the
Occupation’s primary objectives. This basic directive ordained the rewriting of course
content; the removal from the schools of militarist elements; the reinstatement of
teachers and officials previously dismissed for anti-militaristic or liberal views; the
prohibition of discrimination against students, teachers or officials based on ‘race,
nationality, creed, political opinion or social position’; and the participation of
educators in all aspects of schooling, including curriculum development. The
remaining directives were: ‘Investigation, Screening and Certification of Teachers
and Educational Officials’ (SCAPIN-212 of 30 October), which specified the
methods for investigating teachers and purging undesirable elements; “Abolition of
Governmental Sponsorship, Support, Perpetuation, Control and Dissemination of
State Shinto’ (SCAPIN-448 of 15 December) outlawing the propagation of Shintd
doctrine in the classroom — a psychological assault on the foundations of Imperial
authority; and “The Suspension of Courses in Morals (Shushin), Japanese History,
and Geography’ (SCAPIN-519 of 31 December), which immediately terminated
what GHQ characterised as the ‘three dangerous subjects’. SCAPIN-519 also
ordered the Education Ministry to collect and dispose of all objectionable textbooks
and provide appropriate ones in their place.’
This punitive phase culminated in the education purge, which began on 7 May
352 The Later Reforms

1946 and rolled on for some time. By April 1949, rigorous vetting had deposed more
than 3,000 unsuitable instructors, or about 1 per cent of all teachers. Even before
screening began, however, the Education Ministry, under pressure from student
activists, had obtained the resignation of another 116,000 wartime educators by
announcing that it would suspend the pension rights of any teacher purged after a
certain date. Thus, a total of 119,700 teachers, or 24 per cent of Japan’s first-line
educators, either were purged or resigned of their own volition, clearing the boards of
objectionable elements but creating a dearth of trained professionals that would take
several years to overcome." As indicated above, Japanese bureaucrats and pedagogues
had committed themselves at an early date to many of the measures GHQ sub-
sequently introduced. The Education Ministry’s plans fell short of the sweeping
changes MacArthur’s headquarters demanded, but Japanese anticipation of American
intentions enabled CI8&E to accomplish its mission without further recourse to
formal SCAP instructions, ending the initial period of reform by decree.”

THE STODDARD MISSION

Origins of the Mission

GHQ balanced its retributive measures of late 1945 with a positive policy of refor-
mation that began with the despatch to Tokyo of a high-profile group of American
educators in early 1946. The US Education Mission led by George D. Stoddard
remained in Japan for less than a month but in that short time produced a blueprint
for the institutional reform of Japanese education. Significantly, while the Stoddard
Mission’s guiding principles generally recapitulated pre-surrender American plan-
ning, the details were elaborated by Japanese and US specialists working in close
conjunction, and many of its conclusions reflected Japanese rather than American
priorities. Indeed, the Mission affords an intimate glimpse into the dynamics of
bilateral cooperation for change, for through this external agency a group of forward-
looking Japanese educators were able to win grudging acceptance from their own
government for liberal reform projections formulated before the war.
US planners had foreseen the need for expertise outside the Occupation structure,
but the concept of an Education Mission was first floated during discussions on
German school reform and ideological reorientation in May 1945, following the
Nazi surrender. CI&¢E embraced the idea immediately. The early shortage of educa-
tion specialists of high academic calibre argued strongly for a special delegation,”
and planning for the embassy began almost as soon as the Section was established.
On 24 September 1945, Brigadier General Bonner Fellers asked Major Harold G.
Henderson, Chief of CI&E’s Education and Religions Branch, to broach the subject
to the Education Minister. A Japan scholar with prewar experience in the country
and a personal friend of Maeda, Henderson informed the Minister that an American
advisory group on education would visit Tokyo in the near future and suggested that
the government organise a committee of experts to work with the US team. CI&E
 The Cultural Reforms 353

Photo 47. George D. Stoddard and Pearl A. Wanamaker of the US Education Mission visit
the Nagata Elementary School in Tokyo, 15 March 1946 (US National Archives).

subsequently solicited the assistance of a small number of eminent Japanese scholars

including Ando Shdji, a Japanese language specialist; Kishimoto Hideo, a leading
student of religion; and Kaigo Tokiomi, a well-known educator.’”
Henderson also asked Maeda to cooperate in selecting the Allied members of the
mission, and in early October, the Education Ministry drew up a list of prospective
foreign advisers that included not only Americans but distinguished British and
European educators, as well. On 18 October, Henderson’s deputy, Major Edward
H. Farr, ordered Robert Hall to draft a staff study on Japanese education and
include a roster of potential delegates. Hall was assisted by Army Air Forces Major
Mark T. Orr, with whom he had worked at the Civil Affairs Staging Area in
Monterey. Their task was simplified by SWNCC’s Subcommittee for the Far East,
which less than a week later (23 October) released a position paper, ‘Education in
Japan: Conclusion’, formally endorsing the despatch of an education advisory team.
With this authorisation and MacArthur’s personal blessing, Hall and Orr proceeded
with the staff study, consulting CI8&E’s Japanese advisers as the work progressed, but
ran into difficulty when they tentatively selected Harvard President James B. Conant
to lead the mission. MacArthur and Secretary of State George C. Marshall both
rejected Conant’s choice as ‘politically inappropriate’. MacArthur reportedly feared
Conant as a rival contender in the 1948 presidential elections. Conant’s advocacy of
354 The Later Reforms

the atomic bombings while a member of President Truman’s Interim Committee,

the atomic oversight body, was an additional disqualifying factor (chapter 1).’®
Conant’s selection earned Hall and his superior, Major Henderson, the Supreme
Commander’s enmity, and was one of the factors leading to their subsequent
reassignment.
MacArthur and Marshall approved the rest of the CI8¢E draft on 31 December.
On 4 January 1946, GHQ cabled the War Department formally requesting an
education mission to assist in drafting reforms for which, it claimed, Japanese educa-
tors were ‘technically unqualified’. The need for action was urgent, for the new
school year began on 1 April. The advisory group was to study four areas: 1 educa-
tion for democracy, 2 ‘psychology in the re-education of Japan’, 3 administrative
reorganisation and, 4 higher education. Four independent committees would be
created to recommend policy in each of these areas. In Washington, the War
Department turned responsibility for the endeavour over to the State Department,
which assigned Gordon Bowles, author of SWNCC-108, to help organise the Mis-
sion and accompany it to Japan. George Stoddard, a staunch advocate of ‘reorienta-
tion’ for Japan, Germany and Italy, currently New York State Commissioner of
Education, and president-elect of the University of Illinois, was appointed to head
the delegation."
The Japanese and even Bowles believed that experts from other Allied countries
also should be included, but MacArthur insisted that participation be limited to
Americans, and the State Department concurred. (In fact, two Canadians inadvert-
ently were included, but both represented US institutions at the time.) Bowles and a
War Department observer were among the 27 members. Consisting of mainstream
pedagogues, the group represented a geographical and cultural cross-section of
American society, with four women, one African American, a labour education
specialist from the Congress of Industrial Organisations, and Catholic and Protestant
leaders (no Jewish organisation was represented). Six secretaries, all women, also were
attached to the Mission.

The Committee ofJapanese Educators

The Stoddard Mission marked the beginning of the second phase of education
reform, that of guidance and assistance. The Americans were enjoined to encourage
the Japanese to undertake basic reforms themselves, not to impose it unilaterally, and
on 9 January, MacArthur instructed the Education Ministry to impanel a counter-
part group of prominent Japanese academics to work with the US mission, On 2
February, the Ministry established the Committee of Japanese Educators, with four
sub-committees mirroring those set up by the US Mission, and named 29 liberal
academics, teachers and other professionals to staff it.
Sir George Sansom was profoundly sceptical of the venture when he learned of it.
In late January, after meeting CI8¢E Chief Kermit R. Dyke and Henderson in Tokyo,
he noted in his diary that the Japanese intellectual tradition was too firmly rooted to
be easily amenable to the kind of reform the Americans were contemplating. “They
 The Cultural Reforms 355

Photo 48. Eileen R. Donovan consults members of the Committee of Japanese Educators.
Seated next to Donovan is Committee Chair Nanbara Shigeru, President of Tokyo University
and Japan’s leading liberal educator. Several of the key education reforms endorsed by the
Stoddard Mission were ofJapanese origin (Mainichi).

seem to think that Japan can be supplied with a new system of education as a tailor
might furnish a new suit’, he wrote. Education in the United States, he observed
caustically, ‘is not of such a quality as to encourage one in feeling that it provides
a good model for any other country.”” Many of the Mission’s members were
well-known in Japanese education circles, however, and the Committee of Japanese
Educators generally welcomed this offer of assistance. The fact that the endeavour
had been organised at the highest levels in Washington and stood above the
Occupation and its control mechanisms gave the Mission a cachet of legitimacy.
The Committee of Japanese Educators was composed of respected scholars and
dealt with its American counterparts on a basis of equality. The chair was Nanbara
Shigeru, Christian President of Tokyo Imperial University and one of the country’s
foremost liberals. All but five of the Committee’s 29 members had lived or travelled
in the West, where several had earned advanced degrees. Participants included elem-
entary and secondary school principals, university administrators and professors
(including prominent feminist academics Hoshino Ai and Kawai Michi), a former
Privy Councillor, an art critic, a Congregational pastor and the leader of Japan’s folk
art movement (Yanagi Muneyoshi). Of special significance was the involvement of
far-sighted educators who had proposed democratic changes in the school system
before the war. Some of the Committee’s leading lights also had studied under or
worked with Nitobe Inazé (1862-1933), the liberalist educator and Quaker who had
introduced Western educational philosophy to Japan.”' Nor were the Japanese
dependant on the Americans. After the US team had returned home, the Japanese
356 The Later Reforms

submitted their own official report, ‘Recommendations of the Committee of

Japanese Educators’, to the Education Ministry. A bold restatement of their views,
this document was withheld from GHQ altogether. Nineteen members of the
Committee would join the Japan Education Reform Council when it was created in
August 1946 to carry on the reform work.

A Japanese reform?
After a series of briefings in Washington, Hawai’i and Guam, the Stoddard Mission
reached Tokyo on 5 and 6 March. Members spent the first week in briefings, the
second attending lectures prepared by CI8&E staff and its Japanese advisers, a few
days observing conditions in the field and the last week drafting a final report. Upon
its arrival, the team had received the CI&E staff study, a 132-page document entitled
‘Education in Japan’. Drafted largely by Orr and Major Robert C. McAllen, it
outlined the history, current status and needs of Japan’s school system. Now CI&E,
with Japanese assistance, prepared a series of staff lectures for the Mission, providing
informed and well-reasoned arguments for reform. For instance, Captain Eileen R.
Donovan, a secondary education specialist, delivered the lecture on women’s col-
leges, noting that most Imperial universities systematically barred women from
advanced study. Donovan also pointed out that the Education Ministry itself had no
women in advisory or supervisory positions. She stressed the need for a school system
that guaranteed women equal access to all levels of instruction, respected their right
to acquire knowledge and enhanced their status in society.
In preparing her talk, Donovan had consulted female educators Hoshino Ai, then
President of Tsuda College for Women, and Kawai Michi, President and founder
of Keisen Women’s College and former secretary general of the YWCA. Hoshino
and Kawai had been instrumental in drafting the Education Ministry's “New
Comprehensive Plan for Women’s Education Reform’, a master plan for gender-free
change published in early December 1945. Several Japanese academics, including
noted philologist And6 Masatsugu and pedagogue Kaigo Tokiomi, delivered keynote
speeches to the Mission, and Japanese specialists and Education Ministry bureaucrats
participated in the numerous panel discussions it hosted.”
On 30 March 1946, after more than three weeks of activity, the US advisory group
formulated its conclusions in the ‘Report of the United States Education Mission to
Japan’, which it submitted to MacArthur as a confidential memorandum. Released
to the public on 7 April, the 62-page document declared in the preface “We do not
come in the spirit of conquerors, but as experienced educators who believe that there
is an unmeasured potential for freedom and for individual social growth in every
human being’. The Stoddard Report recommended discontinuance of the Imperial
Rescript on Education; script reform; revision of educational content (textbooks and
curricula) based on the democratic principles already outlined by GHQ; a ‘6-3-3
school ladder with the first nine years free, coeducational and compulsory; teacher
training; the reform of higher education; and administrative decentralisation.” A
year later, on 27 March 1947, the State Department forwarded these conclusions to
 The Cultural Reforms S31

the Far Eastern Commission, which approved them and issued the Allied directive
‘Policy for the Revision of the Japanese Educational System’. The bulk of the Stod-
dard recommendations were implemented in time for the new school year beginning
in April 1947.
The Stoddard findings reflected the liberal American educational philosophy of
the day, but in some areas they were ahead of their time. Charles S. Johnson, Chair of
the Department of Social Science at Fisk University (later President of Fisk, 1946—
56) and the only African-American member on the US team, stressed equality of
opportunity regardless of ‘gender, race, creed or color’. SCAPIN-178 (‘Administra-
tion of the Educational System of Japan’) of 22 October had prohibited any form of
discrimination in education, but Johnson took this tenet farther. At his insistence,
the stipulation ‘Minority groups should be respected and valued’ was written into
the report’s statement of purpose. Johnson also was responsible for articulating the
Mission’s credo: “We believe in the power of every race and every nation to create
from its own cultural resources something good for itself and for the whole world.’
At a time when de facto apartheid was the norm in many areas of the United States,
these were lofty ideals indeed.”
Stoddard acknowledged that ‘negative measures will be effective only as they
embody the will of the liberal Japanese’, and the Mission’s sweeping proposals
were lauded as the epitome of the reform GHQ had been mandated to induce. On
closer examination, however, some key innovations turn out to be of Japanese, not
American, origin. In later years, Bowles, whose deep knowledge of Japan’s culture
and language enabled him to play a crucial mediating role in the Mission’s work,
acknowledged that roughly 60 per cent of the report’s content came from the Japa-
nese side. Through a process of intense bilateral consultations, Japanese educators
managed to have their own reform objectives ratified by the Mission and presented as
American conclusions.” In two areas, those concerning the Imperial Rescript on
Education and language reform, Japanese objections to US proposals compelled the
American team to tone down its final recommendations. Both sides agreed on the
need for curricula and textbook revision, the revamping of higher education and
teacher training, and administrative decentralisation, but in the area of systemic
school reform, Japanese opinion prevailed.

The Imperial Rescript on Education

The touchstone of Japan’s educational philosophy was the Imperial Rescript on
Education, promulgated by the Emperor Meiji in 1890, which exalted loyalty to the
sovereign, patriotism and filial piety as the supreme virtues of the people. Ceremonial
recitations of the Rescript and ritual acts of obeisance before the Royal portrait and
its repository (hdanden) were used to instil blind submission to the Throne and the
Imperial state. Two manifestos of militant nationalism, the “Cardinal Principles of
the National Polity’ (Kokutai no hongi) of March 1937 and “The Way of the Subject’
(Shinmin no michi) of July 1941, had been issued by the Education Ministry’s
Bureau of Thought Control as official interpretations of the Rescript. The Imperial
358 The Later Reforms

education creed was, in the words of a high-ranking CI&E official, ‘one of the most
significant and influential documents ever issued in Japan’.”°
Imperial conservatives, including Maeda Tamon and Yoshida Shigeru, intended to
meet the formal requirements of the Potsdam Proclamation but without, in Yoshida’s
words, ‘altering the fundamental principles of national government laid down in the
Meiji Constitution’, which, it was argued, the militarists had perverted following
their seizure of power. To the conservative mind, the Imperial ethos incongruously
epitomised the democratic spirit. On 15 January 1946, two days after replacing
Maeda as Education Minister, Abe Yoshishige told the Mainichi Shinbun that the
government must lead the nation to true democracy by preserving the principle of
the emperor-based state.”” The ruling élite envisaged the creation of a civil society
that would strengthen, not weaken, the foundations of Imperial rule; the key to this
strategy was the Emperor Meiji’s Rescript on Education.
Liberals, such as Nanbara Shigeru, who despite their modern views held the
institution of the Throne in high esteem, nonetheless believed the old creed not only
narrowly nationalistic and regressive but incompatible with democratic values. They
argued for a new pronouncement on education but insisted that it bear the Royal
imprimatur. Shortly after the surrender, Ariga Tetsutaré, a professor at Déshisha
University in Kyoto, had secretly drawn up a model rescript to replace the 1890
proclamation. In early December 1945, the Sixth Army Military Government
commander in Kyoto obtained a copy of the Ariga draft and forwarded it to
CI&E Chief Dyke with the suggestion that the Emperor promulgate it. Ariga hoped
that by repudiating the ultra-nationalistic interpretation of the original, his ‘Kyoto
Rescript’ would enable GHQ to utilise the spiritual authority of the Imperial insti-
tution in order to democratise it. Written in the same archaic Court language as the
Meiji Rescript, the document’s style contrasted sharply with the liberal ideals it
expounded. CI&E debated the merits of issuing a revised education charter but
failed to reach a consensus.
The Stoddard Mission’s preliminary report called for the Rescript’s ‘permanent
discontinuance’. On 20 March 1946, during the final round of bilateral discussions,
however, the Committee of Japanese Educators submitted a written statement urging
that a new rescript. be promulgated alongside the new Constitution. This would
prove a more effective means of motivating teachers than revoking the Meiji-era
charter, it said. Japanese objections led to divided opinions among Mission members.
Unable to reach a unified position, the Americans sidestepped the question of a new
rescript and, at Bowles’s insistence, modified their conclusion to recommend simple
discontinuance. Going well beyond the ‘opinions’ it had expressed to Stoddard, the
Japanese side later presented an even stronger defence of its case for a new charter in
its official written report to the Education Ministry.”*
Consequently, the Meiji Rescript was not rescinded but simply held in abeyance,
and in late June 1946, a new Education Minister publicly advocated its resuscitation.
Tanaka Kotar6, a convert to Catholicism who had studied in Europe and was
generally hailed as a liberal, broached the issue before the Lower House’s Special
 The Cultural Reforms 359

Committee on the Constitution. The Rescript, he told the Committee, was ‘the
foundation of human morality infallible for all ages and true in all places’. His
attempt to reinstate the principle of Imperial sovereignty just as GHQ was attempt-
ing to replace it with that of popular sovereignty sent shock waves rippling through
Civil Information and Education Section. Education Division Chief Mark Orr
ordered a fresh review of the question. With no conclusion forthcoming, in August
Eileen Donovan penned a scathing critique of what she termed ‘the Magna Carta of
Japanese national ideology’. Acknowledging GHQ’s confusion on the issue and
lamenting its failure to ban the Imperial credo earlier, she revived the idea of promul-
gating the Kyoto Rescript. The Division pressed instead for the repeal of the original
charter, and on 8 October 1946, the Education Ministry reluctantly conceded the
point and announced that the Rescript could no longer be considered the sole source
of Japan’s educational philosophy.”
The enactment of the 1947 Fundamental Law of Education, with its firm state-
ment of principle, precluded the need to issue a new rescript. Yet conservatives,
liberals and even the Katayama Cabinet’s left-of-centre Education Minister, Morito
Tatsuo (May 1947 to October 1948), who openly criticised the Rescript as ‘based on
feudalistic principles’, hesitated to formally revoke it (like many liberals, Morito
favoured a new charter). The deadlock was broken by radical politician and social
historian Hani Gord, who urged the Upper House to abolish what he said was ‘an
order forced on the citizenry by a despotic régime’. The Diet ultimately supported
that view, and the Meiji proclamation was finally declared null and void on 19 June
1948. Six days later the Education Ministry ordered all copies removed from the
nation’s schools.*°

Language Reform
Japanese and US educators appeared to lock horns on another issue: an American
proposal to phase out Chinese characters (kanji) and replace the traditional writing
system with Latin script (Roman characters, or romaji). An Education Division
officer later described this episode as ‘the most bizarre and disturbing’ experience of
his tenure.*' The Stoddard Mission’s initial script reform proposal has been por-
trayed as an attempt to impose foreign ways on Japan, but it coincided with a home-
grown debate on language policy that dated from the Meiji era.” Japanese thinkers
had grappled with the question of modernising their cumbersome writing system,
with its two phonetic scripts (the block-style katakana and the cursive hiragana,
collectively referred to as kana) and several thousand Chinese characters (kanji) in
current use. Three positions emerged, two of them urging the abolition of kanji:
full romanisation, the exclusive use of the kana syllabary and the simplification of
kanji.”
During the final years of the war, American planners, apparently unaware of the
Japanese debates, considered similar arguments. Education specialists at the Civil
Affairs Staging Area in Monterey, California had concluded that Japanese school
children were devoting too much classroom time to the rote memorisation of Chinese
360 The Later Reforms

characters. To remedy that situation, Robert Hall, CASA’s Education Section Chief,
formulated a proposal to replace kanji with the native katakana script (the hiragana
syllabary, too, was marked for elimination). In June 1945, he sent a memorandum
to his superiors in the War Department's Civil Affairs Division urging the aboli-
tion of Chinese characters, but when CAD Chief John F. Hilldring forwarded the
proposal to the State Department, it was vetoed by Japanophile Eugene Dooman,
head of SWNCC’s Subcommittee for the Far East. Dooman believed Hall’s plan
was unenforceable and dismissed its supporters as ‘crack-pots, visionaries and
fanatics’.
Upon arriving in Tokyo, Hall promptly revived his proposal but modified it,
calling now for the gradual replacement of both kanji and kana with Latin script,
a position that traditionally also had found support among Japanese intellectuals.
Here, however, Hall outdid himself. In late November, he ordered the Education
Ministry’s Textbook Bureau to reduce the number of kanji in use and romanise the
nation’s school books by stages and indicated that a romanisation directive was
forthcoming. This unexpected demand created consternation in the Ministry and
alarmed conservative language specialists committed to the status quo. Branch Chief
Henderson quickly reassured Education Minister Maeda that GHQ had no inten-
tion of enforcing such an edict and the tension subsided, but Hall’s faux pas would
shorten the Occupation careers of both officers.”
Although most CI&E officials were conservative on the language issue, Hall sur-
prisingly was permitted to work up a script proposal for the Stoddard Mission. The
Chinese Central News Agency got wind of the endeavour, however and, in late
January 1946, exposed it in a sensational scoop (‘Plans to Replace Present Way of
Writing Nippon Language by Alphabet’). Nonetheless, Hall was able to complete his
study and present it to the US Mission in early March. The 44-page document
concluded that because of the written language’s ‘excessive difficulty . . . the majority
of Japanese people are actually unable to read anything beyond the simplest level
and, accordingly, are politically uninformed’. The dual proposition that written
Japanese ‘constitutes a formidable obstacle to learning’ and that a Latinised writing
system is ‘one of the most subtle and yet powerful allies of democracy’ in the fight
against nationalistic traditionalism was as dubious scientifically as it was ethno-
centric.** Yet the US Mission was swayed by the force of Hall’s arguments, and
Stoddard’s preliminary report called for the introduction of rémaji in elementary
schools and the publication of textbooks both in Japanese and Latin script. Philolo-
gist Ando Masatsugu generally agreed with Hall that the number of kanji should be
reduced and replaced with kana script, but his colleagues on the Education Commit-
tee strongly opposed such radical meddling. Although amenable to the use of the
Roman alphabet as a study tool, they objected to the elimination of Chinese
characters. Committee Chair Nanbara ultimately prevailed upon Bowles to modify
the Mission’s finding. Consequently, while Stoddard’s final report noted ‘that in
time Kanji should be wholly abandoned in the popular written language and that a
phonetic system should be adopted’, it actually recommended only ‘that some form
 The Cultural Reforms 361

of Romaji be brought into common use by all means possible’, leaving actual changes
to the Japanese themselves.””
Sir George Sansom, who had briefed the US Education Mission at its inception,
was taken aback by the Americans’ language assumptions, which he declared to be
unjustified. MacArthur, too, took a cautious view of the language issue. In his preface
to the Stoddard Report, he noted that some of the US Education Mission’s ideas on
script revision were ‘so far-reaching that they can only serve as a guide for long-range
study and future planning.’ General Chu Shih-ming, the Nationalist Chinese repre-
sentative, raised the issue in the Allied Council for Japan on 30 April, but was
reassured by CI8cE Chief Dyke that language reform was a matter for the Japanese to
decide. Pressure for more radical change emerged from another quarter, however.
Dooman and the Japan Crowd having vacated the corridors of power, Hall’s ideas
now found a receptive audience in the State Department. In November 1946, the
Department submitted a policy paper to SWNCC urging a more vigorous overhaul
of the written language, but MacArthur objected forcefully through Diplomatic
Section, successfully killing the proposal. When Washington submitted the Stoddard
recommendations to the Far Eastern Commission in late March 1947, script reform
was the only proposal not included.** GHQ would not interfere in language
questions, which were to be an exclusively Japanese concern.
Language simplification nonetheless went forward. The Japanese Language Coun-
cil, commissioned by the Education Ministry in 1934 to study ways of simplifying
written Japanese, was resurrected after the surrender and worked energetically to
streamline kanji by reducing the number of strokes per character and substantially
lessening the amount to be mastered in elementary and middle school. A romanised
script was introduced into Japanese language courses but as an adjunct to, not a
substitute for, the traditional writing system (a long-standing demand of many
Japanese educators). The resulting limited reform, then, was a compromise between
the conservative foes of any kind of script modification and the liberal proponents of
a far more thorough-going reform. Japanese and Americans educators found them-
selves ranged on both sides of the controversy, giving the issue a complexity that is
often ignored.”

THE EDUCATION REFORMS

Textbook and curricula revision

Japan’s capitulation occurred during the summer school break. In September 1945,
the Education Ministry ordered the nation’s children back to class to finish the
second half of the school year (the Japanese school term begins in April and ends in
March). On 3 October 1945, in line with the Ministry’s New Education Policy,
teachers were instructed to have students ink over or cut out sections in their text-
books deemed ‘inappropriate’, a euphemism for militaristic content. This policy,
subsequently sanctioned by CI8&E, continued until acceptable makeshift texts could
362 The Later Reforms

Photo 49. Children resume school in an outdoor classroom, 25 September 1945. Many
schools were destroyed by Allied bombing. Students initially were confused by the abrupt
switch to a democratic curriculum (Kyodo).

be provided. In some cases, frequent effacements produced non sequiturs, and exten-
sive deletions rendered entire sections unintelligible. The psychological impact of
these ‘blackened-over primers’ (suminuri-kyokasho) on children was considerable.
Education specialist Nakamura Kikuji recalls: “The inked-over school books im-
pressed indelibly on youthful minds the harsh finality of defeat. For many pupils,
that moment of truth had a lasting influence on their lives.’ Before the surrender,
children had been admonished to take scrupulous care of their texts. ‘Now we were
suddenly told to smear the books with ink. ... I felt as if I were defiling myself’
wrote another Japariese. “That day for the first time, I felt besieged by a jumble of
contending values, a feeling that has persisted ever since.”
On 10 November 1945, Civil Information and Education Section initiated a
policy of recall and review. It instructed the Ministry to suspend the printing of
objectionable texts while the Section had them translated into English and vetted for
content. References to Royal authority now would be eliminated systematically.
Predictably, stopping the presses produced an immediate shortage of school primers.
On 31 December, SCAPIN-519 (‘The Suspension of Courses in Morals (Shushin),
Japanese History, and Geography’) ordered the recall and pulping of old books still
in use. It also required the Ministry to prepare and submit for approval provisional
texts in pamphlet form and to prepare a comprehensive plan for school-book revi-
sion. The confusion created by so many sudden changes was compounded by an
 The Cultural Reforms 363

acute paper shortage, with the result that pupils were forced to use crude stopgap
texts and in some instances to do without educational materials altogether. Thus,
‘blackened-over primers’ gave way to ‘temporary school books’ — flimsy folded
pamphlets that disintegrated easily. With the start of the new school year in April
1946, however, revised texts became available, and by summer more than 400 had
been cleared for publication. Geography courses were resumed in June 1946, and in
October, schools began teaching Japanese history again using the freshly minted
Kuni no ayumi (Our Nation’s Progress) duly approved by CI&E censors and
published by the Education Ministry.*!
The new school programme introduced integrated core subjects, such as social
studies (including civics), science and mathematics, in order to raise social awareness
and cultivate a sense of individual responsibility as well as provide a basic education.
Social studies, the primary core subject, replaced compartmentalised courses in
geography, ethics and history. Ethics courses were abolished for the duration of the
Occupation. To help teachers perform their new duties effectively, a curriculum
guide, “The Course of Study’, was compiled for each grade. Instructors discouraged
rote memorisation and emphasised ‘problem solving’ and free discussion. World
history and current events courses dissolved the insularity that had characterised
prewar instruction. Classroom hours devoted to foreign language study were in-
creased, and English generally replaced German as the dominant second language.
The number of required courses was reduced, elective subjects were added and
the school week was shortened from six days to five. Under CI&E guidance, the
American home-room system was introduced to teach proper behaviour and
good citizenship, and student councils were established to encourage democratic self-
government. Military drills and traditional martial arts (dudd), including jidé and
kendo, were banned on 6 November 1945 and replaced by physical education.
Vocational courses (industrial arts and homemaking for both boys and girls) were
introduced at all levels to ‘help create the same respect for those who work with tools
as for those who work only with their minds’.” Intent on democratising all aspects of
school life, CI&E introduced club activities ranging from sports to drama and
English conversation.
Through classroom instruction, student self-government and extracurricular activ-
ities, the new programme of study strove to instil democratic values, foster a spirit of
cooperation and teach respect for human dignity and the rights of minorities. Not all
of these innovations were successful, however. The integration of vocational training
proved difficult, and by the end of the Occupation, a trend toward specialised
technical schools had reasserted itself. Respect for minority rights was interpreted
as respect merely for minority opinions, and a proper awareness of Japan’s cultural
and ethnic minorities never developed. Finally, in 1958, the Ministry would revive
ethics courses. Despite these developments, the Occupation’s transformation of
educational content was dramatic, thorough-going and enduring. Compared with
the pre-1945 school programme, it was revolutionary.
CI&E undertook textbook reform by requiring the Education Ministry to submit
364 The Later Reforms

a list of prospective authors and then screening the candidates’ background and
views. The Section exercised pre-publication censorship, reviewing the texts in
manuscript form and, where necessary, insisting on revisions. In a dramatic break
with past practice, however, writers were given broad discretion, CI&E laid down the
basic guidelines, but within these limits, authors generally were free to determine
editorial policy and content and to supply their own facts and figures. In November
1946, the Education Ministry published ‘General Principles for Instruction in Japa-
nese History’, a teachers’ guide that spelled out CI8&¢E expectations for history
courses. Ishiyama Shihei, chief of the Second Editorial Branch of the Education
Ministry’s ‘Textbook Bureau, and one of the authors of ‘General Principles’, later
recalled: ‘About a third of what I wrote was at the behest of GHQ, a third was a
compromise and a third was of my own initiative.’ Okiyama Hikaru, a Ministry
bureaucrat who compiled a primer on Japanese language and literature, remarked,
‘CI&E insisted on four criteria: clarity, a lively presentation, simplicity of expression
and intelligibility. Beyond that, we were allowed to write as we pleased.’
CI&E was slow in withdrawing certification authority from the Education
Ministry, however. The Stoddard Report had specifically recommended against
Ministry involvement in school-book selection. But when Japanese history courses
resumed in late 1946, CI&E ordered the schools to use only books prepared by
the Ministry and approved by GHQ, Occupation authorities looked askance at the
Ministry’s monopoly on textbook compilation but postponed corrective action,
citing the press of more urgent tasks, It was not until July 1948 that the Board of
Education Law transferred responsibility for school-book selection to individual
schools. After the Occupation, the Ministry would reassert formal control over
text certification, adopting GHQ’s own screening process to censor content at
variance with its neo-conservative philosophy (chapter 11).

The ‘6-3-3’ system

Japan’s prewar education system had required children of both sexes to attend school
for six years. The Stoddard Mission recommended extending free coeducational and
compulsory education from six years to nine: six years of elementary instruction plus
three years of middle school, followed by an optional three years of high school for
students desiring further study. It also urged that higher education be extended from
three years to four. The so-called 6-3-3 (or 6-3-3-4) system was then in wide use in
the United States, and this innovation is often cited as the Mission’s most important
reform. It is now clear, however, that the 6-3-3 proposal was of Japanese, not
American, parentage.
Prewar education had been segregated by sex, with boys and girls attending
separate institutions. It also was male-centred, élitist and multi-tracked, with five
different orientations reflecting gender and class distinctions.“ Liberal Japanese were
keenly aware of the shortcomings of the nation’s school system, and before the war,
reform-orientated educators had advocated corrective action. In 1936, a well-known
pedagogue, Abe Shigetaka of Tokyo Imperial University, had called for the adoption
 The Cultural Reforms 365

of the American 6-3-3 model. In 1937, the Education Reform Club (Kyoiku Kaikaku
Doshi-kai), an ad hoc association of some hundred like-minded academics, business
people and other professionals, endorsed Abe’s ideas and issued a similar set of
recommendations. After the defeat, leaders of this group revived their reform agenda.
Seven, including Toda Teiz6, sociologist and Dean of Tokyo Imperial University’s
Faculty of Literature, were tapped for the Committee of Japanese Educators. Toda
had been a student of Abe Shigetaka and was determined to carry on the work of his
mentor. Together with Kaigo Tokiomi, he energetically lobbied the US Mission for
an American-style reform.”
The Stoddard Mission arrived in Japan determined to leave the prewar 6-5-3
(elementary, middle, higher school) ladder in place but democratise it by making
nine years of instruction (six years of elementary and three years of middle school)
mandatory, coeducational and tuition-free. The remaining two years of middle
school and all three years of high school were to be be neither prescriptive nor
publicly funded. Mission members, however, were unable to resolve the complexities
of Japan’s multi-tiered education structure.** Both sides agreed on the need for
nine years of schooling, but Stoddard was baffled by the five educational orientations
and hesitated to dictate a unitary 6-3-3 ladder. This impasse was broken on 21
March 1946 when Japanese Chair Nanbara and Stoddard met secretly. Nanbara
convinced the US Mission Chief to eliminate the multi-tracked system and adopt the
American model. Stoddard agreed and incorporated the Japanese demand into his
final report.” The Committee of Japanese Educators then presented the 6-3-3
reform as an American initiative, using the US Mission as a vehicle for its own
project.
“The Government,’ Nanbara later remarked with consummate understatement,
‘was not pleased with our movement at all.’“* Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru and his
new Education Minister, Takahashi Sei’ichird (January to May 1947), stubbornly
opposed the 6-3-3 reform. Nine years of mandatory, universal education, they
argued, would place an insupportable strain on an already burdened national budget.
The stalemate reportedly was broken when Takahashi paid a courtesy call on CI&E
Chief Donald R. Nugent. Nugent greeted the Education Minister speaking rapidly
in English and shook his hand. Taken aback by Nugent’s verbal barrage and unable
to understand it, Takahashi is said to have pumped Nugent’s arm, nodded his head
diplomatically and replied, ‘Yes, yes’, thereby inadvertently signalling approval of the
6-3-3 system. This account of Nugent’s ‘subterfuge’ may be apocryphal, but the
story, accepted as gospel in official circles, illustrates the widely held perception that
the postwar education reforms were imposed unilaterally.”
The 6-3-3 system transformed Japanese education. Nine years of compulsory
schooling was introduced in stages, seven years in 1947, eight in 1948 and nine in
1949. Multiple tracking was eliminated, and along with it discrimination based on
gender, wealth and social standing. Elementary and middle schools were made
coeducational, and higher learning became accessible via a single, graded school
system. High schools resisted coeducation, however. By 1949, all junior high schools
366 The Later Reforms

had integrated the sexes, but only 55 per cent of public senior high schools had done
so. The former Imperial universities also opposed change, aggressively limiting
female admissions to about 5 or 6 per cent of the student body.”

Higher education
The US Education Mission concentrated on primary and secondary education but
had only general prescriptions for higher education. It recommended the introduc-
tion of liberal arts (‘general education’), guarantees for academic freedom and the
creation of more colleges and universities but proposed nothing specific. The details
were left to the Japanese, and here again, the Committee of Japanese Educators seized
the initiative. On 21 March, Nanbara asked Stoddard to ‘model the whole scheme
after the American plan, building up elementary schools, high schools, colleges and
universities in a natural sequence with wide opportunities at all levels’.”!
Nanbara formulated this and other demands in his final report, and after August
1946, the Japan Education Reform Council, the successor to the Committee of
Japanese Educators, actively pressed for their implementation. In 1949, four-year
universities became the norm, and in each prefecture, a single national university was
established, absorbing the diverse curricula of former Imperial universities, women’s
colleges, technical institutes, normal schools and higher schools. A total of 250
institutions of higher learning were consolidated into 68 national universities. Pre-
fectural and municipal governments also established public universities, which
appeared alongside private four-year institutions. Of the new universities, two-thirds
had been technical or normal colleges, and many struggled to upgrade their curri-
cula, but eventually these institutions placed higher education within reach of every-
one. Decentralisation enabled regional universities to assert their distinctive local
features and accommodate students unable to afford the expense of studying in a
large city. These schools were nicknamed ekiben daigaku after the box lunches sold at
regional train stations, each featuring a local specialty.”
Another Japanese innovation was the junior college, which CI&E believed should
be downgraded to senior high schools. Despite GHQ’s misgivings, at the initiative of
the Japan Education Reform Council, 148 junior colleges were established in 1950,
some three-quarters of them exclusively for women. By the end of the Occupation,
there were 205 junior colleges, including 7 national institutions, 31 prefectural and
municipal schools and 167 private colleges. Thirty-four prewar women’s colleges had
been recognised as regular universities, and together with the new junior colleges
they opened the doors of higher education to women. In 1950, only about 10 per
cent of university students were female, but, within a few years, that figure would
jump to 30 per cent.
Despite the American emphasis on decentralisation, the Education Ministry
retained considerable authority over the universities, approving curricula modifica-
tions and exercising general oversight. Another vice that proved difficult to eradicate
was the chair system, through which tenured professors exercised patriarchal control
over their students, producing factionalism (the ‘old boy’ system) and élitism.
 The Cultural Reforms 367

Eminent scholars, including many who sat on the Education Reform Council, were
reluctant to eliminate their own base of power in the university. In 1935, nearly 90
per cent of government functionaries were graduates of Tokyo Imperial University.
In 1948, that figure remained high, at 85 per cent, but by 1950, it had fallen to 45
per cent. Nonetheless, today, Tokyo University graduates continue to dominate the
civil service and other élite professions.”

Mass participation
American and Japanese reformers encouraged parents, teachers and students to par-
ticipate actively in the education process. Many of their efforts received enthusi-
astic popular endorsement. For instance, in late 1946, John M. Nelson, Chief of
CI&E’s Social Education Branch, proposed the introduction of Parent-Teacher
Associations, which the Social Education Law legally mandated in 1949. By 1950,
PTAs had been established in roughly 90 per cent of the country’s school districts. To
defend the position of women in higher education, Dr Lulu Holmes of Education
Division’s Higher Education Branch worked closely with prominent educator and
feminist Fujita Taki of the New Japan Women’s League (later, head of the Labour
Ministry's Women’s and Minors’ Bureau). In October 1946, they established
the Japanese Association of College Women. Renamed the Japanese Association of
University Women in 1949, the organisation endeavoured to upgrade the academic
standing of its members and improve other institutions of higher learning for
women.”
To defend academic freedom, in December 1946, university teachers created the
Japanese Association of University Professors, which by 1951 boasted more than
5,200 members in 92 public and private institutions. In October 1949, the Associ-
ation would issue an unambiguous definition of academic freedom, which GHQ was
then engaged in undermining with the Red Purge. The passive collaboration of many
scholars with pre-1945 militant nationalism gave postwar academics a keen sense of
personal and social responsibility for participating fully in politics outside of the
classroom, and many expressed their views honestly and openly. The Japanese
Association of University Professors was determined to defend that right, and to
its credit, charges of ‘ideological deviation’ (left-wing ideas) never swayed the
organisation from its duty.”
In the public school system, teachers, too, organised. On 1 December 1945,
progressive historian Hani Gord founded the All-Japan Teachers’ Union (Zenkyo) to
speed democratisation and secure better working conditions for teachers. On 2
December, old-style Christian Socialist Kagawa Toyohiko formed the Japan Educa-
tors Union (ikkyd), in part to defend the principle of Imperial sovereignty in
education. Hani’s radical initiative fired the imagination of the nation’s teachers, and
after joining the left-of-centre Congress of Industrial Unions (Sanbetsu) in February
1946, Zenkyd quickly eclipsed Kagawa’s conservative organisation. Following the
failed general strike of 1 February 1947, Hani’s union and other left-of-centre
teachers’ groups merged to found the Japan Teachers’ Union (ikkyoso). Within a
368 The Later Reforms

short time, virtually every primary and secondary school instructor had become a
member. Nikkydso enthusiastically supported the education reforms. As the largest
government workers’ union, however, it also led the opposition to GHQ’s revision of
the National Public Service Law in late 1948 and, by 1949, had been labelled a
Communist front organisation. Many of its members fell victim to the Red Purge.
The US Education Mission and its Japanese counterpart both agreed on the need
to protect the universities from encroachments by central authority. Consequently,
the principle of university autonomy was instituted, with real decision-making
powers vested in the faculty committee. Students, too, demanded and, were
accorded, autonomous rights within the university. In fact, student militancy had
preceded labour radicalism. Japan’s first postwar strike was organised in September
1945 by students at Mito High School in Ibaraki Prefecture north of Tokyo. The
protesters occupied a dormitory for one month, demanding that the Education
Ministry dismiss the school’s conservative principal. At the élite Peers’ School,
faculty and parents also petitioned the Education Ministry to remove the head
master. In the early months of the Occupation, student agitation forced professors
and officials to quit at more than 80 institutions, prompting the Ministry to call for
the resignation of all educators who had supported militarism.”
In January 1947, Tokyo University allowed its students to form the first self-
governing body (jichikat), and as that movement spread rapidly from campus to
campus, student radicals began to organise nationally. On 18 September 1948,
with GHQ’s blessing, the All-Japan Federation of Student Self-Government Associ-
ations (Zengakuren) came into being to improve student life, defend academic
freedom and university autonomy, reform education, fight fascism and promote
democracy. Some 145 universities joined the national coordinating body. By May
1949, about 350 universities and roughly 60 per cent of the student population
would belong to the organisation. GHQ quickly changed its view of Zengakuren
when the federation began protesting not only at local measures such as tuition fee
hikes but at national and even international issues, such as revision of the National
Public Service Law and nuclear testing. Dominated by the Japan Communist
Party, Zengakuren soon found itself in direct conflict with Occupation authorities
(chapter 10).” >

The implementing legislation

The Constitution, promulgated in early November 1946, had provided three edu-
cational guarantees. Article 20 prohibited the state from involvement in religious
education. Article 23 ensured academic freedom and Article 26 established the
right to universal, compulsory and free education. The Fundamental Law of Educa-
tion (31 March, 1947) made these constitutional freedoms explicit, and its com-
panion statute, the School Education Law of the same date, gave them concrete
expression. Designed to replace the Imperial Rescript on Education, whose aim had
been to produce ‘good and faithful subjects of the Emperor’, the Fundamental Law’s
11 articles upheld democracy, the dignity of the person and world peace as supreme
 The Cultural Reforms 369

virtues. The statute was, as one scholar has phrased it, ‘a new constitution for
education’.”*
The Education Ministry blanched at many of the law’s provisions, notably coedu-
cation, equality of educational opportunity and administrative decentralisation, but
it was caught between a rock (CI8¢E’s Education Division) and a hard place (the
Japan Education Reform Council). Moreover, from June 1947 to October 1948, two
Socialist-backed coalitions, the Katayama and Ashida Cabinets, gave the law their
full support. Katayama and Ashida appointed as their Education Minister Morito
Tatsuo, a Socialist who had been persecuted in the 1920s by Tokyo Imperial Uni-
versity for his research on Russian anarchist Peter Kropotkin. Morito strongly
supported the reform agenda and enjoyed the confidence of the Japan Teachers’
Union and the Zengakuren. In late June 1948, before the Diet, he would make a
brave defence of student political activity, which he declared an inalienable consti-
tutional right. The intrepid Education Minister also would resist pressure from
GHQ to denounce left-wing radicalism in the schools, although eventually, even he
was engulfed by the floodtide of anti-Communism.”
The Japan Education Reform Council (JERC), established in August 1946 to
carry on the work of the US Education Mission, was now in the vanguard of change.
Nanbara was vice chair for the first year of the Council’s existence and chair
thereafter. The 49-member body was given Cabinet rank, placing it beyond the
machinations of the Education Ministry, and authorised to recommend basic policy
to the government. Problems were discussed by a tripartite steering committee com-
prised of three members representing CI&E, JERC and the Education Ministry.
Mark T. Orr, Chief of Education Division from May 1946, developed a particularly
close relationship with Nanbara. ‘It was our policy that we would not do anything
without getting the full review by the JERC,’ he later recalled. ‘My feeling .. . was
that our objectives ... would not have much meaning unless there was strong
Japanese support for every major reform, So I did not want any reforms that would
not be supported, looking toward the future when there would no longer be an
occupation.’
The Fundamental Law of Education was a broad statement of principle. Enabling
legislation was passed between 1947 and 1949 giving concrete form to the high
ideals expressed in the charter. The School Education Law (31 March, 1947) sup-
plied the details of the new 6-3-3 school structure and defined the objectives for
each level of education. It also provided for special education, making prefectures
responsible for assuring students with disabilities the same level and quality of
education as other children.
Education of the handicapped had been a recognized right since 1872, but only a
handful of national schools existed for the sight-, hearing- and speech-impaired, and
many disabled pupils, particularly those with mental and emotional difficulties, were
kept at home. Now the Education Reform Council insisted on the same period of
compulsory schooling for all children. Implementation lagged considerably due to a
shortage of teaching materials and qualified staff, but by May 1948, there were 74
370 The Later Reforms

schools for the blind and 64 for the deaf and mute, with a total enrollment of
12,400. The National Schools Establishment Law (31 May 1949), which created a
four-year national university in each prefecture, also established a National School
for the Education of the Blind in Tokyo and a National School for the Education of
the Deaf in Chiba Prefecture, both offering teacher training and courses of higher
learning.
The Social Education Law (10 June 1949), made learning accessible to the entire
population by guaranteeing learning opportunities (including physical education,
recreational activities and mail-correspondence courses) to out-of-school youths
and adults. It also provided for government subsidies to municipalities in support
of local educational and cultural activities, libraries, museums, and public halls,
giving substance to the constitutional right of maintaining ‘minimum standards of
wholesome and cultured living’ (Article 25).
Three other laws boldly attacked the centralised administration of education.
These were the Board of Education Law (15 July 1948), the Ministry of Education
Establishment Law (1 June 1949) and the Private School Law (15 December 1949).
The most radical of these was the Board of Education Law. At the firm insistence of
the Education Reform Council and CI&XE, the statute entrusted school administra-
tion to education boards elected by popular vote at prefectural and municipal levels.
This provision effectively freed the schools from centralised authority and, in prin-
ciple, limited the Education Ministry to an oversight role. Seven-member prefectural
boards and five-member municipal boards were to determine curricula, textbook
selection and the hiring of personnel. Elected to four-year terms, board members
were subject to the Local Autonomy Law’s recall provisions. The original bill had
denied teachers the right to stand for election, but fierce opposition from the Japan
Teachers’ Union (Nikkydso) forced the government to drop that measure.”
With board elections scheduled for 5 October 1948, however, Military Govern-
ment raised a red flag. In August, an Eighth Army civil education officer had
warned CI&E that the local electorate was ill-informed and indifferent to the
upcoming balloting. Other MG units noted that Nikkydso candidates and reaction-
ary local bosses were likely to sweep the polls. Charles Kades and Justin Williams of
Government Section, however, insisted that the elections go forward as planned: a
postponement would imply a lack of faith in the ability of Japanese to choose their
own representatives. The election of Communists, they said, was one of the risks
inherent in a democracy. Unconvinced, General Charles W. Ryder, Commander of
Eighth Army Military Government Section, wrote to MacArthur again expressing
the Army’s misgivings. The Supreme Commander replied via CI&E Chief Nugent
that his headquarters was in no position to ignore or modify the Board of Education
Law. The elections were held as scheduled for prefectures and major cities, but voter
turnout was a disappointing 56 per cent, and conservative candidates won handily,
capturing 72 per cent of the seats. Communists took a mere 2 per cent. Elections for
remaining cities, towns and villages were to be held by 1 November 1950, but the
Education Ministry manoeuvred to postpone them for two years. When the second
 The Cultural Reforms 371

round of balloting was finally held in October 1952, however, 10,000 new boards
were empanelled, progressives made important gains (one third of all seats went to
Nikkyoso candidates) and the system at last appeared ready to fulfil the role that the
Education Reform Council and CI&E had envisaged for it.

An incomplete reform
Despite its revolutionary character and overall success, the reform legislation was
plagued by shortcomings and confronted with challenges both from within GHQ
and from the central government. On 30 October 1948, for instance, CI&E and the
Education Ministry published Primer of Democracy, a school reader containing a
derogatory reference to the Soviet Communist Party and its paramount leader. In the
screening process, the Education Ministry objected that the anti-Soviet content vio-
lated the Fundamental Law of Education, which required school curricula to remain
ideologically neutral. When consulted, MacArthur remarked that the controversial
passage also seemed to contravene GHQ’s Press Code prohibiting ‘false or destruc-
tive criticism of the Allied Powers’. In fact, in September of that year, SCAP’s censors
had unceremoniously removed the USSR from the list of Allies exempt from public
criticism (below). At CI&E’s insistence, the primer was published and came into
wide use in high schools and adult education classes.“
Local education boards, the heart of the decentralisation programme, also encoun-
tered difficulties. Large numbers of teachers served on the boards that hired them
and fixed their salaries, creating obvious conflicts of interest, and many board mem-
bers, lacking a clear sense of public service, used their position to feather their own
nests. At the same time, the Ministry of Education gradually reasserted its influence
over the boards, which tended to ‘look to Tokyo’ for guidance. Education super-
intendents chosen by prefectural and municipal boards usurped local prerogatives,
taking control of education policy and using the boards to ratify decisions made at
higher levels. Finally, in 1956, the Ministry abolished elections and had local board
members appointed by higher authority (chapter 11). The boards’ fatal flaw, how-
ever, was their lack of financial independence, a problem that GHQ never was able to
resolve, and ministerial control of local purse strings ultimately sounded the knell for
the grass-roots control of education.”

RELIGIONS

In 1945, there were three large organised religions in Japan: Shinto (literally, the
“Way of the Gods’), an indigenous polytheistic form of nature worship based on rites
of propitiation and purification; Mahayana, or Northern, Buddhism, officially intro-
duced in the sixth century from Korea; and Christianity, brought by Jesuits in the
sixteenth century and reintroduced by Catholic and Protestant missionaries in the
late nineteenth century following the establishment of trade relations with the West.
With the Meiji Restoration of 1868, Japan’s ruling oligarchs attempted to institute a
B72 The Later Reforms

theocracy reconciling divine Imperial rule with modern government (saisei-itchi).

The Imperial Rescript of 3 February 1870 proclaimed the Emperor to be the living
embodiment of godhood and his Throne a holy office established by the ancestral
Sun Goddess (Amaterasu Omikami) and handed down in unbroken succession to
the present. The Meiji Constitution of 1890 described the sovereign as ‘sacred and
inviolable’, thereby justifying the Emperor’s actions — and by implication decisions
of the government that represented him — as manifestations of divine will, subject
neither to clarification nor dissent. This mythico-religious ideology was at the core of
the 1890 Imperial Rescript on Education, which enjoined the people to ‘guard and
maintain the prosperity of Our Imperial Throne coeval with heaven and earth’.
In 1882, the state formally placed all religions into one of three categories, Shinto,
Buddhism and Christianity, but actively discouraged the growth of the latter two.
Shintd was established as the national faith and integrated with the Imperial cult to
serve as a unifying spiritual force for modernisation, much as Christianity had in
Western society. Christianity, whose one god was absolute and stood above the
Emperor, was viewed with particular hostility. Scorned as a foreign import, it suffered
periodic persecution. The Meiji government asserted control over Shint6 shrines and
cults and divided the new state religion into Shrine (Jinja) Shinto and Sectarian
(Kyoha) Shint6. Shrine Shintd was a hierarchical body of some 200,000 Imperial,
national, prefectural, district and village shrines. Imperial shrines were funded by the
Imperial household, national shrines by the government. Shintd priests were civil
servants, and by the 1930s, roughly 10 per cent were highly trained professionals.
Sectarian Shinto included Confucian groups, shamanistic mountain and purification
cults, renascent messianic groups and highly organised sects with rigorous philo-
sophical creeds, such as the influential Tenrikyo.”
At the pinnacle of the State Shint6 system were the Great Shrines of Ise, home of
the ancestral Sun Goddess and repository of the Imperial regalia (sword, mirror and
jewel). The Yasukuni Shrine on Kudan Hill in Tokyo, under direct military control,
enshrined the spirits of the nation’s war dead, as did the national network of Gokoku
(Defence of the Nation) Shrines. From 1937, an Army general was appointed chief
priest at Yasukuni, and in 1945, Admiral Suzuki Kantaro, the former prime minister,
assumed that post.As Japanese society shifted to a war footing in the 1930s, shrines
dedicated to emperors and national military heroes, such as Meiji, Nogi and Togo,
were used to fan militant nationalism. The village shrines and unranked sanctuaries
at the bottom of this pyramid, however, were different in character. There, the spirit
of Japan’s age-old nature religion thrived, little affected by the social and political
upheavals around it.
From 1900, State Shintd was regulated alternately by the Home and Education
Ministries. In 1939, the Home Ministry created the Shrine Board (Jingiin) to
strengthen centralised control over this imposing but unwieldy edifice. At the same
time, the Religious Bodies Law (1939) made all organised religious groups legal
persons, required them to register and meet rigorous criteria and placed them
under direct state supervision. The Religions Branch of the Education Ministry’s
 The Cultural Reforms 373

Photo 50. Imperial Army troops worship at Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo a few months before
the Kwantung Army’s occupation of Manchuria. Dedicated to the souls of Japan’s war dead,
Yasukuni symbolised the ultra-nationalist ethos of the pre-defeat era. 24 April 1931 (Kyodo).

Indoctrination Bureau tightly regulated Buddhism and Christianity. In 1943, the

three recognised religions were brought together under the Greater Japan Wartime
Patriotic Association of Religions (Dai Nippon Senji Shitkyd Hokoku Kai) and forced
to cooperate in the myriad tasks of ‘spiritual mobilisation’.
Civil Information and» Education Section’s Religions Branch (later Division)
under Dr William K. Bunce, then a Navy Lieutenant, was assigned the task of
demilitarising State Shintd and ensuring basic religious freedoms. Bunce’s instruc-
tions from Washington were minimal, however. Article 10 of the Potsdam Proclam-
ation stated simply that freedom of religion would be guaranteed. The ‘US Initial
Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’ of 22 September 1945 reiterated that ‘Freedom
of religious worship shall be proclaimed promptly on occupation’ but added the
proviso: ‘At the same time it should be made plain to the Japanese that ultra-
nationalistic and militaristic organisations will not be permitted to hide behind the
cloak of religion.’ The control document also prohibited discrimination based on
creed or belief.

Freedom of belief
Allied thinking on religion was rudimentary and closely linked to discussions on
education reform. Nonetheless, in mid-March 1944, the Inter-Divisional Area
Committee on the Far East submitted a memorandum entitled ‘Freedom of
374 The Later Reforms

Worship’, drafted by Japan specialists Earle Dickover and Eugene Dooman. This
paper did not reach MacArthur’s headquarters until late 1945, but the Potsdam
document, the ‘US Initial Post-Surrender Policy’ and the Joint Chiefs’ ‘Basic Direct-
ive’ all drew on it, and its recommendations are worth considering briefly. The
Memorandum noted that National Shint6 had been promoted actively by the war-
time state at the expense of Christianity and other religions. It distinguished between
‘the harmless, primitive animism, which was the original Shinto’ and ‘a nationalistic
emperor-worshipping cult which has been used by the militarists to develop the
present fanatically patriotic, aggressive Japan’. The paper warned that National
Shinto ‘is a distinct source of danger to the peace of the Pacific and perhaps of the
world’. The Memorandum recommended that while a few shrines used to foster
extreme militarist sentiment (Yasukuni, Meiji, Nogi, Tog6) might be closed down
‘without any violation of the principles of religious worship’, sanctuaries in general,
including the Great Shrines of Ise, should remain open for individual worship but be
denied state financial assistance. In short, the state was not to interfere in any way
with individual religious practice, nor was it to favour one religion or religious
organisation over another or to provide financial support in any form to such.”
On 4 October 1945, CI&E’s Civil Liberties Directive suspended all laws restrict-
ing freedom of worship or belief, banned discrimination based on creed, abolished
all organisations and government agencies involved in the suppression of religious
freedom, and called for the release of all persons imprisoned because of their
faith. Consequently, Christians, members of messianic sects such as Omotokyé
and Tenri Honmichi and other religious leaders who had criticised the Emperor
system were freed from prison. Shinté was not mentioned, however, and no action
was taken against shrines, which the government insisted were patriotic organisa-
tions, not religious institutions. Interestingly, following the surrender, the Greater
Japan Wartime Patriotic Association of Religions dismissed all government officials
in its employ and reorganised its Buddhist, Christian and Shinté components as
private cooperating federations in order to escape dissolution. The three groups
subsequently formed the Religions League of Japan, an ecumenical body that would
become a progressive force for change in the immediate postwar period.”°
On 7 October, three days after the Civil Liberties Directive, John Carter Vincent,
Chief of the State Department’s Far Eastern Division, told an NBC commentator
during a radio interview that Shintoism would be done away with as a state religion
but not tampered with as an individual creed. ‘Our policy goes beyond Shinto,’ he
then added. “The dissemination of Japanese militaristic and ultra-nationalistic
ideology in any form will be completely suppressed, and the Japanese government
will be required to cease financial and other support of Shinto establishments.’
The Vincent broadcast produced banner headlines in Tokyo the next day, catching
CI&E unawares. Bunce subsequently was taken out of education work and asked to
concentrate on the Shint6 issue, and on 28 November, the Religions Branch was
established as a separate unit inside CI&E (it would become Religions Division in
June 1946).”!
 The Cultural Reforms 375

In line with the Vincent statement, Bunce was directed to disestablish Shinté as a
national cult and prepare a statement formally separating state and religion. His first
step was to draft a lengthy staff study on the Shinto directive. He was assisted in
this task by Dr Kishimoto Hideo, a Harvard-educated religious scholar teaching at
Tokyo Imperial University who had been recommended to CI&E by Education
Minister Maeda Tamon. Kishimoto’s cooperation was indispensable. An unpaid
volunteer with no fixed hours, he made himself available to Bunce’s staff on a regular
basis. “As time went on,’ Bunce later reminisced, ‘I became more and more depend-
ent on Kishimoto for information.’ He noted that, while the savant also worked
closely with the Japanese government, ‘after a time, this was not an important
question at all because he was everybody’s man, in a sense. He was seeking the best
solution, and he would give me his views. . . He was very independent and [the
authorities] left him alone.’ Kishimoto accompanied Bunce on field trips, served as
interpreter at meetings with Japanese officials and used his prestige and credibility to
argue the merits of reform with religious leaders and the public, becoming an
unofficial spokesperson for Religions Division.”
Bunce also conferred regularly with Dr Anesaki Masaharu, head of the Religious
Studies Department at Tokyo Imperial University and Kishimoto’s father-in-law, and
in the early months received several visits from renowned scholar and Zen master
Suzuki Daisetsu, a bitter foe of the Shinté establishment. At the same time, Bunce
corresponded with Dr Daniel C. Holtom, American missionary and expert on
modern Shinto, who sent him a list of recommendations for the reform of Shrine
Shinto (22 September 1945). These covered textbook revision, Shinté in the schools,
and shrines and ceremonies and their administration. Bunce assigned Kishimoto and
other Japanese advisers to the Special Projects and Research Branch, the Division’s
brain trust, and named William P. Woodard to head it.”*

The Shinto Directive E

Bunce and his staff completed their Shinto staff study on 3 December 1945. Based
on it, they drafted the Shint6 Directive (SCAPIN-448: ‘Abolition of Governmental
Support, Perpetuation, Control, and Dissemination of State Shinto’), which was
issued on 15 December. Like many SCAP instructions, the document was worked
up and finalised at the junior staff level. Many years later, Bunce remarked, ‘My own
directive, disestablishing State Shinto and prohibiting certain ultra-nationalistic
teachings established by government, was written without any guidance from above
and was not changed in any way by higher headquarters.’ It also reflected the views
of Bunce’s Japanese advisers and in this sense was a collaborative effort.
SCAPIN-448 banned official sponsorship or financial aid to shrines and any
participation in Shinto rites or observances by government officials acting in their
official capacity. It outlawed militaristic ideology in religious practice in general,
annulled government orders pertaining to shrines, abolished the Home Ministry’s
Shrine Board, removed Shinté symbols from schools and public offices, and pro-
hibited the dissemination of Shint6 doctrine in educational institutions receiving
376 The Later Reforms

public funds. The directive also banned use of the term “Greater East Asia War’ and
other slogans connected with wartime ultra-nationalism. The document’s second
paragraph formulated rules for the separation of religion from the state ‘to prevent
the misuse of religion for political ends’ and ‘put all religions, faiths and creeds upon
exactly the same legal basis, entitled to the same opportunities and protection’. The
Emperor’s renunciation of divinity on 1 January 1946, despite its Royal ambiguities,
seemed to echo the Shinté Directive's bold tenor.”
The government promptly complied with the dissolution decree, transferring
Shrine Board records to the Education Ministry’s reconstituted Religious Affairs
Bureau and suspending disbursements worth about ¥1 million to 200 Imperial and
national shrines (nearly one quarter of these had gone to the Great Shrines of Ise
alone). On 28 December, the Cabinet enacted the Religious Corporations Ordin-
ance, enabling disestablished shrines and groups to became religious corporations.
Some 80,000 shrines subsequently regrouped under the Association of Shinto
Shrines (Jinja Honcho), a private body organised in late January 1946 by 200 shrine
representatives from across Japan. Priests were stripped of their civil service rank and
their privileges, and their semi-official training centre, the Institute for the Study
of Imperial Writings (Koten Kokyisho), was abolished. Unlike CI&E’s Education
Division, however, Religions Division never conducted a purge of religious leaders
per se, Bunce believing it would do more harm than good.”°
Education Ministry officials feared that CI8&¢E would attempt to ban the Imperial
family’s private Shintd ceremonies and rituals and close down the Great Shrines of
Ise. In late November, before the promulgation of SCAPIN-448, Sone Eki of the
Central Liaison Office and ’inuma Issei, Vice President of the Shrine Board, visited
the Religions Division chief with what a Bunce subordinate referred to as ‘a remark-
ably progressive set of proposals’ designed to pre-empt a formal SCAP directive. The
recommendations had been worked out in cooperation with Anesaki, who had been
acting as liaison between the Board and CI&E, and the Cabinet had ratified it on
20 November. The government proposals anticipated the provisions of the Shint6é
Directive to a surprising extent, but Bunce explained that the SCAPIN would be
issued anyway as.a formality. In the course of two conferences, the Japanese also
broached the futureof Yasukuni Shrine and impressed upon Bunce its importance to
the country. Yasukuni, Meiji, Nogi and Tégé Shrines, as well as the national Gokoku
sanctuaries, were allowed to continue operating as places of individual worship,
despite their militant past. ‘Yasukuni,’ Bunce later commented, ‘was a national
repository of the feeling of the whole nation who had lost members of their family.
Therefore, Yasukuni had a legitimate place in Japanese life if the Japanese wanted to
keep it.’””
This was a question of great personal importance to Bunce. GHQ’s goal was to
depoliticise Shinté belief and practice, removing chauvinistic and undemocratic
elements, not to demean, discourage or restrict Shinté itself. A punitive policy would
constitute discrimination against a specific faith, negating the principles of religious
freedom and equality of belief. The injunction against state involvement in religion
 The Cultural Reforms 377

applied to all creeds, not just Shint6é. Bunce later acknowledged that his prewar
experience as an English teacher in Matsuyama, Ehime Prefecture had fostered in
him an appreciation of both Buddhism and Shintoism but noted that his primary
inspiration for the Shinté Directive was the US Constitution.”
SCAPIN-448 became the basis for the new Constitution’s Article 14 (banning
discrimination based on creed), Article 19 (freedom of thought and conscience),
Article 20 (freedom of religion) and Article 89 (prohibiting the expenditure of
public funds for ‘the use, benefit or maintenance of any religious institution or
association’). The directive’s provisions also were written into the Fundamental Law
of Education, the School Education Law, the Civil Code, the Local Autonomy
Law and other statutes and ordinances covering religion.”

Christianity
While Bunce was guaranteeing to all religions equal opportunities and protection,
the Supreme Commander was busy promoting Christianity, using his discretionary
powers to make smooth its ways in the new Japan. To Bunce’s dismay, MacArthur
propagated the faith with astonishing candour. In October 1945, for instance, the
General urged Protestant leaders to send 1,000 missionaries to convert the Japanese
and gave them privileged access to the country. On 25 November 1946, he wrote to
the Joint Chiefs that ‘It is the policy of this theater to increase greatly the Christian
influence.’ On 24 February 1947, he told the US Congress in a radio message that
“Through the firm encouragement ... of this yet frail spearhead of Christianity in
the Far East lies hope that to hundreds of millions of backward peoples ... may
come a heretofore unknown spiritual strength,’ MacArthur was elated by the ascen-
sion to power of Presbyterian and Socialist Katayama Tetsu in May of that year, In a
public statement, he hailed as progress the fact that Japan was led by a Christian for
the first time in its history and noted that “Three great oriental countries now
have men who embrace the Christian faith at the head of their governments, Chiang
Kai-shek in China, Manuel Roxas in the Philippines and Tetsu Katayama in Japan.’
Katayama’s premiership, he declared, offered hope that Christianity would prove ‘an
invincible spiritual barrier against the infiltration of ideologies which seek by sup-
pression the way to power and advancement’, an obvious reference to Communism.
In October 1947, he wrote to a US missionary in Gifu Prefecture: ‘I entertain the
hope that Japan will become Christianised. Every possible effort to that end is being
made and, had I my way, I would hope for a thousand missionaries for every one that
is here now.’
MacArthur’s proselytising ardour stemmed partly from his own messianic pro-
clivities, and partly from a sincerely felt moral obligation to rectify the damage done
to mission schools and churches by the wartime régime. He believed fervently in the
high ethical and humanitarian values of Christianity, and was convinced that, in their
absence, the turmoil of defeat would drive Japan to the left. ‘Japan is a spiritual
vacuum’, he told four Protestant leaders in the autumn of 1945, ‘If you do not fill it
with Christianity, it will be filled with Communism.’ But his open support of church
378 The Later Reforms

work in Japan also reflected a sensitivity to US public opinion as he prepared to enter

the 1948 presidential elections. On MacArthur’s orders, Religions Division facili-
tated the activities of evangelic groups, allowing them to use Occupation facilities
and introducing their leaders to the Supreme Commander and even to the Emperor.
MacArthur not only encouraged the churches to send missionaries but asked for, and
received, 10 million Bibles and hymnals translated into Japanese. Although entry
into Japan was strictly controlled, between August 1945 and December 1950,
SCAP’s G-1 and Religions Division invited 3,000 evangelists to Japan. Many also
were allowed into south Korea until war broke out there in 1950. By June 1951,
there were 4,000 in Japan, including large numbers who had taken refuge from
the fighting in Korea. At the same time, prominent Japanese Christians — but not
Buddhists — were allowed to visit the United States prior to the relaxation of entry
and exit controls in 1949. Among them was Uemura Tamaki, a female activist who
on her return presented the Empress with a Bible and lectured on it in the Imperial
Palace. The first Japanese permitted to study abroad were Catholic seminarians. In
late 1947, reacting to accusations of blasphemy from American church groups,
MacArthur ordered CI&E Chief Nugent to reprimand the Education Ministry for
publishing a textbook, The History of the West, suggesting that the New Testament
was not entirely factual.*!
Missionaries by and large were well-meaning, dedicated people. Among them were
former prisoners of war, such as Jacob DeShazer, who had been captured after
bombing Nagoya in April 1942 with the Doolittle Raiders. But many preached anti-
Communism alongside the Gospel and denigrated Buddhism and Shintoism as
pagan creeds based on superstition. Their growing presence immediately elicited
charges from Japanese religious leaders that SCAP was favouring Christianity at the
expense of traditional beliefs and in defiance of its own stated principles. On 20
January 1947, G-1 sent a check sheet to the Chief of Staff urging an official state-
ment of non-assistance to the churches. It noted Buddhist and Shinté complaints
that ‘freedom of religion is only a theory with us because [Occupation authorities]
are supporting the Christian movement’. Maintaining the appearance of non-
support, G-1 asserted disingenuously, ‘is strongly consistent with the policy of
strengthening Christian influence in Japan’.
Bunce resolutely opposed such hypocrisy, prompting complaints from church
dignitaries about CI8zE’s ‘stiff-necked attitude of impartiality.’ Religions Division
clashed with Education Division over religious content in education, opposing what
it viewed as an attempt to introduce Christian-derived teachings into the curriculum.
In 1949, Bunce pressed Section Chief Nugent for a restatement of the policy of equal
treatment and personally raised the issue with MacArthur. By that time, however, the
Supreme Commander had concluded that ‘pride of race ... would prevent most
Japanese from becoming Christian’ and had stopped making public pronounce-
ments in support of Christian missions.” And in fact, few Japanese responded to
American efforts to propagate what was widely viewed as an alien religion. As of 31
December 1948, there were 343,000 Japanese Christians, a mere 0.6 per cent of the
 The Cultural Reforms 379

population, roughly the same figure as when MacArthur arrived in 1945, As one
scholar has remarked cynically, ‘Many Japanese accepted a free pocket Bible from
the Americans, but they saw it as a cheap substitute for cigarette paper.”
Where the Court was concerned, however, MacArthur and his staff discouraged
proselytisation, In the wake of defeat, rumours abounded that the Emperor was
considering conversion, sparking a fierce contest between foreign Catholic and Prot:
estant leaders to win the monarch’s favour, MacArthur's Counter-Intelligence Chief
Elliott R. Thorpe reported escalating demands by the Papal Nuncio and Protestant
bishops to visit Hirohito and fretted that ‘whichever group got this potential convert,
the other group would set up a protest that might well have resulted in MacArthur's
relief as Commander-in-Chief in Japan’, In fact, MacArthur had flirted initially with
the idea of winning an Imperial proselyte, On 10 July 1946, he confided to US
Secretary of the Navy James Forrestal in Tokyo that he was thinking of asking the
Emperor to join the Christian faith, The monarch, MacArthur said, was ‘typical of
any well-bred wealthy young club man in a Western society who was used by the
military as their stooge’. The General evidently changed his mind, however, He later
boasted to an American churchman that he had the power to make the Emperor and
70 million Japanese Christians overnight if he so chose, and he told American
revivalist Billy Graham that Hirohito had indicated to him a willingness to adopt
Christianity as Japan’s new national creed, But the Supreme Commander rejected
the offer, he told Graham, because it would be wrong to force any religion on a
country. Such methods, he believed, would ruin the church's chances of ever devel-
oping properly in Japan. In any event, MacArthur appears to have decided that
Imperial apostasy was poor policy.™
Nonetheless, the monarch met a long succession of US Christian leaders, includ-
ing Cardinal Francis Spellman and Billy Graham, and reports of the Imperial family’s
impending conversion persisted, Nanbara Shigeru, himself a Christian, predicted in
1946 that Hirohito would embrace the faith, and in 1950, Kagawa ‘Toyohiko, a
Socialist reformer and Christian who had lectured to the Emperor on Christianity,
told the media that the sovereign was studying the religion, The appointment, at
Hirohito’s request, of Philadelphia Quaker Elizabeth G, Vining as tucor to Crown
Prince Akihito furthered such speculation, as did reports that the Empress Dowager
believed Japan would be better off as a Christian nation,”

Problems, resolved and unresolved

The separation of religion and state posed a number of difficulties for Japan's trad-
itional religions requiring the intervention of Religions Branch, The problem of
state-owned shrine and temple precincts was especially complex, More than 30,000
Buddhist temples occupied 10,000 hectares of public land, and nearly 73,000 Shinté
shrines were sited on 30,000 hectares, Without this property, many religious organ-
isations could not operate, but an outright grant of land by the state would contra-
vene Article 89 of the Constitution, which banned public assistance to religious
institutions, Bunce got around this quandary by arguing that Article 20's guarantee
380 The Later Reforms

of religious freedom was the more basic liberty, CI8¢E agreed, and on 12 April
1947, the Diet amended the 1939 Law for the Disposition of State-Owned Proper-
ties Used by Shrines and ‘Temples. ‘The revision allowed the government to transfer
precinct titles to religious groups free of cost under certain conditions and enabled
organisations to purchase other land at half its market value, saving many religious
organisations from dissolution." The land reform of October 1946 posed another
problem, for it classified groups holding property received as religious offerings as
absentee landlords. Religions Division convinced Natural Resources Section to allow
churches, shrines and temples to retain such holdings if they were tilled or pastured
by parish priests or other religious personnel,
The most pressing issue for Shinté groups was the loss of government revenues,
Stripped of their subsidies, many sanctuaries came to rely on local neighbourhood
associations (tonari-gumi) for maintenance costs and funds for shrine festivals,
In the spring of 1946, Religions Division began receiving complaints from indi-
viduals that the fonari-gumi were exacting shrine dues and other contributions
from families still organised in thé wartime household networks. Failure to comply
with such demands resulted in harassment and even threats of violence, As this was
clearly a violation of the Shinté Directive, on 6 November 1946, Religions Division
issued SCAPIN-1318 (‘Sponsorship and Support of Shinté by Neighborhood
Associations’) prohibiting unauthorised levies, Under pressure from CI&E and
Government Section, the Home Ministry finally disbanded the tonari-gumi on 31
May 1947, but the associations continued to operate informally, and the problem of
forced contributions was never fully resolved."”
The Religious Corporations Ordinance of 28 December 1945 was an interim
measure designed to facilitate the transition ofshrines from state to private control,
Through it, more than 200,000 sanctuaries became incorporated religious bodies.
Among them were many messianic cults and new religions that proliferated in the
confusion of the immediate postwar era. A number of these organisations applied for
religious status solely in order to receive tax exemptions and other privileges. In
1947, Shinohara Yoshio, head of the Education Ministry's Religious Affairs Bureau,
proposed to close some of the Ordinance’s loopholes with a new law, but Bunce was
not enthusiastic, He changed his mind when an inter-faith delegation of religious
dignitaries visited him in the autumn of 1949 and requested his assistance in drafting
a new law before the end of the Occupation, Bunce refused to undertake the task
himself, however, suggesting that the religious leaders work with Shinohara to pro-
duce a draft. When the Ministry baulked at this suggestion, Bunce’s Special Projects
Officer William P. Woodard acted as go-between, inviting the Religions League of
Japan to assist in formulating the proposal, League representatives in effect became
consultants of Religions Division, The Religious Juridical Persons Law of 3 April
1951, enacted at the request of a private confederation and with the cooperation of
leaders of all faiths, became the only religious statute passed by the Diet during the
Occupation, Maintaining the separation of religion and state, the law met the varied
needs of Japan’s traditional creeds as well as its newer ones, treating all equally. Ie
 The Cultural Reforms 381

established firm criteria for incorporation but avoided regimentation, eliminating

abuses under the 1945 Ordinance while enhancing the freedom and security of
incorporated bodies. Coming late in the Occupation, this remarkable piece of legisla-
tion was an exercise in democratic self-regulation that exemplified the best of the
postwar reforms.*®
Religions Division left the Great Shrines of Ise intact, although divested of state
support, and did not interfere with the ritual observances of the Imperial family
itself, reasoning that this fell within the domain of individual freedom of worship. In
November 1945, Hirohito journeyed to Ise to report the end of the war to the Sun
Goddess and the spirits of his Imperial ancestors, and in June 1952, he made the trip
again to announce the entry into effect of the San Francisco Peace Treaty. Religions
Division interpreted these as private acts financed by the Imperial household, not
official observances funded out of state coffers. The line between private and public
acts quickly wore thin, however. Crown Prince Akihito’s investiture ceremony in
November 1952 was a solemn state function involving substantial government
expenditures, but because the ceremony itself took place before the Imperial Shrine
inside the Palace, the government claimed it was a private rite. Conservative post-
Occupation governments would utilise this ambiguity to enhance the position of the
Throne and its powerful symbolism, progressively blurring the crucial distinction
between state and religion.”
A similar aura of uncertainty surrounded worship at Yasukuni Shrine, repository
of the souls of Japan’s war dead, and the legality of visits there by government
officials would provoke controversy in the years that followed. In the autumn of
1951, with the Occupation nearing the end of its tenure, CI8cE reversed its policy on
the attendance of officials at funerals and other observances for deceased soldiers. In
November 1946, the Section had issued verbal instructions to the Education and
Home Ministries prohibiting local-government sponsorship of funerals and me-
morial services, including the presentation of condolence money or wreaths. It also
had outlawed public ceremonies marking the return of funerary urns to bereaved
families. In September 1951, Religions Division executed a perfect volte-face, infor-
ming the Education Ministry, again verbally, that it did not object to the ‘appropriate
commemoration’ of the war dead by the government. Municipal authorities now
were allowed to donate flowers, incense or wreaths on these occasions and give
money to build tombs and ossuaries. Contributing to the erection of monuments or
memorials later was authorised as well, provided the monuments were set apart from
religious and educational institutions and did not bear religious symbols or national-
istic inscriptions. This dramatic policy shift alarmed Buddhist and Christian groups
and drew a formal rebuke from the Religions League of Japan. Together with the
Yasukuni issue, it would set the stage for a series of post-Occupation controversies
over state involvement in religion (chapter 11).”°
382 The Later Reforms

INFORMATION CONTROL AND THE MEDIA

Allied censorship and information controls, born of military necessity, originally

were conceived as interim measures. Once instituted, however, they developed a life
of their own, enduring until October 1949. Their extension beyond the initial
military phase of occupation into peacetime was incongruent with the Potsdam
guarantees of free speech and inquiry and, indeed, with the 1947 Constitution.

Wartime planning
In his State of the Union Speech of 6 January 1941, President Franklin Roosevelt
listed free speech as one of the Four Freedoms constituting Allied war goals, but
when war with Japan broke out eleven months later, that freedom became one of the
first casualties. The US Office of Censorship, created on 19 December 1941 under
the First War Powers Act, monitored and restricted information flows into and out of
the United States as a wartime emergency measure. In mid-1943, its civilian director,
Byron Price, a former Associated Press newsman, convinced military and civilian
leaders to develop a post-defeat censorship policy for the Axis Powers.”' Planning
for Japan involved the Army and Navy, the State Department, the Office of War
Information (OWI), and the Office of Strategic Services (OSS) and proceeded along
two tracks, Early thinking was orientated to wake-of-battle military needs and
assumed an invasion followed by a hostile occupation. Civilian planning was more
broadly conceived: censorship and media guidance were viewed as extensions of
US foreign policy directed at replacing fascist (and later, Communist) ideas with
democratic values. The dual policy that emerged was strongly influenced by planning
for postwar Germany.”
In July 1943, at the request of the US Office of Censorship, the Allied Combined
Chiefs of Staff made the surveillance of civilian communications in occupied terri-
tories an official military duty. Censorship was to target the mails, telephone and
telegraph, radio, press, films, and photographs and extend to both domestic and
external communications. In May 1944, MacArthur received his first formal instruc-
tions on civil censorship from the War Department, and in November of that year,
the Joint Chiefs issued a policy directive (JCS-873/3) on the subject to commanders
in the Asian and Pacific theatres. The basic objectives of information control were
to gather intelligence, insure military security, maintain internal order, prevent
black-marketeering, enforce the terms of surrender, arrest suspected war criminals
and disseminate information in support of military government. In the event
of Japan’s capitulation, all communications, domestic and external, were to be
suspended temporarily, after which internal spot checks on the mails and tele-
communications would be instituted. Unlike MacArthur’s May instructions, JCS-
873/3 also targeted the ‘media of publicity’ (newspapers, broadcasting, film), which
were to be supervised closely and purged of ultra-nationalistic content.”
Based on JCS-873/3, on 31 December 1944, Brigadier General Thorpe,
MacArthur’s Counter-Intelligence chief, was directed to establish a Civil Censorship
 The Cultural Reforms 383

Detachment. Lieutenant Colonel Donald D. Hoover, a former newspaper man and

public relations expert who had helped organise the US Office of Censorship, was
named to head the new unit. In April and July 1945, following the establishment of
MacArthur’s AFPAC headquarters in Manila, Hoover drafted the ‘Basic Plan for
Civilian Censorship in Japan.’ His third revision (30 September) became the basis for
the Occupation’s censorship programme. Communications and media surveillance
would be primarily a military endeavour assigned to Hoover’s Civil Censorship
Detachment.”
In the meantime, State Department planners working on Germany were stretch-
ing the concept of information management to include not only the extirpation of
militaristic ideas but the inculcation in their place of democratic ones. Two State
Department papers reflect this shift in emphasis. The first was a study drafted in July
1944 by Japan specialist Beppo Johansen and entitled ‘Japan: Occupation: Media of
Public Information and Expression’ (CAC-237), which proposed moderate media
controls and introduced the concept of prior clearance, or pre-censorship, of
materials for domestic dissemination.” A year later, policy-makers had gone much
farther and were openly advocating thought reform for postwar Germany, an idea
that would shape the final draft of CAC-237. Leading this crusade was Archibald
MacLeish, Secretary of State for Public and Cultural Relations. MacLeish was a
fervent believer in ideological reorientation. The United States, he believed, had ‘a
duty now not only to occupy and police and feed and punish, but to convert and
to persuade’. Even the Japan Crowd, whose lenient early proposals had stressed
the liberation of the media from government control, now embraced this more
radical point of view. In early 1945, Eugene H. Dooman, Chair of SWNCC’s
Subcommittee for the Far East, echoed MacLeish’s concerns, asserting that ‘It is our
primary task in this war to change the basic thinking of the Japanese masses.””° In
April 1945, Dooman’s SFE requested a revision of CAC-237 specifying the concrete
measures to be taken. This task was assigned to State Department officials working
under MacLeish. Completed on 10 August 1945, “Control of the Media of Public
Information and Expression in Japan’ spelled out a detailed programme of media
surveillance designed, among other things, to redirect Japanese thinking along
democratic lines via a positive policy of ideological guidance.
The new CAC-237 was followed in short order by ‘Positive Policy for Reorienta-
tion of the Japanese’ (SWNCC-162/D) of mid-July, which called for major changes
in ‘ideologies and attitudes of mind’. Extending well beyond formal schooling, this
pro-active policy advocated utilising ‘all possible media and channels’ and was to be
an integral part of military government activities. As one scholar has pointed out, it
urged, in effect, the extension of wartime propaganda and psychological warfare
techniques into the postwar era of peace in order to counter fascist and Communist
ideology and secure America’s long-term political interests in Japan. SWNCC-162/
D proposed enlisting the support of progressive Japanese, who with American shep-
herding would reforge the progressive elements in Japanese culture into a liberal
democratic ethos, implying a long-range US commitment to the slow process of
384 The Later Reforms

thought conversion. SWNCC-162 and CAC-237 were incorporated into early drafts
of the Army’s ‘Basic Directive’, which called for minimal surveillance and the use of
the media of information to root out objectionable ideas and foster democratic
principles,”
At the start of the Occupation, two organisations, one military, the other civilian,
were responsible for information control. ‘The Army’s Civil Censorship Detachment
performed the purgative function of eliminating undesirable ideas and influences
from the media of publicity and expression. CI&E’s Information Dissemination
Branch (later, Information Division), the successor to Brigadier General Bonner F.
Fellers’s Psychological Warfare Branch (SWPA/AFPAC), was assigned the affirmative
duty of realigning the nation’s mental processes by providing books, magazine
articles, radio scripts, films, plays, records and photographs extolling the virtues of
the democratic (American) way of life."

The Press and Radio Codes

Media control, a long-established practice in Japan, became pervasive with the
beginning of the Pacific War. From December 1941, nothing could be published,
broadcast or screened without prior approval, The Information Bureau, created in
late 1940, employed 600 civilian and military censors to supervise print, broadcast
and film media and engage in ‘positive’ propaganda in support of Japan’s military
objectives, The Bureau’s propaganda lines were disseminated by the state-run news
agency Démei (1936) and the Ministry of Communications’s Japan Broadcasting
Corporation (1926),
Lieutenant Colonel Hoover's Civil Censorship Detachment (CCD) began operat-
ing from AFPAC headquarters in Yokohama on 1 September 1945, one day before
the Instrument of Surrender was signed. On 3 September, the CCD created the
Press, Pictorial and Broadcast Division to monitor the mass media. Pre-surrender
planning had recommended utilising Démei and the Japan Broadcasting Corpor-
ation (Nihon Hosd Kyokai, dubbed ‘NHK’ to suit the American preference for
acronyms) to disseminate Occupation directives, but MacArthur, on the advice of a
senior American correspondent (reportedly anxious to destroy a rival), issued orders
to shut down Démet. “This would have been a very serious step indeed,’ Counter-
Intelligence Chief Thorpe later wrote, ‘for we were using Domei as the only effective
means of communicating the Commander-in-Chief’s will to the nearly 60 million
people in the Empire.’ Thorpe and Hoover hastily arranged a meeting with
MacArthur, and Hoover, ‘with the earnest eloquence ... of an old time revival
preacher’, persuaded the Supreme Commander to keep the news agency open.'”°
GHQ promptly replaced Japan's censorship and propaganda establishment with
its own, retaining intact the full panoply of control mechanisms. On 11 September,
CCD’s Press, Pictorial and Broadcast Division moved into Démei and NHK
offices. Meanwhile, GHQ/AFPAC transmitted its directives from Yokohama to
Japan’s media via the Information Bureau and the Home Ministry’s Police Bureau
(Censorship Section), MacArthur's Public Relations Office controlled the release of
 The Cultural Reforms 385

news to foreign correspondents (formal censorship of the foreign media ended on 6

October), and from 2 October, SCAP’s Civil Communications Section assumed
organisational control of NHK." Ina telling display of priorities, the Civil Informa-
tion and Education Section itself took up residence in NHK’s home offices in the
Radio Tokyo Building, Hibiya.
On 10 September, the Supreme Commander issued the ‘Freedom of Speech and
Press Directive’ (SCAPIN-16), drafted by the Civil Censorship Detachment. The
10-point memorandum pledged ‘an absolute minimum of restrictions upon freedom
of speech’ but banned news that did not adhere to the truth, disturbed the public
tranquillity, criticised the Allied powers or discussed Allied troop movements. Radio
broadcasts were limited to news, music and entertainment, and Radio Tokyo was the
only station allowed to broadcast news and commentary domestically. Violations of
the order were punishable by suspension. Censorship of print and broadcast media
began the same day. The CCD ordered Domei to cease overseas shortwave
broadcasts. The English daily Nippon Times (shortly to become The Japan Times),
a Foreign Ministry mouthpiece, was placed under pre-publication surveillance.
Radio Tokyo, the nation’s sole source of broadcast news, also was subjected to
pre-censorship. Post-publication checks were imposed on books and pamphlets.’
Domei came in for particular scrutiny. Army censors were irate at its frequent
reporting of GI crimes and misdemeanors. They hammered the state news agency for
following the Foreign Ministry line that Japan’s surrender had been conditional and
for describing SCAP’s communications to the government as ‘negotiations’. On 13
September, CCD received ‘Magic’ intercepts of a message from Foreign Minister
Shigemitsu Mamoru to Japanese legations in Berne, Stockholm and Lisbon inform-
ing them that Tokyo intended to ‘make every effort to exploit the atomic bomb
question in our propaganda’ through Domei’s overseas network. On 14 September,
CCD charged the agency with disseminating untruthful news (misbehaviour by
Occupation troops) and-disturbing the public tranquillity (reports of Hiroshima and
Nagasaki), suspended it for 24 hours and placed it under indefinite pre-publication
censorship. Japan’s premier daily, the Asahi Shinbun, also stood accused of criticising
the atomic bombings and questioning reports of Japanese war crimes in the Philip-
pines. It was suspended on 18 September. The next day, the Nippon Times met the
same fate ostensibly for failing to submit a sensitive article to Thorpe’s inspectors.
Similarly, Ishibashi Tanzan’s Toyd Keizai Shinpo was shut down temporarily for
running stories on the GI crime wave.'”
To resolve the ambiguities in its media policy, on 19 September MacArthur’s
headquarters announced the ‘Press Code for Japan’ (SCAPIN-33), followed on 22
September by the “Radio Code for Japan’ (SCAPIN-43). The Codes were nearly
identical in content, but the latter also covered programmes of information, educa-
tion and entertainment. Additional ‘freedom orders’ were issued on 24 September,
27 September and 16 October liberating the mass media, including motion pictures,
from government financial control and surveillance, wartime ordinances and other
forms of central interference. The new Codes clarified the directive of 10 September
386 The Later Reforms

but added prohibitions against articles liable to invite mistrust or resentment of

Allied troops, news items based on editorial opinion and the colouring of stories with
propaganda lines. CCD also ordered newspapers not to mention censorship or in any
way indicate deletions. On 8 October, the Civil Censorship Detachment, now under
Thorpe’s Civil Intelligence Section (SCAP) placed ‘Tokyo’s five leading dailies on
pre-censorship standing, and soon some 60 news agencies and papers were under
pre-production scrutiny. From late October, all books (except school texts, which
were the responsibility of C1&E) also were censored, Films, drama, phonograph
records, lyrics, artwork and even paper lantern shows (kamishibai) were made subject
to pre-performance or pre-release controls in the form of scenario and synopsis
reviews, screenings, viewings and listening sessions.
On 4 October 1945, the Civil Liberties Directive abolished the Home Ministry's
Police Bureau and its Censorship Section. In late October, Furuno Inosuke, the
ultra-nationalist president of Démei, decided to liquidate the news agency, now
bereft of government funding. On 1 November, SCAP ordered the reorganisation of
the Information Bureau, Of no further use to the state, the Bureau was dissolved by
the Shidehara government on 31 December. MacArthur’s headquarters now was in
sole command of the Japanese media.'™

Civil censorship
Within a short time, the Army’s censorship programme had moved well beyond the
military’s original counter-intelligence and security objectives, extending its prying
eye into every nook and cranny of the public information industry. The overwhelm-
ing number of CCD personnel were Japanese and ethnic Koreans. In January 1947,
they accounted for 8,132 out of 8,763 effectives, or about 93 per cent of the total.
Some of these young men and women, particularly Koreans and Japanese of mixed
parentage, had suffered under the military régime and now embraced Occupation
goals with undisguised zeal, Others, including former newsmen, were of a more
conservative hue, Koji Kawaguchi, one of several Nisei CCD personnel assigned to
Fukuoka, Kyushu, later recalled that Japanese staff included many former newspaper
editors, reporters, film directors and other media professionals, Although hired by
SCAP, they were paid by the Japanese government. Many of these individuals per-
formed their work perfunctorily with lictle understanding of Occupation objectives.
A 1950 Military Intelligence survey of CCD activities complained that such people,
‘unable to cast off the mental shackles of their reverence for the concept of a divine
Emperor, considered any criticism of or levity with the Imperial institution to be
a gross sacrilege ... and, furthermore, a violation of censorship policy’. These
screeners injected a conservative bias into the review process that their American
supervisors, Military Intelligence assessments notwithstanding, were inclined to
tolerate (below).!”
The Civil Censorship Detachment was run by the Army, but only about one third
of its personnel were on active duty, the vast majority consisting of Department of
the Army civilians, many of them women, Under CCD guidance, Japanese spied on
 The Cultural Reforms , 387

other Japanese, but unlike the state’s repressive wartime censors, MacArthur’s legions
were charged with fostering the conditions under which freedom of expression
could flourish. In principle, information control was designed to maintain military
security, determine the extent of compliance with Occupation policies, assist in the
free and factual reporting of the news, and prevent a resurgence of ultra-nationalism.
But in fact, CCD censorship frequently clashed with those ideals. Article 21 of the
new Constitution stated unequivocally that “No censorship shall be maintained,
nor shall the secrecy of any means of communication be violated.’ Yet, for four years,
the Detachment’s Telecommunications Division instituted wiretaps and listened in
on 800,000 telephone conversations, and the Postal Division, which had taken over
the operation of Japan’s postal system on 13 September 1945, spot-checked 330
million pieces of mail, violating the civil rights and personal privacy of millions of
citizens.
The Press, Pictorial and Broadcast (PPB) Division monitored a wide variety of
media according to standards that seemed to change capriciously from one month to
the next, compromising in many instances freedom of individual and collective
expression.’ The extent of surveillance was staggering. In mid-1947, at the height
of its activities, PPB was scanning on a monthly basis (pre- and post-publication) 16
news agencies, 69 daily newspapers, 11,111 non-daily news publications, 3,243
magazines, 1,838 books, 8,600 radio programmes, 673 films, 2,900 drama scenarios
and 514 phonograph records. Kamishibai (literally, ‘paper shows’), an indigenous art
form that tells a story via a series of illustrated paper panels often illuminated by
lanterns, also were subjected to scrutiny because of their broad popular appeal.
Between November 1945 and February 1947, PPB censors in District I (Tokyo and
areas north) screened 8,821 such shows.”
Japanese examiners scoured this material diligently, referring questionable, objec-
tionable and sensitive items to their American supervisors, who ordered a full or
partial translation of the suspect text, words, dialogue or scene. After a review process
entailing as many as 31 steps, the district censor could order a full or partial deletion
or suppress the item in its entirety. He or she might also place it on hold, for a few
days or indefinitely. To assist the monitors, PPB compiled secret censorship manuals
with ‘key logs’, which were lists of proscribed subjects. The key logs changed
frequently and without warning or explanation, reflecting shifting Occupation
priorities.
Heading the list of taboo subjects was censorship itself. Other ‘categories of dele-
tion and suppression’ included misconduct by Allied personnel, the atomic bomb-
ings, food shortages, black-market activities, fraternisation, mixed-blood children,
population control, Japanese Americans, defence of war criminals, reparations, and
peace treaty discussions. Also off limits were references to the Ogasawara, Ryukyu
and Kuril Islands, critical US press commentary on MacArthur or the Occupa-
tion, and suggestions that SCAP had anything at all to do with elections, Cabinet
changes, the operation of the government or the enactment of new laws, notably
the Constitution. Even the foreign press was watched closely on these issues. In
388 The Later Reforms

mid-March 1946, for example, Haru Matsukata (later, Reischauer) was blacklisted
for informing her boss, Gordon Walker of the Christian Science Monitor, that the
draft constitution MacArthur had just announced to the public as the work of the
government was in fact an American initiative. The fiction of Japanese authorship,
she later recalled, was “a major falsehood that merited exposure’. Not only was
Matsukata labelled a Communist for her trouble, but Walker was denied re-entry to
Japan after a brief visit to China. Several journalists, American and British, would
meet similar fates. Although many, like Walker, eventually were allowed to return,
the threat of expulsion was an effective deterrent to printing the whole truth.’
Discussion of the mechanics of Occupation control and the operations of specific
SCAP staff sections also was banned. Consequently, few Japanese understood how
the Occupation super-government really worked. In December 1946, a district
censor blue-pencilled the term ‘Occupation costs’ and told editors to replace it with
‘costs of termination of war’, which was subsequently changed to ‘other costs’, in
order to disguise the source of 30 per cent of the 1947 budget. Indeed, to the extent
possible, the Occupation itself was to be erased from the public consciousness and
rendered if not invisible, then at least opaque. This was particularly evident in films,
where English signs could not be shown, even inadvertently, and background shots
of Military Police, Eighth Army troops, the Dai-Ichi Insurance Building, jeeps and
bombed-out areas were regularly snipped by the censors’ scissors. Even the dialogue
line ‘Ah! An airplane!’ was excised from one scene, since Japanese air space was the
exclusive domain of the US military. Among the most frequently suppressed infor-
mation was news of specific world events, especially strikes in Allied countries, Allied
policy disagreements, the Chinese revolution, US—Soviet relations and heightening
Cold War tensions in Europe. In short, not only were the Japanese shielded from
unwholesome (to the American eye) social and political events in their own country,
but they were kept ignorant of international developments with a direct bearing on
the nation’s future.’
The key logs were a closely guarded military secret, and prohibited categories were
not shown to Japanese editors, radio announcers or other media people, who were
forced to second-guess PPB inspectors. US censorship officers regularly met media
leaders to outline what constituted inappropriate discourse, and newspapers, movie
companies and theatres developed their own coping mechanisms. During the war,
editors and directors had established in-house ‘censorship desks’ to work with police
and Information Bureau inspectors. The same specialists now worked with PPB
officials, anticipating Occupation demands, interpreting media directives to co-
workers and keeping their companies out of trouble. The film industry produced its
own set of guidelines, which were circulated secretly among the studios. Self
censorship became a permanent feature of the editorial process in diverse media.

Censoring democracy
SCAP’s treatment of specific topics, such as the atomic bombings and the Emperor,
reveal the deeper logic of Japan’s ‘censored democracy’.''® One of the Occupation’s
 The Cultural Reforms 389

first tasks was to suppress and control news of the nuclear holocaust. MacArthur's
command was especially sensitive to the issue of radioactivity and other aftereffects.
On 6 September 1945, Australian journalist Wilfred Burchett, who had managed
to visit Hiroshima on his own, smuggled past US censors the first foreign eyewit-
ness account of the devastation, noting that people not injured directly were dying
of an acute but mysterious illness, which he ascribed to atomic radiation. Six days
later, General Thomas F. Farrell, having just returned from a survey of the two
cities, arranged a press conference to refute those charges. In February 1946, SCAP
confiscated and sent to Washington chilling documentary footage of Hiroshima and
Nagasaki shot by the Nippon Film Company (Nichiei) in the weeks immediately
following the cities’ destruction (chapter 9). For four years, Colonel Putnam’s
media custodians routinely struck down lay and scientific reports on the effects of
the bomb. Although literary works dealing with the subject were not banned out-
right, the maze of pre-censorship requirements made publication difficult, and until
1949, only a handful of such works appeared in print. When Catholic physician
Nagai Takashi submitted his eyewitness account, The Bells Toll for Nagasaki (Naga-
saki no kane), in 1947, the CCD withheld the book from publication even though
Economic and Scientific Section and Public Health and Welfare had cleared it.
Finally, in 1948, General Willoughby agreed to publish the work but only on
condition that a story on the Sack of Manila be appended, ‘an unwitting
tacit admission’, a contemporary scholar has remarked, ‘that the dropping of the
atomic bomb on Japanese civilians was the moral equivalent of Japan’s wartime
atrocities’.'"
From October 1946, PPB attitudes stiffened perceptibly. Examiners had cleared
an editorial in the paper /iji Shinpd warning against worshipping MacArthur as a
god, but when the Nippon Times attempted to run an English version a few days
later, an enraged Willoughby had the edition confiscated and ordered a new printing
with an amended text. Thereafter, writes a former press censor, a chastised Press,
Pictorial and Broadcast Division expanded its Tokyo staff, introduced more levels of
decision-making and developed an obsessive concern with minor inaccuracies that
further hampered its work.
Two months earlier, Willoughby had intervened forcibly in another controversial
issue, criticism of the Emperor. In mid-August 1946, on the G-2 chief’s orders, PPB
suppressed a documentary by veteran film-maker Kamei Fumio entitled “The Tra-
gedy of Japan’ (Nihon no higeki). Willoughby was acting at the behest of Prime
Minister Yoshida, who had seen the film at a private screening and been shocked by
its explicit treatment of Japanese war crimes and its implicit portrayal of the Emperor
as a war criminal. The film’s completion coincided with the ‘placard’ controversy and
the Yoshida Cabinet’s attempt to apply the charge of high treason to Imperial critics
(chapter 6). Although CI8cE’s David Conde had actively promoted production of
the film and PPB censors had approved it with certain modifications, Willoughby
initiated a new round of vetting that overturned the earlier decision and led to the
seizure of Kamei’s prints. CCD Chief Putnam protested that the work did not
390 The Later Reforms

exceed legitimate discussion of the Emperor and that suppression ran counter to
SCAP’s policy of supporting free expression, but to no avail. Kamei’s producer at
Nichiei, Iwasaki Akira, later recorded his bitter impressions of the “occupied screen’.
“The American military clique’, he wrote, ‘is less democratic than the [wartime]
Japanese were.’!”
Willoughby’s action sent an unmistakable message to the media (and to CCD).
Even implied criticism of the Emperor and the Occupation’s decision to preserve
the Throne was off limits and could entail heavy penalties — banning of the
documentary, for instance, nearly bankrupted its studio, Nichiei. As if those points
needed further emphasis, in May 1947, with the new Constitution now in effect,
CCD heavily censored another film by Kamei (with Yamamoto Satsuo) commis-
sioned by Tohd Studio to commemorate the entry into force of Article Nine.
‘Between War and Peace’ (Senso to heiwa) was a strongly anti-militaristic film, but
PPB discerned in its scenes of contemporary strikes, demonstrations and moral
decadence a Communist propaganda line. Particularly objectionable was the assign-
ment of responsibility for Japan’s postwar plight to those who had manipulated the
emperor system for their personal gain during the war. Willoughby’s hard-knock
lessons on the sanctity of the Imperial institution were not lost on PPB inspectors,
who justified excising a shell-shocked soldier’s demented and subversively satirical
cry of ‘Long Live the Emperor!’ by noting that “SCAP has recognised the Emperor
system, and the scene is an attempt to belittle the system. ...’ Nonetheless, the
movie survived to become one of the best films of 1947.'
The arts, too, were subject to the censor’s whims. One of the most dramatic
examples of myopic manipulation was the Press, Pictorial and Broadcast Division’s
attempt to outlaw Kabuki, Japan’s traditional popular drama. PPB’s Captain Earle
Ernst and Lieutenant Hal Keith of CI8E both agreed that Kabuki, with its
severed arms and heads, gruesome harakiri scenes and emphasis on Bushido-inspired
loyalty and vengeance, was feudalistic and nefarious to public morals. In mid-
November 1945, after a PPB inspector had attended a performance of the Kabuki
classic “The Temple School’ (Térakoya) featuring the famous actors Matsumoto
Koshiré (VII) and. Nakamura Kichiemon (I), Japanese police strode onto the Tokyo
Theatre stage after @ scene in which a box containing the severed head of a child is
opened and stopped the performance. PPB had already issued a banning order, and
Military Police were there to help the Japanese officers enforce it. In deference to
SCAP’s censors, Shochiku, the company that ran Kabuki, gratuitously offered to
suspend all future plays indefinitely, confirming the dictum that old habits die
hard.'"4
These events appalled Major Faubion Bowers — interpreter, military aide to
MacArthur, aspiring musician and Kabuki aficionado from a prewar stay in Tokyo.
Soon after his arrival at MacArthur’s headquarters, Bowers befriended Kichiemon
and other impecunious actors, supplying them with food scavenged from the US
Embassy kitchen. He attempted personally to convince MacArthur to rescind the
ban on Kabuki, but the Supreme Commander had no interest in the theatre (in later
 The Cultural Reforms 391

life, Bowers would characterise him as ‘a cultural barbarian’). Finally, in November

1946, Bowers resigned his position and his commission and went to work with Ernst
in CCD’s Press, Pictorial and Broadcast Division, determined to save Kabuki from
oblivion. His supreme achievement as censor was to authorise a performance of
Chishingura (‘The Legend of the 47 Samurai’) in November 1947 with an all-star
cast, effectively lifting the prohibition on this vital art form, By that time, the official
Occupation attitude had changed. A noted art critic summed up the new outlook
ironically: ‘Sure, it might be a little feudal, but at least it isn’t Communist.’ Other
traditional arts, such as Bunraku and Noh attracted less public attention and
therefore fared better under occupation. Modern drama (shingeki) and literature, by
contrast, benefited enormously from the removal of repressive wartime restric-
tions and basically were left alone, although several playwrights and authors of
leftist persuasion eventually were purged. Benign neglect characterised painting and
sculpture, as well.'!°

From imposed censorship to self-censorship

SCAP phased out its censorship activities unceremoniously in stages. Only those
with a demonstrated ‘need to know’ were informed of the changes. For the Japanese,
censorship did not officially exist to begin with, and editors, reporters, columnists
and radio heads were summoned by CCD officers and told only to continue exercis-
ing their own judgment based on past policy. The first major relaxation of controls
occurred in August 1947 when broadcasting stations were transferred to post-
censorship control. In mid-October, book publishers also were placed under post-
publication vigilance, with the exception of 14 ultra-rightist and left-wing houses
(the category ‘Leftist Propaganda’ had been added to the key log in mid-1947). In
December, 97 per cent of all magazines were placed on the same footing (2 right-
wing and 26 leftist publications remained under pre-censorship constraints, includ-
ing such leading intellectual journals as Chité Koron, Koz0 and Sekai). Newspapers
finally were switched to post-publication status in late July 1948. All censorship
restrictions were abolished on 31 October 1949, in line with SCAP’s policy of easing
administrative controls and enlarging the Japanese government’s freedom of action.
The decision to end censorship had been taken in mid-1948 by Washington, how-
ever, not SCAP. The State Department, in particular, was concerned that the pon-
derous surveillance apparatus had ‘the effect of continuing the authoritarian trad-
ition in Japan’, and the US National Security Council’s Cold War manifesto of 8
October 1948, NSC-13/2 (chapter 10), reiterated that censorship was alienating a
potential anti-Communist ally and doing more harm than good.''®
Despite Japanese complaints, however, GHQ’s programme of information man-
agement was benign compared to the government’s wartime media policies, and
while writers were not completely free to express their views, they were freer than
they had been since 1931. Only a tiny percentage of materials published between late
1945 and late 1949 were actually suppressed, the great bulk being passed routinely.
One newspaper staff writer compared working under Occupation vigilance to ‘a
392 The Later Reforms

severe brown out’ — hardly satisfactory but much better than the ‘complete black-
out’ imposed by pre-1945 Japanese surveillance. The grant of relative press free-
dom, however conditional, produced a renaissance in print journalism. When the
Sino-Japanese War engulfed China in 1937, there were 1,700 newspapers in Japan,
but by 1942, through a process of state-imposed elimination and consolidation,
that number had plummeted to 55. In September 1945, the Civil Censorship
Detachment monitored 4 news agencies and 74 newspapers, but a year later, it was
screening the output of 26 agencies and 7,685 papers. Before the defeat, there had
been 600 magazines with a circulation of 5.9 million. By early 1947, there were
more than 3,000. (In 1949, the number of periodicals would stabilise at 1,800
titles with a readership of approximately 22 million.) In October 1945, 21 books
were submitted to CCD inspectors for vetting; in October 1946, that figure
was 1,902. An explosion of creativity occurred in virtually all forms of media
expression, |!”
Did censorship have a dampening effect on intellectual freedom? The answer, of
course, is yes. Used to internal policing as a condition of survival under both wartime
and postwar régimes, newspapers and magazines continued to exercise vigilance and
self-control even after the lifting of formal constraints, for as the occupiers went to
great lengths to explain, they could be reimposed at any time. Japanese editors got
their first taste of genuine press freedom in 1952 when the Occupation ended, but by
then, self-restraint had become a conditioned reflex. AP correspondent Russell Brines
wrote at the time that the elimination of pre-censorship had resulted in ‘a noticeable
ultra-conservatism in all papers except the official Communist [press]’. Responsible
editors, he noted, ‘prefer to suppress a controversial story rather than risk . . . retali-
ation for violating headquarters’ injuntions against criticising the Occupation or
publishing “inaccurate” news’.'"*
On the silver screen, too, self-censorship became the norm. In June 1949, with
production controls gone, the film industry established the autonomous Film Ethics
Regulation Control Committee (iri) ostensibly to maintain standards of decency.
In fact, SCAP kept a close eye on Eirin for the duration of its tenure, and the Film
Ethics Committee, which retained the CCD practice of assigning a censorship num-
ber to each approved film, eschewed controversial themes such as labour strife.
Equally problematic was the information barrier SCAP had erected around Japan.
Outside news events were carefully filtered for domestic consumption, and Japanese
could not communicate freely with the rest of the world about happenings inside
their own country. Everything passed through the distorting lens of the military
censor. Eté Jun has characterised occupied Japan as a ‘closed linguistic space’ where
Japanese were separated from their own past and from important world develop-
ments, producing a warped social and historical consciousness that robbed the nation
of its identity. There is some truth in that assertion, but the question remains, com-
pared to what? For all its obvious internal inconsistencies, flaws and abuses, American
censorship was designed to eliminate the infinitely more repressive Old Order, allow-
ing a new ethos to take root in its place. SCAP’s brokered democracy was imperfect
 The Cultural Reforms 393

but nonetheless liberating compared to the police state of the 1930s. After all, it was
the unstinting cooperation of Japan’s reactionary wartime media with militarism that
had made some kind of post-defeat censorship inevitable to begin with.'!”
After 1948, however, the ugly, repressive side of ‘occupation control’ emerged as
the conqueror shifted ground from ‘fascist cleansing to Communist chasing.’ In
September of that year, the CCD eased surveillance of anti-Soviet propaganda:
thenceforth, the USSR would not be included in the key-log category ‘strongly
critical of the Allied Powers’. Even as it began to phase out media controls, Civil
Censorship Detachment stepped up its surveillance of domestic telephone, telegraph
and postal communications, focusing on ‘violence, strikes, Communist activities or
any other developments which were of a subversive or possible subversive nature’.
These spot reports produced a constant flow of ‘action leads’, which were forwarded
to concerned staff sections and agencies in SCAP. In early 1948, this massive invasion
of personal privacy was yielding 4 million intercepts per month. Even after the lifting
of surveillance in October 1949, GHQ continued to monitor and harass left-wing
journals and papers, forcing many progressive publications to close down or adopt
more conservative editorial policies. From the autumn of 1949, the Occupation
wielded another potent weapon of thought control, the Red Purge, which in
mid-1950 shut down the Communist Party organ Akahata (The Red Flag) and
1,387 left-wing publications and dismissed more than 1,000 editors, journalists,
broadcasters and film-makers. (chapter 10).'”°
Nor was there anything benign about the punishments MacArthur’s headquarters
meted out to those it prosecuted for the crime of expressing unacceptable ideas.
Not by coincidence, most of these show trials occurred in the last year of censorship.
In the period from 1 June to 30 November 1948, GHQ found 148 ‘flagrant viola-
tions’ of its censorship policies, most involving publications with left-wing or Com-
munist sympathies. In January 1949, SCAP set up a Joint Board composed of G-2,
CCD, CI&E and Legal Section to prosecute offenders in military courts. In August
and September of that year, the Board had three editors (two of them Koreans)
atraigned by the Eighth Army Provost Marshal. The accused received sentences
ranging from two to five years at hard labour and, in the case of the Koreans,
deportation.
Finally, Occupation authorities cracked down on kamishibai street plays. These
stories, drawn or printed on illuminated paper panels, had a broad popular appeal
and broached subjects, including prohibited themes, that the established media shied
away from. This form of street art, resembling American guerrilla theatre of the
1960s, was ideally suited to radical grass-roots social criticism, and from 1949, with
the shutting down of its censorship programme, GHQ pressured prefectural gov-
ernments to enact ordinances outlawing kamishibai performances. The first banning
order was passed in March 1949 by Kanagawa Prefecture, and Chiba, Osaka and
others followed suit. The ordinances were a blatant violation of Occupation policy
and the constitutional injunction against government interference with freedom of
expression, but times had changed, and the local laws were allowed to stand. Film
394 The Later Reforms

Photo 51. Children gather to watch a portable kamishibai paper-lantern show, 1 September
1948. The illuminated children’s stories often featured democratic themes. Many also were
critical of Japan’s conservative political régime and, with the onset of the ‘reverse course’, were
suppressed on orders from GHQ (Kyodo).
 The Cultural Reforms 395

critic Sato Tadao, looking back on the Occupation, characterised this later period of
cultural and intellectual oppression as the stage of ‘repressed democracy’, as opposed
to the early phase of ‘encouraged democracy’.

Thought reform, American-style

Censorship was only one form of information control. The Civil Information and
Education Section also was involved heavily in media management, but of a different
sort. As one historian has characterised it, whereas the Civil Censorship Detachment
was ‘telling the Japanese what they could not do’, CI&E was telling them ‘what they
should and must do’. CI8cE’s mission statement charged the Section with creating ‘a
positive Japanese public knowledge of and belief in democracy in all walks of life —
political, economic and cultural’. It was no coincidence that its first chief, Kermit
Dyke, was a former NBC public relations specialist who had worked for the Office of
War Information. Under him, a contemporary noted, the Section tackled ‘the job of
selling democracy as though it were an advertising campaign for a new soap’. The
task of reorientation fell to CI&E’s Information Division. Unlike CCD, which
suppressed undemocratic ideas, the Division’s primary function was ideological
conversion, and it served as GHQ’s agitation-propaganda arm.
In the first two months of occupation, Bradford Smith, former OW] officer, played
a role in CI8&E comparable to that of Colonel Hoover in the CCD, establishing
the basic pattern of post-defeat information control. Smith had been chief of the
OWT’s Central Pacific Operations in Manila, joining the State Department when
it absorbed the OW] in late August 1945. Picked up by Fellers’s Information Dis-
semination Section (IDS) in AFPAC, Smith followed the IDS when it was incorpor-
ated into CI&E on 22 September as Information and Dissemination Branch (later,
Information Division), serving as special adviser to Dyke. Smith brought with him a
team of OWI propaganda experts that included his successor Don Brown, a former
newspaperman and ‘psywar’ specialist and, like Smith, a State Department ‘plant’.
Other former OWI operatives were Captain Arthur Behrstock of Policy and Pro-
grammes Branch, former newsman Robert H. Berkov of Press and Publications
Branch and David W. Conde of Motion Picture and Drama (later, Motion Picture
and Theatrical) Branch. Radio Branch was staffed initially by Irving C. Correll,
another OWI psywar expert and included such Voice of America veterans as Radio
Programme Officer Frank S. Baba. These men were liberals, and by late 1946, most
would be gone, some for arousing the suspicions of Willoughby’s G-2.'”
Information Division endeavours were keyed to the State Department’s world-
wide information and propaganda network. In early 1946, an inter-departmental
agreement was reached whereby the Department would send its media directives to
the War Department, which would forward them to MacArthur for transmission to
CI&E. Coordinating this flow of information was Behrstock’s Policy and Pro-
grammes Branch. To facilitate this mission, the War Department’s Civil Affairs
Division created a Reorientation Branch (later, Division), which in turn established a
New York Field Office to supply CI&E with carefully selected books, magazines,
396 The Later Reforms

newspaper editorials, model radio scripts, feature films, documentaries, plays and
musical recordings.'”
Information Division regulated these cultural imports, licensing only those it
considered suitable for reorientation work. Japanese editors were advised to use these
materials, and the Division swamped their desks with articles from over 100 middle-
range US magazines, including Life, Newsweek, Time and Reader's Digest. Material
from Allied countries and editorial commentary from UN and SCAP sources also
were supplied to the Japanese media for priority release. The Division circulated
from 350 to 400 such items every month. The regular appearance of so many foreign
articles and news items in the mainstream media of a single country was an
unprecedented event. At the grass-roots level, Information Division, in cooperation
with Education Division, established CI8&E Information Centres in cities and major
universities across the country, stocking them with between 5,000 and 10,000
volumes and some 400 periodicals. The centres were staffed by friendly American
librarians, who also collected films and phonograph records and organised lectures
and concerts in an effort to diffuse American culture and values. An estimated
2 million Japanese frequented these libraries.'”
At the same time, the Division strictly controlled the translation into Japanese of
books and feature films. Prohibited works included John Steinbeck’s Grapes of
Wrath, Erskine Caldwell’s Tobacco Road, Edgar Snow’s Red Star Over China, and
John Hershey’s Hiroshima, which could not be read in Japanese translation until
1949. Films such as Citizen Kane and Mr Smith Goes to Washington also were
suppressed on the grounds that they might lend themselves to Communist propa-
ganda. This focus of activity sometimes brought CI&E into conflict with the Army’s
Civil Censorship Detachment, which claimed exclusive jurisdiction. CI&E ‘sugges-
tions’ were in fact orders and were obeyed to the letter, infringing on CCD author-
ity. CCD retaliated by blue-pencilling, snipping or suppressing materials that CI&¢E
had taken a direct hand in shaping, such as Kamei Fumio’s epic “The Tragedy of
Japan’. In late 1946, CCD vetoed a foreign policy speech by Secretary of Commerce
Henry A. Wallace that CI&E had released to the media on instructions from
the State Department. Ultimately, MacArthur’s intervention was required to clear
the talk.'”

Reorientation at work
A major focus of reorientation work was the inculcation of war guilt. Beginning in
December 1945, CI&E’s Press and Publications Branch ordered newspapers to carry
a serialised history of the war, prepared by CI&E researchers and their Japanese
advisers, that emphasised the social, economic and political causes of Japanese
aggression but also discussed atrocities, such as the Rape of Nanjing and the Sack of
Manila. Magazines, documentary films, newsreels and books dealing with these
subjects also were produced in large quantities on orders from Information Division.
The war guilt programme stood in contrast to the positive work of selling American-
style democracy and probably alienated as many Japanese as it convinced. Later in
 The Cultural Reforms 397

the Occupation, this aggressively propagandistic approach would find a fresh outlet
in straightforward anti-Communist indoctrination.'”°
In addition to the activities outlined above, Press and Publications was intimately
involved in monitoring the Japanese press. Branch Chief Berkov was a former
journalist and took a firm stand in favour of press freedom, supporting workers
and editors of the Yomiuri and other dailies in their struggle to purge management
of ultra-nationalist elements and democratise production. Berkov was replaced in
June 1946 by the conservative Major Daniel C. Imboden, who worked behind
the scenes to break the Yomiuri strike and reinstate its discredited management.
Imboden expanded the scope of censorship and tightened surveillance of the print
media, exhorting editors and columnists to stress American views on Communism
and American methods for combating it. He inundated news rooms with anti-
Communist materials and articles extolling the superiority of the American way of
life. Under his sway, management was able to reassert control over editorial content,
and while press reform proceeded, it did so within the narrowly circumscribed limits
defined by the owners.
In the field of visual media, David Conde’s Motion Picture and Drama Branch
rapidly dissolved the impediments to freedom of the screen. On 16 October,
SCAPIN-146 (‘Memorandum Concerning Elimination of Japanese Government
Control of the Motion Picture Industry’) removed wartime supervision and annulled
the repressive 1939 Film Law, and on 16 November, Conde issued a directive
banning 236 ultra-nationalistic, militaristic and feudalistic films made after 1931
and confiscated the prints. All but one each of the prints were burned, and the
surviving copies were not returned to the Education Ministry until August 1952.
Finally, in early December, the Film Corporation, the wartime industry control body,
was dismantled.'”°
The hyperactive Conde wielded the censor’s scissors with great energy and flair
based on a CI&E list of prohibited subjects, but he was particularly zealous in the
area of democratisation and reorientation, proposing film projects, outlining plots,
suggesting changes, demanding innovations. And banging the table with his fists
when his Japanese interlocutors objected or failed to grasp a point quickly enough. In
October, Conde visited movie studios with a list of recommended themes that
included the Sino-Japanese War (especially the struggle between militarists and anti-
war activists) and women, who were to be portrayed in roles other than of child-
bearing and housework. Controversial subjects, such as war orphans, however, were
to be treated carefully, highlighting only ‘good examples’, and Japanese-American
characters were off limits. Motion Picture and Theatre Branch also encouraged films
on the Constitution and, somewhat incongruously, baseball.'””
Under Conde’s supervision, Japanese directors produced features condemning the
zaibatsu, criticising the Emperor and promoting the rights of labour. Imai Tadashi’s
first postwar film, “The People’s Enemy’ (Minsha no teki), was an exposé of the
zaibatsu produced by Tohé Studio on direct orders from Conde. Other works, some
of them ‘crudely propagandistic’, dealt with wartime corruption but also included
398 The Later Reforms

satirical pieces on the militarists. A major hit was Kurosawa Akira’s ‘No Regrets for
My Youth’ ( Waga seishun ni kui nashi), a Toho film that dealt with the persecution
of ‘Takigawa Yukitoki, a Kyoto Imperial University law professor purged for his
liberal beliefs in 1933. In the film, one of Takigawa’s students was modelled on
Ozaki Hotsumi, the brilliant intellectual and accomplice of German spy Richard
Sorge who was executed in 1944, Mizoguchi Kenji also produced socially significant
films, notably a moralising trilogy on women’s liberation and “Women of the Night’
(Yoru no onna-tachi), a sensitive portrayal of a prostitute’s life. Despite their some-
times heavy symbolism, such films created new images of a self-aware, self-confident
womanhood that resonated with the promise, if not the reality, of Japan’s emerging
democratic spirit.!”"
One of Conde’s more controversial innovations was the ‘kissing film’ (seppun
eiga). Kissing had been banned by the militarist régime as a decadent Western
practice, and like public displays of affection in general, such intimate embraces
offended the traditional Japanese sense of decorum. Conde, however, preached that
kissing was liberating and democratic and literally ordered passionate Hollywood-
style scenes included in feature films. Consequently, in late May 1946, two simul-
taneous releases, Shéchiku Studio’s “Twenty-Year-Old Youth’ (Hatachi no seishun)
by Sasaki Yasushi and Daiei Studio’s ‘A Certain Night’s Kiss’ (Aru yo no seppun) by
Chiba Yasuki, became the first movies to include necking on screen, Audiences
appreciated such themes, which encouraged an atmosphere of sexual emancipation,
but the kissing films also spawned a quasi-pornographic genre dubbed ‘grotesque
eroticism’ (ero-guro), whose nude scenes and titillating dialogues kept the CI8&¢E
film-clippers busy.'”
Information Division's Radio Branch played an even greater role in ideological
redirection, for during the Occupation, radio was the pre-eminent means of mass
information, The Branch worked closely with SCAP’s Civil Communications Sec-
tion in liberalising NHK, which was reorganised in October 1947 as a public
corporation free of government control, along the lines of the British Broadcasting
Corporation. In April 1946, the distinguished scholar and Socialist, Takano Iwasa-
buré of the University of Tokyo, was named to head the organisation, which he
purged of its conservative wartime staff. His general manager was Furukaki Tetsur6
(NHK president from 1949), a former member of the League of Nations Secretariat
and London correspondent for the Asahi Shinbun. Under Frank Baba, Radio
Programme Officer, standards were set for announcers and efforts made to simplify
broadcasting language, the norm adopted being a level of discourse comprehensible
to a 14-year old. Branch Chief Dwight Herrick and Baba also encouraged com-
mercial broadcasting, but SCAP custodianship preserved NHK’s monopoly of
the air waves for most of the Occupation, and rival private stations did not begin
broadcasting until 1951. Baba drafted the Japanese Code of Broadcasting Ethics for
commercial broadcasters, the equivalent of the Erin Film Ethics Code.!”°
Radio Branch, too, pursued both negative and positive re-education policies. An
early war-guilt programme was ‘Now It Can Be Told’ and its spin-off, ‘Now It Can
 The Cultural Reforms 399

Be Told Truth Box’, which adapted the CI&E war history to the air waves in weekly
instalments. Although the series shocked many Japanese, its blunt, ‘in-your-face’
style offended many more, and Baba recalls that NHK was inundated with com-
plaints, its Japanese staff even receiving bomb and assassination threats. In October
and November 1945, “The Patriots’ Hour’, cast in the same mould, went on the air.
Designed to allow the Japanese to relate their own wartime experiences, it began by
featuring recently released political prisoners, included several Communists. G-2
quickly ended the experiment in December, and the programme’s originators —
Dyke, Bradford Smith and Conde — were branded as left liberals.
Predictably, affirmative propaganda met with a far more enthusiastic response.
The American quiz show format proved especially popular with audiences, and in
November 1947, Radio Branch’s Ralph Hunter teamed up with veteran NHK
announcer Fujikura Shuichi to produce “Twenty Gates’ (Niji no tobira). The pro-
gramme was Fujikura’s idea and involved interviewing the ‘man and woman in the
street. Fujikura later recalled, “The war had ended, but Japanese retained their
prewar mentality of deferring to superiors. No one thought of asking the ordinary
person what he or she was thinking. Ralph Hunter was the first to hand people a
mike and let them speak for themselves.’ Programmes tailored to women and work-
ing people also were aired for the first time. “The Women’s Hour’, produced by
Egami Fuji and begun in October 1945, featured talks by feminists Kato Shizue,
Ichikawa Fusae and Miyamoto Yuriko on women’s issues, the Constitution, the new
Civil Code and the importance of voting. Information programmes such as as
“Labour Hour’, “The Farmers’ Hour’, “The Miners’ Hour’, “The Teachers’ Hour’ and
‘Children’s Hour’ opened broadcasting to the concerns of average Japanese. Fora,
round-table discussions and current affairs quiz programmes, such as ‘Fountain of
Knowledge’, also attracted large listening audiences. Nor was popular entertainment
neglected, as comic monologues (rakugo), comedian duos (manzai) and ballads
(naniwa-bushi) staged a dramatic comeback. American-style soap operas also made
their debut, winning high ratings. SCAP’s turn to the right after 1948 was reflected
in a proliferation of anti-Communist themes, loyalty checks for NHK staff
and, eventually, the Red Purge, but in the domain of radio broadcasting, CI&E
policies generally succeeded in nurturing a deeper understanding of democratic
thought and ideals.'*

MEDIA AND DEMOCRATISATION

Historically, occupiers have imposed their language on the occupied in order to

facilitate civil and military administration. This was the policy adopted by Imperial
Japan in the areas it held during the Asia-Pacific War.'*? GHQ also might have
insisted that English become the official language of occupation in Japan, as the US
Army did in southern Korea from 1945 to 1948, but, apart from requiring that street
names and public signs be rendered in English, it did not adopt a ‘positive’ language
400 The Later Reforms

policy. In the absence of language constraints, the Japanese themselves set about
learning English with unbridled enthusiasm. During the war, censors had banned the
public use of English loan words, and while English had been taught in some schools
in order to better know the enemy, its study outside of the classroom was an act of
disloyalty. Immediately following the surrender, however, instruction in the adver-
sary’s tongue was revived in ‘every town and village’, according to newspaper
accounts. On 23 September 1945, the Tokyo Shinbun reported that all the railway
employees at ‘Tokyo Station were attending morning drills in English conversation.
An enterprising editor, Ogawa Kikumatsu, hastily compiled a list of words and
phrases and put together a 33-page pamphlet entitled A Handbook of Japanese-
American Conversation (Nichi-Bei kaiwa techo), which had sold 3.6 million copies by
the end of 1945, Ogawa had little English himself, but his booklet remained Japan’s
all-time best seller until 1981 (ironically, its format was based in part on a prewar
Japanese-Chinese language manual).'*’ Allied missionaries followed in the footsteps
of Allied troops, and Japanese flocked to their churches, not to contemplate the
sermons but to develop their English skills. Middle-echelon bureaucrats in their 30s
and 40s also struggled to acquire some mastery over the new tongue, which they
polished in their daily contacts with GHQ officials. Although both sides relied
heavily on interpreters, many of these functionaries became adept at English and
at dealing with Americans. Several would be responsible for managing Japan—US
relations through the post-Occupation decades.

‘Come, come everybody’

On 1 February 1946, Hirakawa Tada’ichi launched what was destined to become
one of the major cultural phenomena of the early postwar era. On that day, he
inaugurated a new daily radio programme at NHK called ‘Come, Come English’,
which began with the following invitation to listeners:

Come, come everybody —

How do you do, and how are you?
Won’t you have some candy?
~ One and two and three, four, five.
Let’s all sing a happy song —
singing tra la la.

The programme closed with the farewell:

Goodbye, everybody,
Goodnight until tomorrow.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday,
Friday, Saturday, Sunday,
Let’s all come and meet again.
Singing tra la la.
 The Cultural Reforms 401

Photo 52. Hirakawa ‘Tada’ichi broadcasts an English-language programme at NHK. ‘Come,

Come Everybody’ enjoyed a phenomenal success during the early part of the Occupation,
offering entertainment and practical lessons in democratic thought. 1 February 1946
(Mainichi).

These light-hearted words were set to a popular children’s tune, “The Badger
Drummers of Shdjé Temple’ (Shajaji no tanuki-bayashi), whose familiar, upbeat
melody inspired a sense of optimism. And this was Hirakawa’s intention. ‘I was hard
pressed to find something that would lighten people’s hearts and take their minds off
the postwar gloom’, he said in an interview. ‘Unless Japanese could recover their
sense of optimism and find something positive in their lives, a reason to believe in the
future, there seemed little hope of trying to rebuild the nation.’ The ‘Apple Song’,
the wildly popular theme tune from a film released in October 1945, had captured
the nation’s fancy with its naive lyrics, cheerful airiness and bright imagery, but
Hirakawa felt the ‘Apple’ craze was sentimental and decadent and chose a well-
known children’s song instead of a pop melody. Written in 1925, the “The Badger
Drummers of Shdjé Temple’ had been inspired by a folk tale and evoked the sunny
promise of Taishd democracy and the insouciance of a prewar childhood.'”
‘Come, Come English’ was aired for 15 minutes every day, Monday through
Friday, between 6 and 6:15 pm. It took four days to complete one story sequence,
and on the fifth day, Friday, Hirakawa invited a native English speaker to take part.
Each segment introduced about 30 new words. Hirakawa urged people to relax,
402 The Later Reforms

enjoy the experience and adjust naturally to the sounds and cadences of spoken
English.'*° Hirakawa chose his themes carefully, sometimes staying up all night
before a broadcast to find a humorous angle that all Japanese could identify with. In
one skit, for instance, a young man visits a friend in the hospital and brings him a
ripe tomato that he has grown himself. Through the dialogue, it emerges that they
first met at the nursery where the young man bought the seedling. His friend was
wearing a ‘Come, Come English’ badge and they struck up an acquaintance. Even
amidst the hardships of daily life, Hirakawa was saying, one can find meaningful
experiences. Such themes may appear frivolous to the contemporary sensibility, but
the storyline, a visit to the hospital leavened by a budding friendship based on a
mutual interest and conveyed through the medium of English, was novel, refreshing
and a refutation of the martial values of wartime Japan that had stifled personal
expression.
Finding enough to eat was a daily obsession for most Japanese, and this preoccupa-
tion reverberated through the programme’s dialogues, Hirakawa began his broadcast-
ing career in February 1946 just after the first emergency shipment of US wheat from
Manila had reached Japan. In a show aired in April, a father and his daughter Mariko
are discussing their day. Father asks where Mother is, and Mariko replies that she has
gone to fetch the daily food ration. “What is it? Dried herrings again?’ Father asks.
When Mariko says, ‘No, it’s white bread, I think’, Father is astounded. Mariko
explains; “Yes. It’s made of the flour that came from General Headquarters.’ Father
wonders where the flour came from, and Mariko tells him, ‘From the Philippines, I
think.’ “How do you know?’ he queries. Mariko answers, ‘I’ve read it in the paper.’
Whereupon Father comments, “Well, the paper does tell the truth nowadays, doesn’t
it? This artless dialogue, broadcast just seven months after the defeat, was fraught
with meaning for ordinary Japanese. Rigid censorship controls had been a fact of
life during the war, and few believed much of what they read in the newspapers. A
simple English conversation reminded people how dramatically life had changed.
Hirakawa’s genius lay in his ability to encourage the democratic impulse and convey
a sense of internationalism through elementary English conversations based on
real-life situations.

Democratisation from below

A liberal and a Christian, Hirakawa was able to present the best face of American
democracy to the Japanese. His avuncular bearing, gentle nature and warm smile
won him admirers of all ages. The programme enjoyed consistently high ratings,
but among teenagers and children, it was NHK’s top-rated broadcast. In 1947,
‘Come, Come English’ boasted an estimated audience of 5.7 million families, and a
newspaper popularity poll ranked its host higher than all public figures except
MacArthur and the Emperor. That year, the show’s textbooks sold more than
500,000 copies, and Hirakawa was inundated by fan letters. In 1948 alone, he
received more than 30,000 missives, some accompanied by gifts of fruit, medicine,
clothing and wine, and many written in English. Half a million avid listeners would
 The Cultural Reforms 403

write him during the Occupation. Time and the New York Times Magazine ran
feature stories on the ‘Come, Come’ phenomenon.'*”
Hirakawa’s radio programme appealed to all ages, but children in particular were
drawn to its humorous and instructive depictions of everyday life. Hirakawa referred
to these young fans as ‘Come, Come babies’, Within a short time, ‘Come, Come’
clubs had sprung up across the country composed of men and women from all stations
of life and of all political persuasions. By 1947, more than 1,000 of these organisa-
tions were in existence, with a total membership of over 1 million, Branches were set
up in offices, schools and neighbourhoods. They attracted office workers, housewives,
young mothers and their children, and even pre-schoolers (dubbed ‘acorn clubs’), but
a large number were created by enthusiastic school children, At least one club, the
Suginami branch in Tokyo, still exists today. A monthly magazine, The Come, Come
Club, edited by Hirakawa and distributed by Metro Publishing House, carried news
items from the various branches, including accounts of local activities and member-
ship lists, and provided readers with a forum where they could exchange views in
English on a wide range of topics. It also featured substantive articles covering sub-
jects such as American and British comic books, drama, etiquette, films, literature and
sports. Many prominent public figures of today got their start in the ‘Come, Come’
clubs, among them popular singer Peggy Hayama and Kunihiro Masao, former Diet
member and international journalist. Ishihara Shintar6, novelist, conservative ideo-
logue and Governor of Tokyo, also recalls with nostalgia Hirakawa’s ‘entertaining and
unique’ English lessons in an age when ‘people struggled mightily to master what
until recently had been considered a taboo — the language of our foe."!®
‘Come, Come babies’ gained more than a rudimentary knowledge of English. One
former club member wrote that language study gave him a sense of personal
empowerment. By imbibing the essence of the democratic spirit, he was contributing
to Japan’s recovery, Participation in club activities helped him overcome a sense of
inferiority towards Westerners, made him more outgoing and brought lifelong
friendships. In an age of privation, psychological exhaustion and moral confusion,
these were positive values, indeed, ‘Come, Come English’ was a cultural movement
that emerged spontaneously from the grass roots, transforming the social and polit-
ical consciousness of young people, including this author, a junior high school
student in rural Nagano Prefecture at the time.’ For us, Hirakawa’s broadcasts were
our first genuine encounter with American democracy, and they enabled us to
embrace the new creed in a way that was intimate, immediate and compelling. In
short, we made these values our own and through self-directed cultural activities
spread this ethos among a new generation, The transition from wartime controls
to postwar freedom was one of ebullient revolutionary change, and it is difficult
for younger Japanese today to understand how thoroughly liberated we felt. The
Occupation reforms were introduced from the outside and from above, creating
a broad framework for change, but as young people, our direct experience of
transformation came from programmes like Hirakawa’s, which tapped a deep
idealistic vein that would have been difficult to reach through other means.
404 The Later Reforms

‘Come, Come English’ remained with NHK for five years, until 1951, after which
Hirakawa switched to a commercial station, finally retiring the show in 1955. With
the advent of the Cold War and GHQ’s shift in priorities, Hirakawa’s ratings began
to decline. Economic stabilisation policies, the Red Purge and the Occupation’s
manipulation of the media tarnished the programme’s image and menaced the bright
future its early broadcasts had promised the country. Later, critics would see in
English a tool of cultural imperialism, not an ally of democracy, and there may be
more than a little truth to that assertion. Nevertheless, for Japanese now in their late
50s and 60s, Hirakawa remains indissolubly associated with the early reform phase
of the Occupation, when English briefly was an instrument not of ideological
domination but of personal discovery and social liberation.
 CHAPTER 9

The Welfare Reforms and Minorities

One of GHQ’s least-known but most successful ventures in social engineering was
the revamping of Japan’s public health and welfare system, an effort that produced
immediate and dramatic results. Here, Japanese-American cooperation reached its
zenith, resulting in brilliant advances that rivalled and in some cases even surpassed
developments in the United States. Here, too, however, collaboration hit its nadir.
The Occupation’s use of Japanese scientists involved in wartime medical experi-
ments on human beings, its unstinting support for the Atomic Bomb Casualty
Commission and its tacit approval of eugenics legislation afford a glimpse at the
dark underside of both societies. Minority rights was another area where bilateral
cooperation produced bitter fruit, as MacArthur’s staff, preoccupied with changing
political priorities, turned a blind eye to social discrimination, deviating both from
the Potsdam principles and from the US Army’s ‘Basic Directive’.

THE DDT REVOLUTION

GH(?’s innovations in public health and welfare were among the most remarkable of
the postwar reforms. Being fundamentally apolitical in nature, they encountered the
least resistance from the Japanese bureaucracy and therefore achieved one of the
highest rates of implementation, but they remain the least understood of SCAP’s
democratisation projects. Article 25 of the 1947 Constitution guaranteed all Japa-
nese the right to minimum standards of wholesome living and required the state to
‘use its endeavours for the promotion and extension of social welfare and security,
and of public health’. GHQ’s Public Health and Welfare Section (PH&W) under
Crawford FE. Sams was responsible for designing the legislation that would make these
guarantees a reality.
PH&W concentrated its efforts in four major areas: preventive medicine, medical
and health care, social welfare and social security. In this ambitious undertaking, the
Section went well beyond what US pre-surrender planners had imagined. At the
same time, it relied heavily on Japan’s public health establishment. Sams’ staff
introduced important innovations, but more often they systematised and improved
upon existing welfare institutions, sometimes retaining, sometimes eliminating past
practices in a complex and dynamic process that involved close Japanese cooperation
and ultimately preserved some of the best features - and in a few instances the worst
— of both societies.
In September 1945, three problems of particular urgency confronted MacArthur's
406 The Later Reforms

headquarters: providing disaster relief to millions of hungry and destitute war suf-
ferers, preventing the spread of communicable diseases, which constituted a palpable
threat to the security of Occupation forces, and demilitarising and democratising
the health-care field. PH&W’s massive DDT dusting programme, introduced in
the autumn of 1945 to protect Allied personnel from infectious illnesses, came to
epitomise this health and welfare revolution.

Emergency relief
Consonant with the punitive nature of the early reforms, Washington initially
adopted a hands-off policy towards emergency assistance. The Joint Chiefs had
specifically instructed MacArthur that ‘the administration of relief ... is not the
function of the Supreme Commander and no gratuitous distribution of supplies as
direct relief should be made’ (JCS-1534, 25 October 1945).’ This injunction
reflected the pre-surrender US position that Japan alone was to blame for its plight
and that the Allies had no obligation to alleviate suffering that was self-inflicted.
Nonetheless, MacArthur promptly removed from military control all Imperial Army
and Navy stores and equipment not essential for war and turned them over to the
Home Ministry for civilian relief. An estimated 70 per cent of these stocks had been
looted shamelessly immediately after the defeat by gangsters and corrupt officials
(chapter 2), but the Ministry readied remaining supplies of food, clothing and
medicines for distribution to the needy.”
The situation in Japan was desperate, indeed. Some 14.5 million people, or one
out of five, were indigent with no means of steady employment, and 10 million of
these were on the verge of starvation. Moreover, returning soldiers aggravated
crowded conditions in urban areas already inundated with orphans and the war-
displaced. Civilian repatriates from Japan’s overseas empire were allowed to bring
with them only what they could carry plus the equivalent of ¥1,000 in currency. Few
had any means of sustaining themselves in Japan. Moreover, transportation was
disrupted and families were scattered and unable to perform their habitual role of
assisting close relatives in time of need. Traditional poor-relief institutions, run
almost exclusively by non-governmental agencies, had virtually collapsed. In October
1945, US military officials warned of the possible total breakdown of Japan’s supply
and distribution system by the latter half of 1946, estimating that the Occupation
mission itself would be endangered should 10 per cent of the population require
emergency supplies in a given month. Doubtless it was this fear rather than purely
humanitarian concerns that prompted MacArthur to disregard official policy and
assign the organisation of relief activities top priority.°
The Welfare Ministry, socially and morally obliged to care for the war-distressed,
quickly organised its own emergency relief activities, but these were piecemeal and —
ineffectual. On 8 December, SCAP’s G-4 Section issued SCAPIN-404 (Relief and
Welfare Plans’) instructing the government to develop a comprehensive scheme for
providing food, clothing, housing, medical care, shelter and financial aid to the
indigent from January through June 1946. The order also specified that such
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 407

assistance be rendered without discrimination. On 31 December, Tokyo submitted a

detailed proposal naming the Welfare Ministry as the central relief agency, estab-
lished criteria of eligibility and designated traditional district welfare volunteers
(homen-iin) as primary aid distributors. The Ministry estimated that more than
800,000 households and some 3.4 million people were in urgent need of succour.
GHQ approved the Ministry plan, which became the point of departure for Japan’s
postwar welfare system.
On 27 February 1946, PH&W issued a supplementary directive, SCAPIN-775
(Public Assistance’), outlining desired legislative measures. The February instruction
also introduced three new principles of public assistance: 1 operational responsibility
of the state, which was prohibited from delegating authority to private or quasi-
official agencies as in the past; 2 no discrimination or preferential treatment; and 3
no limitations on the amount of aid furnished. The non-discrimination clause was
intended partly to eliminate special government support for war veterans and their
families. The SCAPIN-775 principles had no roots in pre-surrender Japanese think-
ing. Nor, indeed, were they well-established even in the United States. The Public
Health and Welfare Section based this directive largely on the 1945 platform of the
progressive American Public Welfare Association, to which most of Sams’ Welfare
Division belonged. These officers were determined to avoid the shortcomings of US
welfare policy and provide Japan with a system of public assistance second to none.
Their idealism was shared by few policy-makers in Washington, however, and the
notion that the state should guarantee all of its citizens a livelihood and decent
standard of living was radical for the time.
On the basis of SCAPINs 404 and 775, the Welfare Ministry drafted the Liveli-
hood Protection Bill and presented it to the Diet in late July 1946. Under the
supervision of Kasai Yoshisuke of the Welfare Ministry’s Social Affairs Bureau,’ the
bill was prepared ‘in an atmosphere of professional partnership and cooperation’, as
one Japanese expert has described it. Mutual misunderstandings about basic termin-
ology abounded, however, complicating the legislative process and producing differ-
ent interpretations of its significance. The English version ostensibly established the
principle of state responsibility for public welfare, but the concept of public assist-
ance as a state obligation and individual right was alien to the Japanese experience.
Meiji officials had enacted the Relief Ordinance in 1874, replacing it with the Relief
Law in 1929 following the onset of the Great Depression, but welfare activities were
grounded in paternalistic concepts of mercy strongly associated with Imperial
benevolence and implying state surveillance. The act of receiving charity was stigma-
tising, and the criteria for assistance were not need per se but social status, an
assessment of the recipient’s character and the reasons for seeking help. Con-
sequently, Kasai’s staff substituted the Japanese phrase ‘livelihood protection’
(seikatsu hogo) for the English ‘livelihood security’, enabling them to maintain the
traditional gloss. The legislation was enacted on 9 September 1946 as the Daily Life
Protection Law, with all the paternalistic overtones of the old system.°
Moreover, the new law was administered locally by volunteer district
408 The Later Reforms

commissioners (Aémen-iin), who actually determined, often arbitrarily, the size of

livelihood doles. The district commissioner system had been established in the wake
of the 1918 rice riots as a means of tightening social control at the local level, and
‘social work’ gradually replaced charity as the dominant form of relief. The law’s
implementing machinery continued this tradition. The commissioners were sub-
sequently reorganised under separate legislation (29 July 1948) as social welfare
commissioners (7insei-i in, literally, ‘people’s life representatives’) to assist local offi-
cials in administering the assistance programme. A total of 150,000 volunteers were
made commissioners, and by 1949, they had given emergency aid and employment
guidance to more than 3 million paupers and extended livelihood loans to 1.6
million repatriates. Nonetheless, the new commissioners retained the old aura of
authority.’
Kasai also attempted to exclude from the purview of the law the able-bodied, those
of loose morals and others who refused to work for a living. When PH&W objected,
the Ministry’s Social Affairs Bureau dropped the Japanese term for indolence (taida)
from the draft legislation, but after the statute had passed, it issued a guideline that
disqualified applicants for lazy or improper behaviour or for having relatives able to
provide assistance. Finally, offended by the notion of unrestricted aid, Kasai managed
to impose a ceiling on spending, with the national government bearing 80 per cent of
relief costs and the prefectural and municipal governments each shouldering a 10 per
cent share. Despite initial resistance, however, the programme was successful, and in
1950, at the suggestion of a US advisory mission, the Daily Life Protection Law was
revised and strengthened. Community welfare commissioners were replaced by
trained welfare experts subordinate to municipal authorities, disqualification criteria
were eased and an explicit guarantee to an adequate livelihood (income security and
welfare services) was added.®
Occupation health authorities could have established refugee camps for the dis-
placed, unemployed millions as in Okinawa (chapter 3). To preclude that necessity,
on 8 January 1946, PH&W issued SCAPIN-563 (‘Control of Population Move-
ments’) ordering the government to outlaw travel from rural areas to cities of more
than 100,000 unless individuals could show proof of a job and place to live. Excep-
tions were made for government officials, students and teachers, and those engaged
in rehabilitation work. Rural inhabitants were not issued ration cards, essential for
survival in the city, and could not purchase train tickets, making enforcement a
relatively easy matter. GHQ renewed the prohibition on internal migration in June
1946, and the Cabinet extended it through 1947. On 22 December 1947, the Diet
enacted a law formalising the travel ban through 31 December 1948. Japanese did
not completely regain their freedom of movement until 1 January 1949, by which
time the cities had been largely rebuilt and jobs were once more available.”
An even more serious problem was the looming spectre of mass starvation. The
autumn harvest of 1945 had been the worst in decades, and the Japanese government
and Sams prevailed on MacArthur to release an initial 100,000 tons of wheat from
supplies that the US Army had stockpiled in the Philippines. The first emergency
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 409

shipment reached Tokyo in late January 1946, and GHQ eventually distributed
400,000 tons. Japanese authorities, too, released 30,000 tons of canned meat, fish
and biscuits (blankets and winter clothing were not handed out until late February
1946 due to distribution difficulties). The bulk of Army-donated food arrived in
June and July but proved inadequate. By the summer of 1946, military stocks were
nearing depletion and food shortages had become critical. MacArthur’s headquarters
desperately lobbied Washington for assistance, and in September, the Army’s Goy-
ernment and Relief in Occupied Areas (GARIOA) programme began food deliveries,
taking up the slack and narrowly averting famine. In December, under PH& W
supervision, the Japanese government organised a school lunch programme designed
to improve child nutrition. By 1949, some 7 million had benefited from the protein-
rich meals of powdered skim milk and fish soup.’® In the late summer of 1946,
international relief agencies also began to assist in feeding and clothing the needy.”

Disease control and preventive medicine

Preventive medicine enjoyed a long tradition in Japan. The Meiji-era Infectious
Diseases Law (1897) had created sanitation societies (ezsei-kumiai) under police con-
trol to monitor outbreaks of contagious illness and, later, to run immunisation
programmes. Japanese health authorities achieved considerable success in curbing
typhoid fever and smallpox and fighting dysentery and diphtheria. Even at the height
of the Asia—Pacific conflict, they managed to prevent cholera epidemics, eliminate
scarlet fever and contain typhus. By August 1945, however, the nation’s health-care
infrastructure was a shambles, and sanitation control had virtually collapsed. Before
the war, only six cities boasted sewage treatment plants, and most of these, together
with municipal water supply facilities, had been heavily damaged or destroyed by
wartime bombing. Three quarters of the population depended on shallow wells,
springs or surface streams for their water, whose quality was under constant assault in
rural areas from ‘night soil’, raw human waste used as fertiliser. In the cities, millions
of repatriates from overseas exacerbated cramped, insalubrious conditions, providing
an ideal breeding ground for life-threatening illnesses. Into this medical tinder box
stepped returnees from Southeast Asia infected with cholera, smallpox and typhus. In
the first three years of occupation, more than 650,000 people contracted a com-
municable disease and nearly 100,000 died.’
In 1945, dysentery, enteric disorders and other so-called filth diseases were sur-
passed in virulence only by tuberculosis. Japan had never attempted to eradicate
systematically flies, mosquitoes, fleas, mites, lice or rodents, and these pests had
multiplied beyond control. (The presence of rats around one’s home traditionally
was considered a sign of affluence.) Parasite infestation was widespread. Vaccine
production had come to a standstill during the war, amplifying the threat of such
‘wildfire’ maladies as cholera, smallpox, typhoid and typhus. Mosquito-borne viruses
caused intermittent outbreaks of malaria and Japanese B encephalitis. Meningitis,
polio and scarlet fever also claimed many victims. Finally, chronic malnutrition
left the population prey to diphtheria, pneumonia and tuberculosis. The last, the
410 The Later Reforms

archetypal poor person’s disease, was the number one killer in Japan, accounting for
12 to 15 per cent of all deaths since the mid-1930s.
The paramount duty of Public Health and Welfare Section was to safeguard the
health and security of Allied forces, and epidemics posed an imminent threat to the
Occupation mission. Not only did such calamities endanger the well-being of mili-
tary personnel, but they were capable of inciting civil disorder among the Japanese
public. DDT was the weapon of choice in the war against infectious diseases, and it
was first deployed to protect Allied troops. One of the initial tasks of US military
health teams was to disinfect thoroughly the areas into which Navy and Army units
were scheduled to move. On 28 August 1945, the US Third Fleet ordered the
Imperial Navy to place designated Allied disembarkment points off limits to local
residents and informed it that 24 hours prior to the landings, US aircraft would spray
those sites with insecticide. In early September, airplanes flying low dusted
Tachikawa and other military installations with DDT. Aerial dispersal would con-
tinue into 1946, and between June and August of that year, C-46 transports dumped
200 tons of DDT on densely populated urban areas and Allied military bases across
Japan. (Such was the American dread of contamination that, in early 1946, when
MacArthur’s military aide Major Faubion Bowers arranged a special Kabuki viewing
for US military personnel in Tokyo, Occupation authorities disinfected the theatre
with DDT three times before the performance.)”
Prior to Japan’s surrender, Sams had stored large quantities of this powerful chem-
ical in the Philippines, along with dusting equipment and typhus vaccine, but the
first substantial consignments of DDT did not reach Japan until November. In early
October, PH&W ordered the Japanese government to begin producing its own
insecticide and, following the arrival of stocks from Manila, launched a programme
of systematic dusting. By May 1946, Japan was producing enough DDT to meet
most of the country’s needs. In the meantime, public health officers in Military
Government units had reorganised Japanese sanitary teams, and by 1948, there was
one six-man unit for every 15,000 inhabitants. Formed around the prewar sanitary
societies, the teams were responsible now to local health authorities, not the police.
Under municipal supervision, quarantine stations were set up at 14 major ports of
entry to delouse repatriating soldiers and civilians. Children were assembled in
school yards and hosed down. Dusting stations were set up in large cities, where
teams sprayed train stations, subways, streetcars, dormitories, theatres, public bath
houses, roadside ditches and open sewers, and entered private homes to disinfect
drains and lavatories. By 1949, about 50 million people, or roughly two-thirds of the
population, had been doused with DDT.“
The American obsession with sanitised environments conveyed to the Japanese the
message that they were dirty and disease-ridden. To a people traditionally priding
themselves on physical cleanliness and propriety, this was one more insult com-
pounding the injury of defeat. Children particularly resented the affront to their
dignity as nozzles were thrust into collars and sleeves and DDT was pumped into
their clothes and hair, turning them as white as the proverbial miller’s apprentice.
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 411

Photo 53. A Japanese sanitation team dust with DDT while Military Government health
officials observe from the sidelines. The DDT programme prevented a major outbreak
of infectious illness, but the carcinogen’s long-term effects on humans were never assessed,
5 March 1946 (Kyodo).

Teachers did their best to explain to children why spraying was necessary. In ‘Tottori
Prefecture, a village instructor composed a ditty, “The DDT Song’, which went:
“Tai, tai typhus, typhus all around! We hate it worse than the Devil himself! Everyone
out now, let’s go get dusted! DDT! DDT! The pupils would sing the tune before
going to the playground to be deloused. The lyrics drove home the point that typhus,
which was carried by body lice, was even more unpleasant than the insidious white
powder, which really was a friend in disguise.'” Roving sanitation teams armed with
pumps and dispensing billowy clouds of insecticide became a metaphor for the
modernisation of pubic health practices in Japan. Sadly, as we know today, the
chemical also is a powerful carcinogen, and although the resulting short-term bene-
fits to public health were dramatic, its long-term effects on the human organism and
the environment have not been assessed.
Where epidemics broke out, Military Government Teams intervened decisively. In
December 1945, for example, typhus fever erupted in the Osaka region. The Osaka
MG Team promptly banned travel into and out of Osaka, Sakai and Fuse (East
Osaka) cities, began a delousing and inoculation programme and sent sanitary teams
to dust public places, including court houses and detention centres, with DDT.
More than 7,000 people were infected, of whom 615 died, but the epidemic was
contained, and by May 1946, typhus had virtually disappeared.
412 The Later Reforms

Cholera was an equally potent threat. In April 1946, repatriation ships from
China carrying cholera-stricken passengers docked in Kagoshima, Kyushu, creating a
major scare in PH&W. Sams had the ‘cholera ships’ and those that came after
diverted to special ‘cholera ports’, where more than 230,000 returnees eventually
were quarantined, In all, over 700 cases of cholera, 250 of typhus and more than 100
of smallpox were isolated and treated. In response to the cholera menace, repatri-
ation from Japan to Korea was temporarily suspended in June 1946. Due to
PH&W’s quick action, only 1,229 cases of the ailment surfaced in Japan in July and
August, but in Korea, repatriates from China started an epidemic that spread along
the rail line to Seoul, infecting 17,000 people within a few weeks and killing 11,000.
Malaria, too, was endemic in the Hiroshima region and parts of Shikoku and
Kyushu, and an epidemic of Japanese B encephalitis broke out in the Kanto region in
the summer of 1948, affecting 7,000, Another 5,000 were stricken in 1950, DDT
spraying dramatically reduced the incidence of both maladies."
At the same time, PH&W initiated the domestic production of vaccines for
cholera, smallpox, typhus, typhoid and tuberculosis. In 1946, PH&¢W and the Wel-
fare Ministry organised large-scale inoculation programmes for a variety of diseases.
On 1 July 1948, the Diet enacted the Preventive Vaccine Law, making mandatory
immunisations against diphtheria, tuberculosis, typhoid, paratyphoid and smallpox
for all Japanese between the ages of three and 60. Sams also oversaw the establish-
ment of more than 1,700 modern venereal disease clinics across the country, procured
newly developed drugs and organised educational campaigns to discourage the
spread of sexually transmitted illnesses, Finally, Sams’s staff, in tandem with Natural
Resources Section, encouraged the domestic production and use of chemical fertil-
isers to replace:night soil.'’ Together, these relatively inexpensive but effective meas-
ures enabled Japan to avoid a major epidemic during the Occupation and sharply
reduced the incidence of infectious diseases,"

THE MEDICAL REFORMS

Demilitarisation and democratisation

Demilitarisation was a top PH&W priority. Particularly urgent was the liberation
of Japan’s hospital system from military control, both in order to free beds for
civilian use and to end the system of priority treatment for veterans. In late
September 1945, Sams reopened civilian hospitals and took steps to break the
military’s monopoly on medical services. In November and December, his staff
issued a series of directives ordering the transfer of some 320 military hospitals,
clinics, convalescence homes and related facilities to Welfare Ministry control.
These were converted into national or prefectural institutions and opened to the
general population. PH&W disbanded the Greater Japan Association for the War
Disabled and dissolved the Japan Medical Corporation, which had exercised
emergency wartime control over the nation’s medical establishment. Sams’s staff
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 413

Photo 54. General Crawford F, Sams directs a spraying operation to prevent the spread of
Japanese encephalitis in Tokyo’s Shiba-Shirogane district, today an affluent residential area.
Sams’s ambitious health and welfare reforms may have saved some 3 million lives (Kyodo).

purged high-ranking military personnel from the hospital system, but the medical
corps had under its care some 78,000 wounded ex-combatants, and complete
removal would have paralysed its services. Sams obtained a purge waiver from
Government Section for doctors below the rank of lieutenant colonel. Lasting a
year and a half, the exemption enabled hospitals to phase out former Army and
414 The Later Reforms

Navy doctors and replace them with civilians without sacrificing continuity of
care,”
Another PH&W priority was the reorganisation of the Welfare Ministry. Here,
however, Japanese bureaucrats took the first steps towards reform. The Konoe
Cabinet had created the Ministry in January 1938 out of the Home Ministry’s
Labour and Social Bureaux. This was done partly in response to pressure from social
bureaucrats involved in public health work and partly at the insistence of the Army,
which had become alarmed at the deteriorating health of its rural recruits. The
Ministry introduced a number of reform measures designed to stabilise living condi-
tions and ensure a healthy military and work force. Its welfare specialists represented,
in the context of the times, a progressive edge for social change but one that sought
solutions within limits tolerable to the existing order. As defeat approached, these
officials prepared to resurrect a social agenda put forward in the liberal 1920s but
curtailed in the 1930s.
Sams’s staff oversaw a mild purge of Welfare Ministry, but the programme affected
mainly labour bureaucrats and resulted in the removal of only 23. Most social welfare
officials remained on the job, and in late October 1945, at their initiative, Welfare
Minister Ashida Hitoshi (October 1945 to April 1946) reorganised the Ministry,
eliminating all military functions imposed by the wartime régime. As the Occupa-
tion got underway, the Ministry took over emergency relief activities from the Home
Ministry, and bureaucratic restructuring was kept to a minimum. In mid-May 1946,
GHQ directed the Ministry to reorganise again, and in November, it added three
new bureaux: Public Health, Medical Affairs and Preventive Medicine. Sams was
adamant that each prefecture establish both a health department and a welfare
department to insure policy implementation at the regional level, and in December
1947, the Local Autonomy Law was amended to accommodate the new prefectural
agencies.” In September 1947, the Ministry transferred its labour functions to the
Labour Ministry and, following the dissolution of the Home Ministry in December,
assumed responsibility for public sanitation and other former police functions. At
the same time, it took over vital statistics, another police duty, from the Justice
Ministry. Now fully removed from military and police control, the Ministry assumed
its expanded role as guardian of the nation’s health.”
A vital institution carried over from the prewar era was the network of health
consultation centres the Home Ministry had established in 1937. In April 1947,
GHQ directed the government to strengthen those centres, and on 5 September of
that year, the Health-Care Centre Law was revised. The amendment established 800
health-care (HC) districts, each organised around an HC centre serving 100,000
people and supervised by the prefectural health and welfare departments. A district
health officer was appointed to administer each establishment, which was organised
into 17 service divisions ranging from medical affairs to environmental sanitation
and health education. In January 1948, PH&W ordered the government to create a
model HC centre in each prefecture. By the end of the Occupation there were 724
such centres across the country divided into three categories depending on the size of
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 415

the population served, the largest having a staff of about 60, the smallest, 35. Mem-
bers typically included doctors, dentists, public health nurses, veterinarians, sanita-
tion experts, nutritionists, X-ray technicians and administrative support personnel.”
To provide staff for the HC centres, in early 1946 the Welfare Ministry established
the Institute of Public Health, which organised a series of short-term and long-term
training programmes. In late May 1947, the Ministry created the National Institute
of Health to conduct basic research in public health medicine and produce vaccines
(below). Other Ministry research organs were the Institute of Population Problems,
the National Institute of Nutrition and the National Institute of Mental Health. At
the same time, Navy Commander F. E. Linder of PH&¢W’s Health and Welfare
Statistics Division helped the Ministry develop a national reporting system for vital
statistics.” Japan had maintained health statistics since 1877, when the Home Minis-
try’s Sanitation Bureau began publication of an annual bulletin giving basic figures
on births, deaths, illnesses and contagious and sexually transmitted diseases. The
yearly report also included surveys of hospitals, pharmacies, drugs and medical prac-
titioners. With Japanese assistance, PH8¢W was able to build on that foundation and
install a modern system of statistical analysis and reporting. Under the new regime,
the Health Statistics Division in each regional health-care centre collected data
locally and forwarded them via the prefecture to the Welfare Ministry, which
collated, analysed and published the national results annually.”

Medical and health care

PH&W revolutionised the practice of medicine, dentistry, pharmacy, nursing and
veterinary medicine using the same original and highly effective formula. First, it
recruited a council of progressive specialists, many of them trained in the United
States, to set educational and professional standards, including national licensing
requirements. The new council then reorganised the dominant professional associ-
ation in each area to enforce standards and act as an oversight body. The revitalised
professional association pressed for enabling legislation to codify these innovations in
law. Finally, Sams’s staff established a prefectural model training institution offering
hands-on instruction in every field of medicine.”
PH&W’s Medical Services Division under Colonel Harry G. Johnson began its
reform of medical practice by inspecting medical schools at 18 universities and some
50 technical colleges. The Division closed down about half of the technical colleges
(Class B schools) and placed the others on probation until they could attain the
standards of the regular medical faculties (Class A schools). Johnson then introduced
the American system of six-year medical studies followed by a one-year internship
at an accredited hospital. To set modern standards, his staff established the
Council on Medical Education and appointed a progressive specialist, Dr Kusama
Yoshio, to head it. The Council cooperated in drafting a national licensing exam for
which only graduates of Class A medical schools were eligible to sit. The Medical
Practitioners Law of 30 July 1948 codified this and other educational requirements.
The Medical Service Law of the same date created new norms for hospitals, clinics
416 The Later Reforms

and midwifery homes. In September 1948, PH&W oversaw the creation of the
School of Hospital Administration in ‘Tokyo’s First National Hospital and set up
similar model institutions in each prefecture. Finally, the Council on Medical Educa-
tion was absorbed into a restructured and liberalised Japan Medical Association,
which strove to maintain high standards and advise the government on medical
policy.
In similar fashion, Lieutenant Colonel Dale B. Ridgely’s Dental Affairs Division
modernised the practice of dentistry, assisted by the despatch of a special mission
from the American Dental Association, and Major Grace E. Alt of the Nursing
Affairs Division helped reform public health nursing, general nursing and mid-
wifery.”® Under Colonel Oness H. Dixon of the Veterinary Affairs Division, licensing
norms and standardised training soon transformed the practice of veterinary medi-
cine as well. Dixon created a new category of specialist, the ‘health veterinarian’, who
was responsible for controlling animal diseases that affect humans directly or impair
the food supply. He also introduced techniques and norms for inspecting meats and
other perishables. The pharmaceutical industry, too, was reorganised, with licensed
pharmacists now required by law to write out prescriptions, With the support of the
respective professional associations, a series of statutes, passed simultaneously in mid-
1948, institutionalised these changes, By convincing the Japanese to create different
and clearly defined standards and licensing systems for medicine, dentistry and
pharmacy, PH&W assured the autonomy of each profession, thereby improving the
overall quality of medical and health care.””
Finally, PH&W instituted a stringent system of narcotics control, After World
War I, Japan had encouraged the development of a local opium industry, and
Osaka became ‘the centre of domestic poppy cultivation, The Government Mon-
opoly Corporation also imported hemp, opium and coca leaves from Formosa,
Iran, Iwo Jima, Manchuria, Mongolia, the Ryukyus and Turkey, processing these
intoxicants for domestic medical purposes and for export. By the mid-1930s,
Japanese firms were producing about 10 per cent of the world’s morphine and 37
per cent of its heroin. Just as the Western powers had profited from drug traffick-
ing in their colonies, so, too, Imperial Japan sought to regulate and exploit this
lucrative market in Korea, Manchuria and Taiwan and, later, in China, Inner
Mongolia and Southeast Asia. Both the zabatsu and the Imperial Army became
deeply involved in this nefarious trade, making Japan one of the world’s primary
sources of illicit drugs. On 6 October 1945, PH&W directed the government to
locate and itemise existing stores of narcotics and turn over past production
records. In November, the Section ordered the destruction of heroin stocks, elim-
inating a sizable proportion of the international supply. Other impounded drugs
eventually were released to the government for supervised medical use. PH&W’s
Narcotics Control Branch (later Division) and the Welfare Ministry drafted the
Narcotics Control Bill based on US legislation. Enacted on 10 June 1948, the law
severely restricted the production and sale of dangerous drugs and provided stiff
penalties for violators.”*
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 417

EY athe Dera:

Photo 55. Plainclothes police round up roving bands of homeless children. War-displaced
minors were a major source of petty crime. This boy, caught in a railway station at night, will
be placed in an orphanage. Clutching a geta (wooden clog) in one hand, he protests angrily,
but to no avail. 22 July 1947 (New York Times).
418 The Later Reforms

WELFARE LEGISLATION

In addition to the Daily Life Protection Law, two other pillars of social welfare
reform were established under PH&W’s tutelage: the Child Welfare Law, promul-
gated in December 1947, and the Law for the Welfare of the Physically Disabled,
which was enacted two years later in December 1949. The mission statement of
Sams’ Welfare Division had called for such measures, but the real momentum for
change came from the Japanese side. Kasai Yoshisuke of the Welfare Ministry’s Social
Affairs Bureau consulted frequently with Welfare Division Chief Colonel Nelson B.
Neff and his staff and played a central role in drafting and shepherding both bills
through the Diet. The Ministry’s social bureaucrats had come into their own, and
they left their distinctive imprint on each.

The Child Welfare Law

Protective measures for children were a pressing issue. War-displaced minors, many
of them orphans, roamed the streets of Japan’s cities in large numbers, subsisting in
squalid conditions. A Welfare Ministry survey of June 1947, estimated their number
at about 12,000, and in 1948, it found that from 20 to 30 per cent were under 10
years old. Street waifs subsisted by begging, collecting cigarette butts, shining shoes
and selling newspapers, but many also picked pockets and engaged in petty theft to
survive. On 10 September 1945, the Welfare Ministry outlined a programme of
emergency relief for homeless children. The plan not only assigned the government a
central role but sought to make such youngsters self-supporting — a forward-looking
goal that anticipated GHQ’s emergency relief directives of December and February
(SCAPINs 404 and 775). The Ministry’s Social Affairs Bureau implemented these
emergency measures on a limited scale in Tokyo, Osaka and other large urban areas.
At the same time, it began work on a more ambitious legislative programme designed
to protect children in general.”
Out of the drafting process emerged the idea for a Children’s Bureau. In a series of
bilateral meetings held in the autumn of 1946, Kasai and his staff convinced Sams
and Neff to endorse. the establishment of a specialised agency for minors. Both sides
subsequently agreed on the need to expand the principle of relief from one of
protecting children to one of insuring their overall welfare.*? The Children’s Bureau
was established on 19 March 1947 and a career bureaucrat named to head it, but
Kasai tapped a non-bureaucrat veteran welfare activist, Yoshimi Shizue, to lead the
Bureau’s important Childcare Section, and she became the first woman to hold a
position of high responsibility in government. As Childcare Section Chief, Yoshimi
contributed to the enactment of a law that would meet the special needs of homeless
minors while fostering the healthy development of all children.*’
To generate public support, Sams enlisted the aid of Father Edward J. Flanagan,
the founder of Boys’ Town for homeless children in Omaha, Nebraska, who arrived
in Tokyo in April 1947 as a PH&W consultant. Flanagan’s appeal for more
orphanages and protective legislation helped stimulate interest in the issue, and in
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities

Photo 56. Wax orphans vie for a living as shoeshine boys on the streets of Tokyo, 5 May 1947.
The Child Welfare Law of January 1948 provided relief for most, and by the end of the
Occupation, homelessness had been eliminated as a major social problem (New York Times).
420 The Later Reforms

August of that year, the Ministry submitted its childcare bill to the Diet. Enacted in
mid-December, the Child Welfare Law entered into force on 1 January 1948. It
extended special protection to abandoned, abused and neglected children; abolished
the practice of indentured labour; outlawed the employment of minors in dangerous
occupations; provided for prenatal care; established health-care programmes for
mothers and children; and guaranteed the privacy rights of minors adopted or born
out of wedlock. It also laid the institutional foundation for a nationwide system
of childcare centres, created standards for foster parentage and made the state
responsible for creating and supervising orphanages and other juvenile institutions.
To oversee implementation of the law, the Ministry established Child Welfare
Committees at the national and prefectural levels and Child Welfare Bureaux and
consultation centres at prefectural and municipal levels. By early 1948, more than
100 childcare centres were in operation, and over 600 professional childcare workers
(jido-i’in), most of them women, had been assigned to every city, town and village in
the country. In October 1949, PH&W enlisted the services of a United Nations
social affairs specialist with experience in Britain and the United States to survey the
work of the childcare agencies, which he pronounced highly effective. As a result of
these measures, the number of war-displaced minors declined steadily. In 1946, only
33,000 children had found shelter in orphanages, but by 1949, that figure had grown
to about 175,500, and by the end of the Occupation, homelessness among the young
was no longer a pressing social issue.”

Japanese with disabilities

The third mainstay of welfare reform was the Law for the Welfare of the Physically
Disabled. Like the child welfare statute, it represented a departure from the paternal-
istic Daily Life Protection Law of 1946, stressing not relief and income maintenance
but rehabilitation. Here, the legislative process was characterised by a high degree of
bilateral cooperation and internal consensus-building on both sides. In this instance,
however, the Japanese side fought for progressive legislation that MacArthur's
command, now committed to economic stabilisation, was reluctant to enact.
The Welfare Ministry led the effort to legislate protection for the disabled, but it
was motivated initially by a perceived social responsibility to maimed war veterans.
Japan had no state-sponsored rehabilitation programmes for the handicapped apart
from military hospitals and convalescence homes. GHQ had not only dismantled the
military hospital system but in February 1946 had eliminated military pensions and
survivors’ benefits, as well. Desperate to assist the war-disabled, Kasai’s Social Affairs
Bureau submitted a relief plan for the physically impaired to PH&W in August
1947, but Sams’s staff rejected the proposal, which, it said, favoured veterans and
violated the non-discrimination principle. By the autumn of 1947, however, Kasai’s
efforts had produced a change of heart in PH&W. In addition to Japanese with
congenital handicaps were many who had been disabled as a result of Allied wartime
bombing, and Sams’s staff acknowledged the need for special legislation. When the
Ministry proposed a new relief measure in February 1948, Sams and Neff agreed on
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 421

condition that it be expanded to include the physically handicapped in general. The

legislation would cover some 500,000 disabled, of whom 325,000 were former
soldiers and sailors, many of them amputees.”
To develop a comprehensive proposal, the Ministry created an ad hoc advisory
body, the National Rehabilitation Commission, and appointed private citizens and
bureaucrats to sit on it. Pressure groups, such as the National League for the Reha-
bilitation of the Handicapped (Zenkoku Shintai-shogaisha Kosei Dome), helped shape
the debate, lobbying for a law that made no distinction regarding sex, former occupa-
tion or type of disability. In October, a private organisation, the Nippon Lighthouse
Foundation (below), invited Helen Keller to visit Japan. The militant Socialist,
suffragette and champion of the disabled toured the country, raising public aware-
ness of the problems faced by the blind, deaf and mute. By late 1948, these diverse
currents had merged to form an irresistible movement for change. It remained to
hammer out the details.**
In late 1948, Ferdinand Micklautz, Welfare Organisation and Rehabilitation
Officer, convened a series of meetings with concerned Japanese to discuss the
government plan. Held in the PH&W conference room at SCAP headquarters, the
sessions were attended by Welfare Ministry officials, hospital directors, and heads of
organisations for the blind, including Iwahashi Takeo, a lifelong friend of Keller who
was himself unsighted. Iwahashi represented the Nippon Lighthouse Foundation, a
self-help group he had founded in 1935 as a student after losing his sight.*” The
conferees established a Working Group inside the National Rehabilitation Commis-
sion to draft the bill, and in December 1948, the group met PH&W and other
concerned GHQ staff sections several times in January and February 1949, refining a
legislative draft it hoped to present to the Diet by March. Many of the proposals that
emerged in these intense sessions were advanced for their day: Japanese and Ameri-
can welfare experts were contemplating reforms that would not be enacted in the
United States until the Americans With Disabilities Act of 1990.*°
The goal of this legislation was not to shelter the disabled but to reintegrate them
into society as self-sufficient, productive members. Moreover, the Working Group
draft called for cooperation among the Education, Labour and Welfare Ministries to
assure basic services, a requirement that promised to overcome bureaucratic sectar-
ianism. Such innovative concepts did not translate readily into Japanese practice, but
the Welfare Ministry and the Working Group persevered. Among the changes they
proposed was a programme of affirmative action that would require employers to
hire a certain percentage of handicapped workers. The government would scrutinise
labour contracts and provide funds for shopfloor vocational guidance, training and
special equipment. A national braille library, a national centre for seeing-eye dogs
and a priority housing policy also were envisaged. Unfortunately, these measures
were never implemented, but their formulation attests to the farsightedness of their
authors.”
By February 1949, PH&W and the Ministry had reached basic agreement on a
bill, but the greatest opposition now came from inside MacArthur’s headquarters.
422 The Later Reforms

Photo 57. Helen Keller (centre) is introduced to a man with a seeing-eye dog, 3 September
1948. At the right is her Scottish companion and guide, Polly Thompson. Keller’s visit to
Tokyo gave a boost to government efforts to enact the Law for the Welfare of the Physically
Disabled (December 1949). She came at the invitation of a Japanese organisation for the
blind (Kyodo).

That month, the conservative financier Joseph M. Dodge arrived in Tokyo to

inaugurate his Economic Stabilisation Programme, whose budgetary cuts and other
deflationary measures soon plunged the economy into deep recession. When
PH&W circulated a check sheet soliciting the concurrence of other staff groups,
Economic and Scientific Section protested that the proposed legislation would
inflate the budget that Dodge and ESS now were committed to balance. ESS and
Civil Information & Education Section also raised the objection that Sams had
voiced in 1947: the bill appeared to be a back-door way of providing relief to
handicapped veterans. PH8&¢W was advised to eliminate many of the proposal’s most
innovative aspects and make better use of existing programmes and facilities.
SCAP reticence retarded further progress for most of 1949. The Ministry held out
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 423

for a more progressive statute, but finally accepted the ESS changes in order to pass
the new law in time for the 1950 budget.*® Enacted on 22 December 1949, the Law
for the Welfare of the Physically Disabled failed to incorporate affirmitive action and
other sought-after measures but nonetheless represented a dramatic advance over past
practice. The handicapped were no longer to be regarded as a drain on the public
coffers but as potentially productive citizens and taxpayers. National and regional
rehabilitation centres were established, vocational training programmes and sheltered
workshops set up and new employment opportunities created. National, regional and
local governments were enjoined to organise braille libraries. Both the right to a
subsistence and the right to work were codified in law. An Advisory Council on the
Welfare of the Physically Disabled was established to monitor implementation and
advise the Welfare Ministry on basic policy. Welfare and counselling offices for the
handicapped, the latter staffed by professionals, were created in prefectural and muni-
cipal governments. People with disabilities received identity cards entitling them to
special services, medical care, pensions and rehabilitation and welfare allotments.
Families raising disabled children became eligible for special cash allowances.”

Social security
Japan already possessed the institutional rudiments of a modern social security
system. The Meiji-era Mining Law (1905) and Factory Law (1911) had provided
workers with limited protection, which was enlarged by the Health Insurance Law of
1922 (enforced in 1927). As the nation shifted to a war footing in the late 1930s, the
Welfare Ministry introduced an ambitious reform package designed to bind workers
to the shopfloor, improve health conditions and build a capital reserve to help
finance the war effort.“° These measures included the National Health Insurance Law
(1938), the National Medical Care Law (1938), the Seamen’s Insurance Law (1939),
the Clerical Workers’ Health Insurance Law (1939) and the Workers’ Pension Insur-
ance Law (1941), which was extended to women in 1944. By 1945, most working-
age Japanese were covered by some form of insurance. The administration of social
security programmes, however, generally was entrusted to non-governmental agen-
cies, and in the absence of minimal standards, procedures were inconsistent,
confusing and frequently ineffectual. From an American perspective, the weakness of
the system lay in its philosophical assumptions of state and employer benevolence
and mutual assistance, which ignored the contractual rights of the insured.‘
PH&W’s Social Security Division under George E Pollack set out to stream-
line and liberalise social security programmes in four areas: accident insurance,
unemployment insurance, medical care and pensions. The Welfare Ministry's Social
Security Bureau was equally intent on reorganising social assistance to compensate
for the loss of military pensions. In December 1945, the Shidehara government set
up a high-profile advisory body, the Social Insurance Deliberation Council, to study
the issue, and in March 1946, the Council created a Social Insurance Working
Group to draft a set of preliminary proposals.”
In October 1947, the group submitted its proposals, many of them inspired by
424 The Later Reforms

Britain’s 1942 Beveridge Report (Social Insurance and Allied Services’). Drafted by
Sir William Beveridge, the British study had called for the unification of health and
unemployment insurance and pension schemes and, after 1945, became the basis of
the Labour government’s welfare-state proposals. Following the British example, the
Working Group recommended integrating all existing programmes into a com-
prehensive and uniform national system covering virtually every type of social insur-
ance and welfare disbursement. To finance this endeavour, it advocated spending the
equivalent of 36 per cent of the 1947 GNP, a suggestion that was greeted with
derision. The existing system, with its overlapping provisions, multiple jurisdictions
and inequities, proved too complex to allow of a single, elegant solution, and the
government decided to deal with the various programmes individually.”
By this time, Japanese and American officials already had completed a set of
basic social security guarantees as part of the labour reforms. Enacted in 1947, the
Workman’s Compensation Insurance Law (April), the Employment Security Law
(November) and the Unemployment Insurance Law (December) systematised and
expanded pre-1945 worker insurance programmes. Coverage was not complete,
however, and workers in enterprises of fewer than five employees were excluded from
the scope of this legislation.
In August 1947, at Sams’s invitation, Dr William H. Wandel of the US Depart-
ment of Labour’s Social Security Administration brought the US Social Security
Mission to Tokyo to recommend further action. In December, following lengthy
consultations with Welfare Ministry officials, the Mission submitted its conclusions
to MacArthur, which were formally transmitted to the government in July 1948. The
Wandel Report recommended 1 that Japan’s various social security schemes be
streamlined, 2 that the Daily Life Protection Law be strengthened, 3 that public
health activities be improved, 4 that a single agency be established to administer
social security and 5 that a Cabinet-level consultative body be created to advise the
government on social security policy. The report also proposed compulsory health
insurance for every worker and the full reimbursement of family medical costs.“
Based on the Wandel proposals, in May 1949 the government set up the Social
Security Council inside the Prime Minister's Office to oversee Japan’s emerging
social security system**? The Dodge deflation of 1949 and 1950 slowed the Council’s
work, but in July 1950, it submitted the first of several reports whose recommenda-
tions eventually were implemented by the revised National Health Insurance Law of
December 1958 and the National Pensions Law of April 1959. By the end of the
Occupation, health insurance schemes covered more than 80 per cent of the popula-
tion, but the 1958 law made medical coverage available to every citizen, and its
companion statute of 1959 paved the way for a universal pension plan.
Wandel’s proposals on mandatory national health insurance aroused the ire of the
American Medical Association (AMA) and other US groups, who charged that com-
pulsory medical coverage was an infringement on individual freedom of choice and
an invitation to state socialism. Sams felt constrained to invite an AMA mission to
Tokyo in August 1948 to review his public health and social security schemes, and he
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 425

later appeared before the AMA in the United States to defend his Section’s policies.
The Association eventually gave PH&'W a clean bill of heath, but Sams remained
highly defensive on the issue, and as Cold War realities impinged, PH&W toned
down its activist stance on social security.“
Sams’s staff demonstrated consistent resolve, however, in its refusal to lift the
Occupation ban on veterans’ benefits. This remained a bone of contention with the
Welfare Ministry, and as soon as the Occupation ended, Ministry officials presented
draft legislation to restore many veterans’ rights. On 30 April 1952, two days after
Japan regained its independence, the Diet enacted the Law for War Invalids and
Families of the War Dead, and in August 1953, it revised the Public Officials Pension
Law, reinstating military pensions some six years ahead of the national system.

A MIXED LEGACY

In their ensemble, these reforms revolutionised Japan’s health-care system. Sams

estimated that without the modern practices PH&cW introduced in concert with
Japanese authorities, some 3 million people — more than the total number of
war-related deaths — would have died needlessly between 1945 and 1952.” In retro-
spect, PH&W’s health and welfare innovations were strikingly original, both in
their conception and execution, but not all initiatives were successful; some were
ill-conceived, and a few were misguided and even sinister.

The balance sheet

The PH&W reforms were not a carbon copy of statutes and practices then current in
the United States. Sams and and his staff, influenced by the liberal American Public
Welfare Association, sought solutions to Japan’s health problems that did not yet
exist in the United States. In 1947, the Wandel Mission specifically warned Japanese
officials against imitating the American social security system, urging them to build
on existing institutions, and the ensuing National Health Insurance Law of 1958 still
has no parallel in US practice. The Law for the Welfare of the Physically Disabled,
despite its defects, was well in advance of American legislation, although it failed to
keep pace with subsequent progress in the West. In the medical field, Sams was
critical of the American tendency towards over-specialisation, which had produced a
relative dearth of general practitioners. Family doctors, he believed, ideally should
meet 85 per cent of a community’s medical needs, but in the United States fewer and
fewer medical school graduates went into general practice. He did his best to counter
the trend towards excessive specialisation in Japan, opposing the creation of advanced
postgraduate programmes and the specialty board-certification system.“
Sams was a shrewd and innovative administrator. To break up the bureaucratic
authoritarianism that permeated Japan’s medical establishment, he actively discour-
aged the appointment of career administrators to top positions in the health-care
field, naming instead physicians, dentists, pharmacists, veterinarians, nurses and
426 The Later Reforms

others with hands-on experience. The resulting decentralisation of power opened up

new opportunities for professionals and technicians, insuring an infusion of fresh
ideas into each field.
Some PH&W endeavours were ill-conceived, such as the Section’s attempt to
regulate the field of traditional medicine,” and others fell on infertile soil. The US
internship system, for instance, failed to take root. Sams had directed the govern-
ment to institute the new system in May 1946, and in August of that year, one-year
clinical training programmes were introduced. PH&W arranged internships for
medical school graduates at 11 US military hospitals, but the programme proved
unpopular with students and was discontinued after 1968, when radicals at the
University of Tokyo’s Medical Faculty attacked the system head-on.”
A few PH&W initiatives backfired. One of these was the Section’s reliance on
local sanitation societies (e/sei-kumiat) to implement early health-care measures. In
February 1947, some 57,600 such groups served nearly 10 million people. With the
dissolution of the neighbourhood associations (tonari-gumi) in May of that year, the
eisei-kumiai were placed under the jurisdiction of municipal health authorities, but
by late 1947, many had been co-opted by the local conservative élite. Membership in
the sanitation teams had remained compulsory, and municipal bosses were using
them as vote-gathering machines, much as they had the tonari-gumi. On 16 August
1948, GHQ disbanded the societies, and PH&¢W had them gradually replaced with
professional sanitation workers."
Even major PH&W successes were not unqualified. In November 1948, more
than 600 children receiving diphtheria shots became ill in Kyoto and Shimane
Prefectures due to improper sterilisation techniques, and 68 eventually died. PH&&W
suspended the manufacture of Japanese vaccines in December, but tragedy struck
again. In January 1949, 62 children out of more than 200 inoculated for whooping
cough in Iwagasaki Township, Miyagi Prefecture developed active clinical tubercu-
losis, leading to three deaths. Sams charged that local Communists had sabotaged the
vaccine batch with human TB bacilli in order to discredit the Occupation, but
Japanese health authorities were never able to pinpoint the cause of the misfortune.”

Darker undercurrents»
PH&W’s positive legacy must be balanced against other more sinister endeavours,
one of which involved the use of scientists associated with the Kwantung Army’s
notorious Unit 731, commanded by Lieutenant General Ishii Shird (chapter 6). In
late 1946 or early 1947, Sams directed the Welfare Ministry to establish the
National Institute of Health (NIH) partly in order to oversee vaccine production.
At Sams’s insistence, the NIH was carved out of the prestigious Institute of
Infectious Diseases (IID), which had been established in 1892 by Kitasato Shiba-
saburé to study contagious illnesses and preventive medicine. Attached to Tokyo
Imperial University during World War II, the IID was harnessed to the Imperial
Army’s biological war (BW) effort and many of its leading scientists experimented
on prisoners for Unit 731. On 22 May 1947, with the reluctant agreement of
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 427

Tokyo University President Nanbara Shigeru, the National Institute of Health was
formally established inside the IID’s Toyama laboratories in Shinjuku Ward,
Tokyo.”
A key role in the establishment of the NIH was played by its first Deputy Director
Kojima Saburé, an Ishii collaborator, who recruited former Unit 731 personnel for
the new Institute. Between 1947 and 1983, seven of eight NIH directors and six of
eight vice directors either were members of the Ishii network or had assisted it in
some way during the war. Their grisly medical experiments had made these men
leaders in the field of immunology, and it was to them that Sams and his staff turned
to supervise the production of vital biologicals. Under PH&W’s guidance, the Ishii
group produced penicillin and vaccines for cholera, plague, tuberculosis and typhus.
PH&W also helped two Ishii lieutenants, Kitano Masaji and Nait6 Rydichi, create
the Japan Blood Bank, Inc. (reorganised in 1951 under American tutelage as the
Green Cross Corporation) to manufacture plasma for US troops in Korea. Kitano,
who had held command positions in Unit 731 and Unit Ei-1644 (Nanjing), ran the
Corporation’s Tokyo factory. Interviewed in Kyoto shortly before his death, the
former bio-warrior openly acknowledged his and his colleagues’ wartime role and
boasted of their contribution to the development of preventive medicine in postwar
Japan.”
Sams and others in PH&W not only knew of these men’s sordid pasts but
actively solicited their cooperation to further PH&W goals. “The Institute’, an NIH
director told a researcher in 1987, ‘was under the supervision of GHQ, and GHQ
watched everything we did’. Indeed, PH&W and the Far East Command’s Medical
Section (which replaced PH&W in mid-1951) commissioned research from former
Ishii scientists in the NIH on the tropical tsutsugamushi mite and typhus, areas
where Japanese expertise was unrivalled. These projects were coordinated through
the US Army’s 406 Medical General Laboratory set up in 1946. Early in the
Occupation, the Laboratory moved to the Mitsubishi Higashi Building in down-
town Tokyo close to PH&W headquarters. The 406 Medical Laboratory developed
diagnostic tests, plasma products and vaccines for US forces in Japan and Korea, and
its staff included specialists in epidemiology, bacteriology and viral and ricketsial
diseases, fields in which the Ishii group had conducted much of its wartime work.
When haemorrhagic fever broke out in Korea in April 1951 and again in May and
June of 1952, the 406 Medical Laboratory sought help from Ishii stalwart Kasahara
Shird, an expert from Manchurian days.” The National Institute of Health played a
pivotal role in this research. In the past half century, the NIH has made important
contributions to public health medicine in Japan, but its links with the wartime
crimes of medical science cast a long shadow over this achievement. The key role
PH&W played in these and other questionable medical initiatives compromised its
integrity, clouding its considerable accomplishments with a legacy of doubt and
suspicion.”
428 The Later Reforms

The Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission

PH&W’s involvement in the work of the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission
(ABCC) was another controversial commitment. The ABCC had its origins in the
diverse efforts by Japanese and American scientists to assess the destructive impact of
the atomic bombings. On 8 August, two days after the first blast, Imperial General
Headquarters despatched a 30-man team led by Military Intelligence Chief Arisue
Seiz6 and Dr Nishina Yoshio of the Institute of Physical and Chemical Research
(Riken) to Hiroshima. Their job was to determine the military nature of the dooms-
day weapon. After 15 August, Japanese universities and research institutes also sent
teams to study the medical effects of the bombings and, more importantly, to provide
emergency relief. On 3 September, the day after the surrender ceremony, the Japa-
nese government voluntarily submitted the results of its preliminary findings on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki to MacArthur’s headquarters in Yokohama. The following
day, General Thomas F. Farrell of the Manhattan Project arrived in Japan to conduct
his own studies on residual radiation and other potential hazards to occupying
troops. Sams received the Farrell team and coordinated its activities.
Farrell’s group entered the devastated cities on 8 and 9 September accompanied
by Japanese scientists and protected by prefectural security personnel. On 12
September, Farrell told a press conference in Tokyo that lingering radiation did not
pose a creditable threat to human health, although Japanese physicians were docu-
menting overwhelming evidence to the contrary. Later that month, a joint Japan—US
commission was set up to examine the aftereffects of the bomb, and from late 1945
through early 1946, six US missions arrived to conduct separate studies, each assisted
by Sams and his staff.”
GHQ was highly sensitive to the psychological impact of the bombings. In
February 1946, Occupation authorities confiscated 20,000 feet of 35mm film on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki shot by the Nippon Film Company (Nichiei). The Nichiei
team had begun work in late August on orders from the Education Ministry, which
was anxious to gather its own scientific data on the weapon, and it later joined the
scientific survey organised by Nishina. In December, the Nagasaki Military Govern-
ment Team arrested the Nichiei cameramen, confiscated their film and delivered it to
the US Strategic Bombing Survey in Tokyo. The footage provided dramatic docu-
mentation of the immediate medical effects of the atomic blasts, and on 19 Decem-
ber, War Department Intelligence in Washington ordered SCAP to have Nichiei
complete the film, edit one copy in English and hand it over. No other prints were to
be made. GHQ attempted to acquire every foot of film Nichiei had taken, and the
documentary was sent to Washington for analysis by military medical scientists (all
of this at Japanese government expense). Entitled “Effects of the Atomic Bomb on
Hiroshima and Nagasaki’, the film would not be recovered and shown in its entirely
in Japan until the early 1980s.
In July 1946, the United States resumed nuclear testing at the Bikini Atoll in the
Marshalls, and in November of that year, President Truman ordered a major research
effort to determine the long-term biological and medical effects of nuclear weapons
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 429

on human beings. In January 1947, the National Research Council (National Acad-
emy of Sciences), under contract to the US Atomic Energy Commission, established
the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission (ABCC) to study cancers, shortened life-
spans, developmental disorders, genetic mutations, sterility, visual impairments,
abnormal pigmentation and other medical sequelae of the bomb. Sams was intim-
ately involved in the activities of the ABCC from its inception. Under his direction,
the Commission established research laboratories at Hiroshima (January 1948) and
Nagasaki (July 1948). The city of Kure near Hiroshima, which had escaped destruc-
tion, was chosen as an experimental control and a research centre established there, as
well. American ABCC researchers were attached to PH&¢W as consultants, and the
Section provided administrative guidance and technical support. Several of its staff
later went to work for the ABCC.*
At Sams’s behest, the National Institute of Health formed a Japanese counterpart
group to work with the Americans, and in August 1948, NIH created the Atomic
Bomb Effects Research Institute, setting up its own branches at Hiroshima, Nagasaki
and Kure. The Welfare Ministry contributed directly to the Commission’s work,
arranging funding, securing scientific and technical support personnel, and planning
basic research. ABCC directors were Americans, but their deputies were Japanese,
and Japanese staff outnumbered American participants by a ratio of eight to one. In
seeking NIH cooperation, Sams’s purpose was to discourage independent parallel
research by Japanese scientists and assure access to Welfare Ministry resources,
particularly its modern system of statistics collection and analysis.
From the start, however, this bilateral effort was one-sided. Research findings on
radiation effects were classified as “atomic secrets’, and American scientists withheld
sensitive data and other information not only from their Japanese colleagues but also,
incredibly, from each other. The ABCC confiscated the autopsy records, organ spe-
cimens and other biological data gathered by Japanese researchers and shipped them
to Washington for analysis. Japanese scientists could not publish or discuss publicly
their own findings until very late in the Occupation. SCAP suppressed this material
even after reports had been declassified and distributed in the United States, where
some of the Japanese researchers had prewar reputations. As a result, the medical
repercussions of the bomb remained a closely guarded secret, preventing a wider
knowledge of its destructive force and impeding the development of medical pro-
cedures and treatments of benefit to hibakusha. This veil of secrecy would not be
lifted until the end of the Occupation. Ironically, the secretive character of the
ABCC and the high turnover among American specialists hampered its work, and
results obtained during the Occupation era later were adjudged scientifically unreli-
able. In 1955, the Commission was restructured but continued to conduct research
until 1975, when it was reorganised as a private group, the Radiation Effects
Research Foundation.”
The ABCC failed to achieve its goals partly because of the distrust and ill-will its
activities generated locally. The Commission’s authoritarian methods aroused par-
ticular antipathy. ABCC personnel, travelling in military jeeps and exuding an aura
430 The Later Reforms

of authority, fetched parents and their children from their homes and delivered them
to local research stations. There, Aibakusha were asked to undress and mount examin-
ing tables, where their burns, scars, malignancies and other injuries were probed,
measured, photographed and filmed. ABCC doctors exposed wounds for the camera,
drew blood samples, performed biopsies and took sperm counts. Examinations often
lasted all day, but subjects received no compensation. When Aibakusha died, ABCC
workers, notified by local governments, sought permission from next of kin to per-
form autopsies. At Kure, the control city, Japanese unaffected by the bombings were
subjected to the same indignities in order to scientifically validate the findings at
Hiroshima. Thus, the Commission ran a vast controlled medical experiment, induct-
ing both victims of the bomb and non-victims into America’s atomic research
programme.®
Researchers were especially concerned with the impact of the bomb on the human
reproductive system, and sterility, genetic damage and mutations became primary
areas of inquiry. Young children and women, especially pregnant ones, were a major
focus of attention. From 1948 to 1952, scientists surveyed and analysed statistic-
ally the pregnancies of more than 70,000 women. Midwives received a government
payment of between ¥20 and ¥50 for each pregnancy they reported and monitored,
and post-mortem exams of stillborn and aborted foetuses were carried out routinely.
Some 73,000 people were examined directly for genetic damage. More than 10,000
children were evaluated for adverse effects to their growth. Another 65,000 adults
were screened for radiation illness.
Tokyo ordered municipal governments to assist the ABCC, and local officials
asked hibakusha to cooperate dutifully ‘for the good of society’. In some instances,
the recalcitrant were threatened with military tribunals. Informed consent was not
on the agenda, and neither the authorities nor the subjects were told the purpose of
the experiments. This was not simply because ‘atomic secrets’ were involved but also
because such disclosure would threaten the professional goals and career ambitions of
the researchers. Dr William Silverman, who worked briefly for the ABCC, later
explained this philosophy: “There’s a conflict between informed consent and the
ability to conduct research, and the physician is not interested in the patient’s
welfare, he’s interested in his [own]. So he doesn’t inform him.’
The ABCC also was widely reviled for refusing to provide medical care. Its mission
was to conduct ‘pure’ research for military, not humanitarian, purposes, and scien-
tists were under explicit orders not to render medical assistance to the people they
examined. This was a political decision taken in Washington, where officials feared
that aiding victims of the bomb would imply an admission of US guilt, undermining
America’s moral leadership. In fact, however, American and Japanese doctors often
disobeyed orders and dispensed treatment, although this was done almost surrepti-
tiously. The Commission refused to budge from basic policy. Hibakusha who came
to ABCC research stations seeking medical attention were turned away routinely.
The lack of assistance reinforced the Aibakusha’s feelings of victimisation and lent
credence to claims that they were being used as human guinea pigs.*
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 431

No official system of relief, Japanese or American, existed for the survivors of

Hiroshima and Nagasaki during the Occupation. Initially, bombing victims had
received two-months’ free treatment under the 1942 Wartime Casualties Care Law,
but that aid expired in October 1945, forcing sufferers to seek medical attention
at their own expense. In the early months of occupation, universities and private
research institutions had combined studies of the bomb’s impact with emergency
treatment, but the creation of the ABCC curtailed many of these activities. Through
the tireless efforts of Marcel Junod, the International Red Cross representative in
Japan, the IRC and the American Red Cross supplied penicillin, sulfa drugs and
plasma, with GHQ’s cooperation, to hospitals in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but a
programme of subsidised medical care for hibakusha would not be established until
1957, and even then, Korean victims of the bomb, Japanese subjects at the time of
the blasts, would be excluded on the grounds that they were now foreign nationals
(chapter 10).%”
Ultimately, the government found Hiroshima and Nagasaki useful in two senses.
The bombings enabled it to portray the country as nuclear victim, deflecting popular
attention away from Japan’s wartime aggression in Asia and directing it inward
towards the country’s own suffering, unprecedented and ineffable. At the same time,
the destruction of the two cities allowed government officials to cooperate with the
Americans in acquiring vital knowledge about the physical and medical effects of
atomic weaponry. As one historian has expressed it, the government ‘exploited the
hibakusha to gain the trust and good will of the world’s only nuclear power’.
Moreover, by failing to provide official medical relief to the victims and ignoring the
plight of the bomb’s Korean victims, ‘the government and the Japanese people, too,
compounded in their own way the tragedy of Hiroshima and Nagasaki’.

The Eugenic Protection Law

Another questionable PH&W decision was its passive support for the 1948 Eugenic
Protection Law, designed to prevent the birth of ‘defective’ and unwanted offspring.
The postwar statute was a revision of the 1940 National Eugenic Law, which had
been modelled on Nazi legislation designed to purify the racial stock by sterilising the
mentally and physically disabled and culling potentially ‘flawed’ progeny through
abortions. The 1948 law preserved many of the features of its 1940 predecessor.
Abortions were encouraged if either parent was disabled, had genetic defects or
suffered from personality disorders, or if the parents of either mother or father
displayed such traits. Pregnancies also could be terminated legally if the mother had
been raped, if either parent had leprosy (a feature that was absent in the 1940 law), or
if the birth represented an unacceptable threat to the health of the mother.
The eugenics law was a hybrid creature, part product of the war era, part product
of the unsettled social and economic conditions of the early postwar period. Demob-
ilisation, repatriation and the return of war evacuees from the countryside produced
a baby boom in the years between 1947 and 1949. Poverty, malnutrition and disease,
however, made childbirth itself a risky undertaking, and the loss of male providers,
432 The Later Reforms

soaring inflation and unemployment rendered childrearing an impossible task for

many. This environment produced a flourishing trade in unwanted children, as
bogus orphanages and welfare institutions scrambled to collect government childcare
subsidies. In June 1948, it was revealed that the owners of two orphanages had been
arrested for starving to death more than 100 babies in order to capitalise on this
source of income. At the same time, rape and prostitution led thousands of women
to seek back-room abortions at the hands of former military medics, veterinarians,
eye doctors and outright quacks. Predictably, the crude, unsanitary procedures pro-
duced a steady stream of deaths and maimings.®
Among the conservative bureaucrats and lawmakers who backed this legislation
were many who looked askance at the large number of mixed-blood children being
born to prostitutes, GI rape victims and repatriates from China, Korea and Manchu-
ria. Chauvinist elements forged an alliance of convenience with the group of Lower
House social activists around Katé Shizue, Ota Tenrei (inventor of the inter-uterine
device) and Fukuda Masako, medical doctor and feminist, who together had unsuc-
cessfully submitted a liberal family-planning bill to the Diet in late August 1947.
The Katayama Cabinet, busy on other fronts, did not back the Kato—Ota proposal,
and it died in committee. When right-of-centre politicians sponsored a far more
conservative proposal in June 1948, Katd, Ota and other leaders of the planned
parenthood movement seized the opportunity. Although privately critical of the
bill’s eugenic provisions, Kat6é’s group was willing to tolerate them in return for
even a minimalist birth-control programme, and it mobilised support from Aka-
matsu Tsuneko and other progressive lawmakers. The final draft of the bill, however,
emphasised abortion, not contraception.
Enacted on 13 July 1948, the Eugenic Protection Law became effective on 11
September, and the number of legally terminated pregnancies soared in its wake,
rising from 24,600 cases in 1949 to nearly 64,000 in 1951. The statute was
amended twice, in June 1949 and May 1952, establishing Eugenic Protection
Councils at the national and prefectural levels and Eugenic Protection Counselling
Offices in municipalities and health-care centres. The 1949 revision approved the
sale of contraceptive pharmaceuticals but also authorised abortions where birth
would pose an undue economic hardship on the mother. The 1952 changes made
the physician who would perform the abortion the sole judge of eligibility, assuring
that this method remained the preferred mode of birth control in Japan for many
years to come.”°
On 15 July 1948, two days after the revision of the eugenic statute, the Diet
enacted the Venereal Disease Control Law. Socialist Diet women had struggled to
include that legislation in a single package together with family-planning and
anti-prostitution measures, but conservative lawmakers addressed these issues separ-
ately to diminish their impact. Progressive on the surface, the Venereal Disease
Control Law was fundamentally punitive. It instituted demeaning compulsory pre-
marital and pre-nuptial VD examinations and required prospective couples to dis-
close past incidences of the disease and receive treatment under threat of fine and
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 433

imprisonment. The Prostitution Prevention Law was not enacted until 1956, and
conservative footdragging delayed its implementation until 1958.
Planned parenthood was a contentious moral issue in the United States, and
PH&W avoided open involvement in the eugenics controversy. Sams personally
believed that economic stability was impossible without some form of population
control but was convinced that reindustralisation would solve the problem in the
long run by lowering birth rates. Following the enactment of the Eugenic Protec-
tion Law, US Catholics accused Sams of promoting abortion, and in June 1948,
reacting to harsh criticism from religious pressure groups, MacArthur’s headquarters
announced that population control was beyond the jurisdiction of the Occupation.
GHQ also distanced itself publicly from family planning advocates, denying entry in
1949 to Margaret Sanger, who had been invited by Kat6 Shizue and the Yomiuri
Shinbun.
Behind the scenes, however, PH&¢*W worked to promote the aims of Katé and
Ota. Through the Rockefeller Foundation, which extolled population control as a
prerequisite for economic growth (and investment opportunity), Sams brought a
number of demographic consultants to Japan, attaching one of them full-time to his
Welfare Division. At PH&W’s invitation, John D. Rockefeller Jr visited Japan from
late 1946 to early 1947 with two demographers in tow, and in September 1948, the
Foundation despatched the Rockefeller Mission to Tokyo to study the population
problem. From January to April 1949, with economic stabilisation now the number
one Occupation priority, world authority and neo-Malthusian Warren S. Thompson
and two colleagues teamed up with the Welfare Ministry’s Institute of Population
Problems and toured Japan. In meetings with local officials, business executives and
opinion leaders across the country, this high-profile delegation delivered the message
that family planning was the primary condition for economic rehabilitation.”

The Leprosy Prevention Law

PH&W sidestepped the sensitive issue of leprosy control, allowing Japan’s archaic
Leprosy Prevention Law to stand unchallenged. The Meiji government had passed
the first Leprosy Prevention Law in 1907 patterned on similar legislation in Western
countries. In the West, leprosy was viewed as the quintessential ‘Oriental’ malady,”
and Japanese leaders considered its existence an affront to the nation’s pride. With-
out controlling legislation, it was argued, Japan would never shed the image of an
uncivilised, disease-blighted country. The law was amended in 1916, 1929 and
1931, becoming progressively repressive with each revision. The quarantine policy of
1907 was changed to compulsory lifelong incarceration, forced labour became the
norm and disobedience, including attempts at escape, were punished by lengthy
confinement in unheated isolation cells, where inmates sometimes froze to death in
winter. Pregnancies were forcibly terminated, and from 1915, many institutions
routinely conducted vasectomies on male inmates. Sterilisation also was a condition
for marriage. The National Eugenic Law of 1940 had eliminated ‘eugenic surgery’
for lepers, but the 1948 statute ironically restored it.”
434 The Later Reforms

Nonetheless, under Occupation rule, conditions improved for patients in small

but significant ways. In 1947, Communist Diet members drew attention to the
practice of solitary confinement and the resulting deaths, sparking nationwide
protests from leprosy sufferers. The practice was abolished the same year. The
administration of leprosaria also was liberalised, and internees were able to elect
representatives to the patients’ committees that now helped run the institutions. This
led in 1951 to the formation of the National Council of Leprosaria Inmates, which
began to organise politically and trans-regionally. By this time, medical science had
achieved major breakthroughs in the treatment of Hansen’s disease. Sulfone and
other drug therapies had appeared in the 1940s, making it possible to slow and, in
many cases, arrest the progress of the illness. Cases of actual improvement also were
recorded. Armed with this information, the National Council began work on a
legislative draft reflecting the new realities. The statute as it then stood was in clear
violation of Article 25 of the Constitution, which not only guaranteed a minimum
standard of wholesome living but obliged the state to extend basic social protections
to all citizens.
When the Welfare Ministry learned that a lawmaker intended to present a mem-
ber’s bill to Parliament, it hastily convened hearings in November 1951 and
introduced pre-emptive legislation of its own. In line with postwar reforms, the
government bill included an anti-discrimination clause, expanded family relief and
assistance programmes and provided for the education of children, but it retained
many of the degrading and oppressive features of the old law. The draft repeated the
old assertion that leprosy is an incurable disease. It continued to oblige physicians to
report carriers to the government and retained compulsory labour requirements,
prohibitions on operating a business, permanent incarceration, decontamination
procedures and punishments for violators. Despite protests from sufferers and their
supporters, the revised Leprosy Prevention Law was enacted on 15 August 1953.”
PH&W appears to have watched these proceedings from afar. In 1949, the
Welfare Ministry decided to retain its policy of complete sequestration, but Sams and
his staff posed no objections. That the Section refrained from offering guidance is all
the more surprising in light of social developmentsin the United States. In 1946, the
Federal Security Agency (forerunner of the Department of Health, Education and
Welfare) had set up a National Advisory Committee on Leprosy to review the policy
of segregation and forcible confinement. By 1949, veterans’ groups, labour unions
and patients’ associations were lobbying to pass a National Leprosy Bill. Distinguish-
ing between cured, arrested and latent cases, activists demanded a medical discharge
policy, the elimination of travel restrictions, rehabilitation and vocational training.
The proposal was never enacted, but PH&W must have known of its existence. The
late start of the debate on Hansen’s disease in 1951 as the Occupation was winding
down and the prominent involvement of the Communist Party may partially explain
PH&W’s reticence. A fuller answer must await further inquiry.”
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 435

MINORITIES

The Occupation reforms failed to achieve their full promise for indigenous Ainu,
Okinawans, the Buraku minority (Burakumin) and ethnic Formosans and Koreans.
Progressive intellectuals and the left in general assumed that liberalisation, by
eradicating the vestiges of feudal ideology and privilege, would complete the
‘bourgeois revolution’ begun in 1868 and eliminate such pre-modern residues as
cultural and ethnic discrimination.” MacArthur’s command, however, failed to
challenge racism in its various dimensions, tacitly condoning, and in some cases
abetting, prejudicial attitudes and behaviour.

A promise of reform
Japan’s insular exclusiveness towards ethnic minorities was partially a reaction to the
humiliations it had suffered itself at the hands of Western imperialism since the late
nineteenth century. The rage this inequitable treatment engendered was easily
displaced onto Okinawans, Formosans and Koreans as Japan successively incorpor-
ated their homelands into its Empire. Attitudes towards colonial and semi-colonial
subjects also were coloured by long-standing prejudice against Burakumin, a group
formerly stigmatised as outcastes, and the indigenous Ainu inhabitants of the
northern frontier, the first victims of Japan’s modern expansion.
Under Imperial rule, Japan ostensibly was a multi-ethnic society, and all non-
Yamato groups were, in principle, Japanese nationals and subjects of the Emperor.
Policies of forcible assimilation, however, first imposed on the Ainu, were extended
successively to Okinawans, Formosans and Koreans. Designed to minimise cultural
and ethnic differences while preserving Yamato supremacy, these measures actually
reinforced such distinctions by creating a dual standard of citizenship and treatment.
From the late 1930s, social-control policies were intensified in order to transform
non-Yamato nationals into loyal and obedient ‘children of the Emperor’, a process
known as kominka. Formosans and Koreans were compelled to adopt Japanese names
(sdshi-kaimei), dress and manners; to speak only Japanese in public places; and to
inscribe their families in Japanese-style household registries (kosekz). Just as the Allies
had incorporated colonial subjects and other marginalised groups into their armed
forces, so the Imperial Army conscripted its minorities, organising them into segre-
gated ethnic units and assigning them labour, guard and other menial duties.
Between 1944 and the summer of 1945, US Army and State Department planners
commissioned a number of studies on the Japanese underclass. Relatively little was
known about the Ainu. The Buraku problem drew more attention. In 1942 the
Office of Strategic Services (OSS) had prepared two reports on the latter (“The Eta —
A Persecuted Group in Japan’), and William Karpinsky, SCAP’s first Labour
Division chief, had discussed the issue in his graduation paper for Harvard’s Civil
Affairs Training School, comparing Buraku groups to African Americans. In 1944,
Yale cultural anthropologist George P. Murdock surveyed the literature available on
Okinawa and compiled a dossier on the Ryukyus. The OSS also prepared studies on
436 The Later Reforms

‘aliens’, which dealt almost exclusively with Formosans and Koreans, whom the OSS
categorised as foreigners despite their nominal Japanese nationality. The OSS report
became the basis of a US Army Civil Affairs Guide on aliens in Japan, published in
the summer of 1945.” Pre-surrender studies were fragmentary, however, and
MacArthur began the Occupation without a detailed, programmatic position on
minorities.
Nonetheless, prewar planners were aware of cultural and ethnic discrimination.
As indicated in chapter 8, SWNCC-162/D of July 1945 had linked Japan’s
Imperial cult with ‘an extreme racial consciousness and an anti-foreign complex’.
Basic US policy documents reflected the same concern. SWNCC’s ‘US Initial
Post-Surrender Policy for Japan’ of 22 September 1945 and GHQ’s Civil Liberties
Directive of 4 October expressly forbade laws that established discrimination on
grounds of race or nationality. The constitutional control document SWNCC-228
(‘The Reform of the Japanese Governmental System’) of January 1946 was even
more explicit. It stipulated that not only Japanese subjects but ‘all persons within
Japanese jurisdiction (emphasis added) be guaranteed the same fundamental civil
and political rights. The Meiji Constitution, the SWNCC document said, fell
short of other national charters because it applied only to Japanese subjects and left
non-Japanese without adequate rights: ‘[T]he guarantee of fundamental civil rights
both to Japanese subjects and to all persons within Japanese jurisdiction would create
a healthy condition for the development of democratic ideas and would provide
foreigners in Japan with a degree of protection which they have not heretofore
enjoyed’.’*
Surprisingly, before the end of the war, the Japanese government, too, had con-
sidered extending equal rights to colonial subjects, albeit for different reasons. Colo-
nial law had distinguished between naichijin, nationals enjoying full citizenship by
virtue of maintaining household registers in Japan proper, and gaichijin, second-class
nationals registered in Japan’s colonies and having relatively few rights. In 1922, the
Governor General of Korea outlawed the transfer of colonial registers to Japan
proper, thereby institutionalising this distinction. When the government began con-
scripting Koreans in 1942, however, it was compelled to emphasise ethnic equality in
an effort to ensure the loyalty of colonial soldiers and workers. In November 1944,
the Cabinet approved plans to eliminate shopfloor discrimination, remove restric-
tions on travel between Japan and Korea and permit Koreans in Japan to transfer
their family registers from the colonial periphery to the Imperial metropolis. The
relocation of colonial records to Japan effectively would have granted resident
Koreans and Formosans voting and other civil rights, but the war ended before this
programme could be implemented.”
Following the defeat, Japanese leaders moved quickly to close that door of
opportunity, eliminate multi-ethnic vestiges and disempower erstswhile colonial
subjects, convinced that their presence now was a threat to the survival of the
Imperial Order. The revision of the Lower House Election Law on 17 December
1945 abrogated the right of resident Koreans and Formosans to vote or hold office.
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 437

It was feared that, armed with the ballot, former colonials would join Communists in
pressing for the abolition of the emperor system. The new law’s recondite jargon
‘suspended for the time being’ the voting rights of any resident whose household
register was not kept in the Japanese main islands, thereby disfranchising the vast
majority of Formosan and Korean residents.*”
Not only did SCAP fail to challenge this law, but three months later Government
Section allowed Japanese legal experts to veto constitutional proposals for the protec-
tion of minorities. Based on US pre-surrender planning documents, the GS Civil
Rights Subcommittee incorporated in its February 1946 draft of the MacArthur
Constitution explicit human rights guarantees for Koreans, Formosans and Buraku-
min. Article 13 read ‘All natural persons are equal before the law. No discrimination
shall be authorised or tolerated in political, economic or social relations on account
of race, creed, social status, caste or national origin (emphasis added). Article 16
stated simply “Aliens shall be entitled to the equal protection of law.’ As the Japanese
side revised the working draft in March, it modified the language of the GS docu-
ment, eliminating from Article 13 the term ‘national origin’ and altering ‘all natural
persons’ (shizenjin) to ‘all of the people’. For the English term ‘people’, however, it
substituted the Japanese word ‘nationals’ (kokumin), thereby restricting the scope of
this provision to Japanese citizens. Unlike shizenjin (‘person’ in natural law) or
jinmin (‘people’, but with a leftist connotation), kokumin carries the paternalistic
nuance of an ethnically homogeneous Volk indivisible from the nation-state. Article
16 with its equal rights provisions was simply deleted. Sato Tatsuo, Deputy Chief of
the Cabinet Legislation Bureau and the government’s leading constitutional special-
ist, later wrote that ‘the idea of treating foreigners equally was bad enough in itself,
but having to include Article 16 in the Japanese draft was particularly objectionable’.
Sat6 almost certainly had in mind Korean and Formosan residents, whose legal status
had become ambiguous since the liberation of their homelands from Japanese rule.”"
During subsequent Diet debates, the Cabinet Legislation Bureau insisted that a
clause, Article 10, be inserted at the beginning of Chapter 3 (Rights and Duties of
the People), stating that ‘the conditions necessary for being a Japanese national shall
be determined by law’. Unlike US legal practice, which grants citizenship automatic-
ally to anyone born on US soil (jus solis), until 1985, Japanese law based nationality
on the principle of patrilineal consanguinity (jus sanguinis). Thus, only someone
born of a Japanese father was legally Japanese. The Cabinet Legislation Bureau added
Article 10, Government Section’s Charles Kades said later, ‘to be very sure that it
would be difficult for aliens to become Japanese citizens’.
Burakumin, too, were denied specific protection. For the word ‘caste’ in GHQ’s
original Article 13, Japanese legists substituted the vague and almost meaning-
less expression ‘family origin’, thereby expunging from the Constitution an explicit
guarantee of equality for Japan’s 1 million former outcastes.** Nor did the Con-
stitution recognise the indigenous status of the Ainu, who were lumped together
in the undifferentiated category of ‘Japanese national’. Okinawans, too, were Japa-
nese nationals, but SCAP had detached the Ryukyus from the home islands and
438 The Later Reforms

placed them under direct US military administration, denying their inhabitants any
constitutional protection at all.
Government Section’s constitutional drafting committee deferred to strong Japa-
nese feelings on the question of minority rights, just as it did on the issue of
guarantees for women (chapter 6). Afraid of provoking a backlash and endangering
provisions deemed more important, it did not contest these changes. Many years
later, Kades recalled that, while GS preferred the original wording, his orders from
Whitney were to object only if a basic principle were involved. On the elimination of
GHQ’s Article 16, he noted laconically that ‘[t]here was no controversy between Mr
Sato and me’. Kades asserted his belief that the final Japanese version, now Article 14,
was adequate to protect the rights of minorities. It reads: “All of the people [in
Japanese, ‘all nationals] are equal under the law and there shall be no discrimination
in political, economic or social relations because of race, creed, sex, social status or
family origin’. In a subsequent interview, however, Kades remarked candidly that in
the United States at the time, ‘aliens were not 100 per cent equal to American
citizens. So I felt how can we insist that it is a basic principle to put [aliens in Japan]
on the same level with Japanese people?’ The Far Eastern Commission in Washing-
ton criticised the absence of explicit rights guarantees for non-Japanese in its review
of the Constitution, which began in January 1949. On 5 May of that year, the
Commission sent a query to SCAP entitled ‘Position of Aliens Under the Constitu-
tion’, noting that the charter was ‘not clear’ on this point, but the review itself was
a pro forma exercise to begin with, and MacArthur’s staff, by then engaged in a
crack-down on leftist Koreans, had no intention of addressing the issue.

The Ainu
The Ainu are an indigenous people who once occupied most of northeastern Japan.
Following the Meiji Restoration of 1868, the central government aggressively colon-
ised the Ainu homeland (Ainu moshir) in Hokkaido to consolidate its control of the
archipelago and discourage Russian designs on the Far North. Ainu groups were
forcibly relocated and their lands subsequently declared terra nullius and parcelled —
out to impoverished Japanese settlers who converged on Hokkaido in search of free
homesteads. In 1899, Tokyo enacted the Hokkaido Former Aborigines’ Protection
Act to fully assimilate these displaced former hunters and gatherers into the Japanese
way of life by offering them ‘grants’ of their own land and imposing on them an
agrarian lifestyle. The Act allocated 5 hectares to each family, but that property was
to revert to the state after 15 years if it were not improved upon. About 70 per
cent of Hokkaido’s Ainu received such land. The allotments could not be sold, but
plots could be rented out, and within a decade, the bulk of Ainu land had been
transferred to Japanese tenants.* The Act also placed Ainu children in segregated
schools, where Japanese was taught and the Ainu language rigidly suppressed. These
‘Schools for Former Aborigines’ were finally abolished when the Act was revised in
1937, by which time relatively few Ainu were able to speak their native tongue
fluently. Discrimination was compounded by poverty, and in the 1930s, to escape
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 439

Photo 58. An Ainu woman in-traditional headdress casts her vote in the general elections of
April 1946 at an elementary school in Shiraoi Village, southern Hokkaido. Occupation
reforms raised the hopes of Ainu for greater equality but failed to actively defend minority
rights or address the problem of ethnic discrimination (Kyodo).

endemic racism and seek new opportunities, a few successful Ainu farmers led Ainu
settlement groups to Manchuria, where they farmed alongside Japanese colonists.
Following Japan’s defeat in 1945, the Ainu immediately pressed for full social
equality. In February 1946, for instance, 200 Ainu from across Hokkaido met to
form the Hokkaido Ainu Association. In the spring of 1947, Major General Joseph
M. Swing, Commander of the 11th Airborne Division, summoned four Ainu repre-
sentatives to Sapporo and questioned them about independence. When the elders
disavowed any such ambitions, Swing gave each ¥100,000 and dismissed them,
presumably in an effort to purchase immunity from Soviet propaganda. Other
groups, however, agitated for an “Ainu Republic’. In July 1948, an Ainu representa-
tive addressed a petition for emancipation to the Chinese delegate to the Allied
440 The Later Reforms

Council for Japan. The document asked for land and “a sphere of autonomy based on
the right of self-determination of minorities’ in order to preserve the Ainu identity
and achieve genuine independence. The proposal was forwarded to the US State
Department, which filed it without comment.
On the whole, the Ainu looked favourably on the Occupation. One group, for
instance, sent MacArthur a deer skin and antlers ‘as a token of our grateful appreci-
ation for what he has done to secure land for our people and give to Japan a
democratic society, based on law and order’. This gratitude appears misplaced in
light of what the Occupation could have done for the Ainu people. Under Allied
control, they enjoyed the same freedoms as other Japanese in the main islands, and
some ran (unsuccessfully) for local office, but GHQ failed to take positive measures
to defend their rights. Herbert Passin of Civil Education and Information Section,
meeting young Ainu during a tour of Hokkaido, commented on the dilemma faced
by ‘despised minority groups . . . not strong enough to control their own destinies:
assimilation or preservation of their identity. Yet GHQ left the paternalistic
Hokkaido Former Aborigines’ Protection Act intact. Minor revisions implemented
in 1946 and 1947 actually penalised the Ainu by abolishing certain welfare measures
and tax exemptions.*°
In one important area, Occupation policy actually discriminated against Japan’s
indigenous inhabitants. Under the Protection Act, the state had confiscated Ainu
land and then returned a part of it to individual families on condition that it be
developed for agriculture. The 1946 land reform classified Ainu farmers tilling only
part of their grants as absentee landlords and redistributed those holdings to tenants,
mainly Yamato Japanese (wajin). Despite organised protests to GHQ, many Ainu
who farmed primarily for subsistence and engaged in seasonal labour for a living lost
their land in this way. Successful Ainu cultivators were treated as large landlords, and
they, too, saw large parts of their estates awarded to wajin tenants. SCAP reformers
ignored minority interests, confirming Japanese ownership and control of the most
productive Ainu farmland. In Hokkaido’s southern Hidaka region, which boasts the
highest concentration of Ainu residents in Japan, the 1946 land reform redistributed
more than 30 per cent of the Meiji land grants to Japanese farmers.”

Okinawans
During the war, Professor George Murdock and a small group of anthropologists
involved in Yale University’s Cross Cultural Survey (1937-41) prepared a total of
eight Civil Affairs Handbooks for the US Army. Among these was the 334-page Civil
Affairs Handbook, Ryukyu (Loochoo) Islands, published in November 1944. As with
other Handbooks, the authors relied on Japanese sources for more than 95 per cent
of their data, thus reproducing many of the stereotypes held by Japanese writers, who
regarded Ryukyuans as a backward, inferior breed of Japanese. Unlike Japanese
anthropologists and linguists who stressed the similarities with Yamato Japanese,
however, Murdock ignored considerable evidence to the contrary and characterised
Okinawans as culturally, linguistically and racially distinct. From July through
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 44]

October 1945, as a Navy Lieutenant Commander, he headed the Civil Affairs

Department in the Ryukyus Military Government, where his ideas perpetuated the
notion that the Ryukyus were a separate cultural and political entity.*
Okinawans fared poorly under occupation compared to Japanese in the home
islands, both economically and in terms of civil and political freedoms. Agricultural
production increased dramatically after the defeat, but US installations gradually
crowded out prime farmland, and by 1947, more than one third of Okinawa’s arable
surface lay under roads and runways or behind barbed wire. During the garrison
phase of occupation, which began in September 1945, US military authorities
enforced restrictions on land use in the vicinity of military bases. One of these, the
‘one-mile limit’, prohibited the maintenance of any Okinawan building within a
one-mile (1.6 km) radius of military billeting or dependent housing projects of more
than 100 people. Army public health officials intended to create a sanitary cordon
around base areas to combat mosquito-borne and epidemic diseases, but this
measure imposed an enormous hardship on local farmers, who were forced from
their homes into cramped, insalubrious resettlement centres far from their fields. In
Okinawa’s fertile farm belt in the central Nakagami District, more than half of the
land under crops fell within this no-man’s zone.”
To Ryukyuans, landownership was more than a livelihood. An integral part of the
Okinawan identity, it was heavily freighted with ancestral and communal values. The
alienation of this property tore at the very fabric of Okinawan society. With nothing
but their labour to sell, many Ryukyuans found themselves employed on military
bases and construction sites, building airfields, military highways and housing for
American soldiers and their families. Until 1949, the cost of this work was borne by
Tokyo, not Washington. Under-Secretary of the Army William H. Draper glibly
explained in August 1948 that, although administratively detached from the main-
land, ‘the Ryukyu Islands, as a prefecture of Japan, remain a legal responsibility of the
Japanese Government’. From 1946 through 1948, MacArthur’s headquarters pur-
sued a policy of studied neglect towards the archipelago, and with basic installations
in place, military construction fell off precipitously and, with it, jobs. Economically,
the region stagnated. This period in island life has been characterised by an American
military historian as one of ‘apathy and neglect’, during which Okinawa became a
scrap yard for discarded World War II equipment and, in his words, ‘human cast-offs
from the Far East Command’.””
Many Gls held the Okinawans in open contempt. Initially, such disdain reflected
the savage fighting that had taken place in the archipelago in the closing months of
the war. Rape became so commonplace in the wake of battle that the Army decreed
the death penalty for offenders in an attempt to curb its incidence. Serious crime
remained endemic throughout the American tenure. During one six-month period
in 1949, Life Magazine, in an article entitled ‘Okinawa Junk Heap’, reported 16
robberies, 33 assaults, 18 rapes and 29 murders committed by Gls. The Army’s
rigid segregation policies, even more stringent than in the Japanese home islands,
aggravated racial animosities between white and African-American troops, and these
442 The Later Reforms

tensions were displaced onto Okinawans. When Philippine Scouts replaced black
soldiers in early 1947, they, too, found the local population a convenient target on
which to vent their frustrations (the Scouts remained until 1949).”!
Denied basic constitutional protections, Ryukyuans enjoyed relatively few of the
liberties taken for granted in Japan proper. Equal treatment, the Pentagon feared,
would impede construction of the permanent military bases it sought on Okinawa.
As one historian has commented, “The democratic rights guaranteed to other Japa-
nese applied to Okinawans only to the extent necessary to secure the cooperation
of local workers on whom the bases depended.”* The programme of democratic
reform SCAP implemented in the main islands and the very different policies
of neglect and repression the US command pursued in Okinawa were two sides
of the same coin. With the Ryukyus safely in US military hands, MacArthur could
afford to espouse pacifism and govern Japan proper indirectly and in a spirit of
leniency. Predictably, gross insensitivity to Ryukyuan rights and culture sparked
frequent outbursts of popular resentment. When base workers attempted to strike,
however, they found themselves facing Yankee bayonets. (Paradoxically, however,
while this unequal relation of force limited the scope of union activism, it pro-
duced a labour movement more militant and tenacious than that in the home
islands.)
Direct military governance meant military control of all aspects of Okinawan life.
SCAP’s purge programme was not operative in the Ryukyus, and US civil affairs
officers relied on the old conservative élite in establishing the local political structures
of civil administration. Thus, in many instances, the transition from Japanese to
American military rule was seamless. For example, the Ryukyus Military Govern-
ment appointed Naha’s wartime mayor T6ma Jiig6 to continue in that position after
the war. A former member of the Imperial Rule Assistance Association, Toma later
became chief executive of the Okinawan government.
The US military divided the Ryukyus into 16 Military Government Districts (12
of them on Okinawa Island), and in August 1945, it authorised the creation of an
Okinawan Advisory Council to assist the Deputy MG Commander. Under Navy
tutelage (September 1945 to July 1946), the rudiments of local self-government were
put in place.” A mission from SCAP’s Government Section recommended electoral
reform, and in January 1948, an election law was promulgated by military decree,
allowing popular balloting for local mayors and assembly members. February’s elec-
tions gave rise to Okinawa’s first postwar political parties, which included Socialists
and a leftist labour grouping, the Okinawa People’s Party. Under military control,
genuine self-government, with its implications for independence, was not permitted
to emerge, however, and the machinery of local self-rule served primarily to speed the
implementation of military decrees.”
In light of the Imperial Army’s depredations, many Okinawans initially hailed the
Americans as liberators, but the US Military Government’s style of neo-colonial rule
soon eroded what goodwill existed. To parry anti-American sentiment, US author-
ities attempted to foster separatist sentiment, utilising arguments similar to those
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 443

advanced in 1944 by Murdock’s Yale group. Okinawans were fiercely proud of their
distinctive cultural heritage, but many also felt a cultural affinity for Japan despite the
wartime horrors they had suffered. The overbearing American presence reinforced
those feelings. As an American anthropologist of Okinawan descent has noted, the
US attempt to force Okinawans to choose a semi-colonial, marginalised Ryukyuan
identity over a Japanese identity was viewed “as a thinly veiled “racist” contempt for
Okinawans as an inferior people’. Uchinanchu (Okinawans) emphasised their dis-
tinctive language and culture with respect to Yamatonchu (Yamato Japanese), but that
was not the affair of the United States. ‘It was wrong’, the anthropologist writes, ‘for
Americans to manipulate Japanese-Okinawan differences in ways prejudicial to
Okinawans.’ Whence the assertion, vis-a-vis the United States, of an intrinsically
problematic loyalty to Japan. From 1948, Okinawans would attempt to rid the islands
of de facto American colonial rule by demanding reversion to Japan (chapter 10).”

Okinawa as political pawn

American military authorities made no apologies for the subservient status of
Okinawa. Brigadier General William E. Crist, appointed Deputy Commander for
Military Government after the islands’ capture in June 1945, explained US aims
there as achieving military objectives at the least possible cost to the United States.
‘We have no intention of playing Santa Claus for the residents of the occupied
territory’, he remarked, setting the tone for America’s long and unpopular tenure in
the archipelago. On 1 January 1947, the Ryukyus Command was placed under
MacArthur’s reorganised Far East Command and instructed to maintain exclusive
American control of the archipelago until its future was decided. The Ryukyus
Command’s first objective was the ‘liquidation of political, social and economic ties
with the Japanese mainland’. The reasons for this separation became clear on 1 Sep-
tember when MacArthur protested a State Department proposal to return the
Ryukyus to Japan with the signing of a peace treaty. In a cable to Secretary of State
George C. Marshall, he wrote: “Control over this group must be vested in the United
States as absolutely essential to the defence of our Western Pacific Frontier. It is not
indigenous to Japan ethnologically, does not contribute to Japan’s economic welfare,
nor do the Japanese people expect to be permitted to retain it. It is basically strategic
and, in my opinion, failure to secure it for control by the United States might prove
militarily disastrous.” With the onset of the Cold War, American strategists came to
view the Ryukyus as the lynchpin in a chain of island territories stretching from
Micronesia and the former Japanese mandates in the Pacific to Japan proper. This
strategic arc was perceived as America’s first line of defence against Communism
in the Far East, and Washington stubbornly denied the other Allies any voice in
administering the ‘keystone of the Pacific’.
In September 1947, as MacArthur was advocating the need for long-term control
over the archipelago, Emperor Hirohito despatched Imperial aide Terasaki Hidenari
to deliver a secret message from the monarch to William Sebald arguing for
protracted American rule there. On 20 September, Sebald sent MacArthur a
444 The Later Reforms

memorandum summarising the Imperial Note, Entitled ‘Emperor of Japan's

Opinion Concerning the Future of the Ryukyu Islands’, it stated: ‘the Emperor
hopes that the United States will continue the military occupation of Okinawa and
other islands of the Ryukyus, In the Emperor's opinion, such an occupation would
benefit the United States and also provide protection for Japan,’ The Note explained
that after the Occupation, Russia would emerge as the primary menace to the secur=
ity of Japan. US control of Okinawa would discourage Moscow from direet interfer
ence in Japanese affairs, Hirohito was remarkably precise about the modality of
US control, “The Emperor further feels that United States military occupation
of Okinawa (and such other islands as may be required) should be based upon
the fiction of a long-term lease ~ 25 to 50 years or more ~ with sovereignty retained
in Japan,’ According to Sebald’s memorandum, Terasaki then made a personal
proposal: ‘Mr, Terasaki felt chat the acquisition of “military base rights” (of Okinawa
and other islands in the Ryukyus) should be by bilateral treaty between the United
States and Japan rather than form part of the Allied peace treaty with Japan.”
In short, the Emperor was proposing to support American bases in the Ryuleyus in
return for a demilitarised mainland, This irresponsible and reckless act of interven-
tion belied the Emperor’s supposedly depoliticised status under the 1947 Constitu-
tion and indicates the influence that the Court, shorn of its former authority bur
assured of ‘symbolic’ continuity, was capable of wielding behind the scenes, Wash-
ington had considered a strategic wrusteeship for the Ryukyus under UN auspices,
but now Hirohito was offering direct military control for up to halfacentury, Since
mid-1945, the State Department had argued for the early return of the Ryuleyus to
Tokyo, By late 1947, however, George F, Kennan, director of the Department's
Policy Planning Staff, was counselling a reassessment of America’s long-term goals in
Japan and Asia, On 15 October, three weeks after Sebald informed Washington of
Hirohito’s proposal, Kennan noted in a policy document for discussion that the
Emperor’s ‘formula might well be explored as an alternative to strategic trustee
ship’.”* This suggestion appears to have been acted on, for, in 1951, secret bilateral
negotiations effectively ceded control of the Ryukyus to the United States, with
Japan retaining ‘residual sovereignty’, for an additional 20 years beyond the end of
the Occupation (chapter 10).
Coming shortly after MacArthur's impassioned plea to Secretary of Stave Marshall
to retain Okinawa as an American base, the Imperial Note may have reflected
prior discussions between the Supreme Commander and the Japanese sovereign,
Certainly, the Emperor had nothing to lose by making such a request. Hirohito
had been absolved of war complicity in June 1946, but in the aurumn of 1947,
pressure to have him testify before the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal was mounting,
This concern may explain Sebald’s comment in his cover letter to Marshall of 22
September that the Emperor’s Okinawa proposal ‘undoubtedly is largely based upon
self-interest’, In any event, one week later, on 30 September, Special Prosecutor
Joseph Keenan announced that the Tribunal would not summon the monarch as a
witness.”
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 445

Photo 59. An Okinawa peasant tills her land under the shadow of an American aircraft.
Ever expanding base installations robbed many islanders of their livelihood, creating deep
animosity towards US military rule. Kadena Air Base, Okinawa. Undated (Asahi).
446 The Later Reforms

Burakumin
Defeat ostensibly liberated Japan’s more than 1 million Burakumin from prewar
oppression. Buraku persecution dated from pre-modern times, when feudal lords
compelled certain non-agrarian occupational groups to live in segregated settlements
(4uraku) and perform such tasks as butchery, leather tanning and meat processing.
Buddhist thought considered these activities ritually defiling, and such special-status
groups were required to live apart from and avoid contact with commoners. This
status hierarchy solidified in the seventeenth century, but the boundaries defining
‘polluted’ groups were continually redrawn throughout the Tokugawa period to
assure a system of effective but decentralised control.’ In 1871, following the Meiji
Restoration, Burakumin were freed from feudal restraints and declared ‘new com-
moners’ but continued to live in ghettos and perform work society considered base,
particularly meat and leather processing. Buraku militants challenged their caste-like
untouchable status in 1922 with the creation of the Suiheisha (Levelling Society), but
political activism, often leftist-orientated and anti-imperialist, was severely sup-
pressed under the Peace Preservation Law. Japan’s defeat in 1945 seemed to offer
Buraku communities the possibility of a fuller emancipation.
Few Americans had more than a rudimentary awareness of the Buraku problem
when the Occupation began. Government Section’s Kades first learned of ‘the
Suiheisha issue’ from Canadian diplomat E. H. Norman. In early 1946, however,
Buraku organisations in southwestern Japan inundated General Headquarters with
appeals to end oppressive treatment, many of them addressed directly to the Supreme
Commander. Several SCAP groups, including Civil Information and Education,
Civil Intelligence, Government, Legal, and Public Health and Welfare, received
reports of Buraku persecution and demands for redress. Internal Government
Section memoranda indicate that staff officers initially were committed in principle
to eradicating informal social as well as institutional discrimination, but from 1948,
GS increasingly took a hands-off attitude towards such issues. In part, American
officials did not grasp the full dimensions of the Buraku problem. Karpinsky, in his
March 1945 ‘Survey of Japanese Labor’, for instance, failed to understand why
Burakumin should be treated as black Americans were in the United States since they
were physically and culturally indistinguishable from other Japanese. At the local
level, Military Government and Civil Affairs Teams compiled the occasional report
on Buraku discrimination but did not recommend remedial action.'®!
A rare SCAP official who advocated counter-measures was CI&E’s Herbert Passin,
who encountered the Buraku problem when he surveyed 13 farm villages between
1947 and 1948 to evaluate the land reform. Six of the hamlets were Buraku settle-
ments. Passin subsequently wrote three reports on the issue and attempted to pres-
sure the government into undertaking its own survey, but Section Chief Donald
Nugent refused to support the proposal, which was quietly abandoned, and the
government took no action on the problem during the Occupation. (A national
census of Buraku communities would not be conducted until 1975.) Sams’s Public
Health and Welfare Section also showed little sensitivity to Buraku discrimination. In
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 447

March 1946, the Welfare Ministry instructed municipalities to discontinue special

subsidies the government had authorised in 1936 as part of a 10-year programme to
alleviate the appalling conditions in Buraku ghettos. PH&W apparently failed to
challenge this decision, or consider palliative measures of its own. |?
Kades and other high-ranking staff officers believed that the Constitution’s Article
14 had eliminated Buraku persecution as a social problem. Nonetheless, Kades and
other GS staff initially encouraged the activities of Buraku leader Matsumoto
Jiichird. Assuming leadership of the Suzheisha in the 1920s, Matsumoto had been
elected to the Diet in 1938 representing the Social Masses Party, a moderate left-wing
political formation. After the war, he helped reorganise the Suiheisha as the National
Committee for Buraku Liberation (from 1955, the Buraku Liberation League).
Between 1946 and 1948, GS intervened energetically on three occasions to prevent
the government from purging Matsumoto as a putative rightist. In the second post-
war general elections of April 1947, Matsumoto, running as a Socialist, won a seat in
the Upper House and was promptly elected Vice President of that body, an
unprecedented turn of events suggestive of the visionary temper of the times. As the
Occupation shifted course, however, SCAP’s patronage of the activist wavered, and
by early 1949, the Buraku liberation movement and GHQ had come to blows in the
political arena (chapter 10).’”
Like the Ainu, Burakumin also were penalised by the land reform, which dis-
criminated against small tenancies. About 30 per cent of all Buraku tenants worked
less than 0.3 hectares, a figure that Occupation reformers considered disqualifying
for successful ownership. As a result, these small-scale producers were excluded
from the land reallotment programme, although many later renegotiated a transfer of
land with local agricultural land commissions.'“ Burakumin were disproportionately
represented among the 7 per cent of Japanese farmers who continued in tenancy
arrangements after the reform.

Koreans and Formosans

By the war’s end, there were an estimated 2.4 million Koreans and some 40,000
Formosans and other Chinese living in Japan — the vast majority ‘slave labourers’,
as a 1946 Counter-Intelligence Corps survey described them. Of the 2.4 million
Koreans, 1.16 million were male labourers, 1 million women and 240,000 small
entrepreneurs, white-collar workers and students. The US Army’s Civil Affairs
Guide: Aliens in Japan (June 1945) had called for positive steps to protect Koreans
from social and economic discrimination and Japanese reprisals after the war, noting
that ‘after the 1923 earthquake, widespread violence against Koreans occurred’
(in fact, more than 6,000, or half of the Kanto region’s Korean population, had been
massacred by Japanese police and vigilante groups). Paradoxically, however, the
Guide also urged their continued interim use as coolie labour for such strategic tasks
as railway and road maintenance.'”
In keeping with the Cairo Declaration of 1943, which had declared that ‘in due
course Korea shall become free and independent’, the Army’s ‘Basic Directive’ of
448 The Later Reforms

Photo 60. Korean girls between the ages of 8 and 14 await repatriation at Hakata, Kyushu.
Members of a children’s ‘volunteer’ labour corps mobilised by Japanese authorities for factory
work, they are returning home to Cholla Namdo in southern Korea. Some 650,000 Koreans
opted to remain in Japan. 19 October 1945 (Mainichi).

November 1945 declared Koreans and Formosans to be ‘liberated peoples’. The

document also stipulated, however, that, although they were not included in the
term Japanese as used in the directive, they could be treated as enemy nationals
should military security require it.’ In practice, this implied that, while former
colonials were free to repatriate and would receive rations and free rail transport to
embarkation points, they would be treated as Japanese should they opt to remain. In
fact, SCAP regarded former colonials as displaced persons or ‘wards of the United
States’,'’” not as long-term residents with acquired rights of domicile. Subsequent
Occupation policy perpetuated that ambiguous status, treating Koreans alternately as
Japanese nationals and as aliens, as was convenient.
SCAP’s official repatriation programme began in December 1945, but tens of
thousands of Koreans already had converged on Japan’s southern ports to await
transportation, and by the end of 1945, more than 1.3 million had returned home.
In February 1946, Public Health and Welfare Section instructed Japan’s Welfare
Ministry to register all Koreans, Chinese, Formosans and Ryukyuans to determine
whether or not they intended to repatriate (SCAPIN-746; ‘Repatriation of Koreans,
Chinese, Ryukyuans, and Formosans’). The Ministry’s tally, announced in March,
recorded a total of 647,000 Koreans and some 30,000 Chinese and Formosans. Of
the Koreans, only 133,000 expressed a desire to remain in Japan, but in fact, some
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 449

650,000, mainly long-term residents with prewar roots in the country, eventually
opted to stay. Various factors prompted the decision to remain. In November 1945,
GHQ had imposed a ¥1,000 limit on the amount of property returnees — Japanese
and Koreans — could take home with them. The equivalent of 20 packs of cigarettes,
this sum would barely support a family for one week in inflation-ridden Korea.
Floods, epidemic diseases, rice riots, lack of housing and jobs, prejudice against
repatriates, political instability and a homeland occupied by US and Soviet troops
convinced many to stay in Japan, or, having departed, to return as soon as possible.'”*
In November 1945, ESS Labour Division Chief Karpinsky issued SCAPIN-360
(Employment Policies’) specifically banning employment discrimination against
Koreans, Formosans and Chinese. By SCAP order, former colonials also were eligible
to receive emergency relief supplies. Such protective measures were exceptional, how-
ever, and Japanese authorities made little effort to enforce them. When it became
clear in early 1946 that large numbers of Koreans intended to remain in Japan,
SCAP’s attitude towards this minority changed perceptibly. In February and March,
Legal Section made Koreans, ostensibly liberated people, subject to Japanese criminal
jurisdiction, and G-2 issued a series of directives between April and June authorising
police to tighten surveillance over their social and political activities. In June, a G-3
directive (SCAPIN-1015: ‘Suppression of Illegal Entry’) designed to prevent the
spread of cholera outlawed the movement of people between Japan and Korea and
ordered the government to detect entry violations and deport illegal entrants. Finally,
in July, PH&W announced that Koreans would receive the same rations as Japanese,
and ESS declared they would have to pay the same taxes.
The G-3 directive on illegal entry marked a turning point. Although intended
as an emergency health decree, the SCAPIN assumed a life of its own. A sequel
issued in December 1946 considerably strengthened the earlier instruction. By then
cholera had been eliminated as a major health threat, but SCAP found the travel ban
useful for other purposes: the suppression of smuggling and the entry of ‘subversive
elements’. This directive entailed enormous hardships for war-divided families
anxious to be reunited, and the threat of deportation that now hung over the head
of every Korean unable to prove residence in Japan gave police a powerful lever in
dealing with this minority.
The government, having disenfranchised Korean and Formosan residents in late
1945 and written them out of its constitutional draft in early 1946, now sought to
expel as many as possible. In June 1946, the Home Ministry via the Central Liaison
Office asked SCAP for sweeping powers in deporting Korean ‘troublemakers’. GHQ
rejected the proposal on the grounds that ‘it was discriminatory and was not
designed to be universally applied to all foreign nationals’."° From that point
onward, however, American and Japanese authorities began to consult closely on the
so-called Korean problem. In October 1945, SCAP had set up a Korean Division
inside Government Section to coordinate the repatriation programme with the
US Military Government in southern Korea. In February 1947, the Division was
relieved of its responsibilities, but its small core of Korean experts would continue to
450 The Later Reforms

deal with Koreans in Japan throughout the Occupation. Among them was then-
Captain Jack P. Napier, who developed a tight working relationship with veteran
Korean handlers in the Home Ministry's Survey and Analysis Section, which had
exercised jurisdiction over colonial subjects prior to the surrender.
In November 1946, MacArthur’s headquarters made public an internal policy
decision (taken secretly in May) that Koreans refusing repatriation would be con-
sidered as retaining their Japanese nationality ‘for purposes of treatment’ until such
time as a duly established Korean government accorded them recognition as Korean
citizens. The creation of a Korean state would resolve the question of legal status,
but until then, Koreans would be treated as Japanese nationals and required to obey
all Japanese laws. This move infuriated Koreans residents, who, having just been
emancipated from Japanese rule, were now being returned arbitrarily to their pre-
liberation status of Japanese nationals second-class.
The government pressed SCAP to take even stronger action, however, and in early
1947, having just declared Koreans to be Japanese nationals, Occupation officials
now directed the government to register them as aliens ‘for the time being’. The
Alien Registration Ordinance (ARO) of 2 May 1947 was drafted ‘for administrative
and control purposes’ by the GS Korean specialists and their counterparts in the
Home Ministry. The Ministry proposed giving police broad powers to administer
the registration. Government Section’s Alfred C. Oppler and others objected to this
provision, and that authority was transferred instead to the heads of municipal
governments. The Ministry also sought for prefectural governors the right to deport
violators of the ordinance, a unilateral power that Oppler criticised as unconsti-
tutional. He insisted that an appeals procedure be instituted at the district-court
level.!° Despite such modifications, however, the resulting legislation aroused
immediate controversy. Enacted as an Imperial (‘Potsdam’) decree in order to avoid
parliamentary debate on the issue, the ARO entered into force one day before
the new Constitution went into effect. It became the last Imperial Ordinance
promulgated under the Meiji Constitution, an irony that was not lost on Koreans.
The 1947 Alien Registration Ordinance appeared on the surface to be a national
version of an earlier Osaka statute requiring Koreansto register,'"' but its real inspir-
ation was the US Alien Registration (Smith) Act of 1940, which had introduced alien
registration, complete with fingerprinting, in the United States on the eve of World
War II (chapter 10). The ARO pointedly did not include fingerprinting, but it
mirrored other provisions of the US statute. Koreans and Formosans were obliged to
register at age 14 and carry an alien passbook at all times. Failure to comply was a
deportable offence, a stipulation that implicitly undermined the legal status of for-
mer colonials as Japanese nationals. Moreover, the passbook was virtually identical in
format to that issued between 1936 and 1945 by the Racial Harmony Association
(Kyowakai) as part of the government’s efforts to control and ‘Japanise’ these minor-
ities. The Ordinance, as a SCAP summary put it, also ‘gave the police a register of
potential [sic] troublesome aliens’. Koreans deeply resented the statute, which they
saw as an extension of the Kydwakai system, and widespread opposition delayed its
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 451

implementation by nearly half a year. The “dog-tag registration’ was so violently

resisted, a G-2 report concluded, that “Koreans succeeded in virtually defeating the
purpose of the law’.'”

A ‘restless, uprooted minority’

Like Koreans, Japan’s 30,000-strong Chinese community, primarily Formosans, had
been declared liberated people, and although technically they should have been
classified as Allied nationals, SCAP initially treated them as it did Koreans. Japanese
pejoratively referred to both groups as ‘third-country nationals’ (daisan-kokujin),
since they fell into neither the Allied nor enemy category. Two thirds of Koreans were
unemployed, and Formosans fared no better. With no means of subsistence, many
turned to black-market activities and the illegal distillation of liquor. In early 1946,
an Osaka survey indicated that of 16,000 ‘open-air merchants’, 70 per cent were
Japanese and 30 per cent Koreans and Formosans, but ‘third-country nationals’
made handy scapegoats for these disruptive activities, and for rising urban crime rates
as rival Korean, Formosan and Japanese gangs jockeyed for control of this lucrative
but illegal trade. In June 1946, Formosan street vendors clashed with Japanese gang-
sters in the vast black market near Shibuya Station in Tokyo. As tensions escalated, in
July, several hundred black-marketeers, some armed with pistols, iron bars and
wooden clubs, clashed with police in front of the Shibuya Police Station, resulting in
the death of seven Formosans and one police officer.'’?
More than 40 Formosans were arrested in connection with the incident and
indicted by an Allied Military Commission, but the Chinese Liaison Mission in
Tokyo intervened energetically on their behalf. As a result, the trial was prolonged
and a Chinese diplomat appointed to sit on the Military Commission. Chinese
pressure also forced GHQ to place on trial the police officers responsible for opening
fire on the Formosans. According to the official SCAP statement, these gestures were
made ‘pursuant to General MacArthur’s desire to give all possible assistance and
consideration to Chinese interests in Japan’. Thirty-five Formosans eventually were
convicted, sentenced to hard labour and deported, but the trial illustrates the rela-
tively favourable position pro-Nationalist Chinese enjoyed after 1946. In February
1947, following intense pressure from the Chinese Mission, GHQ agreed to recog-
nise as United Nations nationals all resident Formosans and Chinese registered by
the Mission as Nationalist citizens. By that time, the Mission had issued certificates
of nationality to about 20,000, or two-thirds of Japan’s Chinese community.
Chinese residents were required to register as foreigners under the Alien Registration
Ordinance, but as recognised UN nationals, they acquired diplomatic representa-
tion, were removed from Japanese criminal jurisdiction and, in January 1948, were
granted extra rations, rights not enjoyed by Koreans.'"
SCAP’s refusal to treat Koreans and pro-Communist Chinese as UN nationals
heightened tensions between the authorities, Japanese and American, and these
groups. The government’s announcement in November 1946 that Koreans would
have to pay a special capital levy, or ‘war tax’, brought massive protests. Although
452 The Later Reforms

only a few high-income individuals were actually affected, Koreans bitterly resented
the idea of having to pay for the crimes of their oppressor. On 20 December, some
30,000 Koreans rallied in front of the Imperial Palace to protest at the loss of voting
rights, the war tax and the imposition of Japanese-national status. As they filed past
Prime Minister Yoshida’s residence, a scuffle broke out with police, leading to the
arrest of 10 leaders. The 10 were charged with acts prejudicial to the Occupation
under Imperial Ordinance 311 of 12 June. Tried by an Eighth Army military tri-
bunal, they were deported to southern Korea on the orders of Eighth Army Com-
mander Robert Eichelberger. The use of superordinate Occupation courts to deport
ostensibly Japanese nationals subject in principle to Japanese law signalled a harden-
ing of American attitudes towards the Korean minority. Unlike the Formosans
charged in the Shibuya disturbance, the accused had no Korean mission to plead
their cause.'!
As early as the spring of 1946, MacArthur's headquarters had concluded that
‘[t]he presence of a restless, uprooted Korean minority in Japan, disdainful of law
and authority, was ... a serious obstacle to the success of the Occupation’.’"
Consequently, GHQ made no sustained effort to combat public prejudice against
Koreans. When the Japanese media launched a hate campaign in the summer of
1946, the Civil Censorship Detachment watched silently from the sidelines. Among
the prohibited subjects CCD censors were duty-bound to suppress were chauvinistic
and anti-foreign propaganda, but the Japanese press was given free rein to slander
Korean residents as hooligans and scofflaws prone to mob violence. On 17 August,
Sh’ikuma Saburé, a Progressive Party Diet member, delivered a vitriolic diatribe
in which he declared, “We refuse to stand by in silence watching Formosans and
Koreans . . . swaggering about as if they were nationals of victorious nations.’ Their
misbehaviour, he said, ‘makes the blood in our veins, in our misery of defeat, boil’.
The press gave these sensational comments front-page coverage. Former CI&E
officer David Conde, intimately familiar with GHQ’s key logs, was appalled by this
tacit encouragement of racist sentiment. ‘SCAP censors have read and approved the
attacks on Koreans’, he noted in a magazine article. “SCAP itself has expressed anti-
Korean sentiments . . . and many Americans do not conceal their preference for the
Japanese.”'””

The Korean League and ethnic education

One reason for SCAP’s growing antipathy towards the Korean minority was the
activities of the League of Korean Residents in Japan (Choryén), which had been
created in mid-October 1945 to defend the rights of liberated nationals. The
League’s primary purpose was summed up by its most prominent member, Kim
Ch’6n-hae, who had been freed from Fuchi Prison with other Communist leaders
on 10 October. This was, he said ‘to make Japan a decent place for Koreans to live’.
The League set itself three major objectives: to help compatriots return to their
homeland, to secure social equality and livelihood rights for those in Japan and to
establish an independent government in Korea. By January 1946, the organisation
 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities 453

had established 47 regional branches throughout Japan and soon commanded the
allegiance of 400,000 Koreans, or two-thirds of the resident population."
Without waiting for guidance from GHQ, Choryon undertook its own repatri-
ation activities, negotiating rations, relief supplies and free rail transport with the
Welfare Ministry and other government agencies. It confronted companies that had
exploited Korean slave labour in mines and factories during the war, demanding back
wages, and interceded with police on behalf of Koreans arrested for black-market
activities. The League also established people’s courts to mete out its own brand of
justice to malefactors and war collaborators. Choryon’s top leadership was closely
associated with the Japan Communist Party, but its rank and file included both leftist
sympathisers and anti-Communists. In December 1945 and January 1946, two
rightist groups split off from the Korean League to form their own organisations, and
in early October 1946, the largest of these formed the Korean Residents’ Union
in Japan (Mindan) under the leadership of Pak Yl, a devout nationalist who had
spent 23 years in prison for his anarchist ideas.''?
The League, however, emerged as the most radical and consistent defender of
Korean rights in Japan. It organised Korean participation in demonstrations against
the Yoshida government and the May Day and Food May Day rallies of 1946 and
took part in planning for the abortive general strike of 1 February 1947. One of the
organisation’s top priorities from early 1946, however, was the creation and main-
tenance of ethnic schools. The schools gave both form and substance to the aspir-
ations of a liberated people. Their establishment was a spontaneous but deeply felt
response to the intense psychological assault Japan had waged on the Korean national
identity during the colonial period. Parents intent on returning to Korea were deter-
mined that their children, many of whom could speak only Japanese, learn their
native tongue, shed the negative self-image that kominka education had fostered and
reclaim the rich cultural heritage that 35 years of Japanese rule had attempted to
extinguish. By April 1948, the League was operating 541 elementary, 9 middle and
36 youth schools, witha teaching staff of some 1,360 and an enrolment of over
60,000 students. Mindan and other nationalist groups had organised 52 elementary
schools, 2 middle schools and 2 training institutions, with more than 6,800 students
in attendance.'”°
Koreans objected strongly to Japanese textbooks, such as the GHQ-approved Kuni
no ayumi (Our Nation’s Progress) of 1946, which depicted Japan’s annexation of
Korea as an exercise in mutual cooperation and failed to criticise the Imperial ideol-
ogy that had legitimated colonial domination. Choryon’s Cultural Division wrote
school books from a Korean perspective and submitted them to the censors in
Civil Information and Education Section. CI8¢E approved the texts, which by and
large emphasised democratic and nationalistic themes. By April 1948, the League
had published 1 million copies of some 90 different textbooks on a wide range
of subjects. The books were carefully edited and produced, and many were used by
the Mindan schools, as well. Choryén also adhered to the School Education Law
of March 1947, reorganising its schools on the 6-3-3 model and establishing
454 The Later Reforms

educational standards in conformity with the new statute. The Korean commun-
ity set up its own teacher-training programmes, and most ethnic schools strove to
hire qualified instructors and meet minimum Education Ministry requirements,
although they were hampered by a chronic lack of funds, basic equipment and
experienced administrators and personnel.'”!
In Osaka and other areas where large numbers of Koreans lived, local Japanese
school authorities sometimes helped set up ethnic classrooms, offering Korean stu-
dents space in Japanese buildings, and education officials authorised the establish-
ment of ethnic schools. Initially, the Occupation took scant notice of the Korean
education system. By 1947, however, SCAP and Eighth Army had come to view
Choryon with growing suspicion. Korean attempts to establish a sphere of cultural
autonomy, with the self-governing ethnic school system at its core, seemed to
challenge the principle of Occupation control. In June 1947, the Counter-
Intelligence Corps warned of the League’s ‘tenuous self-granted extra-territoriality’
and accused it, in effect, of establishing a parallel government complete with separate
police powers. Occupation authorities were equally leery of Choryon’s leftist sym-
pathies. In the summer of 1947, US Army Intelligence alleged that the League had
become heavily involved in illegal entry, smuggling and black-marketeering and was
funnelling the proceeds from these illicit activities to the Communist Party. The Far
East Command was particularly concerned that, as the date for UN-santioned
general elections in Korea drew near, leftist agitation in the south would spill over
into Japan and vice versa. Choryén, it alleged, was serving as a conduit for radical
forces on both sides of the Korean straits. These fears contributed to SCAP’s
crackdown on ethnic education in 1948, leading to a series of sometimes violent
confrontations over the issues of cultural autonomy and political allegiance (chapter
10). After 1948, one scholar has noted, “Koreans in Japan found themselves trapped
between the Cold War in Japan and the Cold War in Korea, and the policies
developed to deal with them grew out of the distortions produced by the differences
in these two sets of competing exigencies’
.'”
 PART V

Policy Shift and Aftermath

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 CHAPTER 10

Changing Course

By late 1947, MacArthur’s headquarters had largely achieved the policy objectives
outlined in the US Army’s ‘Basic Directive’. A major exception was the economic
deconcentration programme, which carried over into 1948. By this time, however, a
broad policy reorientation was under way in Washington. Reflecting heightening
East—West tensions, the ensuing change of pace would alter the character of the
Occupation and prolong its duration.

WASHINGTON TAKES CHARGE

A bulwark against communism

A harbinger of the widening ideological divide that would soon become the Cold
War was the speech delivered by Winston Churchill on 5 March 1946 at Fulton,
Missouri. With President Truman by his side, the former British prime minister,
speaking as a private citizen, declared that ‘an iron curtain has descended across the
continent’ from the Baltic to the Adriatic and warned the Free World of the danger
of Communist fifth columns operating everywhere. By early 1947, the concrete signs
of a major policy shift in Washington could be discerned. In March, President
Truman unveiled the Truman Doctrine, a plan to provide American military and
economic aid to Greece and Turkey to help combat the growing influence there of
the left. In May, Under-Secretary of State Dean Acheson called for the ‘reconstruc-
tion of those two great workshops of Europe and Asia — Germany and Japan.’ And in
June, Secretary of State George C. Marshall announced the European Recovery
Programme, a four-year multi-billion dollar aid package providing reconstruction
assistance to cash-starved European economies. The object of the so-called Marshall
Plan was to build up US export markets, prevent the Europeans from drifting into an
accommodation with Soviet power and forestall the economic chaos that might lead
to Communist-dominated governments on the continent. In July, the European
Conference for Economic Reconstruction convened to oversee the flow of dollars to
16 war-devastated Western European countries. The Soviet Union and eight Socialist
states in Eastern Europe boycotted these events. In October 1947, Moscow
responded by establishing the Communist Information Bureau (Cominform) to
coordinate strategy among national Communist movements worldwide, and in
February 1948, it began the Berlin blockade.
The US National Security Act of July 1947 abolished the War and Navy Depart-
ments, merged the Army, Navy and Army Air Forces into a single Department of
458 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Defense and streamlined the Joint Chiefs of Staff organisation. It also created the
Central Intelligence Agency, which assumed many of the functions of the Office of
War Information and the Office of Strategic Services, and the National Security
Council (NSC), which took over some of the work of the State-War—Navy Coordin-
ating Committee. SWNCC was reorganised as the State-Army-Navy-Air Force
Coordinating Committee (SANACC). This restructuring completed the insti-
tutional armature for America’s new policy of containing Communism and
enhanced the authority of the Defense and State Departments. The author of the
containment doctrine was Soviet specialist George F Kennan, who in May 1947
gained ascendancy in the State Department as head of its newly created Policy
Planning Staff. The erudite, patrician Kennan believed that the United States should
eschew cooperation with the Soviet Union and attempt to contain Soviet influence
wherever it manifested itself. His hawkish ideas found ready acceptance in the wake
of the Republican Party’s sweep of the November 1946 Congressional elections,
which had given the Grand Old Party its first majority in Congress since 1930. The
GOP victory coincided with the onset of the domestic Cold War, which Truman
helped launch in March 1947 with his loyalty programme for Federal employees.’
The Truman Administration’s foreign policy was heavily skewed towards Europe,
which was viewed as the front line in the struggle against Soviet hegemonist ambi-
tions. US objectives in Japan from 1947 through 1949, the period of ‘soft’ Cold War
policy, were primarily to deny Moscow a foothold there and keep the country out of
the Soviet orbit. Kennan and other State Department strategists intended to trans-
form the ‘Japanese workshop’ into a pro-American centre of regional power from
which the spread of Soviet influence in Asia could be checked. With China in the
throes of revolution, an economically dynamic and politically stable Japan now was
deemed vital to American national interests. Japan had displaced Nationalist China
as the cornerstone of US strategic thinking in Asia, and its internal stabilisation and
rehabilitation as Cold War ally were considered matters of vital concern.”
In January 1948, Secretary of the Army Kenneth Royall, speaking in San Francisco,
praised the prewar military and industrial élite that had built up Japan’s war machine
and suggested that the task of economic recovery might require their services once
again. Zaibatsu dissolution, he warned emphatically, must not be allowed to go too
far: ‘We cannot afford to sterilise the business ability of Japan.’ Royall concluded: “We
hold toa... definite purpose of building in Japan a self-sufficient democracy, strong
enough and stable enough to support itself and at the same time to serve as a deterrent
against any other totalitarian war threats which might hereafter arise in the Far East.
These declamatory remarks were picked up and amplified by the Japanese press and
‘became known as the ‘Bulwark Against Communism’ speech.

The ‘Kennan Restoration’

In early March 1948, Policy Planning Chief George Kennan visited MacArthur in
Tokyo. His mission was to engineer a shift away from such “destabilising reforms’ as
the purge, reparations, the dismantling of the Home Ministry, police decentralisation,
 Changing Course 459

zaibatsu dissolution and liberal trade unionism. Kennan’s ideas would set the tone
for America’s Japan policy for the duration of the Occupation. Through a series of
deft manoeuvres, and in concert with the Pentagon and US business interests, he
engineered what one scholar has called the Kennan Restoration, a change of pace
and orientation that would later become known as the ‘reverse course’.’
Kennan was convinced that MacArthur’s liberal programmes were ruining the
economy and exposing Japan to internal subversion by the left. ‘SCAP had pro-
ceeded on a scale, and with a dogmatic, impersonal vindictiveness, for which there
were few examples outside of the totalitarian countries themselves’, he later wrote.
Japanese life, he asserted, “had been thrown into turmoil and confusion, producing a
serious degree of instability.’ Kennan’s views, formulated in a Policy Planning Staff
study, PPS-28, of 25 March, found solid support from the new Defense Secretary,
James V. Forrestal, a former Wall Street executive with the investment firm Dillon,
Read and Company, and his protégé, Under-Secretary of the Army William H.
Draper Jr, a former vice president of the same company. Good bankers all, Forrestal
and Draper were determined to restore Japan’s capitalist class to undisputed author-
ity, make the economy self-sufficient and reduce the cost to the US taxpayer of
administering the Occupation.
Together, Kennan, Forrestal and Draper conspired to curb SCAP’s powers. They
found a ready ally in the American Council on Japan, the so-called Japan Lobby,
which had been founded in late June 1948 at the Harvard Club in New York City.
The ACJ’s honorary chair was Joseph Grew, and the group counted among its
associates a number of high-profile opinion-makers, Congressmen, bureaucrats and
Japan hands. Among these were Newsweek Foreign Editor Harry Kern, Newsweek's
bureau chief in Tokyo, Compton Pakenham, and New York lawyer James Kauffman,
all spokesmen for big business. Other prominent members included Senator William
E Knowland, a Kern intimate and arch foe of MacArthur’s anti-trust programme;
Japan Crowd stalwarts Joseph Ballantine and Eugene Dooman; leading members of
State’s Far Eastern Division; and Army Secretary Royall and Under-Secretary Draper.
The Japan Lobby also maintained ties with Eighth Army Commander Robert L.
Eichelberger, who would lend the group his expertise following his retirement in the
summer of 1948 and, via Kern and Pakenham, with the Imperial household. The
ACJ quickly became a hive of anti-SCAP activity. While Kern and Pakenham ham-
mered MacArthur’s policies in the pages of Newsweek and Knowland scoured him on
the Senate floor, the General’s superiors in the Pentagon organised a succession of
special missions designed to bring him to heel.’
In March 1948, Clifford S. Strike, a US engineer and industrial expert hired by
Washington, completed a review of the Occupation’s reparations programme (he
had issued an initial report in February 1947). Strike’s conclusions, prepared by his
firm Overseas Consultants Inc., dramatically toned down the reparations demands of
the 1946 Pauley Mission, calling for the removal only of military rather than ‘war-
supporting’ industries and urging a 33 per cent cut in the Pauley targets. Strike
rejected Pauley’s contention that excess industrial capacity existed in Japan and
460 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Photo 61. Diplomatic Section Chief William Sebald (right) greets George E Kennan at
Haneda airport, 1 March 1948. Kennan’s visit to Japan signalled a shift in emphasis away
from democratic reform towards economic stability, internal security and rearmament. This
policy reorientation, epitomised by the Red Purge and the creation of a de facto Japanese army
in 1950, became known as the ‘reverse course’ (US National Archives).

recommended that supporting industries such as pig iron, steel, machine tools, ball
bearings and chemicals be exempted from war reparations altogether in order to
jump start domestic production.° The Strike proposals would prepare the way for the
elimination of reparations altogether in May 1949.
MacArthur personally took a dim view of reparations, and Strike’s recommenda-
tions caused him no particular discomfort, but Under-Secretary of the Army Draper
was another matter. In December 1947, Draper had. coordinated the assault on
 Changing Course 461

MacArthur’s anti-trust programme through Newsweek and his Japan Lobby contacts
(chapter 7). Now he quickly broadened the attack on the MacArthurian project.
With State Department support, in March he asked Congress to bankroll an Eco-
nomic Recovery in Occupied Areas (EROA) programme for one year beginning in
April 1948. The goal of this assistance, touted as a Marshall Plan for Japan, was not
only to develop export-orientated industries but generally to ‘stimulate the economic
revival of the Far East.” In late March, Draper personally led a team of hand-picked
business executives under Chemical Bank Chairman Percy H. Johnston to Tokyo.
The high-powered fact-finding mission released its conclusions in April. Citing the
need to create a self-supporting Japanese economy weaned of US subsidies, the so-
called Johnston—Draper Report proposed a range of initiatives designed to boost
production, end reparations, rollback anti-monopoly measures and place curbs on
union activity. To offset the impending loss of the China market and promote trade
ties with non-dollar areas in the region, the report urged improved access to raw
materials and export markets in Southeast Asia. In May, Draper sent Ralph Young of
the Federal Reserve Board to Tokyo with a group of government economists to study
Japan’s hyperinflation. In June, to MacArthur’s chagrin, Young recommended dras-
tic budget cuts and a fixed yen—dollar exchange rate.
Draper and Kennan had both informed MacArthur in Tokyo that zaibatsu dis-
solution could go no further. To mollify Washington, the Supreme Commander
reluctantly agreed to a proposal by Draper that the Department of the Army create
a Deconcentration Review Board (DRB) to study the impact of the anti-trust legisla-
tion on economic rehabilitation. Headed by Roy Campbell, a former shipping mag-
nate from New York, and including five business leaders chosen by Draper for their
conservative views, the DRB arrived in Tokyo in early May 1948. Within a relatively
short time, the Board had succeeded in gelding SCAP’s deconcentration programme.
As a result, Japan’s Holding Company Liquidation Commission, established in 1946
to dispose of zaibatsu shares, ultimately designated a mere 18 of the 325 largest non-
finance subsidiaries slated for disbanding as ‘excessively concentrated’. Of the 18,
only 11 were actually divided into smaller firms; four had their stock holdings
liquidated; three had some of their industrial assets dispersed; and, for a period
thereafter, Mitsui and Mitsubishi were prohibited from using their corporate trade-
marks.* Moreover, in defiance of Edward C. Welsh of ESS’s Anti-Trust and Cartels
Division, ESS Financial Division’s Walter LeCount manoeuvred to exempt banks
from the deconcentration law, as well.’ By the end of 1948, the State Department
had rescinded its FEC-230 paper — never formally adopted by the Far Eastern
Commission — and announced that the anti-trust programme had achieved its
objectives. MacArthur’s ‘classic laissez-faire ideal of petit bourgeois capitalism’, as
one scholar has described it’, had been soundly defeated by civilian and military
leaders in Washington — but perhaps equally by the lack of any serious political or
public support for decartelisation in Japan.'!
Draper was not finished. In February 1948, Secretary of Defense Forrestal had
ordered a feasibility study on rearming Japan, and in March, Draper broached the
462 Policy Shift and Aftermath

idea of establishing a small defence force to the Supreme Commander, who was
visibly offended by the idea. The General remained firmly committed to Article
Nine, and, while he supported the retention of Okinawa as integral to the US
defence posture in Asia, he was unalterably opposed to raising a Japanese army.
MacArthur also disagreed sharply with his superiors on the issue of Communism. In
August 1948, in a personal note to Army Secretary Royall, he declared ‘I do not
regard the danger of Communism sweeping Japan as great. . . . I have little concern
that it will develop into a threatening menace to Japanese society.’!
Nonetheless, the Supreme Commander now was on the defensive. In the face of
Draper’s renewed challenge to his authority, he beat a tactical retreat. In July 1948,
the General instructed Prime Minister Ashida to revise the National Public Service
Law and deny public-sector workers — one third of organised labour — the right to
strike and bargain collectively (chapter 7). MacArthur also condoned a crackdown
on Korean popular movements and left-wing labour activity, creating what British
diplomat Ivan Pink described as an ‘almost hysterical’ climate of anti-Communist
tension. According to Pink, in the summer of 1948, General Willoughby’s Counter-
Intelligence Corps deliberately propagated a Red Scare, which was quickly amplified
by the mass media."

The long, hot spring and summer of 48

The build-up to the Occupation’s get-tough policy began in the spring. Its first
victims were not Japanese workers but resident Koreans, and the arena in which this
confrontation took place was education. SCAP’s reform of the Japanese school
system had emphasised ‘respect for the rights of others, particularly minorities’
(Education for the New Japan, May 1948), but Civil Information and Education
Section did not interpret that high ideal as allowing autonomous Korean schools to
proliferate unchecked. In January 1947, shortly after SCAP had announced that
Koreans would be treated as Japanese nationals, the Education Ministry, at CI8cE’s
bidding, notified prefectural governors that Korean children would be subject to the
same educational obligations as Japanese. Wisely, it left the decision of whether to
recognise ethnic schools to the discretion of local authorities. One year later, how-
ever, in January 1948, again acting on instructions from SCAP, the Ministry ordered
Korean children to attend the same schools as Japanese from 1 April, the start of the
new academic year.
As indicated earlier, Koreans had attempted to bring their school system into line
with Education Ministry requirements, but the Ministry’s order of January 1948
meant that children now would be absorbed into the Japanese system and that the
ethnic curriculum, including Korean history and language courses, would become
extracurricular subjects taught as an adjunct to regular class work. The League of
Korean Residents in Japan (Choryén) and other groups adamantly opposed the new
policy. During the colonial period, they argued, Japanese had built schools in Korea
for their exclusive use with money extorted from Korean peasants while keeping
colonial subjects illiterate and uninformed. In the Japanese metropolis, Koreans
 Changing Course 463

in Japanese schools were treated with cruelty and contempt and taught to despise
their homeland. Ethnic schools, the League insisted, were necessary to correct that
imbalance. Choryén promptly began negotiations with the Katayama Cabinet’s left-
of-centre Education Minister Morito Tatsuo, but while Morito was sympathetic, he
was powerless in the face of unrelenting pressure from SCAR.“
Few Americans sympathised with the Korean point of view, and those who did
were quickly silenced. GHQ was determined that Koreans, as ostensible Japanese
nationals, comply with Japanese law. Behind that argument, however, was the sus-
picion, widespread among Eighth Army Military Government Teams and in G-2,
that despite evidence to the contrary, the Korean schools were potential hotbeds of
Communist propaganda. Even more subtle, and to Korean interests corrosive, was
the nearly universal American assumption that Koreans would assimilate into Japan-
ese society and that the primary agent of absorption should be the schools, as in the
United States. A separate education system, it was feared, would foster a strong and
distinctive national identity, intensifying ethnic antagonisms and complicating the
tasks of occupation.”
When the Korean League refused to comply and intensified talks with the Educa-
tion Ministry, SCAP perceived a challenge to Occupation authority and ordered
the government to close the ethnic schools by force. On 31 March, Yamaguchi
Prefecture in southern Honshu issued the first eviction decree and mobilised police,
sparking demonstrations that spread rapidly across the country. Koreans of all
political stripes resisted the order, and police bodily dragged students and teachers
from their classrooms and nailed the doors shut. In many instances, however,
demonstrators prevailed and the schools remained open.
On 23 April, about 15,000 protesters rallied in Osaka, where a large group broke
into the Prefectural Office to present their demands to the governor directly. The
next day in Kobe, angry parents and students occupied the Hyogo Prefectural Office,
holding the governor captive and forcing him to retract his school closure order. The
local US Military Government Team was caught unprepared, and MacArthur’s Chief
of Staff Paul Mueller ordered Eighth Army Commander Eichelberger to invoke top-
secret alert plans (‘Tollbooth’), proclaim a limited state of emergency and despatch
US military police. Arriving in Kobe the next day, Eichelberger railed that the ‘riots’
had been instigated by ‘the Reds’, an allegation that even his own intelligence ana-
lysts refuted in their after-action reports. The perplexed General told the press that
Japan’s Korean community should be shipped back to Korea, preferably ‘on a big
ship like the Queen Elizabeth’. On 26 April, faced with renewed protests by 30,000
Koreans, Eichelberger issued a shoot-to-kill order, and police subsequently opened
fire on demonstrators, killing a 16-year old boy. Hundreds were injured, many
seriously. A 14-year old girl was badly beaten by police and later succumbed to head
injuries. Osaka police also deployed fire hoses against protesters, a crowd-control
method borrowed from the Americans.'®
In the days following the so-called Kobe riot, Japanese police and American MPs
rounded up thousands of people, mainly Koreans but also Japanese sympathisers,
464 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Photo 62. Korean pupils, teachers and parents march on the Hyogo Prefectural Office,
Kobe, 24 April 1948, to protest the forcible closure of ethnic schools on orders from GHQ
(US National Archives).

Formosans and Okinawans who happened to be in the vicinity. More than 1,700
were arrested, of whom 39 eventually were tried in Eighth Army Provost Courts or
by Japanese tribunals under Imperial Ordinance 311 (‘activities inimical to the
Occupation’). The leaders received sentences ranging from 10 to 15 years at hard
labour and deportation. Patrick Shaw, head of the Australian Mission in Tokyo and
British Commonwealth representative on the Allied Council for Japan, complained
to SCAP that the punishment was wildly disproportionate to the offence, but
Diplomatic Section Chief William Sebald retorted that Shaw’s special pleading
was ‘politically motivated’ and summarily dismissed the complaint.
SCAP and Eighth Army subsequently directed municipal governments in areas
with large Korean populations to enact ‘public safety ordinances’ requiring prior police
permission to hold parades, demonstrations and other outside gatherings. Beginning
with the Osaka Public Safety Ordinance of July 1948, local public order statutes were
promulgated across Japan. The ordinances gave police a new weapon in the struggle
to suppress popular dissent, including union militancy, and imposed limits on the
freedoms of expression and assembly that many charged were unconstitutional and
a violation of SCAP’s Civil Liberties Directive. To many Japanese, the statutes
represented an extension of the Kobe limited emergency decree into public life.’”
Against this backdrop, Occupation authorities began their summer crackdown
 Changing Course 465

Photo 63. Koreans surround Governor Kishida Yukio of Hyogo Prefecture, 24 April 1948.
Kishida was forced to repeal temporarily the school closure order, but the incident led to a
GHQ-orchestrated attack on the Korean minority that would deprive it of basic civil and
political rights (US National Archives).

on labour activism. In August 1948, Eighth Army mobilised troops to end a dispute
at the Tohd Motion Pictures Studios in Tokyo’s Kinuta district. The Studio had been
occupied since April by 1,500 actors, stagehands and other workers protesting
against the company’s unilateral scrapping of their union contract and its dismissal
of 1,000 employees. Toho workers and their labour organisation, the Japan Movie
and Theatre Workers’ Guild, had taken over the shop and were running it themselves
in a typical ‘production struggle’. The company asked for a court order to remove the
protesters, and on 13 August, the Tokyo District Court issued an eviction decree.
Claiming that Americans living in the vicinity were endangered, Eighth Army
pressed the Tokyo Military Government Team to intervene, whereupon Colonel
Frank A. Hollingshead, Tokyo MGT Commander, instructed Tohd management to
request police action. When management complied, Hollingshead ordered the 1st
Cavalry Division to despatch Military Police and a platoon of 50 dismounted cavalry
backed by six armoured reconnaissance cars and five tanks to remove the striking
workers. Another squadron was placed on stand-by alert at Camp Drake.'* On 19
August, with three scout aircraft (one of them carrying the Division commander)
circling overhead, US troops, armoured cars, tanks and 2,000 helmeted Japanese
466 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Photo 64. Japanese police backed by US armoured personnel carriers and tanks arrive to
suppress the Tohé strike, 20 August 1948. The crushing of the strike action inaugurated a
GHQ-sanctioned offensive by big business against the unions that would undermine labour
democracy (Kyodo).

police armed with axes, saws, scaling ladders and battering rams moved into position.
In the face of insurmountable odds, the strikers abandoned their action and left the
studio peacefully, avoiding bloodshed. “The only thing they didn’t send was a battle-
ship’, quipped a Tohé actress and union activist.”
The suppression of the Toho struggle was a prelude to the ‘rationalisation’ offen-
sive and mass dismissals that management would unleash against organised labour in
1949. This hugely exaggerated display of armed might also was directed at Sanbetsu
Kaigi (Congress of Industrial Unions), Japan’s most powerful labour federation to
which the Tohd union belonged. Although only 10 per cent of the Sanbetsu
membership was Communist, the organisation took consistently radical positions,
advocating worker participation in production and policy-making.
The Eighth Army action accelerated two converging trends. In the autumn of
1947, ESS’s Labour Division had begun fostering Democratisation Leagues (indo)
inside Sanbetsu in an effort to marginalise its left-wing leadership. Now, in mid-1948,
it welcomed the precedent-setting court ruling against worker takeovers. At the same
time, corporate leaders had launched a coordinated drive to quell labour unrest and
 Changing Course 467

reassert the primacy of management over production. This initiative resulted in the
creation in April 1948 of Nikkeiren (Japan Federation of Employers’ Associations).
Nikkeiren viewed the Toh6 dispute as a test case in the struggle to restore capital’s
‘right to manage’ without worker participation and lobbied actively on behalf of the
studio’s embattled owners. Like SCAP, Nikkeiren’s real target was Sanbetsu. Under
the banner of ‘Fighting Nikkeiren’, the giant employers’ association would apply the
lessons learned at Tohé to larger, more significant labour actions in 1949, urging its
members to break union contracts at will and fire uncooperative workers wholesale.”
Eighth Army organised the assault on the Toho union with Willoughby’s G-2
watching from the wings, but Labour Division apparently had not been consulted.
When the Division’s Elizabeth Wilson later interviewed Tokyo MGT Commander
Hollingshead about the anti-strike action, she was told bluntly that ‘labour relations
[are] largely a question of law enforcement’ and that the MGT’s ‘primary purpose
was to enforce the [13 August] court order by whatever methods were required’.
Such muscular sentiments undoubtedly reflected the thinking of General Wil-
loughby. Coming immediately after the interim revision of the National/Public
Service Law (31 July), they also confirmed GHQ’s dramatic departure from its early
policy of non-intervention in labour disputes.”'

Yoshida’s conservative hegemony and NSC-13/2

In his August 1948 letter to Army Secretary Royall, MacArthur had downplayed
Communist influence but basked in the reflected light of G-2’s union-bashing
actions, boasting that the summer offensive had broken ‘this concentration of
Communist power’. GHQ’s hardline on labour contributed to a widening split in
Socialist ranks, and on 7 October 1948, the Ashida Cabinet, beset by internal dissen-
sion and public furore over the National Public Service Law, collapsed under the
Showa Denko allegations. In September, high-ranking officials, including Ashida’s
vice minister of Agriculture, the director of the Economic Stabilisation Board and
Deputy Prime Minister Nishio Suehiro, had been arrested on charges of receiving
Showa Denko gratuities and hush money for funnelling Reconstruction Finance
loans to the giant fertiliser company. Ashida himself was arrested in December. Also
apprehended were Fukuda Takeo, a senior Finance Ministry official (prime minister,
1976-8), and Democratic Liberal Party kingpin Ono Bamboku. Ashida, Fukuda,
Nishio, Ono and almost all of the 64 businessmen, functionaries and politicians
accused of bribery, fraud and perjury later were acquitted. To the chagrin of Gov-
ernment Section’s Charles Kades, a champion of the Katayama and Ashida Cabinets,
details of the scandal had been leaked to the media by Willoughby’s G-2 in a bid to
discredit the left and its supporters in GHQ.
With the moderate camp in disarray, Democratic Liberal Party (DLP) leader
Yoshida Shigeru seized this opportunity to revive his premiership. Whitney and
Kades opposed Yoshida’s second bid for power with particular energy. Their disap-
proval stemmed in part from internal GHQ politics. Yoshida, through his clever and
enterprising aide—confidant Shirasu Jiro, had won the ear and full support of
468 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Willoughby. GS pushed its own candidate, Yamazaki Takeshi, the DLP’s Secretary
General, but both Yamazaki and MacArthur's apparent favourite, Miki Takeo of the
People’s Cooperative Party, deferred to the powerful Yoshida. To clinch the nom-
ination, the DLP President arranged a personal audience with MacArthur and
elicited an ambiguous nod from the General, which he publicly proclaimed a sign of
official SCAP acceptance. On 15 October, Yoshida formed his second cabinet and
the first solid single-party government of the postwar period, ushering in the so-
called Yoshida Era. Shortly afterwards, Kades was reassigned to Washington at his
personal request.” In November, the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal delivered its ver-
dict, and in December, seven convicted Class A war criminals were hanged, bringing
to a close the first half of the Occupation. Yoshida would remain in power until 1954
as leader of a new conservative hegemony uniting right-of-centre political interests,
big business and a civil service dominated by conservative bureaucrats — an alliance
that Washington would find congenial and support fully.
As Yoshida prepared to take power, the policy shift announced by Kennan earlier
in the year became irreversible with the formal adoption of his action programme for
Japan. The National Security Council drew up a revised set of Kennan’s PPS-28
recommendations as NSC-13/2, and President Truman signed the document on 7
October. Reflecting recent State and Defense Department thinking, NSC-13/2 listed
20 major policy objectives in Japan, including an end to the purge and reparations, a
non-punitive peace treaty at some later time, reinforcement of the Japanese police
establishment, concentration of more power in the hands of the government, and
economic recovery driven by exports — a goal that was considered second in import-
ance only to US security interests. The document called specifically for a 150,000-
strong national police force and suggested that Japan might provide ‘some degree of
military assistance to the United States, at least to the extent of Japan’s self-
defense’, themes that would be sounded again repeatedly between 1950 and 1951
as negotiations over a peace settlement got underway.”
NSC-13/2 marked a point of no return that even MacArthur was powerless to
reverse. Indeed, the directive signalled the end of the General’s ability to set and direct
SCAP policy as he pleased. Substantive control over the Occupation had passed to
Washington. The new policy statement also seemed to violate the Army’s ‘Basic
Directive’ in the areas of economic policy, political liberties and disarmament. From
this point onwards, under Washington’s vigilant eye, SCAP would intervene directly
in the economy, suspend the civil liberties of suspected Communist sympathisers
and, with the advent of war in Korea, raise a de facto Japanese army.

‘REVERSE COURSE’ OR SHIFT OF GEAR?

The ‘stabilisation depression’

Determined to implement NSC-13/2 expeditiously, President Truman signed a
nine-point stabilisation directive on 10 December 1948 for immediate execution by
 Changing Course 469

SCAP. Originally drafted by Under-Secretary of the Army Draper, the order was
issued to MacArthur as an ‘interim directive’, enabling Washington to bypass the Far
Eastern Commission. This dubious procedure was roundly denounced by FEC
members. Soviet representative Alexander Panyushkin attacked it as a unilateral
modification of the régime of control in Japan and a violation of the FEC Charter.
Australia, New Zealand and India also criticised the decree, noting that Washing-
ton’s claim of urgency could not be justified. But the FEC was powerless to repudiate
the order, and it stood. The stabilisation directive sought specifically to cut the costs
of occupation, revive the economy and enable Japanese companies to compete again
in world markets. Specifically, it called for 1 a balanced national budget, 2 a strength-
ened tax system, 3 tightening of credit, 4 wage stabilisation, 5 price controls, 6 a
foreign exchange rate pegged at ¥360 to the dollar, 7 the promotion of exports, 8
increased industrial output and 9 more efficient food production and distribution.
By ending costly subsidies to industry, Draper believed these pump-priming meas-
ures would force the economy to shake itself down, enabling Japan to make more
efficient use of the EROA aid programme he proposed to implement.”
MacArthur was furious at this frontal attack on his authority, but, out-manoeuvred,
he accepted the inevitable and informed Prime Minister Yoshida of the austerity
plan. Yoshida advocated a Keynesian solution of deficit spending and opposed stabil-
isation in several areas, but by and large, he, too, acquiesced in the inevitable. In early
1949, the Premier appointed Ikeda Hayato as his Finance Minister and instructed
him to carry out the reform. The Economic Stabilisation Programme (ESP) provided
the springboard from which Ikeda would launch a brilliant political career, culminat-
ing in his premiership (1960-4) and the ‘income-doubling plan’ for which he is now
known. Joseph M. Dodge, the orthodox Detroit banker selected to oversee this
deflationary policy as “economic tsar’, also is remembered today, but his name evokes
memories of hard times, dismissals, wage cuts and political turmoil. He proved to be,
as a former Occupation, official phrased it, ‘the American whose impact on the
Japanese during the occupation was second only to that of MacArthur’.”
On 1 February 1949, Dodge, who had just organised a major currency reform in
Germany, arrived in Tokyo to implement the ESP. He had been recruited for this
mission by fellow banker Draper. To free industry and the economy from depend-
ence on government subsidies and US aid, Dodge proceeded to impose a Draconian
budget that slashed public spending, curbed credit, severely restricted public con-
sumption and reorientated industrial production away from domestic demand
towards export-driven growth. Specifically, Dodge suspended industrial loans from
the Reconstruction Finance Bank and replaced its bond-generated loans with a US
Aid Counterpart Fund, which provided capital for long-term strategic investment
and was financed by purchases of food and other US imports. In May 1949, the
Ministry of International Trade and Industry (MITI) was created to ease Japan’s
re-entry into the world market. The Dodge system favoured the fittest, which not
surprisingly turned out to be businesses with former zaibatsu connections. Unable
to compete under deflationary conditions, many small- and medium-sized firms
470 Policy Shift and Aftermath

were forced under. Thus was created, in the words of former SCAP labour official
Theodore Cohen ‘the first postwar channel between the conservative Japanese big
business elements and their bureaucratic and political allies in Japan and the top level
of officials in the US government’.”°
The Dodge Line, as it became known, rapidly “disinflated’ the economy, plunging
the country into a severe ‘stabilisation depression.’ While the cutbacks mandated by
Washington enabled the economic tsar to impose a balanced budget and eliminate
trade and industrial subsidies within months, by June 1950, production had
slumped to barely one third of the 1931 level, with investment at one half that of
1949. Ruthless cutbacks in the public and private sectors also created massive
unemployment. The Dodge retrenchments coincided with the tail end of the
unpopular civil service reform, and the government’s ‘personnel adjustment’ policies
resulted in the firing of tens of thousands for ‘inadequate skills’, ‘uncooperative
attitudes’ and ‘neglect of duty’ — euphemisms for dissent. In the name of administra-
tive streamlining, the government dismissed 250,000 civil servants and government
workers and 410,000 municipal employees. Among these were some 95,000 mem-
bers of the National Railways Workers’ Union (Kokurd), one of Sanbetsu’s most
militant labour groups. In the private sector, management discharged an additional
430,000 industrial workers. Dodge’s perfectly balanced budget put more than
1 million people out of work. For those who remained employed, it meant wage
freezes and, in some sectors, wage cuts running between 15 per cent and 20 per cent.
Cohen recalled this aspect of the “Dodge squeeze’: “The government wanted to fire
workers in the railways, they wanted to fire people in other departments, but they
couldn’t do it because they would create a political storm. But with Dodge, of
course, they could say it is Mr Dodge who is forcing us to do it... . [T]he labour
unions could fight the Transport Minister, but they couldn’t fight Joe Dodge.”

The attack on left-wing unionism

As the government and ‘Fighting Nikkeiren’ applied the ‘no-strike stabilisation pro-
gramme’ to eject radical workers from their jobs, the ESS Labour Division was
summoning union leaders to General Headquarters and warning them not to
oppose the project with strikes. Labour Division implied that the nine-point stabil-
isation directive, based on NSC-13/2, was official Occupation policy and that open
defiance could be construed as inimical to Occupation objectives and prosecuted
under Imperial Ordinance 311. In late December 1948, the new Division Chief
Chester Hepler bluntly told workers’ representatives that strikes were ‘unpatriotic’.
In March 1949, Robert Amis, head of the Division’s Labour Relations Branch,
delivered the same message to Sanbetsu, and in April, ESS Chief General William
FE Marquat sent a similar letter to coal miners. In mid-March, the Austrian-born
Valery Burati, a former organiser with the CIO-affiliated Textile Workers’ Union,
outlined a seven-point plan to help Toshiba, one of Japan’s big three manufacturers
of electrical equipment, end a protracted strike by its left-leaning union. The plan
proposed cancelling the company’s labour agreement, refusing to bargain under
 Changing Course 471

strike conditions and withdrawing government contracts.”* In June, Burati pressured

the National Railway Workers to cancel plans for a rail walkout.
Despite these blandishments, the labour movement bitterly resisted the “disinfla-
tion’ programme. Beginning in March and continuing through the summer, railway
workers organised demonstrations, staged wildcat work stoppages and took over
train operations. There was a dramatic surge in railway sabotage and other direct
action. In June, employees occupied the Japan Steel Company in Hiroshima for 48
hours until police drove them out. Toshiba had pursued an aggressive policy of
‘rationalisation’, producing severe labour turbulence. Slated for dismemberment
under SCAP’s anti-trust legislation, the company violated its union contract and
began to fire ‘surplus’ workers in late 1948 in order to qualify for Reconstruction
Finance Bank loans. At one of its Ni’igata plants, the union responded by taking over
production and running the factory independently. When the Niigata District Court
ruled in favour of management in June 1949, some 400 armed police arrived to evict
the employees. A labour historian describes the resulting mélée: ‘Among the occupiers
were many women workers who locked arms in scrimmage formation, which the
police broke up by thrusting their night sticks under their skirts, kicking and beating
them, and dragging them away by their hair. . . . In all 142 were arrested, fully half
of them women.’ By the end of the year, Toshiba had scrapped two-thirds of all its
plants and fired half of its national labour force.”
In June, as the government tightened the Dodge squeeze, the Diet revised the
Labour Union Law (December 1945) and parts of the Labour Relations Adjustment
Law (June 1946), broadly restructuring in the process Japan’s labour-relations sys-
tem. Labour Division had contemplated a revision of the 1945 law based on changes
the US Advisory Committee on Labour had suggested in 1946. The amendment of
the National Public Service Law in July 1948 and intensifying labour militancy
prompted the Division to revive these recommendations. Its legislative draft of
October 1948 sought to increase protection for workers while providing a means of
ending extended disputes. The Division’s proposal prohibited interference in union
affairs by management, which was not allowed to offer financial aid to unions or
discharge or otherwise discriminate against workers for union activities. The plan
sought to reinforce labour democracy by making supervisors ineligible for union
membership, insuring due process and requiring members to elect officials and
determine strike actions by direct majority vote via secret ballots. It also provided for
general meetings and the publication of financial reports at least once a year; banned
discrimination on grounds of race, creed, sex, social status or family origin; and
guaranteed freedom of political activity.
What began as a liberal attempt by GHQ labour officials to improve existing
legislation, however, had become by early 1949 part of SCAP’s stabilisation drive.
The American proposal was promptly co-opted by social bureaucrats in the Labour
Ministry and used to exclude left-wing radicals, bring labour into closer alignment
with management and strengthen centralised control, all in the name of union de-
mocracy. Although many of the ESS draft’s progressive measures were incorporated
472 Policy Shift and Aftermath

into the new law, others were altered or discarded and new stipulations were added as
the Labour Ministry, with Nikkeiren looking over its shoulder, adapted the ESS
programme to ‘Japanese conditions’. Labour officials also exercised ministerial guid-
ance, outlining their own criteria for labour unions to prefectural and municipal
authorities. These administrative advisories preceded passage of the legislative revi-
sions, facilitating their quick implementation.
Enacted on | June 1949, the revised law prohibited the payment of wages during
strikes and generally strengthened the hand of employers in collective bargaining. It
allowed the prime minister to designate companies providing vital services as ‘public
utilities enterprises’ and impose a 30-day cooling-off period before strike action
could be taken. The amendments bolstered the authority of the Labour Minister and
prefectural governors to resolve labour disputes, gave the Ministry and central
and prefectural labour relations commissions greater control over union certification
and enabled the government to meddle directly in internal union business. Most
importantly, the law refused to recognise unions ‘which principally aim at carrying
on political or social movements’. Ministry officials had excised language explicitly
guaranteeing freedom of thought, substituting the word ‘religion’ (shakyo) for the
broader ‘creed’ (shinja), with its nuance of political belief, in the GHQ draft and
deleting the clause allowing political activity.”
For Labour Division, the Dodge Line made these changes ‘tactically imperative’,
even if, as a former Division member expressed it, they ‘looked increasingly like a
grand design to restrain labour while industry rationalised’. Critics charged that the
new statute was a Japanese version of the 1947 US Taft—Hartley Labour Act designed
to rid the union movement of Communist influence. It is true that both SCAP and
the government were determined to dismiss Communists, but the revision, with its
clever mélange of liberal and restrictive provisions, was not a carbon copy of the
unabashedly repressive US law (below). Its architects in the Labour Ministry were
social bureaucrats committed to reintegrating labour into a Japanese system of top—
down industrial relations amenable to state control but retaining a progressive
veneer. This was a position, one historian has noted, that ‘[t]he Japanese government
required neither American advice nor the new Cold War to arrive at’.””
Both left-wing and conservative unions opposed the labour-law revisions, even as
anti-Communist groups attempted to use them to expel leftist rivals, and confronta-
tions between capital and labour intensified in the second half of 1949. In June,
Communist leaders announced a ‘September Revolution’ intended to rally workers
and progressive forces against the newly installed Yoshida régime. That same month,
500 workers, including Communists and Koreans, seized a police station in Taira,
Fukushima Prefecture and then occupied Taira City Hall for most of the day. Pre-
fectural police called for Eighth Army intervention, but the demonstrators eventually
dispersed, averting military action.
Amid mounting tensions, a series of mysterious and violent incidents, still
unexplained, occurred in the summer. In July, the body of Japan National Railways
President Shimoyama Sadanori was found on a railway line outside Tokyo. The same
 Changing Course 473

month, an unmanned train ploughed into a crowded railway station at Mitaka in

western Tokyo, killing and injuring numerous bystanders. In August, a locomotive
was sabotaged in Fukushima Prefecture, killing the driver and crew members (the
Matsukawa Incident). No one was ever charged with Shimoyama’s murder — in fact,
many, including police and one of the doctors who performed the autopsy, con-
cluded that he had committed suicide. Several railway unionists — mostly Commun-
ists — were arrested and tried for the Mitaka and Matsukawa incidents, but only one
was actually convicted. These controversial incidents weakened the National Railway
Workers Union, however, enabling SCAP-sponsored Democratisation Leagues to
gain control of the Union’s central committee and dampen effective opposition
to retrenchment. The Dodge offensive and the accompanying crackdown on labour
crippled Sanbetsu at the shopfloor level, and by 1950, the labour front was in dis-
array, its membership having plunged from 1.75 million to a mere 321,000.

The ‘reverse course’

These diverse events marked the onset of what is widely referred to as the ‘reverse
course’, a contested term that continues to generate controversy. Was there really
such a thing? The short answer is yes but no. Yes, in the sense of economic interven-
tion and, as discussed below, political repression and rearmament. No, in that such
fundamental changes as legal and institutional reform, women’s rights, land redistri-
bution and health and welfare guarantees were not repealed and in many cases not
even modified. Occupation policy after 1948 represented a change in emphasis, a
course adjustment or shifting of gears, not a volte-face.
In a sense, the fundamental premises of the Occupation were conservative from
the start. As one historian has commented: ‘By retaining intact two of prewar Japan’s
privileged élites, the Imperial institution and the bureaucracy, the Truman adminis-
tration insured that the formal democratisation of Japan would take place within the
conservative framework of the old régime. * Thus, so-called reform bureaucrats
experienced no sense of reversal as GHQ adopted the anti-Communist, social-
control programme they had espoused since the 1920s. Nonetheless, the policy
switch was palpable and was felt immediately by those struggling from within to
stretch and expand that framework: labour, the media, the Korean minority, the
peace movement and progressive Japanese in general. ‘Reverse course’ (gyaku-kdsu) is
a Japanese term that came into wide currency via a series of articles appearing in the
Yomiuri Shinbun in November 1951. It is now used loosely to characterise the latter
half of the Occupation, with its emphasis on economic recovery, anti-Communism
and remilitarisation. The expression conveys the accute sense of betrayal felt by many
Japanese who lived through those turbulent years and even today is heavily freighted
with meaning and emotion.”
Although SCAP’s later policies did not constitute a brusque rupture with the early
phase of the Occupation, they responded precisely and inexorably to the imperatives
of a new US strategy in Asia and the reorganisation of the world market. From 1949
to 1951, Washington pursued toward Japan a ‘hard’ Cold War policy designed not
474 Policy Shift and Aftermath

ae by

“dch ato % y:

Photo 65. Members of the National Railway Workers Union stage a sit-down hunger strike in
downtown Tokyo, 19 December 1949, to protest at the government’s failure to pay wages and
bonuses as recommended by the Arbitration Board. The action was typical of the labour
militancy, most of it principled and non-violent, that arose in response to the Dodge
retrenchment programme and resulting layoffs and pay cuts (New York Times).
 Changing Course 475

merely to keep the country out of the Soviet orbit but to make it an active partner in
achieving US global objectives.** The basic outlines of this policy change, announced
by Kennan’s PPS-28 in early 1948, became clearly visible in 1949. In March of that
year, the US Joint Chiefs of Staff recommended to Secretary of Defense Forrestal that
measures be taken to utilise Japan’s military potential should world events warrant it.
In late April, Secretary of State Dean Acheson announced that Washington would
give the Japanese government more authority by turning over many of the adminis-
trative functions performed by Occupation forces. In May, a revision of NSC-13/2
(entitled NSC-13/3) recommended that the United States not seek a definitive peace
treaty with Japan in view of expanding Soviet influence (although in September,
international pressure would force Washington to pay lip service to the idea of a
settlement).
NSC-13/3 also announced another policy transmutation by unilaterally rescind-
ing the advance transfers of Japanese reparations that Washington had initiated in
April 1947. Primary war facilities now were to be reserved for economic recovery.
Washington again used the expedient of an interim directive to override opposition
in the Far Eastern Commission, a decision that was greeted by bitter denunciation
from the Philippines and Nationalist China. General Carlos P. Romulo called it ‘a
flagrant repudiation by the United States of its commitments under the Potsdam
Declaration’, and Dr W. K. Lee noted archly that the US reversal would do ‘gross
injustice’ to the victims of Japanese aggression.”
In June, another National Security Council paper, NSC-49, called for the use of
Japan as a forward-deployed American base and again urged the creation of a Japa-
nese military force able to assist the United States in the event of war with the Soviet
Union. In July, SCAP began to phase out its ‘eyes and ears’ at the grass roots, the
regional Military Government Teams, and by August was preparing for the return of
Japanese sovereignty at some later date. In October 1949, with the establishment
of the People’s Republic of China, the US Congress appropriated funds for the
construction of new military facilities on Okinawa. And, from late 1949, as high-
ranking Pentagon officials declared that Japan now lay within America’s defence
perimeter, military planners were at work on an integrated trade scheme designed to
link the ‘Japanese workshop’ with Southeast Asian markets. In early 1950, a new
national security proposal, NSC-68, drafted by ex-Wall Street banker Paul H. Nitze,
Kennan’s replacement on the Policy Planning Staff, called for US economic support
to Southeast Asia and massive military expenditures to contain and roll back Com-
munism worldwide. By April 1950, Washington had committed itself to stabilising
that region as a vital element in Japan’s recovery and a means of denying its strategic
resources to Communist insurgencies in Indo-China, laying the foundation for
US intervention in Vietnam (1964—75).*°
The brief liberal phase of the Occupation had peaked in 1947 and basically was
over by 1948. By late 1949, MacArthur himself largely had acquiesced to Washing-
ton’s Cold War project. Roger N. Baldwin of the American Civil Liberties Union
summed up the misgivings of liberal-minded people on both sides of the Pacific
476 Policy Shift and Aftermath

when he complained to an Occupationaire in May 1950 that ‘while many Occupa-

tion controls have been removed or transferred to Japanese authorities, the drive
towards extension of democratic liberties has been slowed up’. Baldwin concluded
that ‘the essential difficulty under the artificial conditions of occupation lies in the
drive for economic recovery, which strengthens conservatives and even reactionary
forces at the expense of the progressive centre and the unions’.”” A cogent expression,
indeed, of what the ‘reverse course’ meant for Japan.
These developments pre-dated the outbreak of war in Korea and were played out
against the backdrop of larger geo-political realities. In September and October
1949, Germany split into East and West régimes, whose mutual hostility was
matched only by the two rival governments that had formed in Korea a year earlier.
In mid-1949, the United States organised the North Atlantic Treaty Organisation
and began arms aid to Western Europe, and in September, the Soviet Union broke
the US monopoly on nuclear weapons by successfully exploding its first atomic
bomb. In October, Communist forces liberated China, and the Nationalists assumed
political control of Formosa (now. Taiwan), completing their withdrawal there in
December. In January 1950, President Truman authorised the production of hydro-
gen bombs, and in February, Moscow and Beijing signed a treaty of friendship,
alliance and mutual assistance and recognised Ho Chi Minh’s Vietminh as the
official government of Vietnam.

PURGING ‘REDS’

American anti-Communism
Washington’s changing outlook on Japan reflected domestic as well as international
developments, foremost among them a recrudescence of anti-Communist and xeno-
phobic sentiment. The roots of this postwar phenomenon may be traced to the
German-Soviet non-aggression pact of 1939. The following year, in an atmosphere
of anti-Nazi, anti-Communist war hysteria, Congress passed the Alien Registration
(Smith) Act, the first peacetime anti-sedition law in US history. The 1940 Smith Act
required foreigners to be fingerprinted and carry an alien pass at all times, but it also
banned membership in subversive organisations and the advocacy of subversive
ideas. Applying to aliens and citizens alike, the law’s anti-subversive clauses covered
past as well as present actions and even beliefs. For aliens, violation of any of its
provisions was a deportable offence. The Smith Act became one of the cornerstones
of the postwar national security state.
Fear of the Soviet Union, a wartime ally, abated after Pearl Harbor but resurfaced
with renewed vigour in 1945. Postwar anti-Communism was whipped up by a wave
of strikes in 1946, the loss of prospects for cooperation with the Soviet Union and a
renewed obsession with internal security. In January 1947, the House Committee on
Un-American Activities (HUAC) announced an eight-point programme to ferret out
and expose Communists in the Federal government. In March of that year, Truman,
 Changing Course 477

obsessed with ‘Reds, phonies and parlour pinks’, instituted a purge of suspected
Communists and fellow-travellers in public service through FBJ-administered loyalty
tests and the Loyalty Review Board. The 1947 Labour-Management Relations (Taft—
Hartley) Act required union members to pledge in writing that they were not Com-
munists, instituting political purges in the labour movement, and imposed a wide
array of restrictions on union activities in an effort to undermine collective bargain-
ing. The Act, which organised labour condemned as a ‘slave-labour law’, imposed a
60-day cooling-off period at the end of a contract, during which time strikes were
prohibited, and authorised the president to extend that period an additional 80 days
if national security were threatened. In December 1947, the Attorney General’s
Office published its infamous List of Subversive Organisations.
In May 1948, Congress debated and nearly passed the Mundt—Nixon Bill requir-
ing Communists and Communist front groups to register with Federal authorities.
In July, twelve prominent American Communists were indicted under the 1940
Smith Act on charges of conspiring to overthrow the government. In August, HUAC
hearings produced sensational accusations that Alger Hiss, a top State Department
official, was a Soviet agent. As spy mania swept the nation, Congress launched a
formal investigation into alleged Communist influence in the labour movement.
Finally, with the collapse of Nationalist Chinese armies in 1949, Senator William
Knowland of California and other Republican leaders linked the loss of China to
‘Reds’ in the government, heralding the advent of McCarthyism.
Anti-Communism seemed to pervade every facet of American life, becoming a
national psychosis. In 1949, the National Education Association urged school boards
across the country to fire suspected Communists from public schools, and New York
State passed the Feinberg Law requiring state education officials to compile lists of
subversive organisations, administer loyalty oaths and dismiss teachers for subversive
acts or statements outside as well as inside the classroom. In 1950, the year Senator
Joseph R. McCarthy, the Republican from Wisconsin, launched his anti-Communist
crusade, Congress incorporated the Mundt—Nixon provisions into the Internal
Security (McCarran) Act, whose powerful anti-subversion measures, like the Smith
Act, applied to citizens and non-citizens alike. Included in its long list of offences was
membership in or affiliation with treasonous or totalitarian organisations. The
McCarran Act also empowered the state to denaturalise and deport without hear-
ing any naturalised citizen or alien advocating totalitarian doctrines. Finally, the
McCarran Act authorised the indefinite detention of suspected subversives in con-
centration camps during a state of emergency. It was, to quote a political scientist,
‘one of the most massive onslaughts against freedom of speech and association ever
launched in American history’.> 38

Japan’s domestic Cold War

Waves from the anti-Communist tempest sweeping the United States reached Japa-
nese shores, but initially they were buffered by the breakwater of Occupation policy.
MacArthur considered Communism to be a manageable threat in Japan and, in
478 Policy Shift and Aftermath

September 1949, declared that the ‘small existent Communist minority’ was ‘no
longer a major issue in Japanese life’. Many of his staff, however, were diehard anti-
Communists to begin with, but even among those who were not, few, including the
Supreme Commander himself, were entirely immune to the mood of America. In
January 1950, MacArthur revised his earlier stance when the Communist Informa-
tion Bureau denounced the Japan Communist Party (JCP) for its non-revolutionary
parliamentary tactics and failure to oppose both the Occupation and American
imperialism (Cominform Instruction no. 172). JCP Chair Nosaka Sanz6 accepted
that criticism and pledged to rebuild the Party as a ‘link in the world revolutionary
movement’. On 3 May 1950, the Supreme Commander responded to Communist-
led demonstrations by publicly denouncing the Party as subversive and suggested
that its days as a ‘constitutionally recognised political movement’ were over.” This
veiled threat presaged the Red Purge that began in earnest in June of that year.
The witch hunt, although instigated by SCAP, was conducted by the Japanese. The
Dodge retrenchment, the labour law revisions and the government’s tough new line
on Communism had prepared the groundwork for a highly coordinated assault on
basic civil liberties.
Soon after taking office, Yoshida launched his own domestic Cold War. New
general elections in January 1949 had handed his recently formed Democratic Lib-
eral Party a landslide victory, enabling the Prime Minister to put together a new
government in February. The third Yoshida Cabinet would prove the longest-lived of
any government since the Meiji era. In January’s elections, the right-wing Socialists
saw their Lower House representation plummet from 143 to 48, but the Communist
Party registered unprecedented gains. Garnering nearly 2 million new votes, the
JCP boosted its Lower House presence from four seats to 35. This leftward shift
of progressive sentiment emboldened the radical labour movement and anti-
government forces in general. With SCAP’s help, Yoshida set out to curb the power
of the left and make Japan safe for capitalism, politically as well as economically.
One of Yoshida’s first actions in office was to purge Matsumoto Ji’ichiré, leader of
the Buraku liberation movement and a member of the Upper House. A year earlier,
in January 1948, as Upper House Vice President, Matsumoto had refused to bow to
the Emperor during the formal opening of the Diet, and that tradition was dis-
continued as a result. Matsumoto’s audacity infuriated Yoshida and the rightist
camp. Conservatives were further incensed when, in late 1948, as the Tokyo Tribunal
delivered its verdict on war crimes, Matsumoto declared that while the Emperor may
not have been responsible for the war politically, he was accountable morally. On 1
January 1949, the new Premier wrote to MacArthur asking GHQ to purge this
‘avowed opponent of the Emperor system’ on the trumped-up charge that he had
belonged to an ultra-nationalist organisation during the war.
Behind-the-scenes efforts to oust Matsumoto had begun on 11 December 1948,
when Attorney General Ueda Shunkichi and Cabinet Secretary Sat6 Eisaku visited
Government Section’s Jack P. Napier. They told Napier that Matsumoto enjoyed
Communist support and that purging him for alleged prewar rightist affiliations
 Changing Course 479

would discredit the Party on the eve of the general elections. Napier agreed but
suggested that Yoshida seek Whitney's approval. Kades, a staunch Matsumoto de-
fender, had just left Japan, and the resulting change in political climate inside GHQ
proved decisive. Whitney advised Yoshida to wait until after January’s election,
which the Premier did, purging Matsumoto almost as soon as the polls closed.
Massive protests — the largest since the Korean demonstrations of April 1948 —
immediately erupted across the country, and more than 1 million dissenting signa-
tures were collected, including those of two thirds of the lawmakers in the National
Diet. Both the Soviet delegate to the Allied Council for Japan and the American
Civil Liberties’s Union denounced this unilateral action as unjust and undemocratic.
Although Matsumoto was depurged in August 1951, the damage had been done:
SCAP’s high-handed behaviour had radicalised many Burakumin, confirming them
both in their anti-Americanism and in their ties to the left.
Yoshida quickly took steps to suppress open dissent and bolster the conservative
status quo. He was assisted in this task by the influential anti-Communist ideologue
Ueda Shunkichi, who had become Attorney General in October 1948. Ueda would
direct the crusade against Communism through June 1950, when he was replaced by
Ohashi Takeo, a social bureaucrat from the wartime Home and Welfare Ministries
(and future labour minister, 1962-4). In February 1949, Yoshida announced plans to
create a Lower House Un-Japanese Activities Committee similar in design and pur-
pose to its US equivalent, and a Diet Special Investigative Committee subsequently
was empanelled for that purpose. Strong opposition from Socialist and Communist
Diet members, however, prevented the Committee from fulfilling its intended role.*”
In early April, the Prime Minister took more decisive action. Government
Section’s Napier and Yoshikawa Mitsusada, his counterpart in the Attorney General’s
Special Investigation Bureau (SIB), together drafted a special ordinance empowering
the government to outlaw subversive organisations. On 4 April, Yoshida promul-
gated the Organisation Control Ordinance using the extra-parliamentary expedient
of a Cabinet order. Based on Imperial Ordinance 101 of February 1946 authorising
the disbanding of ultra-rightist organisations, Cabinet Order 64 enabled the state to
dissolve any group that demonstrated subversive or anti-democratic tendencies. Spe-
cifically, it outlawed ‘resistance or opposition to Occupation forces or to orders
issued by the Japanese government in response to SCAP directives and attempts to
change national policy by terroristic methods’.”
Shortly afterwards, Attorney General Ueda strengthened the Special Investigation
Bureau, the agency responsible for applying the Organisation Control Ordinance.
Consisting of former Home Ministry thought police, Korea experts and. anti-
Communist bureaucrats, the SIB had been transferred to the Prime Minister's Office
following dissolution of the Home Ministry in December 1947 to function as a de
facto FBI. It was incorporated into the Attorney General’s Office in February 1948.
The SIB was headed by Yoshikawa Mitsusada, the former Higher Thought Police
officer credited with breaking the Sorge spy case in 1941. In June, following enact-
ment of the Organisation Control Ordinance, Ueda doubled the SIB’s staff, and the
480 Policy Shift and Aftermath

group evolved quickly into a powerful internal intelligence directorate with privil-
eged access to GS Executive Officer Jack Napier (Napier placed the SIB under direct
GS supervision and barred it from working with other GHQ intelligence groups).
That same month, under the revised Labour Union Law, employers began rewriting
union contracts and dismissing Communist-affiliated workers, and in July, at GHQ’s
suggestion, Yoshida quietly began to remove ‘Communists and fellow travellers’ from
government service. Finally, the Primer Minister urged MacArthur to depurge
some 32,000 rank-and-file ultra-nationalists and redeploy them in the struggle
against Communism. SCAP consented in principle but would not take action on the
request until October 1950, as the war in Korea entered a critical juncture.

The Red Purge

With an incipient national security apparatus in place, the Yoshida government and
MacArthur’s command launched a multi-pronged assault on the enemies, real and
imaginary, of conservative rule. The purge machinery put in place to eliminate
militarists from public life in 1946 now was cranked up and redirected towards left-
of-centre liberals, labour activists and suspected Communists. The so-called Red
Purge began almost imperceptibly in April 1949 when the US commander of
the Yokosuka Naval Base attempted to force officials of Sanbetsu-affiliated unions to
sign Taft—Hartley style loyalty statements disavowing Communism. Union leaders
resisted, and GHQ’s Labour Division openly sided with them, noting that the
loyalty oath and sanctions against those who refused to comply violated basic Japa-
nese labour law. The issue was dropped, but it anticipated two subsequent steps
taken after mid-1949 to combat Communist influence in public life: the suppression
of left-wing ideas in education and the repression of Korean nationalism. Gaining
momentum, in 1950 the purge would spread from educators and Koreans to the
Communist Party and, ultimately, to public and private enterprises, the mass media
and even the arts. Coordinating this programme for SCAP were CI&E, ESS, GS,
and Willoughby’s omnipresent G-2.“
From late 1948, Military Government Teams had waged an intense but low-
profile campaign at the local level against the Japan Teachers’ Union (JVikkydso). In
November, Colonel Frank Hollingshead of the Tokyo MGT accused Nikkyoso of
having disgraced itself publicly ‘by engaging in politically inspired issues having
nothing to do with the legitimate function of teachers’ unions’. In February 1949,
Hollingshead’s education officer Captain Paul T. Dupell told an academic audience
at Nippon University in Tokyo that Communism ‘thrives like a disease festering in
filth’ and urged the discharge of Communist teachers. “We see no difference’, he
asserted, between them and ‘the former Nazi and Japanese militarists’. Joseph C.
Trainor, Deputy Chief of CI8E’s Education Division, later restated the Occupation
position, indicating the extent to which anti-Communism had pervaded GHQ’s
ranks. “The Communist influence in and upon education in Japan was not a matter
of thin shades of pink, of fellow-travellers or of sympathetic intellectuals’, he said; ‘it
was rather a matter of the deep-dyed red Marxist and international Communist,
 Changing Course 481

having ties with Moscow and prepared for action ranging from the haranguing
debate to the tactics of the bully-boy.’” Few Japanese educators, Communist or non-
Communist, could recognise themselves or their colleagues in the distorting mirror
of such supercharged rhetoric, but by 1949, SCAP’s education specialists were
convinced that violent revolution from the left was imminent and that bold measures
were required to counter the appeal of Communism in the schools and universities.
In July 1949, at the urging of CI&E Chief Donald R. Nugent, SCAP sent Dr
Walter C. Eells, a professor of education from Stanford University, on a six-month
speaking tour to denounce leftist influence in the schools, notably the Japan
Teachers’ Union. In his address at the inauguration of Niigata University on 19 July,
he urged the new institution to remove leftist faculty members and attacked the
Zengakuren as a Communist-controlled group. ‘Must those who may believe in this
dangerous doctrine be allowed in the name of academic freedom to teach such
doctrines to the youth of the country?’ he intoned self-righteously. Eells’s lectures
were met with boos and catcalls, by shouts of ‘liar’, “enemy of democracy’ and
‘warmonger ,but with true missionary grit he carried his anti-Communist vendetta
to the far corners of the country.“° On 7 September 1949, Education Minister Takase
Sdtar6, acting on verbal orders from CI&E, secretly instructed prefectural education
officials to begin discharging pro-Communist teachers. By March 1950, some 1,100
instructors had been removed from their jobs.
CI&E also targeted Korean schools. These had been allowed to remain open after
the disturbances of April 1948 on condition that they register with the Education
Ministry as private schools and introduce a basic Japanese curriculum in addition to
ethnic courses. Following the creation of the Democratic People’s Republic in
September 1948, the schools had become a focus of pro-North Korean agitation and
the stronghold of Choryon, the League of Korean Residents in Japan. The schools
and the League had been particularly active in Yamaguchi Prefecture in southern
Honshu. When Attorney General Ueda and SIB Chief Yoshikawa consulted
Government Section’s Napier about the situation in Yamaguchi in August 1949,
Napier told them bluntly to dissolve the League. Consequently, on 8 September,
Yoshikawa invoked the Organisation Control Ordinance and disbanded the group,
depriving an overwhelming majority of Koreans of political leadership. Choryén’s
leaders were purged, its property and other assets were confiscated and auctioned off
and the proceeds deposited in the national treasury. On 19 October, under intense
pressure from CI&E, the Education Ministry then extended the purge to Korean
ethnic schools affiliated with the League, shutting them down as well.*”
In late 1949, GHQ urged the government to ‘decommunise’ the civil service
systematically but without establishing formal purge procedures. Since July, the gov-
ernment had targeted Communist sympathisers as part of its public-sector retrench-
ment programme, but now it expanded the scope of the exclusion programme. In
June of 1950, before the start of the Korean War, MacArthur intervened personally.
On 30 May, Communist-affiliated groups demonstrating in the “People’s Plaza’ in
front of the Imperial Palace had shouted anti-American slogans and roughed up
482 Policy Shift and Aftermath

several off-duty Gls. Simultaneously, the JCP organ Akahata launched a broadside
attack on Occupation policy. The Communist Party appeared to be acting in con-
formity with Cominform Instruction no. 172. On 6 June, MacArthur sent Yoshida a
letter ordering him to purge the JCP’s Central Committee. ‘I direct you’, the mes-
sage said, ‘to make the necessary administrative measures to remove and exclude . . .
the full membership of the Central Party of the Japan Communist Party from public
service and render them subject to the prohibition, restrictions and liabilities of my
directive of Jan. 4, 1946, and their implementing ordinances.’ The list of 24 people
included virtually every important Communist leader in Japan. Those purged were
prohibited from holding public office or engaging in political activity. They could
not belong to a political party, speak or write publicly on behalf of a political cause or
even attempt privately to advance a political agenda. They were required to register
their current address and any future changes of address with the government.*® On 7
June, the General extended the purge directive to the editorial board of Akahata.
In late June, as SCAP proceeded with plans to expand its removal programme,
events on the Korean peninsula took a dramatic turn. In the early morning hours of
25 June, some 90,000 North Korean soldiers supported by Soviet-made tanks swept
across the 38th parallel, marking the beginning of the Korean War. On 27 June, the
UN Security Council adopted a resolution condemning the breach of the peace,
calling on North Korean forces to withdraw to the 38th parallel and requesting
member states to assist South Korea. On 29 July, Truman ordered a naval blockade of
Korea and the use of US ground troops, and on 7 July, the Security Council passed
another resolution setting up a ‘Unified Command’ to organise a military response in
Korea and turned full responsibility for that effort over to the United States. Truman
immediately appointed MacArthur, his Far East Commander, to lead the Unified
Command under the UN flag, and the Yoshida government pledged its full support
for the US ‘police action’.
The outbreak of war imparted fresh urgency to GHQ’s crusade against Commun-
ism in Japan. On 26 June, Akahata itself was forced to suspend publication for one
month due to allegedly one-sided reporting of events in Korea, and on 18 July, the
paper was shut down indefinitely. On 24 July, Government Section’s Napier, acting
through SIB chief Yoshikawa, had told seven major newspapers and the Japan
Broadcasting Corporation (NHK) to begin their own internal purges. Editors and
broadcasters complied with the order on 28 July. Government Section also spear-
headed the campaign to expel Communists from the shopfloor. GS Chief Whitney,
Deputy Chief Frank Rizzo (Kades’s replacement) and Jack Napier, with the full
support of MacArthur and Willoughby, and in consultation with CI&E’s Nugent
and Charles N. Spinks of Diplomatic Section, ordered Japanese bureaucrats and
corporate executives to proceed with “decommunisation’ on the highest authority.
Napier’s pro-active role as chief inquisitor earned him the sobriquet of ‘Mr Purge’.
GHQ was determined that as little blame as possible accrue to the Occupation,
however, and purge orders invariably were communicated by word of mouth as
informal guidance. The precise modality was left to the discretion of government
 Changing Course 483

agencies, boards of directors and Democratisation League cells, but Yoshikawa’s

Special Investigation Bureau and Willoughby’s Counter-Intelligence Corps stood
ready with lists of ‘known subversives’.
On 10 August, 1950, SCAP extended ‘decommunisation’ to private industry,
where the Korean War provided employers with a new excuse to discharge ‘undesir-
able elements’, for union organisers now represented an unacceptable security risk to
companies holding US military special procurement contracts. Here, management
and right-wing labour leaders, skilfully manipulating the revised Labour Union Law,
conspired to rewrite union shop agreements and expel ‘active troublemakers’, a code
word for leftists in general. The Labour Ministry played a double game, urging
restraint on the one hand while promising not to interfere with the elimination of
subversive unionists, on the other.
There were no legal grounds for the anti-Communist crusade. Its putative author-
ity derived solely from SCAP’s 1946 purge instruction, which had targeted rightists,
not liberals and leftists. In late July, however, the Justice Ministry announced its
support for MacArthur’s policy. According to the private correspondence of ESS
Labour Division’s Valery Burati, with Vice Minister Teramoto Koésaku serving as
SCAP liaison, the Labour Ministry’s reform bureaucrats agreed not to apply the so-
called workers’ bill of rights in Article 3 of the Labour Standards Law (’Stander’s and
Teramoto’s baby’) to discharged Communists. This decision, Burati wrote, had
Labour Division’s Golda Stander ‘feeling thoroughly depressed and almost in
tears’.
Burati also confirmed that, in late July, GS Chief Whitney had taken
unprecedented steps to protect MacArthur’s headquarters from possible litigation.
Whitney reportedly met secretly at that time with Tanaka Kotar6, now Chief Justice
of the Supreme Court (1950-60), and ordered him not to adjudicate lawsuits arising
from the firings. The Legal Section officer present at the interview, which was
‘entirely vocal’, was instructed not to take notes of the conversation. Burati writes:
“Tanaka was told that the courts could not question management’s designation of
Communist. Anyone so designated by management was to be considered per se a
Communist and the courts were not to touch his case’. Judge Tanaka apparently
accepted this advice, for purge victims effectively were denied due process of law.
“The Legal Section also believes that Tanaka has instructed the lower courts, though
not in writing’, Burati noted. In early October, the Labour Ministry summed up the
government position in an administrative guideline to prefectural and municipal
authorities. The purge, it advised, was being undertaken on orders from SCAP. The
dismissal of subversive elements was a defensive measure taken to protect the viability
of private industry and should not be considered a violation of constitutional rights
or basic labour law.”
As the removal campaign got underway, concern grew within ESS Labour
Division that the “discharging of Communists’ might get out of hand. On 29 June
1950, shortly after MacArthur issued his purge instruction to Yoshida, Valery Burati
sent ESS Chief Marquat a memorandum entitled ‘Programme Against Communists
484 Policy Shift and Aftermath

in Japanese Labour’. The plan called for increased GHQ support of Democratisation
Leagues and similar counter-measures but stopped short of recommending direct
action. Burati, the only trade unionist in Labour Division, opposed the overt use of
authoritarian methods to remove Communists and warned that managers should not
be encouraged to fire left-leaning employees indiscriminately. “We did not favour
[their] retention’, he said later, ‘but if they were to be expelled, we wanted them
expelled by democratic means.” The State Department’s labour specialist in Japan,
Philip Sullivan, who had helped draft US pre-surrender plans for Japanese trade
unions, also was critical of the purge. Why undermine the country’s fragile labour
democracy just as it had taken root, he wrote to Burati in November. Government
Section, however, had no intention of relenting, and the purge was transformed into
an extensive witch hunt that dismissed thousands of Communists, Socialists, left-
leaning progressives and even liberals, robbing them of their careers, their livelihoods
and often of their self-esteem. By the time the purge mania subsided in late 1950,
about 11,000 public employees and another 11,000 workers in private industry had
been thrown summarily out of work for their putative political beliefs. The human
costs of this egregious abuse of civil rights are incalculable.
The government's ill-fated attempt to outlaw the Communist Party provides an
ironic counterpoint to the ‘success story’ of the purge. In March 1950, Yoshida
met MacArthur and asked him to ban the Party by invoking his executive powers
as SCAP. Demurring on the grounds that he lacked the proper authority, the
General remarked that he would not object, however, if the Diet were to take such
action on its own by due process of law. The Prime Minister clearly hoped to use the
Occupation to achieve this controversial objective (as it had in ending the second
Yomiuri labour dispute in June 1946 and banning the general strike projected for 1
February 1947). MacArthur’s statement of 3 May 1950 questioning the legality of
the JCP seemed to augur well for Yoshida’s scheme.
Convinced that Yoshida and his Attorney General (from June, Ohashi Takeo)
intended to enact banning legislation, GS Chief Whitney ordered Government
Section’s Osborne Hauge and Legal Section’s Alfred Oppler and Kurt Steiner to
draft a GHQ statement that could be presented to the Japanese as a basis for
discussion. On 22 August 1950, the three submitted a lengthy study entitled “Draft
of the Essentials of a Bill Outlawing the Japan Communist Party and Other Organ-
isations’. Attached to the bill, however, was a memorandum by Oppler and Steiner
that explored the liabilities of enacting such legislation. An outright ban, they
argued, could be construed as a form of thought control. It might infringe on basic
constitutional liberties and could lend itself to other abuses unacceptable in a free
society. In view of the Occupation’s democratising mission, they suggested, such a
measure would be self-defeating.”
In December 1950, Attorney Ohashi instructed the SIB’s Yoshikawa to study
the possibility of invoking the Organisation Control Ordinance (Cabinet Order
64) to dissolve the Communist Party. When Yoshikawa broached the subject to
Napier, however, the GS purge master reiterated MacArthur’s insistence that only a
 Changing Course 485

Diet-enacted law would be acceptable to SCAP. Consequently, on 10 January, Yoshida

again sought MacArthur’s advice, this time about the timing of such a bill. The
Supreme Commander, however, apparently swayed by the Oppler—Steiner memo,
replied that outlawing the JCP would be counter-productive. The government, he
noted, had more to lose than to win, since the Party had lost much of its former
influence and no longer posed a threat to Japan’s security. The purge of Communists
from the civil service, public enterprises, private industry and the media of informa-
tion in 1950, he said, had precluded the necessity of an outright ban, which in any
event probably would not pass the Diet and, additionally, would raise constitutional
issues redounding to the discredit of the government.”
If banning Communism was constitutionally suspect, what then of the purge that
in MacArthur's words had made such a measure redundant? The precipitous and
arbitrary removal from public life of some 20,000 suspected leftists was a grave
injustice. Ironically, however, it subsequently became the focus of complex man-
oeuvring by groups on both the left and the right who sought to exploit it for
partisan ends. The Communists used the purge as ammunition in their campaign to
turn public opinion against the Occupation and secure an early peace treaty. Some
Socialists found it useful in asserting control over part of the labour movement.
Reform bureaucrats saw in the dismissals a unique opportunity to suppress the left
and consolidate their conservative agenda while using the ensuing social tensions to
pry further concessions from SCAP. The purge debased the political process, dimin-
ishing not only those who helped implement it, but also those who attempted to
profit by it or who condoned it through silence or inaction.

REARMING JAPAN

The Korean War and special procurements

Politically, the left had been contained. Economically, however, the outlook for Japan
remained bleak. The Dodge austerity programme had balanced the budget but failed
to generate the capital investment necessary to remedy slack industrial productivity,
low export volume and chronic trade deficits. This failure was masked by the out-
break of fighting in Korea in June 1950, which reversed these trends almost over-
night, as Japan was transformed into a vast supply depot and forward staging area
for US combat forces. As a prominent Japanese economist has noted: ‘the tragedy
of war in a neighbouring country turned out to be a windfall boon for the Japanese
economy’. Indeed, the conflict made believers of hard-headed pragmatists. Prime
Minister Yoshida considered the war ‘a gift of the gods’, and Robert Murphy,
America’s first postwar ambassador to Japan, declared it ‘a godsend’.* The engine
driving recovery was the avalanche of rush orders for non-weapon goods and services,
ranging from coal, scrap metal, textiles, chemical fertiliser, electrical products, and
processed rubber to trucks, heavy transport, GI housing, ship and aircraft repair
facilities, and communications equipment. Although the bulk of these ‘special
486 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Photo 66. Workers at Mitsui Heavy Industries’ Sagamihara plant outside Tokyo repair war-
damaged US tanks, c. 1950. Such work was typical of the Korean war procurements that
refloated the economy, ending the Dodge recession (Kyodo).

procurements’ were non-military, Japan also supplied barbed wire, incendiary bombs
and napalm and by 1953 was manufacturing ammunition, small arms, machine guns
and trench mortars disguised disingenuously as ‘education orders’.”
The procurements boom, paid for in dollars and officially listed as ‘invisible
exports’, enabled Japan to redress its balance of payments, reutilise much of the
industrial plant capacity and equipment previously slated for removal as war repat-
ations, boost employment and raise wages. War-matériel production alone generated
jobs for an estimated 20,000 workers. During the conflict, imports of raw materials
doubled and exports-nearly trebled. In October 1950, industrial production ex-
ceeded the prewar level for the first time. Yoshida’s 1946 priority production scheme
favouring coal, steel, marine transport and electric power had foundered by time Joe
Dodge arived in Tokyo in 1949. The Korean War boom refocused attention on
heavy industry and strengthened the system of top-down industrial policy-making,
which became a trademark feature of postwar economic growth.
On 20 February 1951, Economic and Scientific Section completed a report on
Japan’s latent industrial potential that called for an increase in the production of coal,
steel and other heavy industrial goods of more than double the production levels of
the 1932-6 period. In mid-May, ESS Chief Marquat, returning from a trip to
Washington, announced the extension of new lines of credit and pledged US finan-
cial and technical support in developing strategic materials. US capital, he said,
 Changing Course 487

would not only provide technological assistance but stood ready to invest in selected
Japanese companies. In order to keep the special procurements programme alive, on
12 February 1952, the Japanese government proposed reviving military production
in certain areas and requested credit lines and the import of raw materials. Two
days later, Marquat issued a directive allowing the revival of aircraft and arma-
ments production, in response to which the Ministry of International Trade and
Industry partially lifted its ban on such manufactures. These measures enabled the
procurements scheme to survive into the post-treaty period.”

The National Police Reserve

Early fighting in Korea had gone badly for US forces. Leaving Kyushu for the
peninsula with little advance preparation, the 24th Infantry Division lost 25 per cent
of its strength in a single week’s fighting in early July. By the end of that month,
MacArthur had deployed virtually all of the Eighth Army’s tactical forces — some
65,000 troops — across the straits to defend a shrinking perimeter on the southeastern
tip of the peninsula around Taegu and the ports of Masan and Pusan. On 8 July, the
day he was appointed to lead the UN Unified Command, MacArthur sent a letter to
Yoshida ‘authorising’ the Prime Minister to augment Japan’s 125,000-strong police
force by a ‘national police reserve of 75,000 men’ and its Maritime Safety Board,
established in 1948 as an embryonic Coast Guard, by 8,000. MacArthur asserted
that a National Police Reserve (NPR) was needed to maintain ‘public peace and
security’ but made no reference to the war. On 13 July, however, the Japanese
government was told the new force would be placed under direct Cabinet control by
Potsdam decree, not Diet legislation, and organised separately from the regular
police. To avoid the constitutional issue, SCAP maintained the polite fiction that the
force did not have military potential. The NPR came into being on 10 August, and
by the end of the month, its first unit of 7,000 had been formed. Yoshida appointed
former Home Ministry bureaucrat and Yoshida loyalist Masuhara Keikichi to head
the Reserve. US planners, however, soon were urging Tokyo to expand the force to
between 300,000 and 350,000 effectives, an augmentation that no internal security
needs could possibly justify. It was clear to both American and Japanese officials —
although Yoshida denied it to the end of his political career — that the National Police
Reserve was an undercover army intended to serve as the core of a future fully
equipped national military force.”
SCAP created a Civil Affairs Staging Area in a corner of the Dai-Ichi Mutual Life
Insurance Building and appointed Major General Whitfield P. Shepard, then Chief
of the Civil Affairs Section (CAS), and his executive officer, Colonel Frank Kowalski
Jr, to create, direct and train the new army. Any illusions that the organisation was a
mere police force were soon dispelled. After a visit to an NPR training camp, Diplo-
matic Section’s Sebald recalled that “The new Japanese Army . . . looked as though it
had been made in the United States.’ ‘I thought at first I had stumbled into an
American base’, he wrote, “for everything from guns to fatigues was GI. Only when I
saw the Japanese soldiers eating with chopsticks did I fully realise that these were,
488 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Photo 67. Japan’s new National Police Reserve on review, 25 August 1950. The NPR, estab-
lished at the outbreak of the Korean War on MacArthur’s orders, signalled a decisive turning
away from the early Occupation reforms, notably the Constitution’s pacifist Article Nine
(Kyodo).

indeed, soldiers of another Japanese generation, with a new mission.’ Drills were
based on direct translations of US Army manuals, leading to some curious situations.
The traditional Japanese command kashira migi (literally, ‘heads right’) became man-
ako migi (eyes right’), a stiff, archaic rendering of the English that caused some
trainees to shift their eyes rightward on command but without moving their heads.
Under CAS guidance} recruits were trained thoroughly in the use of such unpolice-
like equipment as tanks (camouflaged in the manuals as ‘special vehicles’), carbines,
M-1 rifles, machine guns, bazookas and mortars. ‘Americans managed these troops
like a private army’, Kowalski later commented. ‘As battalions of infantry the NPR
could have put on a whale of a fight.’ The Police Reserve also opened the door to
former military officers anxious to resume interrupted careers. Of the 400,000 people
who applied in September 1951, over half had served in the Imperial Army. More-
over, about 800 candidates were invited to apply from among the unpurged former
officers of the Japanese-led Manchukuo Army, their presumed anti-Communism
recommending them for NPR work.”
The Old Guard attempted to reassert its influence via another route. Unknown to
MacArthur or the Japanese government, in May 1946, General Willoughby had
 Changing Course 489

recruited Colonel Hattori Takushird, the former Imperial General Staff officer, to
build up a nationwide cadre of officers in hopes of reconstructing, at some later time,
a Japanese army. A protégé of Ishiwara Kanji (ultra-rightist ideologue, Kwantung
Army officer and architect of the 1931 Manchurian invasion), Hattori had served as
military secretary to General Tojo. After the war, the Colonel used his position on the
Demobilisation Board to maintain active lists of some 70,00 former officers. In 1947,
Willoughby confided to Government Section’s Alfred Hussey that the Pentagon had
ordered him to ‘maintain the nucleus of the [Imperial] General Staff and ... the
records of the Japanese Army and Navy’. Charged by Willoughby with this task,
Hattori quickly built an informal organisation, complete with prototype general staff,
that came to include some 400 officers. When MacArthur ordered the creation of the
Police Reserve, Willoughby attempted to instate Hattori as commander-in-chief and
place his fellow officers in leadership positions. Kowalski, presented with a list of
officer candidates for four divisions, consulted MacArthur’s aide Colonel Lawrence
E. Bunker, who brought the matter to the Supreme Commander’s attention. A
surprised MacArthur wisely overruled Willoughby and quashed the initiative, much
to the relief of Yoshida, who reportedly was alarmed and deeply offended by the affair.
Nonetheless, Willoughby apparently achieved some degree of success, for Civil
Affairs Section later complained that ‘the appointment of former police or political
personnel to key . . . line and staff positions has been a constant block to progress’.
The NPR moved into US military bases in Hokkaido and elsewhere abandoned in
the wake of American troop deployments to Korea, and a special requisition pro-
gramme was set up to equip it with military surplus and weapons from US stocks.
Although the NPR operated only at the infantry company level, US and Japanese
officials drafted coordinated plans to integrate this quasi-military force into larger
Allied units in the event of an emergency. The Japan—US Military Security Assistance
(MAS) agreement would formalise these arrangements in 1954, the year the inte-
grated Self-Defence Forces were created. Japan, as one historian has remarked, now
‘was set upon the path all military planners eventually march along, where the
signposts point in a single direction and read: the best defence is a good offence —
keep moving, keep moving’.°!
Although the NPR never was directly involved in the fighting in Korea, Japan
nonetheless cooperated wholeheartedly with the US war effort. The Maritime Safety
Board, for example, deployed 20 minesweepers for demining operations in the
waters around Korea under US Navy command. Japanese railroad, shipping, engin-
eering, and communications specialists with first-hand knowledge of Korean condi-
tions worked for UN forces, providing essential services. Many of these were former
Japanese soldiers, now depurged. “The Japanese were not asked or permitted to
recruit soldiers to help us,’ wrote Robert Murphy, ‘but Japanese shipping and rail-
road experts worked in Korea with their own well-trained crews.’ This was a top
secret operation, he noted, adding that ‘the Allied forces would have had difficulty
remaining in Korea without this assistance from thousands of Japanese specialists
who were familiar with that country’. Another little-known area of cooperation was
490 Policy Shift and Aftermath

stevedoring. Japanese civilian seamen manned more than 120 power barges under
Kitamura Masanori, President of East West Shipping Inc., for logistical support and
other war-related activities. The barges were hired by the US Navy on the basis of
secret contracts signed immediately after the Inchon landing of 15 September
1950. Japanese workers at home also performed vital support duties that otherwise
would have required the presence of an estimated 260,000 American service troops.”

Ridgway and the integration of Cold War policy

The clearest indication that the Occupation had entered a new phase was SCAP’s
reinterpretation of Article Nine’s absolute renunciation of arms and belligerency.
Even before the Korean War began, however, MacArthur, a strict interpretationist,
had modified his public views on Japan’s defence arrangements. On 1 January 1950,
he told the Japanese people in his New Year’s address that ‘by no sophistry of
reasoning can [Article Nine] be interpreted as a complete negation of the inalienable
right of self-defence against unprovoked attack’. Shortly afterward, Yoshida aired
similar sentiments. Thenceforth, MacArthur’s staff were at pains to lay responsibility
for the strictly pacifist reading of Article Nine at the door of Shidehara Kijuro,
postwar Japan’s second prime minister. According to Ambassador Murphy, in 1952,
MacArthur himself vehemently rejected the notion that GHQ had anything to do
with the no-war clause, saying that it was ‘entirely a Japanese affair’. Toward the end
of the Occupation, a high-ranking GHQ officer summed up the American view,
telling a senior Japanese official that ‘before the Korean War, the author was our old
man. After the Korean War, the author was your old man.”
From early 1950, Washington pressed Yoshida to accept long-term US bases in
Japan, resume war production, rebuild a military force and join the United States in a
collective regional defence arrangement. In early May 1950, Yoshida sent Finance
Minister Ikeda Hayato, Ikeda’s assistant Miyazawa Ki’ichi (prime minister, 1991-3)
and Yoshida’s personal aide Shirasu Jiro to Washington to sound out US views on
ending the Occupation (MacArthur had forbidden Yoshida to negotiate directly
on security questions). There, Ikeda told Joseph Dodge that the Japanese premier
was ready to accept in principle the quid pro quo of post-treaty US bases for ‘the
earliest possible peace treaty’.
The idea of remilitarising, however, was anathema to Yoshida. On 22 June, three
days before the Korean War began, Truman’s special treaty envoy John Foster Dulles
met Yoshida for the first time and repeated Washington’s demand for a Japanese
rearmament. Yoshida dismissed the notion airily and insisted on soliciting
MacArthur’s opinion. The Supreme Commander backed the Prime Minister, pro-
posing ‘industrial remilitarisation’ as an alternative. Sometime between 21 and 23
June, however, MacArthur abandoned his hopes for permanent Japanese neutrality.
In return for Defense Department support of an early peace accord, the General
acquiesced in principle to a standing army and an unrestricted post-treaty US mili-
tary deployment in Japan proper.” Even after the creation of the NPR, however,
MacArthur refused to press for the high troops levels demanded by Washington.
 Changing Course 491

The Korean War crystallised US policy towards Japan, but the shift to an inte-
grated Cold War phase of occupation dates roughly from MacArthur’s dismissal by
President Truman in the spring of 1951. By late 1950, US forces had occupied most
of the Democratic People’s Republic in a bid, as MacArthur later expressed it, ‘to clear
out all North Korea, to unify it and to liberalise it’. Indeed, on 27 September,
Washington had authorised the General to cross the 38th parallel and reunite the
peninsula, short of provoking a Chinese or Soviet engagement.” In late November,
however, as American troops approached the Yalu and Tumen Rivers on China’s
northeastern border with North Korea, some 250,000 Chinese People’s Volunteers
stormed southward, destroying the UN line and gradually pushing the Unified
Command back to the 38th parallel, where in early 1951 both sides dug in for a long
war of attrition. (A ceasefire would not be declared until 27 July 1953.)
MacArthur, however, had exceeded his mandate by bombing the Yalu River
bridges and other sensitive targets. The Joint Chiefs protested that his rash actions
had invited Chinese intervention in violation of their directive of September 1950.
The General’s subsequent calls to aggressively challenge China and widen the war in
Korea brought him into direct conflict with Truman and the Pentagon, who were
determined to end the war. Concluding that the Supreme Commander’s bellicose
actions had encroached on the authority of the President, the Joint Chiefs advised
that he be relieved of his commands in Japan, Korea and the Far East. On 11 April,
Truman complied with that recommendation, recalling MacArthur and naming
General Matthew B. Ridgway, Eighth Army commander in Korea since December
1950, to replace him.”
Ridgway took over as SCAP in mid-April 1951, ending the quasi-autonomous
status that MacArthur had arrogated for the Occupation by the sheer force of his
personality. A team player lacking MacArthur’s panache and overarching vision, the
business-like Ridgway set about the task of rearming Japan and strengthening its
internal security. With the departure of Whitney, who accompanied MacArthur into
retirement, Frank Rizzo became GS chief and Jack Napier his deputy. One of the first
priorities of the ‘Ridgway—Rizzo régime’ was to rehabilitate the nearly 200,000 ultra-
nationalists GHQ had discharged from public life during the ‘white purge’. In
October 1950, MacArthur had agreed to release some 10,900 relatively harmless
purgees in compliance with NSC-13/2’s call for a relaxation of exclusion controls. In
April 1951, soon after replacing MacArthur, Ridgway threw open the doors to all
purged career military officers commissioned after 1937. By October 1951, a total of
359,530 ex-military men, politicians and ultra-nationalists had been returned to
public life. Many former soldiers found employment with the National Police
Reserve. Civil Affairs Section indicated that, by December 1951, it expected to
integrate some 400 former field officers, all of them graduates of the pre-1945 Army
and Navy military academies, into the force. Among those released from political
limbo were Hatoyama Ichird, Ishibashi Tanzan and Kishi Nobusuke, all of whom
would serve as prime minister after the Occupation. In the first post-independence
general elections of October 1952, more than 40 per cent of candidates elected to the
492 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Photo 68 General Matthew B. Ridgway, fresh from the fighting in Korea, lands at Tokyo’s
Haneda Airport to relieve General MacArthur, recalled from his duties as Supreme Com-
mander a few days earlier by President Truman. 15 April 1951 (Kyodo).
 Changing Course 493

Lower House were former purgees. The Old Guard had staged a precipitous and
dramatic comeback.®
Ridgway also worked to buttress the national security state in an effort to
protect America’s post-treaty interests in Japan. In May 1951, he set up the
Committee on Counter-Measures Against Communism in the Far East, a top-
secret SCAP-Eighth Army inter-staff group designed to coordinate SCAP policy in a
wide range of areas deemed vital to America’s post-Occupation interests in Japan.
Among the issues it discussed were means of burnishing the Emperor’s image, the
surveillance and control of Communists, the deportation of Korean subversives, the
Korean school problem, immigration and alien controls and psychological warfare
strategies for Japan. The Counter-Measures Committee never fulfilled its Strange-
lovian ambitions, but its activities illuminate US thinking on Japan at this critical
juncture.
With Ridgway’s approval and encouragement, Attorney General Ohashi strength-
ened the Special Investigation Bureau, and by August 1952, it had swelled from a
staff of 260 (1949) to more than 1,700 and included many depurged police officers.”
On 3 May 1951, Ridgway authorised the government to re-examine and propose
modifications to laws and ordinances enacted during the Occupation. The Yoshida
Cabinet promptly set up an Ordinance Review Committee, which recommended a
further release of purged persons and changes to labour and anti-monopoly laws,
land reform and the police and education reforms (chapter 11). The Committee
continued its work well into the post-treaty era.
In at least once instance, the government actually strengthened a ‘Potsdam
Executive Order’. This was the 1949 Organisation Control Ordinance, which was
repealed in July 1952 and replaced with the far harsher Subversive Activities Preven-
tion Law. The new law was part of a package of ‘peace preservation’ statutes that
Yoshida and Ohashi had proposed to enact, including a prohibition on general
strikes and the regulation of meetings and demonstrations, but these were never
realised. Rizzo and Napier worked closely with Ohashi in writing the Subversive
Activities Prevention Bill, which was based in large part on the US Smith and
McCarran Acts discussed earlier. Although many of its blatantly undemocratic fea-
tures were eliminated in the drafting process, the law immediately bred consti-
tutional controversy when it was passed on 21 July 1952. Directed primarily at
Communists, labour agitators and Koreans, it represented the culmination of
Yoshida’s earlier campaign to outlaw the Communist Party. Responsibility for invok-
ing the law passed from the Special Investigation Bureau, which was abolished, to
the Public Security Investigation Agency, a more powerful organ attached to the
Justice Ministry.”°
In one area, SCAP’s efforts to achieve greater Cold War integration failed spec-
tacularly. This was the creation of Sdhyd, the General Council of Trade Unions of
Japan, which ESS Labour Division’s Valery Burati had worked hard to promote
among left-orientated but non-Communist unionists. A foe of right-wing labour
leaders, Burati threw his support to the left wing of the Democratisation Leagues and
494 Policy Shift and Aftermath

such Socialist radicals as Takano Minoru, His dream was to unify Japanese labour
under a liberal, non-Communist leadership affiliated with the US- and British-
backed International Confederation of Free Trade Unions (ICFTU), which had been
created in late 1949 to oppose the Communist-dominated World Federation of
Trade Unions (WFTU). But the democratisation movement had a mind of its own,
and neither Burati nor Labour Division was able to control it. In July 1950, Hara
Shigeru of the Japan Coal Mine Workers, Iwai Akira of the National Railways
Workers, Ota Kaoru of the Synthetic Chemical Workers, and other radical demo-
cratic unionists inaugurated Sdbyd, with SCAP’s approval. The new national centre
incorporated nearly 4 million workers, or roughly half of organised labour. As Burati
later recalled, however, “The real foundation for Séhyé was a strong feeling for
independence... not GHQ initiative or permission.’””’
The naive American assumption that all non-Communists were de facto allies
proved a major miscalculation. MacArthur's staff expected Sdhyé to replace the left-
wing Sanbetsu, whose leadership had been decimated by the Red Purge, but the new
federation moved rapidly to the left. Séhyo’s General Council promptly condemned
the North Korean invasion of the south but called for peaceful reunification and non-
involvement by Japan, As MacArthur's forces pushed beyond the 38th parallel in
October 1950, occupying most of the Democratic People’s Republic and precipitat-
ing a Chinese counter-attack, any lingering sympathy for US war aims dissipated
rapidly, The organisation also condemned the Red Purge for its indiscriminate dis-
missals, although its opposition was largely rhetorical and it did little to contest the
mass firings. In March 1951, Séhyo adopted the Socialists’ four-point peace policy (no
peace treaty without China and the Soviet Union, a neutral foreign policy, no bases
on Japanese soil and no rearmament) and rejected membership in the ICFTU. The
labour front had begun as an earth-bound chicken, according to a popular analogy of
the day, but had developed wings, metamorphosing into a duck that could fly.”
With Sdhyo’s leftward turning, Burati’s days in Japan were numbered, In June
1951, he was ‘put on the first ship home’ for, among other things, publicly
denouncing a decision by Ridgway and the Yoshida Cabinet to place the ‘People’s
Plaza’ at the Imperial Palace off limits during that year’s May Day celebrations.
Japanese workers, he later remarked, ‘looked to the use of the Plaza as a [symbol] of
the new freedom for labour. When this was suddenly denied them, they saw it as a
return to the old repressive ways.’ Even Ridgway harboured personal qualms about
backing the government, fearing that SCAP endorsement of the decision ‘would be
interpreted as a slap to the working man’, The Emperor promptly assuaged those
misgivings, however, telling Ridgway during their first meeting of his pleasure at the
Supreme Commander's show of support.”’
One year later, on 1 May 1952, three days after the restoration of Japanese
sovereignty, 400,000 workers paraded through Tokyo to celebrate the nation’s
independence. Some 6,000 workers, barred again from the the ‘People’s Plaza’,
forcibly occupied this space so emblematic of Imperial authority and the Old
Order, clashing with 5,000 riot police. Firing tear gas and small arms, police killed
 Changing Course 495

two demonstrators, injured some 2,300 and arrested more than 1,000, including
large numbers of Communists and Koreans. Séhyé was among the first to denounce
the repression. The new labour centre took the government to court, charging it with
abridging the constitutional right of freedom of assembly (the Supreme Court ruled
in the state’s favour in 1953). This turn of events epitomised the polarisation that
reigned at the end of the Occupation, a product of the purge, war in Korea and
Japanese rearmament.”

The Korean minority and the Cold War

Koreans were among the first victims of the Cold War, and their situation in Japan
deteriorated as the reverse course proceeded. The minority’s ambiguous legal status
reflected a stark Cold War reality: the absence of a popularly elected government in
its divided homeland. The Kobe and Osaka disturbances of April 1948 marked a
watershed in the Korean community’s relations with GHQ. The Occupation had
‘bestowed’ democracy on the defeated Japanese, but Koreans, ostensibly a liberated
people, had been largely excluded from the process of reform. When they pressed for
better treatment and a basic degree of cultural autonomy, they overstepped the
bounds that SCAP had decreed acceptable for Japanese democracy.”
Following the Kobe—Osaka demonstrations, MacArthur asked Diplomatic Section
to prepare a staff study on the status of Koreans in Japan. Sebald appointed his
legal officer Richard B. Finn to draft the paper. Working closely with Jules Bassin of
Legal Section, Finn finished his report in August 1948. “The large Korean group in
Japan, which is for the most part unassimilable ... and the source of dangerous
friction with the Japanese’, he concluded, ‘constitutes a strong element of instability
in the Far East and the cause of unfavourable propaganda directed against the
United States as the principal occupying power in Japan.’ With the establishment
that month of a US-backed government in southern Korea, SCAP now was bound
by State Department policy to define clearly the legal status of resident Koreans,
but this Finn counselled against. ‘If the treatment now accorded United Nations
nationals or other foreigners in Japan were extended to Koreans’, he said, ‘the pos-
ition of Koreans in Japan would become further entrenched in direct conflict with
SCAP policy to encourage their return to Korea.’ For the time being, ‘Koreans in
Japan should not be given any special rights or protection’. Even Finn, however,
harboured doubts about the legality of Japan’s Korean policy. The denial of voting
rights in December 1945, he told the Foreign Ministry’s Wajima Eiji in early
February 1949, may have been desirable, but it ‘set up a subordinate type of Japanese
citizenship which seemed to me to violate the provisions of the new Constitution
calling for complete equality of all Japanese nationals’. Wajima replied that the
Japanese had always considered the Koreans ‘an inferior race’ and that this was the
cause of Japanese ‘uncertainty and hostility’ towards the minority. Finn did not press
the issue.”
Legal Section, however, took the position that Koreans should be offered the
option of acquiring Japanese nationality. The device for accomplishing this, Jules
496 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Bassin insisted, was the transfer of Korean household registers from Korea to Japan, a
solution the Japanese government itself had contemplated in November 1944 (chap-
ter 9). In May 1949, Bassin recommended that Koreans be offered three choices:
repatriation (deemed unlikely), the acquisition of full Japanese citizenship, or the
retention of permanent alien status. ‘In this way’, he argued, ‘Koreans in Japan will
eventually be divided into distinct legal groups and so divided will be subject to
better control, both for purposes of repatriation and absorption.’ Those who became
Japanese citizens would be assimilated. The third option would ‘accord the Occupa-
tion Forces and later the Japanese government, a lever in dealing with them’. Neither
SCAP, Japan nor the Republic of Korea, however, intended to give Koreans a choice
of citizenship. Following repeated démarches by the ROK Diplomatic Mission in
Tokyo, SCAP briefly considered a request to register non-Communists as South
Korean nationals and accord them foreign status, but in August 1949, acting on the
advice of General Whitney, MacArthur vetoed the idea as beyond the Occupation’s
authority and inimical to Japan’s long-term interests. The problem of legal status, he
concluded, should be resolved by Seoul and Tokyo after the Occupation. Nothing
was said about North Koreans, however, who presumably would become stateless
persons.””
SCAP and the government, each for their own reasons, conspired to withhold
from Koreans full civil and political rights. In June 1949, the Attorney General’s
Office suggested in a memorandum to Government Sction that ‘it would be realistic
and reasonable to treat [Koreans] sometimes as Japanese nationals and at other times
as non-Japanese, as may fit the occasion, for the time being, and to extend the range
of the latter treatment with all possible promptitude, so as ultimately to come to treat
them as non-Japanese in every respect’. The memo urged that control over Koreans
be tightened, on the one hand, while ‘extending to them kind protection, on the
other, so as to soften their feelings against Japan’. Concerning voting rights and alien
registration, with its implicit threat of deportation, Koreans were to be considered
non-Japanese. For purposes of taxation, education and property ownership, they
would be treated as Japanese. One month earlier, Matsukata Makoto, scion of the
Matsukata family, naturalised US citizen and GS staff officer, concluded after con-
sulting concerned Japanese ministries that ‘the Japanese, as a whole, still regard the
Koreans as a tool of the Japanese people’. The government, he said, for the time
being ‘would rather have jurisdiction of the Koreans and recognise them as Japanese
nationals in order that continued control may be exercised’.’*
Following the creation of the Democratic People’s Republic in September 1948,
GHQ attempted to bolster the Pro-Seoul Korean Residents Union in Japan (Mindan)
while orchestrating a crackdown on its leftist rival Choryon. Although the vast major-
ity of Koreans in Japan had come originally from the southern part of the peninsula,
their sympathies were overwhelmingly with the northern régime, which articulated
the nationalist aspirations of workers and peasants. In the words of an American
observer formerly with the US Army Military Government in Korea, “The North
Korean flag is the symbol of the only political orientation which has persistently
 Changing Course 497

fought to improve the position of Koreans in Japan.... Thus the fact that his
leadership is Communist has not inclined the average Korean to disavow [the flag],
but rather has counted in its favor.” In SCAP’s eyes, however, that flag represented a
‘Soviet-established government,’ and in October 1948, Willoughby ordered the Japa-
nese police to suppress its use in public places. Almost immediately, in Sendai,
Miyagi Prefecture, Eighth Army military police opened fire without warning on
Koreans at an athletic meet where the northern flag was being paraded, wounding six
participants, one of them critically. A series of flag-related incidents extending into
1949 resulted in violence and the arrests of dozens of Korean men and women for
‘raising, condoning or failing to stop’ displays of the banner. The prohibition
extended even to lapel pins, badges and posters bearing a likeness of the emblem.
Many violators of the banning order were convicted under Imperial Ordinance 311
and sentenced to hard labour and deportation — to South Korea.*°
Largely indifferent to past colonial injustices, Occupation authorities failed utterly
to comprehend the dynamics of Korean nationalism.*’ The government exploited
this ignorance and American anti-Communism in a carefully contrived effort to
expel virtually the entire Korean community. In July 1949, Yoshida’s aide Shirasu
Jiré visited Diplomatic Section and proposed ‘a drastic attack upon Japan’s Korean
problem’, calling for the deportation of 500,000 to 600,000 North and South
Koreans. In late summer, Yoshida formally petitioned MacArthur to authorise this
project, complaining that Koreans were mostly Communists, fellow-travellers,
criminal elements, or parasites who contributed nothing to the economy. He pro-
posed deporting all 650,000 to South Korea at government expense. In his response
to the Premier, MacArthur agreed that Koreans should not be encouraged to remain
in Japan but rejected the unilateral use of force to remove them.”
Meanwhile, as discussed earlier, the Attorney General dissolved the Korean League
on 9 September on orders from Napier, and on 19 October, Japanese police closed
down the League’s ethnic schools, which CI&¢E Chief Donald R. Nugent accused of
being run by ‘agents of the Japan Communist Party’ and spreading ‘North Korean
propaganda of a jingoistic nature’. To enforce these measures, Eighth Army stood
ready to invoke its state of emergency powers and send tactical units into ‘Korean
ghettos’.
The repression of the Korean minority, like that of labour, was coordinated behind
closed doors by a handful of top SCAP officials and their Japanese counterparts via
informal agreements, verbal instructions and ‘mutual understanding’. Napier later
boasted that he applied the same methods to Koreans that he had developed for
Communists. ‘I had a job for General MacArthur that was something like [National
Security Adviser] Oliver North had for President Reagan’, he said. The Japanese,
however, were anxious to shift the onus for these controversial measures onto the
Occupation and pressed GHQ for written orders. GS and CI&E refused to put
anything in writing, insisting that the government bear sole responsibility. Thus, the
dissolution of Choryén and the shutting down of its schools were ostensibly Japanese
actions that caught even some high-ranking GHQ staff officers unawares. Four days
498 Policy Shift and Aftermath

after the school closures, for instance, MacArthur himself reportedly had ‘no know-
ledge of the action being taken by the Japanese Government until it was announced’.**
In late 1949, the government revamped its alien control system. In September, it
established an embryonic Immigration Control Bureau inside the Foreign Ministry
designed to combat the illegal entry of Koreans. In December, on orders from SCAP,
it revised the Alien Registration Ordinance. Enacted on 3 December, the new ARO
required Koreans to re-register every three years and carry a standardised alien pass
document, increased the criminal penalties for ARO violations, granted the Attorney
General expanded powers of deportation and abolished the appeals procedure for
deportees that Alfred Oppler had instated in 1947 (chapter 9).* Finally, in 1950, as
the tougher ARO went into effect, the Justice Ministry enacted the Nationality Law.
Despite its liberating protections for women and minors, the statute outlawed dual
citizenship and stipulated that only persons born of a Japanese father could acquire
Japanese nationality, upholding the prewar principle of patrilineal consanguinity (jus
sanguinis) and effectively barring Koreans from obtaining full citizenship rights
except through rigidly controlled and humiliating naturalisation procedures.
With their political organisation destroyed, their schools closed and tougher alien
controls in place, a majority of Koreans saw their chances of achieving social and
political equality with Japanese fade. Following the outbreak of the Korean War in
June 1950, that hope vanished altogether, and many channelled their energies into
the anti-war movement or joined the Communist underground, placing the Korean
community once more on a collision course with the Occupation. In November and
December 1950, Koreans in Kobe, Kyoto and Otsu (Shiga Prefecture) staged a series
of rallies opposing tax levies and demanding ethnic education rights, jobs and assist-
ance under the Daily Life Protection Law. Thousands of police were mobilised to
suppress the demonstrations, leading to hundreds of arrests in what GHQ called the
‘second Kobe riots’. In early 1951, with Government Section and the Special Investi-
gation Bureau at work on a deportation scheme for Korean agitators, SCAP’s G-1
Section invited a recently retired US Immigration and Naturalisation Service expert,
Nicholas B. Collaer, to Japan to draft a comprehensive US-style immigration law
complete with anti-subversive measures. Collaer coordinated his work with the
Committee on Counter-Measures against Communism in the Far East, which cited
stringent alien controls as ‘one of the most important contributions the Committee
can make in the battle against Communism in Japan.’®
In May 1951, Collaer presented the Japanese government with a draft of new
immigration legislation based on the US Immigration and Naturalisation Bill, on
which he had worked personally. Enacted in 1952 as the McCarran—Walter Act, the
US law combined and reinforced two earlier alien control statutes discussed above,
the 1940 Alien Registration (Smith) Act and the 1950 Internal Security (McCarran)
Act, giving the state broad powers of surveillance and control, detention and deport-
ation. Collaer retained Japan’s Alien Registration Ordinance, to which he added
fingerprinting, and brought immigration and deportation procedures together as a
separate law. When the government attempted to insert an ‘alien clause’ in the
 Changing Course 499

Immigration Control Bill declaring Koreans and Formosans to be foreigners subject

to deportation, however, GHQ’s Legal Section intervened, vetoing the proposal as
‘totally unacceptable’. In a lengthy and highly nuanced brief, Jules Bassin proposed
alternative measures for dealing with “Korean subversives’, including the enactment
of an anti-sedition statute based on the US Smith and McCarran Acts and intern-
ment camps, but stressed that the arbitrary denationalisation of an ethnic minority
would contravene the 1948 Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Not only
would it constitute discrimination against a minority, he warned, but ‘Red propa-
ganda’ might exploit such a measure ‘to claim, among other things, that SCAP has
established an American gestapo in Japan’.*°
The Immigration Control Law went into effect on 1 November 1951, minus the
infamous ‘alien clause’, and the new Alien Registration Law, replete with fingerprint-
ing, came into force on 28 April 1952, the day Japan regained its independence. In
October 1951, the Counter-Measures Committee concluded that, once enacted, the
new laws would ‘greatly reduce the potential of communist penetration [from
abroad] and make possible the elimination [from Japan] of subversive aliens’. The
task of training Japanese immigration officers, it said, ‘is not a matter of trying to
help the Japanese but one of trying to help ourselves by making a major contribution
to the security of Japan’. Should the Occupation shirk this responsibility, the Com-
mittee warned, ‘GHQ will have failed ... to provide Japan with the defensive
weapon of alien and subversive control, without which our own security will be
much more difficult to maintain’.*””

THE PEACE SETTLEMENT

Negotiations, phase one

With Washington’s primary goals for Japan attained, the last task facing US policy-
makers was a peace settlement to end the Occupation, restore Japanese sovereignty
and consolidate and safeguard US interests in post-treaty Japan. NSC-13/3 of May
1949 had counselled postponing a treaty in view of alleged Soviet expansionism, but
Secretary of State Dean Acheson believed the time had come to grasp ‘the nettle’
of a negotiated peace, as the Occupation had become ‘a rapidly diminishing asset’.
MacArthur agreed with that assessment, having himself proposed in March 1947 an
early treaty based on the principle of Japanese neutrality (the State Department
prepared a treaty draft in August, but George Kennan vetoed it as out of step with
Cold War realities). In April 1950, President Truman named John Foster Dulles to
serve as foreign policy adviser to Acheson, assigning him special responsibility for
opening treaty negotiations with Japan. A scion of the Eastern Establishment, Dulles
had studied at Princeton and the George Washington Law School, becoming a high-
powered corporate attorney for a Wall Street legal firm. In 1919, he attended the
Versailles Peace Conference as a minor functionary and in 1945 served as senior
adviser to the US delegation to the United Nations Conference in San Francisco.
500 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Moreover, Dulles was a staunch Republican with impeccable party connections, an

asset that would help him steer an eventual treaty through Congress.*®
As noted earlier, in May 1950, Yoshida, under growing pressure from Washington,
had agreed to concede the long-term maintenance of US bases in exchange for a
prompt peace. Foreign military installations were the price Japan would pay for its
sovereignty. This was a new demand, however, a consequence of Washington’s
1948-9 policy realignment. During his tenure in the State Department, George
Kennan had supported the retention of Okinawa as a military stronghold but
opposed post-treaty bases in Japan proper. ‘Given adequate police forces’, he
believed, ‘the [main] islands could safely be left demilitarised and neutralised by
international agreement.’ Kennan’s successor Paul Nitze, however, together with
Acheson and Dulles, was committed not only to long-term base rights but a rapid
and substantial rearmament.*”
Dulles arrived in Tokyo on 21 June 1950 for a first round of shuttle diplomacy.
When he met Yoshida on 22 June to sound him out on these issues, he was
astounded by the Prime Minister’s refusal even to consider the question of rearming
as a condition for peace. Yoshida spoke ‘with circumlocutory indirectness, with
vagueness and with an astute use of parables’ to get his views across. The Premier
believed that Japan was not ready for remilitarisation. The country could not afford
it, most people were against it and Japan’s Asian neighbours would not tolerate it.
Moreover, that a foreign power would attempt to impose such a condition was an
affront to the nation’s amour-propre.”
During Dulles’s six-day sojourn, MacArthur, as noted above, came around to
Yoshida’s position of May, accepting in principle a treaty under which ‘points in
Japanese territory continue to be garrisoned by the Allied Powers ... through the
United States’. Nonetheless, both the Supreme Commander and the Premier were
adamant in their opposition to a remilitarised Japan. Newsweek's Foreign Editor
Harry Kern had travelled to Tokyo on the same plane as Dulles, and now, on the
evening of 22 June following Dulles’s unhappy encounter with Yoshida, he
invited the diplomat to a private party at the home of his Tokyo bureau chief,
Compton Pakenham. The two men introduced Dulles to high-level officials in
the Foreign and Finance Ministries, the National Rural Police and the Imperial
household. On the day before Dulles left Tokyo, Matsudaira Yasumasa of the
Imperial household asked Pakenham to deliver a verbal message to Dulles from
the Emperor. The message, in effect, was a plea to release ‘many intelligent
Japanese’, including former high-ranking military officers, from purge restraints
(SCAP would comply a year later). In return, under the Imperial aegis, they
would form an advisory council to promote US bases in Japan and work for other
US objectives coinciding with their agenda. Kern’s habile manoeuvring had
opened an informal channel of communications between the Japan Lobby, Dulles
and the Emperor that by-passed both MacArthur and Yoshida. The impact of
Imperial intervention on later treaty deliberations is a matter of conjecture.
Nonetheless, as with Okinawa, Hirohito appears once again to have engaged in
 Changing Course 501

high-stakes dual diplomacy behind the back of his government, showing utter
disdain for his sworn constitutional duties.”
The eruption of hostilities in Korea on 25 June came asa rude shock to SCAP and the
US defence establishment. Many Washington planners saw the war as directed
ultimately against Japan and the US presence there, making the treaty a matter of
special urgency. Determined to proceed promptly, Dulles and Acheson negotiated
with the Pentagon, producing a basic agreement that President Truman approved
on 8 September 1950. A ‘brutally frank’ document, NSC-60/1 gave the United
States the right to keep armed forces in Japan ‘for so long, and to such extent as it
deems necessary’. Chinese intervention in force in Korea in November confirmed
Washington in its resolve to restore peace with Japan and reach a quick agreement on
the stationing of US forces there. On 10 January 1951, Truman appointed Dulles his
personal treaty representative, noting in his letter of instruction to the envoy that the
‘principal purpose in the proposed settlement is to secure the adherence of the
Japanese nation to the free nations of the world and to assure that it will play its full
part in resisting the further expansion of Communist imperialism’. The letter also
affirmed the US desire that ‘Japan should increasingly acquire the ability to defend
itself. Dulles arrived in Tokyo on 25 January for a second round of treaty talks,
accompanied by two senior Defense Department officials. Yoshida and Dulles met a
total of five times, deadlocking on the issue of rearmament.”

Negotiations, phase two

Washington was committed to a short, non-punitive peace instrument and a security
arrangement that would serve US strategic interests in Asia. In September 1950,
Dulles had incorporated a seven-point statement of principle into his treaty draft,
and in November he presented these to the Far Eastern Commission. They stipu-
lated that all nations at war with Japan were to be parties to the agreement. Japan
would seek entry to the United Nations, recognise the independence of Korea, agree
to an American-administered UN trusteeship for the Ryukyu and Ogasawara Islands,
and accept the Allied disposition of Formosa, southern Sakhalin and the Kurils.
Finally, Japan would provide the United States and ‘perhaps other forces’ with mili-
tary facilities, abide by international fishery, narcotics and trade treaties, and agree to
a mutual waiver of claims. This became the basic US negotiating position, and all
seven points would be included in the final settlement. The security issue, together
with the question of who would sign the treaty, however, immediately raised prob-
lems between Washington and Tokyo, on the one hand, and between Washington
and the Commonwealth countries, on the other, for Dulles had proceeded to Tokyo
in January 1951 without properly briefing the Allies.”
Yoshida demanded a US defence commitment to an unarmed Japan sanctioned by
the UN Charter. United Nations approval of such an ‘international legal obligation’
would, he believed, circumvent the Article Nine difficulty and leave the country free
to develop its trade and industry under America’s nuclear umbrella. Yoshida and
Dulles first locked horns on 29 January, Yoshida’s ‘puff ball performance’ producing
502 Policy Shift and Aftermath

an immediate stalemate. That evening, Yoshida, MacArthur and Dulles met to iron
out their differences, with the Supreme Commander acting as mediator. To break the
impasse, the General suggested, as he had nearly a year earlier, that industrial remili-
tarisation, not rearmament, was the answer. Japan should contribute industrial cap-
acity, manpower and facilities, not troops. The next day, Yoshida took the initiative,
submitting a five-point position paper that rejected rearmament until after the con-
clusion of peace and the achievement of economic independence, at which time the
collective will of the Japanese people would be the deciding factor. He asked for
an international collective security agreement centred on the United States and for
American economic assistance and promised not to press the Okinawa—Ogasawara
issue despite popular pressure for the return of these islands.”
Dulles back-pedalled from his demand for immediate rearmament. In return, on
2 February, Yoshida modified his stance on a standing army by pledging Japan’s
commitment to a modest military build-up. Specifically, he proposed the creation of
land and sea security forces, 50,000-strong, to operate independently of the National
Police Reserve, and the establishment of a National Security Ministry. Yoshida and
his negotiators in the Foreign Ministry's Treaty Bureau, however, strenuously resisted
Dulles’s demand for land forces of between 300,000 and 350,000. Japan alone
would determine the scope and pace of rearmament. Nonetheless, Yoshida’s conces-
sion broke the log jam, and on this basis, both sides reached consensus on the broad
outlines of a multilateral peace treaty to be accompanied by a separate bilateral
security arrangement. On 9 February, Yoshida and Dulles initialled five documents
setting out areas of basic agreement. From these would emerge three instruments: a
multilateral peace treaty, a bilateral security accord and a bilateral administrative
(status of forces) agreement.”
Dulles next set off for Manila, Canberra and Wellington to generate support for
the treaty and explore a multi-national collective defence scheme in the Pacific. In
Manila, President Elpidio Quirino, still smarting over Washington’s unilateral rescis-
sion of advance reparations payments in May 1949, criticised the treaty proposal for
not including a reparations provision. The Philippines eventually agreed to a bilateral
defence treaty with the United States in return for a reparations clause in the peace
treaty with Japan. Australia and New Zealand, which Dulles visited in mid-March,
were alarmed by his plan for an ‘island chain’ pact to include Australia, Japan, the
Philippines, New Zealand and the United States. The sticking point was nervousness
over Japanese rearmament. Dulles attempted to overcome that objection by arguing
the need to combat Communist aggression in the region and retain Japan as a Free-
World ally. Japan and the Philippines, he argued, would serve as a screen between the
Sino-Soviet bloc and the southwestern Pacific. Canberra and Wellington, however,
feared renewed Japanese aggression more than they did the Communist menace and
found the Dulles proposal unpalatable. London, too, frowned on a Pacific pact that
excluded Hong Kong and Malaya and in which Britain would have no part. Dulles
replied with a draft for a trilateral defence arrangement between Australia, New
Zealand and the United States. The so-called ANZUS Pact was signed by the three
 Changing Course 503

governments in early September 1951, excluding Britain and confirming American

ascendancy in the Pacific.”®
In the meantime, the British were at work on their own treaty draft for Japan. In
April, British and American specialists met in Washington to consider the two
documents. The British version was broader and more precise but lacked the liberal,
non-punitive character of the American version. On 3 May 1951, the joint working
group came up with a combined draft that subsequently was shown to the Japanese,
who asked for minor modifications. In August, Dulles insisted that Tokyo insert a
reparations article requiring Japan to pay war damages in the form of goods and
services, including technical assistance. The final treaty then was prepared for signing
in September.
American and British views differed, however, on the question of which China
should attend the San Francisco peace parlay. London, which had recognised the
People’s Republic in early 1950, insisted that Beijing sign for China. This also was
the Japanese position, Yoshida being determined to restore trade and diplomatic
relations with that country. Washington recognised only the Chiang Kai-shek
(Jiang Jieshi) régime in Taipei and was resolutely opposed to the British plan. Since
1950, US policy planners had been haunted by the prospect of Japan’s seeking
independent trade ties with China and moving out of the American economic
orbit. To forestall that event, Washington and SCAP were labouring mightily to
draw Japan into an integrated regional trade scheme in Southeast Asia, with Dulles
suggesting that Tokyo pay war reparations there in the form of commodities to
pry open the region’s markets. In mid-June, Dulles and British Foreign Secretary
Herbert Morrison meeting in London were unable to reach agreement. They side-
stepped the issue by deciding that neither of the Chinas should be invited to San
Francisco. Tokyo would be allowed to choose with which government it wished to
make peace so long as such a treaty were signed after but within three years of the
main settlement’s entry into force. The same principle held for other non-
signatories. Dulles and Morrison also agreed that Japan would renounce its sover-
eignty over Formosa, southern Sakhalin and the Kurils but that the treaty would
make no final disposition of these territories (below).””

The treaty and the security agreement

In the summer of 1951, Washington attempted to give the bilateral security pact an
aura of mutuality, but no mutuality was involved. The base agreement was one-sided
and riddled with inequalities. The US Joint Chiefs inserted what became known as
the ‘Far East clause’, a purposely vague provision that allowed Washington to use
American forces in Japan to insure ‘international peace and security in the Far East’.
In other words, the United States could use its installations in Japan to support
military operations in other parts of Asia without consulting Tokyo beforehand. US
troops would be stationed on Japanese soil for an indefinite period as an automatic
right not contingent on Japanese assent. Thus, the treaty could not be terminated by
Japan alone but required the consent of the United States. Moreover, Japan was
504 Policy Shift and Aftermath

prohibited from granting base or military privileges to a third country without

Washington’s permission. The Pentagon made no explicit commitment to defend
Japan in the event of external aggression but acquired the right to put down, at
Tokyo’s request, ‘large-scale internal riots and disturbances . . . caused through insti-
gation or intervention by an outside power or powers’ (this latter was scrapped when
the accord was renewed in 1960).”°
For five days in early September, 51 nations formerly at war with Japan met in the
San Francisco Opera House to make peace with the defeated nation. The Soviet
Union attended but boycotted the proceedings when its grievances were ignored.
Dulles had promised to support Moscow’s claims to southern Sakhalin and the Kurils
if it joined the Peace Conference. The Soviets complained that in its final form, the
treaty stated only that Japan relinquished its claims over the islands. They also raised
objections to the stationing of foreign troops in post-treaty Japan and insisted that the
Ryukyus and Ogasawaras be restored to their pre-defeat status. Finally, Deputy For-
eign Minister Andrei Gromyko demanded a clause prohibiting Japan from joining an
alliance directed against any Allied Power and called for the demilitarisation of the
straits around Japan. The treaty was not open to debate, however, and the Conference
President Dean Acheson ruled him out of order. Consequently, the Soviet Union
and its allies, Poland and Czechoslovakia, refused to sign the document. Burma,
India and Yugoslavia had been invited but refused to attend, neutralist India in large
part because of disagreement over the fate of Okinawa and the base and rearmament
issues. Beijing and Taipei had been excluded, as had the two Koreas.
In the end, 49 nations, including Japan, initialled the instrument of peace on 8
September. The multi-national pact restored Japanese independence. It was non-
punitive and contained no war-guilt clause, although Japan agreed to pay reparations
and give up nearly half of its former territory. Nor was the government required to
retain the Occupation reforms. The country also pledged to work for peace within
the framework of the UN Charter. In June 1952, India signed a separate peace,
effective from August, and in 1956, Tokyo initialled an interim peace agreement
with Moscow ending their state of war and paving the way for Japan’s entry into the
United Nations on 18 December (Tokyo time) of that year.
In the late afternoon of 8 September, four hours after signing the Peace Treaty,
Yoshida for Japan and Acheson, Dulles and two US senators for the United States
affixed their signatures to the Japan—US Security Treaty in a private ceremony at the
San Francisco Presidio. A few days earlier, the United States had inked defence pacts
with the Philippines and the ANZUS countries. The return of Japanese sovereignty
was partial and conditional, a kind of ‘subordinate independence’ that made Japan,
in effect, a permanent client state of the United States. In 1960, when the security
treaty came up for renewal, Secretary of State Christian Herter was forced to admit
that it contained ‘provisions . . . pretty extreme from the point of view of an agree-
ment between two sovereign nations’.”
Two major hurdles remained to be cleared, ratification and the Administrative
Agreement governing US forces in Japan. The Japanese Diet approved the peace and
 Changing Course 505

Photo 69. Prime Minister Yoshida Shigeru shakes hands with John Foster Dulles after signing
the Security Treaty. To Yoshida’s left rear is Finance Minister Ikeda Hayato. In the centre is
Senator H. Styles Bridges of the Senate Armed Services Committee. To Dulles’ left (far right)
stands Dean Acheson. 8 September 1951 (US National Archives).

security treaties in late October 1951, but the US Congress was reluctant to ratify
them in the absence of a pledge by Tokyo not to recognise the People’s Republic of
China. London, on the other hand, had instructed its diplomats in Tokyo to oppose
any attempt by Yoshida to acknowledge the Nationalist government in Taiwan. To
break this impasse, Dulles reneged on his earlier pledge to the British and, on 18
December, handed Yoshida a letter he had ghost-written and told the Prime Minister
to send it to Washington. The so-called Yoshida Letter stated simply that Japan had
‘no intention to conclude a bilateral treaty with the Communist régime of China’.
This assurance was sufficient to insure ratification of the treaties in both houses of
Congress in late March 1952.
The final obstacle was the bilateral Administrative Agreement provided for in
Article 3 of the Security Treaty. In January 1952, President Truman appointed Assis-
tant Secretary for Far Eastern Affairs Dean Rusk to negotiate this accord with the
Japanese. In the ensuing talks, Rusk prevailed over Foreign Minister Okazaki Katsuo,
506 Policy Shift and Aftermath

producing a one-sided agreement whose exemptions and privileges granted US

troops what amounted to limited extra-territoriality. Article 15 allowed the US mili-
tary to arrest Japanese nationals outside of base areas, but more importantly, it gave
American authorities exclusive jurisdiction over US service personnel and depend-
ants for crimes committed anywhere in Japan. Article 22 of the Rusk draft estab-
lished a “combined command’ under a US supreme commander ‘in the event of
hostilities or immediately threatened hostilities in the Japan area’. The combined
command was dropped due to fierce Japanese opposition, and the jurisdiction provi-
sions were modified to allow Japanese courts to assert authority in special cases (with
US approval), but the final document was no less humiliating, reminding many of
the unequal treaties Japan had been forced to sign with the Western powers in the
late nineteenth century (it was brought into line with the NATO Status of Forces
Agreement in September 1953, but many glaring inequalities remained). The accord
subsequently was revised in 1960 as the Status of Forces Agreement.’
Washington and Tokyo signed the Administrative Agreement on 28 February
1952, and the San Francisco Peace Treaty and the Japan—US Security Treaty went
into effect two months later on 28 April 1952, one day before Emperor Hirohito’s
51st birthday. On the same date, Japan and the Republic of China (Taiwan) initialled
a bilateral treaty restoring diplomatic and trade relations. Dulles’s dream of bringing
Japan into the Free-World fold had been realised, but at a very high cost to Japan, for
two of its closest neighbours and potential trade partners, the People’s Republic of
China and the Soviet Union, now were political, economic and ideological foes.

An alternative future: the peace movement

Organised opposition to war and nuclear arms began in Japan soon after the defeat.
Hibakusha joined local peace groups, and Hiroshima resident Kurihara Sadako, an
anti-war poet from the pre-1945 era, launched a local literary review devoted to
the atomic bombings.’” Morito Tatsuo, later Education Minister, and other liberal
and left-wing intellectuals founded the Hiroshima Peace Culture Association, and
housewives and women labour leaders established the Hiroshima Democratic Wom-
en’s Council. These grass-roots initiatives soon forged links with the international
peace movement. In April 1949, intellectuals from East and West, meeting in Paris
and Prague, held the First World Assembly to Protect the Peace, calling for an
absolute ban on atomic weapons, and in May 1950, the Assembly issued the Stock-
holm Appeal denouncing the use of nuclear arms as a crime against humanity and
launched an international signature campaign. SCAP prevented Japanese delegates
from travelling abroad to attend the World Assembly, but in October of that year,
ten local organisations created the Hiroshima Assembly to Protect the Peace, which
was joined by hundreds of residents, including /ibakusha and Koreans.
Following the start of the Korean War in June 1950, Occupation authorities
attempted to suppress the peace movement as Communist-inspired, but unauthor-
ised peace rallies by people of diverse political persuasions were held in Hiroshima
and Nagasaki on 6 and 9 August of that year. On 30 November, following Chinese
 Changing Course 507

intervention in Korea, President Truman told a press conference that the United
States was considering the option of atomic weapons. This stunning announcement
galvanised the peace movement, intensifying anti-war activities across the nation.
‘Illegal’ remembrance events were staged again in early August 1951 in the two
bombed cities, and in October, peace activists organised the Hiroshima Colloquium
on Peace Problems, in which the mayor of Hiroshima participated.’
These diverse activities formed a core of anti-war dissent around which opposi-
tion to the San Francisco treaties would converge. This broad-based coalition of
political parties, labour unions, academics, student groups, citizens’ associations and
religions organisations, united through bitter wartime experience, was committed to
preserving Article Nine. It argued for a peace negotiated from a position of equality
and mutual respect that all nations could sign. The coalition put forward four
‘principles of peace’: a comprehensive peace treaty signed by both Communist and
non-Communist nations, opposition to rearmament, opposition to foreign military
installations on Japanese soil and a foreign policy based on permanent, unarmed and
‘inviolable’ neutrality.
In the vanguard of the peace movement was the Colloquium on Peace Problems
(Heiwa Mondai Danwa-kai), which was established in January 1950 by prominent
thinkers, including philosopher Abe Yoshishige, political theorist Maruyama Masao
and economist Tsuru Shigeto In its influential peace manifesto, the group defined
the concept of inviolable neutrality as entailing support for the Universal Declaration
of Human Rights, adherence to ‘the spirit of peace in our Constitution’ and the right
to have ‘broad, close and free trading relations with Asiatic countries, in particular
with China, in order to achieve economic self-sufficiency’ as quickly as possible. The
manifesto declared that ‘such things as the military agreement with a specific country
or the leasing of bases for military purposes to a specific country . . . are, regardless
[of the] pretext . . . against the Preamble and the Article Nine of our Constitution,
and are likely to contribute towards the ruination of both Japan and the world’.'”
The Colloquium noted that the advent of modern warfare had made belligerency a
self-destructive enterprise. It asserted that nuclear deterrence was a dangerous
illusion, the Cold War a passing phenomenon and China too powerful to be sub-
ordinated to any political bloc. Finally, it concluded that Japan should not take sides
in the East-West confrontation.
Opinion leaders such as Nanbaru Shigeru, President of Tokyo University; Marxist
economist Ouchi Hyde; and Shimizu Ikutaré, a leading literary and social figure,
argued strenuously on behalf of these principles. From today’s post-Cold War vant-
age point, these positions have a truly prophetic ring to them. Yoshida, however,
attacked his opponents as ‘literary sycophants’ and denounced unarmed neutralism
as ‘the babbling of a sleepwalker’. A 38th parallel, he declared later, ran through the
heart of the Japanese people. Ironically, Hatoyama Ichiré and Ishibashi Tanzan,
soon to lead governments of their own, advocated a militarily strong Japan, and they,
too, accused Yoshida of subordinating Japan’s independence to the whims of the
American superpower.'™
508 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Photo 70. The Occupation ends with a whimper, then a bang. A street scene in Tokyo’s Ueno
district as Japan regains its independence, 28 April 1952. The sign between the US and
Japanese flags announces the entry into force of the Peace Treaty, but passers-by, absorbed in
their own affairs, greet the event with apparent indifference. A few days later, violent confron-
tations erupted between left-wing demonstrators and police (Kyodo).
 Changing Course 509

Photo 71. Bloody May Day, 1 May 1952. Some 6,000 demonstrators protest against the
exclusion of the People’s Republic of China and the Soviet Union from the Peace Treaty and
the signing of a bilateral Japan—US defence pact. Police broke up the rally in front of the
Imperial Palace with tear gas, batons and sidearms. Two workers were shot to death. More
than 2,300 were injured, and some 1,000 were arrested. The violence was symptomatic of the
divisive legacy of the late Occupation era (Mainichi).

Against this background, in the autumn of 1951, opposition parties challenged

the peace and security treaties in the Diet. The right wing of the Socialist Party
favoured ratification without Soviet participation but opposed linking the peace
accord to the security agreement. The Party’s left-wing objected to the exclusion of
the Soviet Union and to the security treaty itself. The Communist Party strongly
opposed both instruments on the grounds that they did not include all of the powers
concerned and allowed the indefinite garrisoning of foreign military forces in Japan.
The conservatives, however, wielded sufficient votes to ratify both treaties formally in
October, handing the Yoshida government a major victory.
The defeat of the peace faction, which probably represented the views of a major-
ity of Japanese, was inevitable. Forced to operate with the framework imposed by the
American occupier, activists were limited in what they could accomplish. Pacifist
sentiment in Japan ran strong but was powerless to stop the war in Korea, alter the
course of secret Japan—US security negotiations or prevent the deflection of Japanese
trade away from China towards Southeast Asia. Nonetheless, the anti-war move-
ment, with its emphasis on non-violence, non-alignment and the abolition of
nuclear weapons, has served as an important barometer of the vitality of Japan’s
postwar democracy (chapter 11).
510 Policy Shift and Aftermath

A divided peace (1): a post-colonial settlement deferred

The San Francisco Peace Treaty ushered in a divided peace. Externally, this truth was
reflected in the exclusion of the major Communist countries of Asia from the settle-
ment. Domestically, it was evidenced by the gap — Yoshida’s “38th parallel’ — that
yawned between the treaty’s conservative supporters and its liberal opponents.
Another, deeper divide also ran through post-Occupation Japan. This was the
absence of a post-colonial settlement for Japan’s Korean minority and the continued
occupation of Okinawa and the Northern Territories by American and Soviet troops.
In April 1951, following MacArthur’s recall, Yoshida and Dulles met to discuss the
question of whom to include in the peace process. President Syngman Rhee of
the Republic of Korea was insistent that his country be represented at the treaty
conference, and Dulles agreed, viewing Seoul’s participation as a first step towards
normalising relations between Japan and South Korea. To Dulles’ surprise, Yoshida
countered forcefully that Korea was not one of the Allied Powers and should not be
included under any conditions. If South Korea became a signatory, the Prime
Minister said, Koreans in Japan, most of whom were Communists, would acquire
all the compensation and property rights accruing to Allied nationals. He noted that
his government would like to deport most of these residents, but that MacArthur had
opposed forcible mass repatriation to the south on the grounds that North Koreans
‘would have their heads cut off’. Yoshida punctuated his remarks with the unsub-
stantiated assertion that it was a Korean who had assassinated Shimoyama Sadanori,
President of the Japan National Railways, in the summer of 1949.'° Swayed in part
by Yoshida’s invective, Dulles eventually agreed to drop the Republic of Korea from
the list of treaty delegates.
Dulles, it should be noted, was no champion of oppressed former colonials. In his
first memorandum concerning Japan, dated 6 June 1950, he had written that it
might ‘be difficult to preserve human rights, fundamental freedoms, and individual-
ism in Japan’. To break down what he termed ‘the racial barrier’ that threatened to
hinder Japan’s full participation in the Western alliance, he suggested that ‘it might
be possible to capitalize on the Japanese feeling of racial and social superiority to the
Chinese, Koreans, and Russians, and to convince them that as part of the free world,
they would be in equal fellowship with a group which is superior to the members of
the Communist world’.'°° In short, the United States might profitably enlist Japanese
ethnic prejudices in the cause of anti-Communism.
Two other factors mitigated against Korean participation. President Rhee’s
advisors did not submit a formal statement of Korean goals to Washington until June
1951, by which time the shape of the peace conference largely had been determined.
More importantly, in March, London had raised objections to the inclusion of the
Republic of Korea as a signatory on the grounds that it was not a member of the
Far Eastern Commission. The primary motive for London’s reticence was British
ire over American opposition to Chinese participation. The Nationalist govern-
ment represented China on the Far Eastern Commission, not the People’s Republic.
If Beijing, a non-FEC member, could not attend the San Francisco Conference,
 Changing Course 511

London reasoned, then neither should Seoul. Moreover, South Korean representa-
tion was certain to anger Moscow, increasing the likelihood of Soviet obstructionism.
The combination of Japanese and British opposition proved determinant. In mid-
June, Washington agreed to postpone the question of Korean participation, and
Seoul was eliminated as a cosignatory from the American draft.'””
With the Republic of Korea no longer a party to the peace, the San Francisco
settlement avoided the contentious issue of Koreans in Japan. In early November
1951, Foreign Ministry official Nishimura Kumao told the Diet that the government
purposely had not included a clause in the treaty offering ex-colonials a choice of
citizenship. As independence drew near, Tokyo quietly engineered its own solution
to this problem. On 28 April 1952, the day the San Francisco Peace Treaty entered
into force, the Justice Ministry unilaterally stripped Koreans and Chinese of their
Japanese nationality. The authorisation for this act of radical denationalisation was
an internal ministerial directive, Circular No. 438 of 19 April, that stated simply,
“With the coming into effect of the Peace Treaty, Koreans and Formosans shall lose
their Japanese nationality.’ Many Japanese women married to former colonials also
were denationalised, since by law they were listed in their husband’s family register
(koseki) in Korea or Formosa.‘
As aliens, Koreans and Chinese became subject immediately to the Immigration
Control Law (November 1951) and to the more powerful Alien Registration Law,
which entered into force together with the Treaty on 28 April. Simultaneously, the
government enacted Law no. 126, which ‘permitted’ Koreans living continuously in
Japan from 2 September 1945 through 28 April 1952 to remain in the country ‘for
the time being’ pending an ultimate resolution of their legal status. Finally, Koreans,
together with Communists, were targeted by the Subversive Activities Prevention
Law of21 July 1952.
The tragedy of this disposition is that an American-style alien control system
complete with anti-sedition provisions and based on the jus soli concept of national-
ity by birthplace was imposed on a society where jus sanguinis (patrilineal con-
sanguinity) was the rule. This meant that not only first-generation Koreans but also
their children and grandchildren would be subject ad infinitum to these potent
and onerous controls, barring the difficult and demeaning option of naturalisation
(chapter 11). To discuss legal status and related problems, on 15 February 1952,
SCAP’s Diplomatic Section brokered the first formal bilateral negotiations between
Tokyo and Seoul, but the talks ended in acrimony, and an agreement on the status of
South Korean residents would not be reached until the Japan—ROK Normalisation
‘Treaty of 1965. Since Japan does not entertain diplomatic relations with the
Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, North Koreans, in effect, remained stateless
persons. Their legal status would not be regularised until 1982, when Japan ratified
the UN Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees (chapter 11).
Finally, central and local governments immediately inserted exclusionary ‘national-
ity clauses’ in a wide range of laws and ordinances in order to deny Koreans and Chinese
basic social protection and other rights. As foreigners, Koreans and Chinese veterans
S12 Policy Shift and Aftermath

were excluded from the purview of the Law for War Invalids and Families of the War
Dead, enacted on 30 April 1952, and from the Public Officials Pension Law of 1 August
1953. They also were disqualified from assistance under the revised Daily Life Protec-
tion Law of 1950, with the Welfare Ministry’s announcement that the term ‘all people’
in the statute really meant only Japanese citizens. Likewise, former colonials were
denied such benefits as child welfare, old age assistance, aid to handicapped children
and access to public housing. (At the discretion of local governments, those in distress
might file for special consideration, the Ministry explained.) Nationality provisions
barred non-Japanese from most public-sector and many private-sector occupations, as
well.’ In education, Korean children, formerly ordered to attend Japanese schools,
now were told that, as aliens, they were no longer entitled to free public instruction.
In October 1952, Wajima Eiji, the Foreign Ministry official responsible for Japan—
ROK negotiations, told US Ambassador Robert Murphy that he was ‘having difficul-
ties restraining other Ministries from measures aimed at Koreans’. The Welfare
Ministry, Wajima said, was preparing to cut Koreans from the dole. The Education
Ministry was taking steps to close down the remaining privately operated Korean
schools. The Justice Ministry was considering sanctions against politically active
Koreans under the Subversive Activities Prevention Law, and the new Immigration
Control Agency was building stockades for Korean deportees.''®

A divided peace (2): Okinawa and the Northern Territories

The Ryukyu Islands loomed large in Washington’s treaty calculations. The Pentagon
was determined to keep the archipelago as an American protectorate and expand its
military position there, and Dulles was insistant with Yoshida about retaining the
territory in order to bring the US military establishment into the peace process.
Consequently, Article 3 of the Peace Treaty gave the United States ‘the right to
exercise all and any powers of administration, legislation and jurisdiction over the
territory and all inhabitants’ until such time as the US government proposed a UN
trusteeship for the islands. In fact, Washington never intended to take such a step,
assuring itself of complete control. At the same time, perhaps not by chance, the
treaty seemed to mirror Emperor Hirohito’s Okinawa gambit of September 1947 by
granting Japan ‘residual sovereignty’ over the islands, an expedient that did nothing
to alter the harsh reality of American rule.
The advent of the Cold War had brought major changes to Okinawa. In October
1948, NSC-13/2 recommended that the United States retain the archipelago on
a long-term basis as a strategic asset, echoing MacArthur’s plea to the Defense
Secretary of a year earlier (chapter 9). At a press conference on 1 March 1949,
MacArthur reiterated the importance of Okinawa to the United States. The ‘Pacific’,
he told reporters, ‘was looked upon as the avenue of possible enemy approach. Now
the Pacific has become an Anglo-Saxon lake and our line of defense runs through the
chain of islands fringing the coast of Asia. It starts from the Philippines and
continues through the Ryukyu Archipelago, which includes its broad main bastion,
Okinawa.’ (In January 1950, Secretary of State Dean Acheson would elaborate on
 Changing Course 513

this definition but reverse the polarity: “This defensive perimeter runs along the
Aleutians to Japan and then goes to the Ryukyus. .. . The defensive perimeter runs
from the Ryukyus to the Philippines,’ he said.)'"’
Shortly afterwards, in early May 1949, NSC-13/3 called for the establishment of
‘economic and political security’ in the archipelago to make Okinawa politically safe
for the projected long-term American custodianship there. The State Department
feared that years of US neglect compounded by strong anti-American feeling would
render the islands ungovernable. Military rule indeed had generated intense resent-
ment among Ryukyuans. In September 1948, the Far East Command had set up a
G-5 Military Government Section in an attempt to minimise friction between US
troops and the civilian population, but American authorities continued to deny base
workers the right to organise and strike and to appropriate vast tracts of private
property for base facilities. In May 1949, the State Department sent anthropologist
Douglas L. Oliver to survey local conditions and recommend necessary changes.
Oliver delivered a scathing indictment of substandard social and economic condi-
tions, prompting the Pentagon to begin pumping money into the economy — primar-
ily in the form of military housing and other base-related projects cleverly financed
out of Government and Relief in Occupied Areas (GARIOA) funds. In October,
following the Communist victory in China, the Pentagon embarked on a $58
million programme of strengthening Okinawa’s military reservations, lengthening
runways to accommodate long-range bombers and expanding air-base installations
in anticipation of a Communist attack on Formosa.'””
The outbreak of war in Korea intensified the militarisation of the Ryukyus. US
strategic interests dictated a need for aggressive land acquisition, and this brought the
Army into direct conflict with Okinawan landholders. The Americans claimed that
the Laws of Land Warfare precluded the need to compensate owners for land use. By
1950, the situation had become intolerable for Okinawans, producing a highly
charged atmosphere of confrontation, and in October, the Joint Chiefs relented and
ruled that rents must be paid for private land. In December, however, MacArthur
ordered the Ryukyus Command to acquire title to all US-occupied land, whether by
purchase or through condemnation, and land appropriation continued unabated.''’
On 5 December 1950, acting on State Department recommendations, MacArthur
issued a directive transforming the Military Government of the Ryukyus into the US
Civil Administration of the Ryukyus (USCAR), which adopted a formula of quasi-
direct rule. In reality, however, little had changed. Like its predecessor, USCAR was
controlled from Washington and staffed entirely by Americans. The Military Gov-
ernor of the Ryukyu Islands, for instance, became Governor of the Ryukyu Islands,
but that position continued to be held by the Far East Commander in Tokyo
(MacArthur). The Deputy Governor was the Commanding General of the Ryukyus
Command, and the newly created Civil Administrator was a US Army general. Under
USCAR was a Provisional Central Government of the Ryukyu Islands, created on
1 April 1951, which became the Government of the Ryukyu Islands (GRI) a year
later, but the GRI’s chief executive was appointed by the Americans.'"
514 Policy Shift and Aftermath

As the Korean War progressed, USCAR accelerated land acquisition. To convince

farmers and other owners to part with their property, in 1952 the Civil Adminis-
trator introduced 20-year leases amounting to 6 per cent annually of the appraised
land value, but a majority of Okinawans refused to sign the contracts. When
landlords rejected negotiations altogether, USCAR mobilised troops and sometimes
tanks to evict them from their holdings. Those who resisted were arrested. Farmers
watched helplessly as their homes and villages were razed by bulldozers to make way
for the new facilities. Some 57,000 landowners lost their property through expropri-
ation or were forced to sign non-negotiable ‘leases’ imposed unilaterally by the
military. Such policies inflamed anti-American sentiment, and most islanders came
to prefer Japanese to American control. In 1951, as the return of sovereignty
approached, Amami—Oshima islanders staged hunger strikes, and on Okinawa,
199,000 people, or 72 per cent of the electorate, and 88 per cent of the voters on
Miyako Island petitioned US and Japanese authorities to be reunited with the main
islands. The appeals were sent to Japanese and American delegates attending the San
Francisco Peace Conference, but the archipelago would not be returned until 1972.'”
The disposition of the Ryukyus and the Ogasawaras was intimately linked to
Japan’s relinquishment of its claims to southern Sakhalin and the Kurils, areas under
Soviet occupation. The Peace Treaty awarded Washington control of Japan’s south-
ernmost territories but very pointedly skirted the issue of the northern islands. To
American policy planners, the northern territories were a useful bargaining chip. In
1947, the United States had turned a blind eye to the Soviet annexation in return for
Kremlin support in the United Nations of a US-administered trust territory in Japan’s
former Micronesian colonies. When treaty discussions got underway in 1950, John
Foster Dulles took a very different tack in order, as one historian has put it, ‘to channel
Japan’s irredentism from the south into the north against the Soviet Union’.'"®
Yoshida’s negotiating position was that the four southern Kurils, today’s so-called
Northern Territories, were an integral part of the Japanese homeland and should be
fully recovered. Dulles ostensibly acknowledged this claim, but in October 1950, in
negotiations with Soviet UN delegate Jacob Malik, he proposed to cede southern
Sakhalin and the Kurils to Moscow in return for Soviet participation in the peace
settlement. In the Yoshida—Dulles agreement of early February 1951, however,
Dulles modified that position and, in the preliminary accord, called only for the
return of southern Sakhalin. The Kurils were not to be handed over to Moscow until
their geographical boundaries had been clarified, by international law if necessary.
Moreover, the Kremlin would take possession of the territories only if it signed the
treaty.
In June 1951, while in London, Dulles made further changes, which were
incorporated into the San Francisco agreement. With British consent, he decided
that Japan would simply renounce all right, title and claim to the Kurils and southern
Sakhalin (Article 2). These territories would not be defined, nor would the treaty
specify to which country they should be transferred. Moreover, a nation that did not
sign the accord was not entitled to seek clarification of this issue from the Inter-
 Changing Course 515

national Court of Justice (Article 22). Thus, unless Moscow initialled the peace
settlement, the matter could not even be adjudicated. Japan would lose the possibil-
ity of defining and reclaiming the four southern Kurils, and the Soviet Union would
be denied formal treaty rights over the territories it had seized at the end of the war.
The payoff for Washington would be perpetual mutual animosity between Tokyo
and Moscow over the Northern Territories. On 5 September in San Francisco, Dulles
put the finishing touches on this masterpiece of duplicity by stating that neither
Japan nor the other allies were bound by the Yalta accord. He also noted that the
United States did not consider the southernmost Habomai Group to be a part of the
Kurils but that the question of boundaries should be resolved by the International
Court. Predictably, the Soviet Union refused to sign the San Francisco Peace Treaty,
in large part because of Article 2, making demarcation a moot point and deferring
closure of the issue to a future but problematic bilateral accord.''”
 CHAPTER 11

The Legacy of Occupation

On 8 September 2001, Japanese and American leaders gathered in the Opera House
in San Francisco to commemorate the signing of the Peace Treaty fifty years ago.
Looking back on that event, Japanese can take pride in the peaceful, prosperous and
democratic society they have constructed since then from the ashes of the Old Order.
But pride in this accomplishment must be tempered by an awareness of the magni-
tude of the problems — some of them a direct threat to the viability of Japanese
democracy itself — that still confront us. Many of these contemporary issues have
their roots in the Occupation era, in the reorientation of US priorities after 1948 and
in the subtle but stubborn and corrosive resistance with which Japan’s conservative
élite has opposed full implementation of the Allied reform programme.’

TERRITORIAL ISSUES

Following its surrender in August 1945, Japan lost all rights and titles to its former
colonial possessions in Asia and the Pacific. The Greater Japanese Empire was
reduced to the four main islands of Japan proper, and the Imperial government
became, simply, the government of Japan. SCAP arbitrarily deprived Japan of the
Ryukyu, Amami and Ogasawara archipelagos — traditional parts of the Japanese
homeland — and placed them under exclusive US administration. The Amami Islands
were returned to Japan on 25 December 1953, followed by the Ogasawaras on
26 June 1968 and, finally, some twenty seven years later by the Ryukyus on
15 May 1972, restoring Japan’s basic territorial integrity.
In the north, however, Russia continues to occupy unlawfully other historical
Japanese possessions ~ the Northern Territories — as a consequence of the secret Yalta
protocol. With the restoration of Japanese sovereignty in April 1952, the fate of
Etorofu, Kunashiri, Shikotan and the Habomai Group followed the twists and turns
of Cold War realpolitik. Prime Minister Hatoyama Ichiré revived the question in
1955 and 1956 during normalisation talks with the Soviet Union. At that time,
Moscow indicated it would acknowledge Japan’s claims to the Habomais and Shiko-
tan once bilateral ties were restored, but talks broke down when the Japanese side
unilaterally demanded not only repossession of Kunashiri and Etorofu as well, but
an international conference to discuss the disposition of southern Sakhalin and
the northern Kurils. US prodding prompted Japan’s surprising audacity. Fearing a
thaw in Soviet—Japan relations, Secretary of State John Foster Dulles pressed Tokyo
to assert its sovereignty claims over the other islands in hopes of alienating Moscow
 The Legacy of Occupation 517

and thwarting a bilateral peace initiative. On 19 August 1956, Dulles, nervous that
Tokyo might trade territory for a treaty, bluntly informed Foreign Minister Shige-
mitsu Mamoru that, ‘if Japan recognises Kunashiri and Etorofu as Soviet territory,
the US will ask her to confirm Okinawa to be American territory’.
On 19 October 1956, Japan and the Soviet Union signed a joint interim declar-
ation ending hostilities and restoring diplomatic ties but deferred the territorial issue
until the conclusion of a final peace settlement. Moscow pledged to return Shikotan
and the Habomais at that time and even evacuated thousands of islanders from both
territories in anticipation of their return to Japan, but a treaty never materialised.* In
January 1960, Premier Nikita Khrushchev offered to give back the two islands in
exchange for a Japanese promise to secure the withdrawal of US troops, but in June
of that year, Washington and Tokyo revised their bilateral security accord, now the
Japan—US Mutual Security Treaty, and Khrushchev’s offer became a moot issue. The
absence of a formal peace has hindered Japanese attempts to recover the southern
Kurils. Russian control of the Habomai Group is particularly difficult to justify.
Administered directly by Hokkaido before September 1945, these islets belong to
Japan both historically and by virtue of international treaty.
In 1991, the Russian Foreign Ministry reversed its policy on the four contested
islands, acknowledging Japan’s traditional ownership. In 1993, the two countries
signed a joint declaration pledging to resolve outstanding bilateral differences,
including the Northern Territories issue, and in November 1997, Tokyo and Mos-
cow affirmed the year 2000 as a target date for signing a peace treaty. In April 1998,
Prime Minister Hashimoto Ryitaré met Russian President Boris Yeltsin in Japan and
proposed to draw the international boundary line north of the four southernmost
islands — the historical demarcation point — but Moscow refused to link a treaty to
the Northern Territories issue. Bilateral talks in Tokyo in September 2000 between
Prime Minister Mori Yoshiré and Russian President Vladimir Putin ended in an
impasse, and a quick resolution of the problem appears unlikely. In negotiating the
future of these islands, Japan should insist on its traditional ownership rights, which
Tsar Nicholas I formally recognised in 1853, and eschew any easy formula for joint
management. At the same time, when an accord finally is reached, Japan must be
prepared to safeguard the ethnic rights of Ainu, Nivhks (Gilyak), Oroks (Uilta) and
other national groups living there.
A related issue is the fate of Koreans stranded on Sakhalin after Japan’s defeat,
survivors of the 40,000 to 60,000 workers the Imperial government sent to the
island for forced labour in the early 1940s and then abandoned after the war. Postwar
Japanese Cabinets have refused to acknowledge the problem of the Sakhalin Koreans.
Diplomatic documents released by the Foreign Ministry in December 2000, for
instance, show that, in 1957, the Ministry rejected a request by Seoul to help return
this population, asserting there was no evidence they had suffered undue hardship. In
the early 1990s, Russia allowed Koreans to visit their homeland, and after tedious
negotiations with Seoul, Tokyo finally pledged financial assistance to help build
apartments and a retirement home in South Korea to help resettle returnees. Such
518 Policy Shift and Aftermath

efforts are perfunctory and parsimonious in view of Japan’s moral responsibility.

Today, thousands of Koreans remain on Sakhalin. Japan must work with Korean and
Russian authorities to facilitate repatriation and compensate these and other former
slave labourers for their tribulations.
Another source of friction between Tokyo and Seoul is the unresolved territorial
dispute over ownership of Takeshima (Tokto in Korean), two islets equidistant from
Japan and the Republic of Korea. The Occupation failed to clarify the postwar status
of Takeshima, a part of Shimane Prefecture since 1905. On 18 January 1952,
President Syngman Rhee proclaimed the imposition of the so-called Rhee Line,
which extended South Korea’s territorial waters nearly 100 kilometres from its
coastline (50 kilometres then was the international norm). When the Occupation
ended in 1952, Seoul declared the islets a part of its continental shelf and sent troops
to occupy them.
A similar controversy revolves around the Senkakus (Diaoyutai in Chinese), an
island group near Taiwan blessed with rich fishing grounds and underground oil
reserves, which Japan absorbed into Okinawa Prefecture in 1895. The United States
took control of the islets in 1945 but returned them to Japan in 1972 with the
reversion of Okinawa. Today, Taiwan and the People’s Republic of China claim
this territory as their own. Both Takeshima and the Senkakus have sparked inter-
mittent diplomatic rows since 1952. The most recent flare-up occurred in 1996
following a Cabinet decision to extend Japan’s exclusive economic zone to within
320 kilometres of its shoreline.

THE CONSTITUTION

Constitutional revision was the capstone of the Occupation’s political reform

programme, and of the GHQ- initiated changes, it has exerted the most profound
influence on postwar Japanese society. Despite the 1947 Constitution’s wide accept-
ance, retention of the emperor system has provided ultra-nationalists with an insti-
tutional base from which to propagate chauvinist ideals, but few Japanese today
embrace that discredited ideology. Article Nine, which renounces the state’s right of
belligerency, however, continues to stir controversy.

The Emperor
The new Constitution overhauled the machinery of government, laying the founda-
tion for a democratic polity. The division of executive, legislative and judicial powers,
the election of Cabinet officials from among active members of the National Diet
and the designation of the latter as the highest organ of state power today are taken
for granted. These innovations rested on an even more fundamental reform, that
of the emperor system, which divested an absolutist monarchy of its paramount
temporal authority and replaced it with the principle of popular sovereignty.
SCAP’s decision to retain the Imperial institution in the form of a ‘symbolic’
 The Legacy of Occupation 519

emperor, with exclusively representational and ceremonial duties, and to exempt

Hirohito from war-crimes prosecution had lasting consequences for Japan’s fledg-
ling postwar democracy. In the light of recent research, there is no longer any
doubt that Hirohito was involved intimately in planning and directing Japan’s war
effort.* MacArthur spared the monarch because he feared that, without him, the
public would not cooperate as willingly with his reform agenda, necessitating per-
haps direct military government and a difficult and protracted occupation. This
also is undoubtedly the reason Occupation authorities rejected a third and emi-
nently viable alternative, that of retaining the monarchy but obliging Hirohito to
abdicate. Had SCAP pressed for abdication, the Japanese people might well have
accepted, even welcomed, that decision.” GHQ’s decision not to bring the Emperor
to account for his wartime actions helped preserve and legitimate conservative rule —
established with Occupation collusion in late 1948 — making it difficult for many
Japanese to acknowledge their individual and national war responsibility. The
Occupation’s position that it was the militarists, not the Throne or the people, who
brought about the Asia—Pacific conflict encouraged this collective evasion, and the
country as a whole still has not addressed the war issue forthrightly. The task of
atonement is further compounded by the ambiguities inherent in the so-called
emperor-as-symbol system, for these have allowed conservatives to associate the
postwar monarchy with the transcendent social and political values of the patriarchal
state.
After 1952, ultra-conservative politicians attempted to reverse key Occupation
reforms, openly advocating a military force independent of US control and an
emperor who was not merely a symbol of national unity but also political head of
state. They were led by the recently depurged Hatoyama Ichird, who replaced
Yoshida Shigeru as prime minister in December 1954, and Kishi Nobusuke, a
wartime member of the Tojo Cabinet and an unindicted war crimes suspect who
became prime minister in 1957. In November 1954, Hatoyama formed the Japan
Democratic Party with himself as president and Kishi as secretary general. One year
later, in November 1955, Kishi engineered an alliance with Yoshida’s Liberal Party to
forge a new conservative coalition, the Liberal Democratic Party (Jiy Minshuto, or
Jiminto), which governed Japan virtually unchallenged until the early 1990s. Consti-
tutional revision, rearmament and a politically revitalised emperor system remain at
the top of the conservative agenda.°
After the Occupation, the Japanese government redoubled its efforts to anchor the
Imperial institution in the popular consciousness. The marriage of Crown Prince
Akihito to a commoner and Christian, Shoda Michiko, in 1959 received extensive
press coverage, creating a ‘Michiko Boom’. This royal fever was carefully stage-
managed by the state and sustained by the media long after the event. During the
1960s, years of rapid economic growth, Hirohito became the symbol not only of
national unity but also of economic prosperity and, following the Emperor’s Euro-
pean tour of 1971 and his US tour of 1975, of Japan’s efforts to ‘internationalise’.
In 1979, the traditional system of Imperial era names by which pre-1945 Japan
520 Policy Shift and Aftermath

reckoned its history (Meiji, Taisho, Showa, etc.) was reinstituted in law, lending new
authority to the Throne and reinforcing the principle of dynastic succession. In the
1980s, this trend was strengthened by Prime Minister Nakasone Yasuhiro, a former
Imperial Navy officer, avowed neo-nationalist and ex-director general of the Defence
Agency, who proclaimed the Emperor to be a symbol of racial unity and the spiritual
fountainhead of the nation.
The Showa Emperor’s death in 1989 ended one of the longest Imperial reigns in
Japanese history. Conservative forces seized on the event as an opportunity to infuse
Imperial ideology with new life. The media obligingly created a pervasive mood of
‘self-restraint’, and the public submissively complied, cancelling weddings, sporting
events, local festivals, karaoke parties and other leisure activities during the monarch’s
lengthy illness and subsequent funerary rites. But the real trend-setters were banks,
large corporations and major department stores, not rightist ideologues, and their
motives were a mixture of competitive commercialism (a refusal to be upstaged by
rivals) and the fear of ultra-nationalist reprisals for failing to show the proper degree
of respect.’
In the early postwar era, SCAP abolished the crime of ese majesté, but critical
comment on the Emperor’s wartime activities, while not rare in academic circles, is
still a risky venture in the public arena. Rightist vigilantes vigorously enforce this
“Chrysanthemum Taboo’ through intimidation and violence in defiance of the con-
stitutional guarantee of free speech. In December 1988, as the monarch lay dying,
the mayor of Nagasaki, Motojima Hiroshi, responding to a question from a city
assemblyman, stated his belief that Hirohito bore responsibility for the war. Later, he
told journalists that had Hirohito ‘resolved to end the war earlier, there would have
been no Battle of Okinawa, no nuclear attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki’. He then
criticised his own actions during the conflict, including orders he personally had
given to troops to die for the Emperor. For his candour, Motojima was subjected
immediately to death threats and harassment by rightist groups. In January 1990, a
would-be assassin shot and seriously wounded the mayor. During this turbulent
period, with the exception of the mayor of Yomitan in Okinawa, Socialist Party
Chair Doi Takako and a few others, political figures were conspicuous by their
silence on the issue of Imperial war guilt.*
Showa, the ‘Era of Radiant Peace’, gave way to Heisei, the “Era of Achieving
Peace’, and the reign of Hirohito’s eldest son, Akihito. Upon acceding to the throne,
the new Emperor pledged to honour the Constitution and make the monarchy
more accessible to the people. Some scholars have seen in this process of Imperial
succession a skilfully orchestrated attempt by ultra-nationalists to enhance the polit-
ical as well as symbolic authority of the emperor system.’ That well may be, but
while neo-nationalist machinations are a palpable concern, we may take Akihito at
his word. Today popular sovereignty resides firmly in the people, not the Throne,
and the reform of the Imperial institution under the Occupation aegis, despite its
obvious limitations, remains one of the preconditions of democratic government in
Japan.
 The Legacy of Occupation 521

Photo 72. Crown Prince Akihito woos commoner and Christian Shéda Michiko on the
tennis courts of the mountain resort Karuizawa, 28 July 1958. Their marriage on 10 April
1959 helped to entrench the institution of the Throne by popularising it. The union also
wed the monarchy to big business, for Michiko’s father was a prominent businessman
(Mainichi).
522 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Article Nine
Article Nine survives despite repeated assaults from the right and even though con-
servative régimes have persisted in their attempt to undermine the spirit and the
letter of the no-war clause. Ironically, MacArthur himself struck the first blow when
he ordered the creation of the National Police Reserve in 1950. The government
reorganised the NPR in 1954 as the Self-Defence Forces (SDF) in direct contraven-
tion of the ban on arms. In 1955, the just-formed Liberal Democratic Party (LDP)
incorporated constitutional revision and the legalisation of the SDF into its politi-
cal platform. In 1956, Parliament established the Commission on the Constitution
through which the LDP intended to enhance the status of the Emperor and rewrite
Article Nine. Surprisingly, the Commission’s final report, issued in 1964, con-
founded conservative expectations by emphasising the Japanese contribution to the
Constitution and cautioning restraint in revising it. By then, the Liberal Democrats
no longer commanded the parliamentary votes (a two-thirds majority in both
houses) necessary to amend the charter. Conservatives since have attempted to skirt
Article Nine by reinterpreting it to suit their purposes (kaishaku-kaiken).
The government argues, for instance, that the SDF are for defensive purposes only
and therefore legitimate, but there is no disguising the fact that Japan’s standing
234,000-strong land, sea and air forces violate the Constitution. The SDF budget
has grown steadily but has generally remained within 1 per cent of the gross domestic
product (as of 1999, it stood at 0.99 per cent of the GDP). The so-called 1 per cent
ceiling, imposed in 1976 and broken momentarily in 1987, is considered to repre-
sent the upper permissible limit of support for a purely defensive military force —
but this in itself serves as a rather clever justification for the de facto existence of a
military establishment.
The Liberal Democrats used the 1991 Gulf War as an excuse to weaken Article
Nine further and build a national consensus for rearmament. During that conflict,
Japan provided $13 billion to help finance the US-led multinational force that
bombed and invaded Iraq but was criticised loudly by Washington for refusing to
contribute military muscle as well. Using American pressure as a lever, the govern-
ment proposed the despatch of SDF troops to the Middle East. When a groundswell
of domestic protest made that impossible, Tokyo deployed a squadron of four mine-
sweepers to the Gulf, a token gesture but one that reinforced an old precedent
established during the Korean War (chapter 10). In June 1992, over fierce opposi-
tion, the government railroaded a bill through the Diet authorising the Self-Defence
Forces to take part in non-military UN peacekeeping actions. The International
Peace Cooperation Law opens the way for the eventual projection of Japanese mili-
tary force abroad.
A measure of such import should have been submitted to the test of a national
referendum, or at the very least of new general elections.'° So far, Japanese troops have
been sent on non-military missions to Cambodia (1992-3), Mozambique (1993-5),
Zaire and Kenya (1994), and the Golan Heights (1996), where they are currently
stationed. In 1998, the SDF were deployed to Honduras for disaster reliefin the wake of
 The Legacy of Occupation 523

Hurricane Mitch, establishing another precedent, and in late January 2001, Japanese
troops were flown to India to help that country recover from a devastating earth-
quake. Many here consider such participation in unarmed peace-keeping operations
one way of fulfilling the nation’s duties as a world citizen. Unfortunately, the
government and Liberal Democratic Party hope to lever this involvement into a full-
fledged combat role. In late 1998, Prime Minister Obuchi Keizé confirmed this
intention when he indicated that his Cabinet was studying legislation that would
allow the SDF to join in future UN military operations, as well. The 11 September
2001 terrorist attacks on New York and Washington have accelerated that process.
Under US prodding, the government of Koizumi Jun’ichiro has enacted a legislative
package that gives Japan’s uniformed services a more active non-combat role abroad,
and sent armed SDF units to operate in a foreign war zone for the first time ever.
There seems to be no effective means of contesting these incremental faits accomplis.
The institutional groundwork for closer Japan—US cooperation was laid down in
the late 1990s. In 1996, Tokyo and Washington initialled the Japan—US Acquisition
and Cross-Servicing Agreement (upgraded in 1998), requiring each country to
comply with bilateral requests for military services and materials. In September
1997, Japanese and American defence officials revised the Guidelines for Japan—US
Defence Cooperation (1978). Less than two years later, in May 1999, the Diet
enacted three laws to implement the updated Guidelines, and the government is
determined to expand SDF emergency powers in the event of both domestic and
regional crises.
This continual testing of the limits brings Article Nine ever closer to de facto
abrogation. The 1997 Guidelines amount to a collective defence pact, which
the Constitution clearly forbids. In the event of an attack on Japan proper or a hostile
‘situation in the areas surrounding Japan’, they give the US military access to civilian
harbours, airports and key transportation and communications facilities. Local gov-
ernments now are required by law not only to cooperate but to keep details of such
collaboration secret, and Japan’s Defence Agency is considering plans that will allow
US forces in Japan to expropriate land and public facilities and flout domestic
aviation and traffic laws in the event of a ‘contingency’.
Under the Guidelines, bilateral military action will be coordinated by an inte-
grated command structure charged with overseeing logistics support, intelligence
sharing, minesweeping and combat operations. The integrated command scheme
is strongly reminiscent of the ‘combined command’ provision that Washington
attempted unsuccessfully to insert in the 1952 Administrative Agreement. Peacetime
military cooperation also will be strengthened. Equally problematic is the US
proposal to make theatre missile defence (TMD) a key element in the new Japan—
US security arrangement. The TMD implies a joint command and control infra-
structure and a reintegrated SDE In late December 1998, the Obuchi Cabinet
agreed to promote joint research on the project with the United States after declaring
there to be no legal obstacles in doing so. These moves are yet another attempt by
ruling circles to arrogate the right of belligerency denied them under law.
524 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Another onerous legacy of the Occupation is the Status of Forces Agreement

(SOFA), which originated in the Administrative Agreement of February 1952.
Revised as SOFA when the Security Treaty was renewed in 1960, the accord enables
the United States to garrison its troops in Japan in support of the SDF and its own
strategic interests in the region. SOFA permitted the Pentagon, through its extensive
repair, communications, arms and oil storage, and other Japan-based facilities, to
make this country an indirect participant in the Vietnam War and, more recently, the
Gulf War — conflicts that many Japanese felt were politically misguided and morally
wrong. With US military intervention in Afghanistan in late 2001, Japan now has
been dragged into another ‘regional’ conflict far from its shores.
Okinawans have borne the brunt of the US military deployment. Today, 75 per
cent of all American bases in Japan are located in the Ryukyus, which occupy a
minuscule 0.6 per cent of the country’s total land area. Moreover, the US military
controls 20 per cent of the archipelago’s prime farmland and 40 per cent of its air
space. The social problems caused by the presence of 27,000 foreign troops and their
military installations are staggering. Rape, murder, theft, hit-and-run accidents and
other offences by US service people are rife, but SOFA (notably Articles 17 and 25)
gives Japanese courts jurisdiction only over crimes committed by off-duty personnel.
In practice, Japanese authorities have tended to bow to US pressure and waive
jurisdiction even over these cases, frustrating Okinawans in their efforts to see justice
done. Furthermore, under SOFA, many of the prefecture’s landowners are forced to
lease their property to the bases."
In September 1995, three US Marines kidnapped and raped a 12-year-old Oki-
nawan girl, provoking consternation and rage across Japan. In Okinawa, 85,000
people demonstrated against SOFA and the American presence. The premeditated
crime compelled Washington to agree to a partial revision of SOFA’s legal jurisdic-
tion provisions: It also provoked a massive backlash against the bases, leading Gov-
ernor Ota Masahide, in defiance of Tokyo and Japan’s treaty obligations, to refuse to
renew land leases and to call for a phased withdrawal of all US forces by the year
2015. The Pentagon responded by agreeing to return about 20 per cent of its hold-
ings in the islands and to reduce troop levels over a 10-year period, but it refused to
remove its forces altogether, insisting as it has for the past half century that this
‘forward-deployed presence’ is an integral part of the US defence perimeter in Asia.
In early July 2000; a US Marine broke into an Okinawan home and molested a
14-year-old girl in her sleep, sparking renewed outrage and calls for a US pullout.
Occurring just before the Group of Eight summit in Okinawa, the incident high-
lighted once again the plight of Ryukyuans. One of the paradoxes of Japan’s postwar
democracy is that, while the Japanese people as a whole disapprove of rearmament
and the stationing of US troops on their soil, they seem indifferent to the American
bases in Okinawa and the problems they create for the island’s 1.3 million inhabit-
ants. Displaying a lamentable lack of principle, Japan’s foreign policy supinely
accommodates every US demand and refuses to address this problem.
The same absence of nerve characterises Tokyo’s attitude towards US nuclear
 The Legacy of Occupation 525

Photo 73. Okinawans in Ginowan City, enraged at the rape of a school girl by three US
servicemen, take to the streets to demand justice and a reduction in American forces, 21
October 1995. The crime was one of more than 5,000, many involving violence against
women, that have been commited by US troops in Okinawa since the prefecture reverted to
Japan in 1972 (Mainichi).
526 Policy Shift and Aftermath

arms. In 1967, the government of Sat6é Eisaku committed the country to uphold
three non-nuclear principles, pledging neither to possess nor manufacture nuclear
arms or allow their introduction into the country. In the early 1960s, however, a US
government analyst discovered that nuclear weapons were being stored on a barge off
the coast of Kyushu, The bombs were held ready for emergency use by US aircraft at
the Marine air base in Iwakuni. Their targets were North Korea, China and the Soviet
Union. In 1966, US ambassador to Japan Edwin O. Reischauer got wind of the
nuclear cache and threatened to resign unless the weapons were removed. In 1981,
Reischauer disclosed the fact that successive Japanese Cabinets had tacitly condoned
the introduction of nuclear warheads aboard US naval vessels during port calls and
their transit through Japanese waters based on a secret bilateral understanding dating
from the 1950s. Similarly, when Washington returned the Ogasawara Islands to Japan
in 1968, Tokyo reportedly agreed verbally not to oppose the storage of nuclear arms
there for emergency use should the United States demand privileged access.'?
To defend the Constitution, Japan must scale down the Self-Defence Forces,
create a service-orientated organisation for non-military peacekeeping purposes,
demand the complete withdrawal of US troops and enforce the three non-nuclear
principles. Every people enjoys the intrinsic right of self-defence, but in Japan, the
people, through their support of the Constitution, have denied that right to the state
for the past half century. Our most reliable defence is to develop the potential of
Article Nine, make Japan a truly pacifist power and, through an enlightened peace
diplomacy, demonstrate that the principles of disarmament and non-belligerency are
not only desirable but workable. In cases such as Afghanistan, that means responding
to US requests for assistance with humanitarian aid and eschewing military support,
which can only compound the suffering.
This lofty — some would say unrealistic — goal eludes us at present, and in light of
the current world crisis, some degree of constitutional revision seems likely in the
near future. In 1999, conservative lawmakers established the Research Commission
on the Constitution in both houses as a first step in that direction. Amending the
national charter will not be simple, however. Acceptance requires the assent of two-
thirds of all Diet members and the test of a national referendum. In May 2000, the
Commission invited Beate Sirota Gordon and Richard A. Poole, two of the authors
of the 1946 MacArthur draft constitution, to its Upper House session. Sirota recalled
her role in writing the guarantees for women, When Government Section’s Charles
Kades read her proposals, she reminisced, he was stunned: “Beate, your draft con-
tains more than the American Constitution.’ Sirota replied: “Naturally. The American
Constitution does not even include the word “woman” .’ Were the Japanese people
pleased with the Japanese Constitution? Sirota asked. “Of course, they were. The
Japanese Government at that time was not so happy ... but the Japanese people
were.’ In concluding she said, ‘I think this Constitution should become the model
of the world, and that is why it has not been revised for as long as 50 years.’ This
author is convinced that for most Japanese, non-belligerency remains a moral and
psychological imperative.’
 The Legacy of Occupation 527

HUMAN RIGHTS

A scholar of the Occupation has remarked that Japan’s postwar social structure is
dualistic, consisting of areas where SCAP-induced reform was decisive and areas
where it was stillborn, leaving prewar patterns intact. Both aspects, he notes, are
inextricably bound together."* This observation seems especially apt where human
rights are concerned.

Problems and prospects

The Constitution guarantees basic civil, political and other fundamental rights to
Japanese citizens, and our judicial system is committed to upholding these liberties as
the basis of a free society. Over the past two decades, the government has ratified
a series of international human rights instruments, including the International
Covenants on Human Rights (1979), the UN Convention Relating to the Status
of Refugees (1982), the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of
Discrimination Against Women (1985), the UN Convention on the Rights of the
Child (1994) and the International Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of
Racial Discrimination (1996). These agreements take precedence over domestic law,
requiring Japan to bring its legal system into line with international practice. There
are many areas, however, where injustices cry out for redress.
For instance, Japan retains the death penalty in defiance of the current world trend
against capital punishment. Inmates on death row cannot appeal an execution order
once it has been issued, and names and date of execution are not made public even
after the order has been carried out. In November 1998, the UN Human Rights
Committee in Geneva criticised Japan for its overly harsh prison conditions and
frequent recourse to brutal punitive measures, such as the use of leather handcuffs
during prolonged solitary confinement, abuses that verge on cruel and inhuman
treatment. Also problematic is the practice of obtaining confessions from suspects
who are detained for long periods in police-station holding cells where they may be
subjected to around-the-clock interrogations without benefit of legal counsel and
under highly stressful conditions (see below).
Despite the landmark Law for the Welfare of the Physically Disabled of 1949,
today physically and mentally handicapped Japanese do not enjoy many of the
special legal protections their counterparts are afforded in the United States and
other Western countries. The 1949 law was revised in 1970, but Japan has not
made the substantial investments in social infrastructure that the disabled require
in order to lead active, productive lives. Paternalism and institutional depen-
dence, not independence, have been the result. In an attempt to remedy these short-
comings, in 1993, the government enacted the Fundamental Law for Disabled
Persons. The new statute was designed to integrate the handicapped more effec-
tively into society and enhance self-reliance (‘normalisation’), but it failed to
make equal treatment a right and has not lived up to its promise. The government
also issues guidelines on the hiring of people with disabilities in both public and
528 Policy Shift and Aftermath

private sectors, but such directives are not legally binding and therefore not widely
adhered to.
A problematic Occupation legacy is the 1948 Eugenic Protection Law. Although
the statute decriminalised abortion, it also prescribed the termination of pregnancy
for those whose physical or mental handicaps made them likely to produce ‘defective
progeny’. Until recently, hysterectomies were performed routinely on women diag-
nosed as having certain genetically caused disabilities. The law’s sterilisation
(‘eugenic surgery’) provision also targeted people with personality disorders and
leprosy. Based on a Nazi eugenics ordinance, this regressive measure finally was
abolished in 1996 and the legislation itself renamed the Motherhood Protection Law.
The revision was prompted by a combination of factors, among them international
criticism, plans to repeal the 1953 Leprosy Prevention Law and implementation of
the Fundamental Law for Disabled Persons. Unfortunately, the Motherhood Protec-
tion Law did not repudiate the eugenic theory underlying the old statute, nor did it
entrench the principle of women’s reproductive health and rights. These demands
require further legislative action.”
In April 1996, the government also abolished the Leprosy Prevention Law, end-
ing an 88-year policy of forcibly segregating victims of Hansen’s Disease. By the
1950s, most lepers had been cured as a result of new drug therapies, but the 1953
statute continued to deny them basic rights, and many were forced to undergo
sterilisation or abortions under the Eugenic Protection Law. In 1998, thirteen
former sufferers filed suit against the government at the Kumamoto District Court
in Kyushu, demanding financial compensation and a formal apology for this breach
of their human rights. Law suits proliferated, and in mid-May 2001, the Kuma-
moto Court held the state liable for violating the plantiffs’ constitutional liberties
and ordered it to pay them ¥1.8 billion in compensation. In late May, the govern-
ment announced it would not appeal the verdict and acknowledged state culpability,
an unprecedented move.

Women
The postwar reforms liberated women from traditional roles and granted them the
same legal rights and entitlements as men, yet gender-based discrimination remains
pervasive. Women’s rights received renewed attention in 1985 when Japan ratified
the UN Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against
Women. That year the government amended the Occupation-era Nationality Law
(1950), which had conferred nationality only through the paternal line, so that today
children of mixed marriages are able to acquire Japanese citizenship through either
parent, although the principle of jus sanguinis remains in force.
Minor changes also have been made to the Civil Code, but more substantial
reform is in order. In 1975, the International Year of Women, the law was changed
to enable divorced women to keep their married name if they apply to do so within
three months of a divorce. In 1980, a wife’s legal share in family inheritance was
increased, reflecting a re-evaluation of women’s contribution to marriage. Many
 The Legacy of Occupation 529

Photo 74, With the 1999 revision of the Equal Employment Opportunity Law, office workers
for Mitsui Life Insurance shed their obligatory company uniforms and come to work for the
first time in casual attire. Most women remain tied to clerical positions, however, and are
expected to quit when they get married. 1 April 1999 (Mainichi).

legal inequalities persist, however. The minimum age for marriage is 18 for men but
16 for women, and the latter cannot remarry for six months following a divorce,
although men are free to do so. Illegitimate children are discriminated against in
inheritance. Women are now pressing for the right to maintain separate surnames in
marriage and to make a physical separation of five years grounds for divorce. In
February 1996, the Legislative Council, a Justice Ministry advisory body, proposed
measures to rectify these inequities, but as of this writing, LDP conservatives
continue to block further Civil Code revisions.
In 1985, the Diet enacted the Equal Employment Opportunity Law, effective
from 1986, to correct the blind spots in the postwar labour laws. The new legislation
lacked an effective enforcement mechanism, however, and failed to eliminate sex-
based disparities in the workplace. Women entered the job market en masse in the
1980s and 1990s and now account for half of the nation’s labour force, but 36 per
cent of female employees are relegated to unstable, poorly paid part-time work, and
even full-time workers rarely participate in decision-making. A major problem is the
so-called track-hiring system, where women are assigned clerical tasks but rarely
managerial jobs. In 1997, only 9.5 per cent of working women held management-
level positions, and even élite career-track women encounter serious obstacles.
In 1995, Ishida Kuniko sued the Sumitomo Chemical Company (unsuccessfully)
530 Policy Shift and Aftermath

because male colleagues with the same educational and work background not only
were being promoted faster but earned twice her salary.
To resolve these problems, in April 1999 the government revised the Equal
Employment Opportunity Law, making labour arbitration obligatory if either party
to a dispute requests it (until then, both sides had to agree, and management often
refused to seek mediation). Other improvements include a ban on gender-specific
job descriptions in public advertising and the prohibition of discriminatory treat-
ment in employment, placement, promotion and job training. Employers also are
obliged take positive steps to prevent sexual harassment. In 1991, the Child Care
Leave Act was passed, allowing either parent to take a one year’s absence to care for a
newborn child, but there is no salary guarantee. Whereas in 1996, more than 44 per
cent of working mothers giving birth availed themselves of this right, less than 0.2
per cent of working fathers did so. In other areas, women have registered slow but
steady gains. In government, 16 per cent of national civil servants were women in
1999, up from 2 per cent in 1976, and the proportion of female assistant judges rose
from 5 per cent to 22 per cent in the same period. As of April 2000, only 5 per cent
of Lower House lawmakers were women, however, far fewer than in Sweden (42 per
cent), Britain (18 per cent) or the United States (13 per cent).'°

Minorities
Another paradox of democracy in Japan is that the Constitution’s basic human rights
provisions apply only selectively to non-Japanese, who remain subject to a system of
subtle apartheid that Occupation policy tacitly condoned in the interests of presery-
ing internal order.'”
This is not to imply that Japanese society has not made significant progress in
the past half century. International legal conventions ratified since 1979 have forced
the government to make substantive changes in some areas. Following ratification
of the 1982 Refugee Convention, for instance, North Koreans were permitted to
acquire ‘general permanent residence’, a status more secure than de facto statelessness
but less so than the formal treaty rights enjoyed by South Koreans. In January 1991,
Tokyo and Seoul initialled a joint memorandum in which Japan pledged to take
positive action to improve the social and political status of the Korean minority.
Since 1992, all long-term inhabitants, whether South or North Korean nationals,
have received ‘special permanent resident status’, although deportation is still pos-
sible for certain offences (such as a crime carrying a prison term of seven years or
more). Residence, thus, remains a privilege, not an acquired right. Under the Refu-
gee Convention, Koreans, Chinese and other foreign residents became eligible for
state health, pension and disability benefits; government housing services; child-
rearing allotments; and other entitlements formerly reserved for Japanese nationals."
Many problems persist, however. Nationality clauses bar even third-generation
Koreans and Chinese from most public-sector jobs, including the teaching profession.
Nor are foreigners allowed to vote, hold elective office or make financial contribu-
tions to political parties, even though they pay the same state and local taxes as
 The Legacy of Occupation 531

Japanese. The Education Ministry does not honour the high school diplomas of
Korean and Chinese ethnic high schools, obliging their graduates to take an equiva-
lency exam to enter state-run universities. Paradoxically, however, it accepts the high
school graduation certificates of foreign exchange students. Until recently, non-
Japanese were forcibly fingerprinted every five years under the Alien Registration
Law, a legacy of the Occupation period. Widespread non-violent civil disobedience
by Koreans in the 1980s, however, forced the government to abolish this practice for
permanent residents in 1993. Korean rights groups continued the campaign against
fingerprinting until it was ended for all foreigners in 2000. The requirements, strictly
enforced by police, to register changes of residence and to carry an alien pass card at
all times remain in effect, although for permanent residents violations are no longer
criminal offences.
North Korean residents, in particular, have been subjected to systematic police
surveillance.” In 1990, mobile police units in full riot gear were sent into a pro-
P’yongyang middle school in Tokyo during classes to apprehend a teacher suspected
of not reporting a change of address to municipal authorities. In 1997, it was
revealed that local government officials near Korea University in Tokyo routinely
allowed police to check the alien registration records of North Korean residents.
When P’yéngyang fired a Tazepodong-class missile over a part of Japanese territory in
August 1998, North Korean students received death threats, and female students
wearing traditional gowns (ch ima chégori) were physically assaulted by enraged Japa-
nese. These attacks mirrored those that followed in the wake of the so-called
pachinko scandal of 1989, in which North Korean pachinko-parlour owners were
accused of making illegal campaign donations to the Socialist Party (it was sub-
sequently disclosed that the pachinko industry had made contributions across the
political spectrum, including to the ruling Liberal Democratic Party).
Since the colonial era, Japan has pursued a policy of forcibly assimilating ethnic
Koreans and Chinese. Today, the Justice Ministry pressures applicants for naturalisa-
tion to adopt a Japanese name, demonstrate a ‘Japanese lifestyle’ and, in effect,
renounce their ethnic heritage as a condition for obtaining citizenship. The revised
Nationality Law allows children of international marriages to choose their national-
ity at the age of 22, but the Ministry instructs local governments to register such
children under the name of the Japanese parent at birth, thereby influencing that
choice. This assimilationist policy is designed to gradually absorb the Korean minor-
ity, transforming potential Korean critics into obedient Japanese. The government
recently has promised to simplify naturalisation procedures. To Koreans, however,
obtaining citizenship still means accepting Japanese claims of racial superiority and
embracing, publicly at least, the same ethnocentric values that have oppressed them
as a people — a form of ethnicide that explains why many choose to retain their alien
status rather than naturalise and become second-class Japanese.”
In November 1998, the UN Human Rights Committee took Japan to task once
again for failure to acknowledge its roughly 550,000 long-term Korean residents as
an ethnic minority and to redress these inequalities. The historic summit between
532 Policy Shift and Aftermath

South Korean President Kim Dae Jung and North Korean leader Kim Jong Il in June
2000 and the reopening of normalisation talks that followed in August offer hope
that the deep ideological division in Japan’s Korean community can be healed and
that further progress will be made in securing the political and civil rights of former
colonial subjects. In September 2000, Japanese women married to Koreans living in
the Democratic People’s Republic were allowed to visit relatives in Japan for the first
time in decades, and two bitter ideological rivals, the pro-Seoul Korean Residents
Union in Japan (Mindan) and the pro-P’yéngyang General Association of Korean
Residents in Japan (Chongryun), announced an unprecedented plan to establish ties
and discuss future cooperation.
Another group denied many Constitutional protections are Third-World migrant
labourers, who entered Japan in large numbers after 1985 as the value of the yen rose
dramatically against the dollar. Most of the currently estimated 300,000 foreign
labourers residing illegally in Japan (1999) have overstayed tourist visas to work in
the entertainment industry or at manual jobs eschewed by most Japanese as dirty,
difficult and dangerous. Undocumented migrants are subject to violence, forced
prostitution, unpaid wages, kickbacks and other abuses by unscrupulous labour
brokers, employers and criminal syndicates. Most work under scandalous conditions
in open violation of Japan’s US-inspired labour laws. The incidence of industrial
accidents is high for these workers, but in the past hospitals have refused to admit
even those with serious injuries. Today, with the economy in recession, employers
sometimes fire accident victims rather than accept financial responsibility for their
treatment and recovery.”’ In January 1998, the police and Immigration Control
Bureau established a special task force to locate and deport undocumented workers,
This has forced the migrants underground, where they are more vulnerable than ever
to exploitative labour practices. In September 1998, the Labour Standards Act was
amended, lifting the ceiling on the number of hours an employee can be asked to
work. Other changes to Occupation-inspired labour laws have undermined the prin-
ciple of job security and legitimated the activities of labour brokers and placement
agencies, on whom most foreign workers depend (see below).
An estimated 3 million Buraku people and some 24,000 indigenous Ainu also live
marginalised existences. Occupation reforms failed to address the specific problems
of either minority, and today these groups experience discrimination in education,
marriage, employment, housing and general quality of life.
Ethnically indistinguishable from other Japanese, Burakumin remain segregated
in some 6,000 ghettos, euphemistically called ‘assimilation districts’ (ddwa-chiku),
which are concentrated in the Kansai region and southwestern Japan. While many
pursue traditional occupations in the meat- and leather-processing industries, others
attempt to ‘pass’ as Japanese. In 1969, the government enacted the Special Measures
Law for Assimilation Projects to alleviate the social and economic misery of Buraku
communities and assimilate their inhabitants into mainstream society. The law,
renewable every 10 years, made funds available to repair roads, improve housing,
upgrade community facilities and promote educational and cultural activities. It did
 The Legacy of Occupation

jaa econ waar”

Photo 75. Kayano Shigeru, Upper House Diet member, sits in the Niputani Documentation
Centre in Biratori Township, Hokkaido, recording Ainu epic poems (yukar). The first Ainu
ever to hold a Diet seat, Kayano was one of the moving forces behind passage in 1996 of the
New Ainu Cultural Promotion Law. 11 February 1998 (Kyodo).
534 Policy Shift and Aftermath

not, however, grant new legal rights to individuals or impose new obligations on the
state and was more a political statement than a substantive human rights initiative.”
Prejudice remains difficult to eradicate. Although the practice is illegal, companies
still circulate secret registers giving the names and locations of ghettos, enabling
prospective employers to identify Burakumin job applicants. Marriage consultants
maintain similar lists.
Most Ainu live in Hokkaido, many in small, segregated rural communities
(kotan), although, like the Buraku people, in recent years increasing numbers have
sought the anonymity of large cities. Prime Minister Nakasone Yasuhiro’s assertion
in 1986 that the Japanese were a homogeneous people with no ethnic minorities
astounded and incensed the Ainu community. Adding injury to insult, in 1987,
Biratori Township in southern Hokkaido began construction of a dam on land
traditionally sacred to local Ainu. This gross insensitivity to native feelings added
fuel to a campaign by Ainu for formal recognition as an indigenous people, the
return of tribal lands and the restoration of former hunting, fishing and other rights.
Through this movement, in 1994, prominent Ainu activist Kayano Shigeru won a
seat in the Upper House, becoming the first indigenous legislator to sit in Parlia-
ment.”? In 1996, after 14 years of intensive lobbying by Ainu groups, the Diet
abolished the discriminatory and anachronistic Hokkaido Former Aborigines’ Pro-
tection Act of 1899, replacing it with the New Ainu Cultural Promotion Law. The
1996 statute is the first to acknowledge the existence of an ethnic minority in Japan.
Although it recognises the distinctive cultural heritage of the Ainu, however, it stops
short of granting them official indigenous status, which under international law
mandates special rights to land, natural resources and cultural protection. (The
designation ‘indigenous’ was tacked onto the law as a non-binding resolution to
avoid that particular obligation.)

LATER POLITICAL REFORMS

SCAP programmes such as bureaucratic restructuring and the broadening of polit-

ical participation have had a determining influence on Japanese political life, but
many reform projections were sabotaged, deflected or even reversed in the post-
treaty era.

Local autonomy
With the return of Japanese sovereignty, SCAP’s ambitious effort to promote
decentralisation and municipal reform was quickly challenged by conservatives, who
applied ‘a combination of neglect and legislative revision’ to undo them.” In 1952
and 1956, the Local Autonomy Law underwent two major revisions that subordin-
ated local entities to prefectural authority. By 1956, the Hatoyama government had
reduced the number of independent local governments by two-thirds through a
radical programme of municipal amalgamation. The creation in 1960 of the Minis-
 The Legacy of Occupation 535

try of Home Affairs crowned the effort to reimpose centralised control. An equally
telling blow to local self-governance was the systematic gutting of fiscal autonomy.
Local entities together collect only about 30 per cent of the nation’s total tax
revenues but spend twice that amount in carrying out their obligations. Thus, the
bulk of local funds consists of large-scale disbursements from the central govern-
ment, most of which come with strings attached. This lopsided fiscal dependence
on national coffers, which has been characterised as ‘30-per cent local autonomy’,
severely constricts the range of effective home rule.”
National authorities have used their control of the purse strings to make municipal
governments responsible for a number of central functions, such as alien registration,
Self-Defence Force recruitment and, in the case of Okinawa, the forcible extension of
land leases for US bases. Some local entities have refused to fulfil these duties. In
1985, for instance, the mayor of Machida City (Tokyo), Oshita Katsumasa, dis-
obeyed a Home Affairs Ministry order to report Korean fingerprint refusers to higher
authorities and impose other administrative sanctions.”* Mayor Oshita’s position was
that fingerprinting only foreigners violated the spirit of the Constitution. Other
municipalities in the Kanto and Kansai areas followed suit, openly defying the cen-
tral government, and one third of Japan’s 3,300 local assemblies passed resolu-
tions condemning fingerprinting and calling for a fundamental reform of the Alien
Registration Law.
Faced with this revolt at the grass roots, central authorities attempted to revise the
Local Autonomy Law so that the Home Affairs Ministry could bypass the legal
procedures — including a formal court hearing — needed to bring the wayward
municipalities to heel. This measure would have eliminated the process of judicial
review, enabling the central government to intervene directly in local affairs with no
possibility of appeal. Fortunately, the proposal was defeated. In 1996, when Okinawa
Governor Ota Masahide refused to authorise the extension of military land leases,
Prime Minister Hashimoto Ryitard was forced to observe due process and go to
court to resolve the issue. Although the Supreme Court ruled in the Prime Minister’s
favour, permitting him. to finalise the lease contracts by proxy in Ota’s stead, the
resulting publicity alerted Japanese to the gravity of the problem.””
Today, a few local governments, such as Kawasaki City (Kanagawa Prefecture)
near Tokyo, ignore ministerial guidelines and employ Koreans and other foreigners
in city jobs that do not involve policy-making. Some prefectural boards of education
accept qualified Koreans as public school teachers, although not at the same salary
and without the same prospects for advancement as their Japanese colleagues. Such
decisions require courage, however, and many municipalities simply do as they are
told for fear of losing vital subsidies.
At the community level, Japanese in general have not exercised aggressively
enough their constitutional right of petition to remove public officials or enact,
repeal and revise local ordinances.”* Exceptions abound, however, such as citizen
challenges to municipal support of Shintd ceremonies (below). In rare cases, com-
munities have openly defied state policies. An example is the struggle of Miyake
536 Policy Shift and Aftermath

islanders to halt construction of facilities for night-landing practice (NLP) by US

Navy aircraft. This anti-base movement began in 1983 when the government pro-
posed to shift NLP exercises from Atsugi Naval Air Base just outside of Tokyo to
Miyake Island. In 1987, the state despatched riot police to forcibly survey a site for
the new facilities. The threat of expropriation brought police into direct confronta-
tion with the islanders, who responded with non-violent tactics. In the face of
overwhelming local opposition, the government was compelled to back down, and in
1989, it moved half of the NLP manoeuvres to remote Iwo Jima. This success shows
what is possible when residents rely on their own resources to defend their rights
through non-violent action.”
In a few instances, individuals have taken matters into their own hands. As the
government was despatching riot troops to Miyake Island, Chibana Shdichi, a young
supermarket owner from Yomitan Village, Okinawa, set fire to the Rising Sun flag.
Chibana was protesting the government’s decision to hold the 1987 National Ath-
letic Meet in Okinawa. For this ‘offence’ (the Rising Sun did not become Japan’s
official flag until 1999), he was jailed, indicted and brought to trial, to the accom-
paniment of death threats and harassment from rightists, who set fire to his store and
intimidated customers. Chibana made this non-violent gesture to remind Japanese in
general of the suffering Okinawans had endured under the same flag during the war,
and to oppose government efforts to make flag-raising and anthem-singing obliga-
tory in public schools (below).*°
In the 1990s, local networks of residents banded together to form suprapartisan
coalitions at the national level to press for greater bureaucratic transparency and
strengthen individual rights. These efforts produced the Products Liability Law
of 1994 and the Non-Profit Organisation Law of 1998. Another victory for local
groups was the National Information Disclosure Law of 1999, which gives citizens
the right to demand access to official information.
Momentum for the freedom of information statute was generated in the early
1980s by grass-roots activists angry at the misuse of public funds by local officials to
defray lavish entertainment expenses. Often these abuses involved prefectural offi-
cials attempting to woo their national counterparts (kankan-settai) or bogus business
junkets paid for out of public expense accounts (kara-shutchd), Citizens’ groups such
as the Japan Federation of Housewives’ Associations (Shufuren) and the Consumers’
Union of Japan (Nihon Shohisha Renmei) challenged these practices through lawsuits
and demands for the release of government data on public spending. Their efforts
forced towns, cities and prefectures to enact local public disclosure ordinances and
spawned a freedom of information campaign that propelled the issue into the
national arena. Political realignments of the early 1990s and the government's own
administrative reform programme provided an opening through which activists
could apply leverage, securing passage of a national statute in May 1999.
The law, which entered into force in April 2001, does not specifically guarantee
the citizen’s right to know, nor does it apply to government corporations, and its
purview has been kept purposely vague to protect bureaucratic prerogatives. None-
 The Legacy of Occupation 537

theless, the importance of citizen-enacted laws in a era of political apathy and low
yoter turnout should not be underestimated. When the new statute went into effect,
hundreds filed requests for hitherto secret information. Concludes one scholar,
‘jnter-governmental relations in policy areas that have not been clearly delineated by
national law can be independent, dynamic and unpredictable’. This ‘bottom-to-top’
political initiative is an example of a local issue whose resolution at the national level
has benefited all citizens.*!

Police and administrative reform

Although local voices occasionally have made themselves heard in national politics,
the dominant trend since the Occupation has been one of recentralisation. Nowhere
is this more evident than in law enforcement. In 1954, an amendment to the Police
Law abolished the Local Municipal Police and the National Rural Police, which
were incorporated into the Prefectural Police and placed under the direct authority
of the newly created National Police Agency. This revision concentrated formerly
independent city, town and village law agencies at the prefectural level and central-
ised the police chain of command. Its chief proponent was Nadao Hirokichi, an élite
social bureaucrat who had served in the wartime Home and Welfare Ministries and
who would soon become education minister (1957-9) in the Kishi Nobusuke Cab-
inet. So controversial was the reform that it led to rioting on the floor of the Diet,
which ironically was quelled by police intervention.
Following recentralisation, the Occupation-era concern with democratic law en-
forcement and respect for basic human rights receded steadily, and many abusive pre-
war practices crept back into standard police procedure. For instance, under the
1908 Prison Law, which SCAP failed to abolish, police can detain a suspect for up to
23 days before asking for an indictment; that period can be prolonged considerably
by adding charges of convenience. Moreover, the suspect is detained in a police-
station holding cell instead of a pretrial confinement facility — the so-called substitute
custody system (daiyo kangoku) — and interrogators routinely use high-pressure
methods to obtain confessions. Access to legal counsel is limited (lawyers are barred
from interrogation sessions), and visitors, mail and reading materials are prohibited.
The surrogate detention system explains why about 86 per cent of criminal convic-
tions are based on confessions, and why miscarriages of justice are regular occur-
rences. Recent years have seen a growing number of acquittals on the grounds of
involuntary confessions, yet the government continues to sponsor bills that would
give police even greater power over police-cell detainees.”
In August 1999, the Diet augmented police authority by pushing through a
controversial wiretapping law that permits law officers to intercept communications
via telephone, fax and the Internet. Although the statute ostensibly targets only
suspected members of organised criminal groups, civil libertarians fear a broader
violation of the constitutional provision insuring the secrecy of communications and
privacy rights. The bill was bitterly contested by Socialists, Communists and the
Democratic Party of Japan.
538 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Bureaucratic restructuring is another SCAP initiative that fell wide of the mark,
GHQ?s reliance on the existing machinery of government to implement its pro-
grammes ultimately was self-defeating. Despite the dismantling of the Home Minis-
try and the remodelling of the civil service along American lines, the ministries
gradually reclaimed many of their former prerogatives through the Cabinet Law
(1947), the National Administrative Organisation Law (1948) and implementing
legislation establishing the various ministries. Created in 1952, the Justice Ministry
and Autonomy Agency, for example, assumed many of the functions of the defunct
Home Ministry. Other ministries, too, recovered much of their former authority.”
Some scholars assert that the new civil service created a democratic framework for
government, cooperating with rather than resisting Occupation reforms, but that is
an overly optimistic view.’ In a democracy, civil servants must maintain a cautious
balance between political parties, on the one hand, and private pressure groups, on
the other. Japan has never achieved that equilibrium. Radical change is needed to
eliminate the tyranny of entrenched interests, endemic corruption and other vestiges
of bureaucratic authoritarianism that characterise the Japanese way of government.
The task of taming the bureaucracy is enormous, but in January 2001, the Cab-
inet of Mori Yoshiré took the first decisive steps in that direction. Acting on the
recommendations of an ad hoc advisory body established in 1997, the Mori adminis-
tration streamlined government ministries and agencies, reducing their number from
23 to 13 and placing 68 elected lawmakers in top decision-making positions. This
epoch-making change is intended to make the bureaucracy more responsive to the
National Diet and the public will. The Education Ministry, for instance, has been
combined with the Science and Technology Agency to form the Ministry of Educa-
tion, Culture, Sports, Science and Technology. The former Health and Welfare
Ministry and the Labour Ministry are now the Ministry of Health, Labour and
Welfare. Other new super-agencies are the Ministry of Public Management, Home
Affairs, Posts and Communications; the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry
(formerly, the Ministry of International Trade and Industry); and the Ministry of
Land, Infrastructure and Transport. This represents the most ambitious attempt at
administrative reform since the Meiji era, but its effectiveness remains to be seen,

Political participation
The reform of the electoral law in December 1945 broadened the nation’s electoral
base to include women and produced Japan’s first free general elections. At the same
time, the reform denied suffrage to ethnic Koreans and Chinese. In early 1946, the
inhabitants of Okinawa, the Amami islands, and the Ogasawaras, then under direct
US control, also were disenfranchised. With the liberalisation of political life in the
main islands, however, Japan became a participatory democracy, and political parties
flourished, although the right retained its grip on power.
The conservative hegemony established in late 1948 was consolidated by the
formation in 1955 of the Liberal Democratic Party, whose ascendancy lasted until
the early 1990s. During most of this period, the Communist Party held only a few
 The Legacy of Occupation 539.

seats, and the sole effective opposition came from the Socialists, who were never able,
however, to control more than about one third of the Diet. The result was the so-
called one-and-a-half party system, in which the LDP held a two-thirds majority in
the Lower House and the Socialists a one-third representation there.” This balance
of power continued uninterrupted despite the debut of the Democratic Socialist
Party (Minshaté, 1960) and the Clean Government Party (Komeitd, 1964) and the
emergence of a quasi-multiparty system. The United States continued to favour the
conservative régime and help it parry challenges from the left. During the late 1950s
and early 1960s, for instance, the Central Intelligence Agency channelled between $2
million and $10 million a year into LDP coffers. This money was used to fund pro-
American Diet candidates and acquire political intelligence. From the late 1960s, as
the war in Vietnam escalated, the CIA pumped $1 million annually in secret funds
into a media campaign supporting pro-American editors and politicians in order to
mute criticism of the war.**
What amounted to one-party rule warped the structure of democratic governance
in several ways. For instance, the LDP, the bureaucracy and big business became
enmeshed in a self-serving system of patronage and influence-peddling that has
enabled corporate Japan to evade regulatory constraints on economic activity. This
collusion has made corruption pervasive, producing a series of scandals that began
with the Showa Denko bribery affair of 1948 and continued with a shipbuilding
scam in the 1950s that tainted two future prime ministers, Ikeda Hayato and Sato
Eisaku. The ‘black mist’ transactions of the 1960s brought further notoriety to the
Sat6 government, and the Lockheed bribery case of the 1970s toppled Prime Minis-
ter Tanaka Kakuei. The Recruit shares-for-favours incident of the late 1980s peaked
as the Showa Emperor lay dying, reports of the antics of greedy politicians providing
an ironical counterpoint to daily updates on the ailing monarch’s condition. In the
late 1990s, Defence Agency officials became embroiled in a procurement-billing
scheme that cut short the careers of more high-ranking bureaucrats. In early 2001,
the Mori government was rocked by a major embezzlement incident in the Foreign
Ministry and a massive bribery scandal involving a Cabinet minister and LDP Diet
members. So-called structural corruption has led to the resignation or arrest and
indictment over the years of a long list of corporate executives, prime ministers,
Cabinet officials, lawmakers and top-echelon functionaries, undermining public
faith in the nation’s political institutions.
Another impediment to good government is ‘money politics’, shorthand for the
fund-raising and vote-garnering machinery the LDP has implanted in each pre-
fecture to purchase the continued support of farmers and local merchants. This
system of patronage reflects the disproportionate influence of rural constituencies,
which were mapped out in the 1950s before the explosive growth of Japan’s urban
population. Consequently, rural electoral districts have a lower ratio of voters per
Diet seat than urban districts, creating inequality in the value of ballots. To rectify
this situation, in 1982, a proportional formula was introduced allocating a fixed
number of Lower House seats awarded according to a party’s share of the national
540 Policy Shift and Aftermath

vote, and in March 1994, the electoral system was revised, introducing Lower House
single-seat constituencies and enhancing the proportional-representation system.”
The Political Funds Control Law also has been strengthened to eliminate some of the
system’s worst abuses.
Since the early 1990s, a plethora of new parties and shifting political alliances have
weakened LDP hegemony, fragmented traditional political groupings and altered the
face, albeit not the substance, of Japanese politics. In 1989, the LDP lost its majority
in the Upper House for the first time. Reflecting public anger over the introduction
of a 3 per cent consumption tax, that defeat was followed by the loss of its Lower
House majority in 1993 and the defection of leading conservatives, who established
their own faction, the Renewal Party (Shinseito). In 1993, a coalition of eight oppos-
ition groups named maverick Hosokawa Morihiro prime minister, ending the con-
servatives’ postwar monopoly on power. One year earlier, Hosokawa had formed the
Japan New Party (Vihon Shinto) to combat LDP corruption.
In 1994, a revivified Socialist Party (rechristened the Social Democratic Party of
Japan) did the unthinkable and forged an alliance with the LDP. The new grouping
ousted Hosokawa, who was now dogged by scandal allegations of his own, and named
Socialist leader Murayama Tom?ichi to head the first coalition Cabinet under a
Socialist prime minister since the Katayama government of 1947. To retain his influ-
ence, Murayama promptly abandoned key Socialist policies, including opposition to
the Japan—US security alliance. In 1995, the LDP mainstream, led by Hashimoto
Ryitar6, wrested back control through a series of realignments with the Socialists and
such LDP break-away groups as the New Harbinger Party (Shinto Sakigake) and the
successor to the Renewal Party, the New Frontier Party (Shin Shinto). In January
1998, the New Frontier Party dissolved, giving birth to six new political formations,
including Ozawa Ichiré’s splinter group, the Liberal Party (/iy#to). LDP stalwart
Obuchi Keizo led the government from July 1998 but in January 1999 was forced to
form a coalition Cabinet with Ozawa’s Liberal Party to retain a Lower House major-
ity. In April 2000, the Liberal Party broke ranks with the government, but more than
half of its members seceded from the Liberals to form the New Conservative Party,
which remained in the ruling coalition. That month, Prime Minister Obuchi died
suddenly of a stroke at age 62, and LDP arch-conservative Mori Yoshiro replaced him
as premier. Finally, as this book goes to press (October 2001), Japan has yet a new
prime minister, the conservative reformer Koizumi Jun’ichiro.
In the last thirteen years, Japan has had eleven prime ministers, all but one of them
from the LDP stable, prompting criticisms of a ‘revolving-door premiership’. Yet if
the LDP is still omnipresent, it is no longer omnipotent. In 1996, the liberal Kan
Naoto and two moderate-conservative leaders, Hata Tsutomu and Hatoyama Yukio,
launched yet another group, the Democratic Party of Japan (Minshuto), a centrist
alternative to the LDP that has replaced the Socialists as the largest opposition group,
and today the political field is in flux. The old distinction between conservatives and
progressives seems to have disappeared, with the Socialists and the new parties all
staking a claim on power. These amorphous groupings lack not only a clear political
 The Legacy of Occupation 541

vision, however, but internal consensus as well. Until recently, the only true parlia-
mentary opposition in the traditional sense was the Japan Communist Party, which
successfully attracted voters disillusioned with the present topsy-turvy party system.
Yet in late 2000, the JCP revised its 1958 party constitution, dropping scientific
socialism and recognising for the time being the existence of the Self-Defence Forces.
The Communists, too, appear to be clearing the way for participation in a future
coalition government. The continuity of neo-conservative politics amid this chaotic
reshuffling of allegiances has confused the public. The result is increased distrust of
the nation’s leadership, voter apathy and general disaffection with the political pro-
cess itself. In the area of political participation, the Occupation reforms must be
adjudged a partial success.

THE ECONOMIC REFORMS

Economic democratisation hinged on three major initiatives: zaibatsu dissolution,

the land reform and new labour laws. These policies enabled a stricken Japan to
restore domestic production and rebuild a shattered economy. They also laid the
groundwork for the frenetic industrial growth that began in the mid-1950s and
continued undiminished until the oil crisis of 1973.

Recovery and zaibatsu dissolution

Zaibatsu dissolution stopped short of the far-reaching goals SCAP originally had set.
The Dodge Economic Stabilisation Plan reined in rampant inflation after 1949 and
accelerated zaibatsu reorganisation but dealt small- and medium-sized firms a devas-
tating blow. The economy did not really recover until the Korean War, when US
military procurements funnelled millions of dollars into the investment funds of big
business. From the mid-1950s, Japan embarked on a programme of ‘scrap and build’,
ushering in the so-called Japanese miracle — the period of rapid, protracted growth of
the 1960s and early 1970s. This sustained economic boom was led by new industrial
organisations, remnants of the former holding companies, now regrouped around
large banks that had escaped dissolution. Economic deconcentration originally was
intended to undermine the competitiveness of Japanese capitalism, but from 1948,
with the onset of the ‘reverse course’, Washington actively pressed Japan to develop an
export-orientated industrial policy. Tokyo was encouraged to protect domestic indus-
tries from external competition while exporting to the vast American and potentially
vast Southeast Asian markets. President Dwight D. Eisenhower, for example, report-
edly urged such leading US companies as Motorola to buy Japanese-made products
and cultivate special relationships with Japanese suppliers even though these com-
modities were not yet up to US standards.”** Ultimately, limited deconcentration and
the absence of military spending dramatically enhanced Japan’s competitive position
in the world market, and the business élite has been remarkably successful in transfer-
ring the martial spirit of the pre-1945 era to the postwar corporate board room.”
542 Policy Shift and Aftermath

In the 1980s, as the US trade deficit with Japan swelled to unprecedented propor-
tions, Washington had cause to regret its Occupation-era promotion of managed
trade, with its industrial targeting, predatory marketing strategies and protectionist
policies. Today, only about 20 per cent of Japanese firms compete fully in the world
market, but they are among the world’s largest and most efficient. The remaining 80
per cent are geared to domestic production, although many are affiliates or subsidiar-
ies of major exporters. Interlocking directorates, cross-shareholding, collusive and
exclusionary feiretsu groupings of manufacturers and suppliers, bid-rigging (dango)
and other such ‘non-tariff barriers’ that block foreign access to the Japanese market
are a product of this developmentalist strategy.*° Washington viewed the markets of
Southeast Asia as vital to Japan’s complete economic recovery and its usefulness as a
Free- World ally. The rise of Communist-led forces in French Indo-China committed
to national liberation appeared to threaten that goal. If the Southeast Asian “dom-
inoes’ fell, it was feared, Japan might turn to China and the Communist bloc to
secure its long-term trade interests. In an important sense, the origins of the second
Indo-China War (1964-75) lie in flawed assumptions spawned between 1949 and
1950 tying Japan’s future to the fate of these peripheral emporia.“’

Labour reform
The Labour Union Law, the Labour Relations Adjustment Law and the Labour
Standards Law liberated the Japanese worker and brought the rights of working
people into line with internationally accepted norms. There were limits to reform,
however, beyond which the Occupation would not go. GHQ promptly outlawed
strike actions it deemed ‘prejudicial to Occupation objectives’ or, in the alarm-
ist rhetoric of the time, ‘liable to endanger the security of Occupation forces’.
MacArthur banned the general strike planned for 1 February 1947 because he
believed it could disrupt the economy and threaten lives. SCAP also denied civil
servants the right to strike and bargain collectively. (This fundamental prerogative
was restored to some employees with the privatisation of the Japan National Rail-
ways, the Nippon Telegraph and Telephone Public Corporation and the Japan
Tobacco and Salt Public Corporation between 1985 and 1987.) Nor did SCAP
succeed fully in eliminating paternalistic employment practices or the hierarchical
shopfloor division of labour, both of which exert a negative influence on labour
relations today. Its attempt to bring in the American labour-management model and
US-style trade unionism also foundered as social bureaucrats in the Labour Ministry
reintroduced the group-orientated ‘Japanese labour relations system’ to counter
worker militancy. Enterprise unionism became the rule, with exclusive in-house
unions (including both workers and managers) narrowly focused on intra-company
problems.
During the 1970s and early 1980s, organised labour moved to the right. From the
mid-1980s, privatisation of the large public corporations accelerated this trend. In
1989, the left-of-centre Sdhyd (General Council of Trade Unions of Japan), repre-
senting about 37 per cent of all organised workers (3.6 million), dissolved and
 The Legacy of Occupation 543

merged with its bitter right-wing rival, Dome: (Japanese Confederation of Labour).
The result was Rengd (Japan Trade Union Confederation), a broad anti-Communist
labour front advocating labour-management cooperation and boasting a member-
ship of 8 million. Since then, the gap between union leadership and the rank and
file has widened. Opposing Rengd is Zenrdren (National Confederation of Trade
Unions), a small left-leaning federation of 1.4 million workers that separated from
Sdhyé to form its own more politically orientated national centre.
In the early 1990s, the speculative bubble of the late 1980s burst, bringing on
the worst recession of the postwar period. By 2001, the slow-down was being com-
pared to the 1949-50 Dodge deflation, as the unemployment rate soared to
an unprecedented 5 per cent. In this climate of sluggish growth, downsizing and
bankruptcies, firms have moved to eliminate such traditional practices as lifetime
employment, the seniority system and enterprise unionism. Ironically, the slack
economy has brought Yoshida Shigeru’s quip about GHQ (‘Go Home Quickly’)
back into vogue as young employees with little work to do, known as ‘GHQers’,
routinely leave the office early. Industrial restructuring has precipitated a decline in
union membership, which dropped from 35 per cent of the work force in 1975 to
about 22 per cent in 1998. The changing labour market also has encouraged the

Photo 76. On Japan’s 65th May Day, foreign labourers, many of them undocumented, dem-
onstrate alongside Japanese workers. Their banner reads; “Through workers’ solidarity, we can
protect our rights, living standards, and peace’. Their presence indicates the changing com-
position of Japan’s unskilled labour force and the stirrings of a multi-cultural society. A
number of Japanese unions now include foreign workers in their membership regardless of
residence status. With their assistance, Bangladeshis, Filipinos, Iranians and Latin Americans
have formed their own unions. Hibiya, 1 May 1994 (Kyodo).
544 Policy Shift and Aftermath

growth of new kinds of labour groups, such as cross-enterprise unions that organise
part-time workers, foremen and foreign workers across company lines.”
In the late 1980s, as globalisation intensified, the government made deregulation
and institutional reform national priorities and began revising key labour laws. In
1986, it rewrote the Temporary Staff Labour Law to enable employers to despatch
superfluous workers to subsidiaries and affiliates (this was revised in July 1999,
extending the authorised period of such transfers by up to one year). In 1987, the
Employment Security Law was amended to allow the use of ‘flexible’ part-time
contract labour hired at lower wages and with fewer benefits. In September 1998, the
Labour Standards Law was amended, extending the working day from 8 to 10 hours,
thereby eliminating the 40-hour work week. At the same time, the job-placement
industry is being deregulated and the category of tasks subject to discretionary work
schedules enlarged, SCAP’s labour legislation was designed to protect workers from
the vagaries of the market and the worst excesses of the capitalist system. Recent
amendments are designed to streamline the economy, give big business maximum
flexibility in dealing with the current crisis and subordinate workers’ rights more
completely to the needs of industry.

Land reform
Perhaps the Occupation’s single most successful endeavour was the 1946 land
reform. Although Japan had planned a modest restructuring of the land-tenure
system during and immediately after the war, SCAP ultimately took that idea farther
than even it had originally anticipated. ‘The land-to-the tiller programme liberated 2
million hectares of agricultural land, redistributed it to former tenants at a fraction of
its actual value, installed more than half of the nation’s food producers on their own
farms and virtually eliminated tenancy as an institution, The reform democratised
rural life, raised living standards, improved labour efficiency and increased agri-
cultural ourput. It failed, however, to remedy the problem of tiny dispersed land
parcels, Today, full-time cultivators till on average a mere 2.8 hectares, and the vast
majority manage a minuscule 1.6 hectares, impeding mechanisation and the devel-
opment of scale economies. Forested property, on the other hand, was not confis-
cated and redistributed in the reform, As a result, this land escaped parcellisation
and now plays a crucial role in preserving the rural ecology.”
The land reform was unequivocally beneficial in that it transformed poor tenant
farmers into a class of self-reliant and economically viable family farmers, eliminated
parasitic landlordism and boosted farm productivity. Once that judgement is behind
us, however, ambiguities creep in, The reform weakened the farmers’ movement and
cost the Socialist Party, whose fortunes were closely linked with that movement, its
rural electoral base. Land reform shifted rural political sympathies from the Socialists
and Communists to the conservative alliance that took power in 1948. Former land-
lords watched with resentment as land values soared in the 1960s and 1970s and their
ex-tenants enriched themselves by selling off the plots they had acquired in the reform.
Despite postwar improvements, farming remains synonymous with hard work and
 The Legacy of Occupation 545

low income. The Basic Agriculture Law of 1961 encouraged large-scale rice mono-
culture and mechanisation in order to facilitate the transfer of rural labour to urban
manufacturing. To maintain living standards, many food producers were compelled
to take part-time jobs outside of the farm sector. Today, for the majority, agriculture
itself is a sideline activity, and full-time cultivators represent a mere 16 per cent of all
farm households. Young farmers have difficulty attracting wives, and this has
prompted some villages to recruit brides from China, South Korea, the Philippines,
Sri Lanka and Thailand. Finally, few young men are willing to assume responsibility
for the family farm, and if present trends continue, in many rural areas, the current
generation of professional farmers may be the last.
As the land reform was completed, producers formed agricultural cooperatives
(Nokyo) to market their crops, acquire farm supplies cheaply, bank their income and
pressure the government to maintain an elaborate system of price supports and other
subsidies. Recent research shows that an intense debate took place within
SCAP’s Economic and Scientific Section and Natural Resources Section concerning
the wisdom of encouraging the co-ops. Those who warned that the Nokyé would
monopolise the farm market were proved right by subsequent events. Since their
inception, the co-ops have been a bastion of conservative rule, funnelling rural votes
and funds into the LDP party machine.
In the 1980s, however, the Uruguay Round and subsequent trade liberalisation
agreements forced the conservatives to slash subsidies and lower Japan’s excessively
high food prices to world-market levels (in 1998, the consumer’s price of rice was
still 2.4 times higher than in the United States). Today, shifting priorities are eroding
rice-roots support for the LDP in its so-called Conservative Kingdom.“

THE CULTURAL REFORMS

The Occupation was determined to extirpate ultra-nationalist dogmas, and extensive

reforms in education, religion and the mass media largely accomplished that goal.
Many of the changes SCAP wrought, however, were gradually rolled back following
the return of Japanese sovereignty.

Education
The education reforms dismantled the highly centralised and élitist prewar school
system, making instruction co-educational, uniform and compulsory for nine years
through junior high school. This decentralising project struck at the enormous
authority of the Education Ministry by abolishing state-controlled textbooks, scrap-
ping ethics and other courses that had promoted ultra-nationalist values and permit-
ting individual schools to choose their own curricula and texts. Finally, Occupation
authorities placed the responsibility for making school policy in the hands of locally
elected boards of education.
Some Japanese scholars assert that the school reforms were dualistic. On the one
546 Policy Shift and Aftermath

hand, SCAP’s basic education plan signalled a radical departure from past Japanese
practice. On the other, it created a framework that tied educational policy to US
global strategy. In the words of one academic, “The introduction of an American-style
education system furthered these strategic goals by providing a platform for the
Occupation’s own propaganda effort and the propagation of the democratic ideals
fostered by Western (primarily American) capitalist society. The new system’s ultim-
ate objective was to transform Japan into a strong, anti-Communist state capable of
countering the influence of China and the Soviet Union.” It is true that the 1946 US
Education Mission played a central role in setting the reform agenda, but this pro-
gramme was not imposed unilaterally. Forward-looking Japanese educators and offi-
cials adapted the US proposals to Japanese realities, using the Occupation’s immense
authority to overcome conservative opposition and achieve meaningful change. In
fact, in both form and content, this was in many respects a Japanese initiative.
The Yoshida government acquiesced in some of these momentous changes but
successfully forestalled others. The conservatives objected strenuously to the idea of
independent boards of education and succeeded in postponing their full introduc-
tion until October 1952, by which time Japan had regained its independence. In
1956, the ultra-conservative Hatoyama Cabinet abolished elective school boards
altogether under the Local Educational Administration Law. Thereafter, local boards
were appointed by municipal mayors and school superintendents by prefectural
boards, which now controlled the hiring and firing of local teaching staff. The 1956
law proved so unpopular that the government had to introduce 500 police into the
Upper House to restrain angry lawmakers in chaotic scenes reminiscent of the 1954
police reform.
The Education Ministry quickly recovered much of its former authority via
enhanced powers of advice, guidance and consent. In 1958, it reasserted control over
course content and textbook selection and reintroduced ethics into school curricula.
Recentralisation was met by stiff resistance, most notably from the left-leaning Japan
Teachers’ Union (JVikkydso). To curb the union’s influence, the Yoshida government
rammed through the Diet a controversial law — honoured in the breach — banning
political activity by public school teachers during and after school hours, with the
sole exception of voting.
Textbook screening, another SCAP innovation, became a tool for recasting edu-
cational content in a conservative mould. In the early phase of occupation, censors
screened school texts to purge them of militarist ideology. Since 1958, the Education
Ministry, through its Textbook Review Council, a conservative advisory body of
teachers and scholars, has purged texts of materials deemed harmful to the nation’s
self-image. Until the late 1980s, the Ministry routinely suppressed passages discuss-
ing Japan’s colonial conquests and wartime behaviour; these inconvenient facts were,
in effect, written out of the history books. In 1965, historian Ienaga Saburo, a
textbook writer who had contributed to the 1946 history primer Kuni no ayumi (Our
Nation’s Progress), took the Education Ministry to court for excising as inappropri-
ate more than 300 passages or expressions from a text he had submitted. In 1989, the
 The Legacy of Occupation 547

Tokyo District Court, ruling on the third Ienaga suit, handed the historian a limited
victory by declaring the censors wrong in one instance. Although the Court rejected
his treatment of the colonisation of Korea, Unit 731’s biological warfare experiments
and the battle of Okinawa, upholding the government’s right in principle to vet
school texts and dictate course content, it allowed his account of the Nanjing mas-
sacre and other misdeeds. The verdict was a milestone that imposed clear limits on
the extent of censorship. The same year, in the face of widespread criticism, the
Education Ministry issued new standards for history education, requiring schools to
focus more on the twentieth century and particularly the war era.“°
Most textbooks of the 1990s have included brief references to colonial rule, the
Nanjing massacre, ‘comfort women’ and other war issues, although discussion of the
Emperor’s role remains taboo. In 2000, the Ministry introduced further modifica-
tions that have shortened the textbook review period from one year to one month or
less and require inspectors to state their reasons for deleting information or demand-
ing revisions. But the crux of the problem, state censorship of educational content,
is unresolved. Since the late 1990s, nationalistic scholars, opinion leaders and even
popular cartoonists have disputed war atrocities and lobbied to reverse textbook
revisions in order to create a neo-conservative consensus justifying Japan’s wartime
conduct. Reflecting that trend, the most recent textbooks, scheduled for release in
2002, devote less space to the war years. Only three-of eight publishers have included
material on wartime sexual slavery, and of the six that mention the Nanjing atroci-
ties, only one gives a concrete figure for the number of victims (current texts cite
figures ranging from 100,000 to 200,000).
One of the eight texts is an aggressively revisionist junior high history book
submitted by a group of rightwing educators, the Japanese Society for History Text-
book Reform. In early April 2001, the Education Ministry surprised the book’s
many critics by approving it for use in 2002. The text emphasises the importance of
the emperor system, omits any reference to the ‘comfort women’ issue and down-
plays the scale and significance of atrocities such as the Nanjing rampage. The
Ministry’s decision brought ringing condemnation from Asian capitals, and a week
later, Seoul protested by recalling its ambassador for consultations. Koreans were
particularly offended by the textbook’s attempt to sanitise Japan’s colonial conquest
of their country, and as of this writing, the controversy continues to rage, threatening
to undo the recent efforts of ROK President Kim Dae Jung and others to reconcile
the two countries and move the bilateral relationship forward.
The new texts also glorify the flag and national anthem. In the 1980s, Prime
Minister Nakasone (1982-7) revised the school curriculum to emphasise ‘Japanese
identity’ and respect for the then-unofficial Rising Sun banner (Hinomaru) and the
de facto national hymn (Kimigayo, literally “The Imperial Reign’), paramount sym-
bols of the Old Order. In 1985, the Education Ministry instructed public schools to
observe flag and anthem rituals at entrance and graduation ceremonies, and in
1989, a ministerial directive made these observances mandatory and prescribed pun-
ishments for wayward school officials. After a decade of acrimonious debate, in
548 Policy Shift and Afiermath

August 1999, the Obuchi Cabinet pushed through two bills legally recognising the
Hinomaru and the Kimigayo and immediately issued a circular requiring government
organisations, including municipalities and public corporations, to raise the flag and
sing the national hymn at government-sponsored events. New teaching guidelines,
effective from 2002, will oblige teachers to emphasise these observances in an effort
to forge a deeper sense of loyalty to the state. Students in some schools have boy-
cotted graduation ceremonies to protest against these rites, however, and teachers
affiliated with the Japan Teachers’ Union also have expressed strong opposition. In
August 2000, the Tokyo Board of Education reprimanded 17 public school teachers
for wearing blue ‘peace ribbons’ and distributing leaflets that explained the close
association of these militaristic symbols with the emperor system and wartime
aggression.
The recentralisation of education has created other long-term problems, as well.
Further tightening of ministerial control in the 1980s and 1990s has produced a
thoroughly controlled school environment, where students’ lives are closely moni-
tored and regulated down to the finest detail of dress, hairstyle and behaviour, both
in and outside of the classroom. An excessive emphasis on rote memorisation and
unrelenting parental pressure to enter a top university, seen as the sole guarantee of a
good job, stifle creativity. Test scores seem to have become the only accepted measure
of individual worth. In recent years, this highly regimented system has led young
people to acts of desperation and rebellion. Bullying at school and after class is a
serious problem. Drug use now is common in middle schools, something unthink-
able a few years ago, and long-term truancy is endemic. Many students appear
aggressively self-centred and display little of the self-control on which Japanese trad-
itionally have prided themselves. In 1997, violent incidents occurred at 30 per cent
of the nation’s middle schools and at 37 per cent of its high schools, directed mainly
at other students but also at teachers and school property.
There have been positive developments, as well, such as the proliferation of
preparatory academies, specialised trade schools, two-year junior colleges, ‘freedom’
schools and adult education programmes. Since 1985, the University of the Air has
made advanced instruction available to anyone willing to apply themselves and
learn. These institutions meet the diversified needs of a larger public, providing
an alternative to the current rigid tracking system designed to turn out obedient
citizens. In December 2000, the National Commission on Education Reform, an
advisory panel to Prime Minister Mori, recommended overhauling the 1947 Fun-
damental Law on Education in order to nurture creativity and eliminate excessive
competition in college entrance exams. Reform, indeed, is long overdue, but here we
must be careful to preserve the best of the Occupation-era law. This is its overarch-
ing vision of a school system that insures the ‘full development of the personality’
and strives to produce a citizenry ‘who shall love truth and justice, esteem individual
value ... and be imbued with an independent spirit, as builders of a peaceful state
and society’.
 The Legacy of Occupation 549

Freedom of worship and belief

SCAP’s Shinto Directive of December 1945 outlawed State Shint6, guaranteed free-
dom of worship and belief and mandated state neutrality in religious matters. These
reforms were written into the Constitution’s Article 20, which states unambiguously
that: ‘No religious organisation shall receive any privileges from the State’ and that
‘The State and its organs shall refrain from . . . religious activity’. Article 89 further
stipulates that ‘No money or other property shall be expended or appropriated for
the use, benefit or maintenance of any religious institution’. The prewar tradition of
conflating Shinté rites and nationalist ideology revived quickly, however, once the
Occupation ended. Yasukuni Shrine in Tokyo, founded by the Emperor Meiji and
dedicated to the spirits of those who have died in the Emperor’s service, is a prime
example. Formerly a state shrine, it was used by the militarists to glorify Japan’s
foreign conquests and promote patriotism. Disestablished during the Occupation,
Yasukuni has enjoyed the moral support of successive conservative governments since
1952. In 1968, the shrine added the names of 2 million Japanese killed during
World War II to its roster of ‘heroic souls’ (eirei), including some 50,000 Koreans
and Chinese who were enshrined as Shintd deities (saishin) over the vehement pro-
tests of surviving family members. Since 1969, the LDP has submitted bills to the
Diet almost annually seeking to restore state funding for Yasukuni, so far without
success. In 1978, the names of 14 Class A war criminals were added to the rolls, and
the following year, Prime Minister Ohira Masayoshi (1978-80) paid an ‘unofficial’
visit to the sanctuary.
On 15 August 1985, Prime Minister Nakasone became the first postwar premier
to worship publicly at the shrine in his official capacity. Nakasone was accompanied
by his entire Cabinet, and the visit, which drew vitriolic comment from China, the
two Koreas and other Asian countries, escalated into a major diplomatic incident. In
1986, Nakasone’s newly appointed education minister, Fujio Masayuki, blamed the
Occupation’s education reforms for what he termed the “Yasukuni allergy’. At the
same time, he made statements minimising Japan’s wartime brutality, implied that
Chinese and Koreans had committed similar atrocities in the course of their own
history and suggested that Koreans had welcomed and collaborated actively in their
own colonisation. Nakasone’s successors, however, prudently adopted a low profile
and avoided the annual pilgrimage.
Buddhist and Christian groups promptly sued the government over the Nakasone
visit, charging that in effect it treated the Shintd war shrine as a state institution and
undermined the legal standing and rights of other religions. District courts dismissed
the complaint, but in 1992, both the Fukuoka and the Osaka High Courts threw out
the earlier verdicts and determined that the act of homage and the Prime Minister’s
monetary gift to Yasukuni were ‘very likely’ unconstitutional. The courts pointedly
avoided a clear-cut judgement, however, leaving an area of ambiguity that conserva-
tive politicians have been able to exploit, strengthening the symbolism of state
involvement with the shrine.
In 1993, Prime Minister Miyazawa Kiichi (1991-3) prayed secretly at the
550 Policy Shift and Aftermath

sanctuary to keep a promise to the Japan Association of War-Bereaved Families. In

July 1996, Prime Minister Hashimoto Ryiitaré (1995-8) visited Yasukuni on his
birthday. Although he went as a private citizen, he signed the guest register using his
official title, a sign that the pendulum has begun to swing the other way. On 15
August 2000, Prime Minister Mori stayed away from the sanctuary to avoid contro-
versy pending a state visit by Chinese Premier Zhu Rongi, but 10 members of his
Cabinet venerated the war dead there. They were joined by Tokyo Governor Ishihara
Shintaré, the first Tokyo head of government to worship in his official capacity. In
2001, Prime Minister Koizumi Jun’ichiré prayed publicly at the shrine on 13 August,
two days before the official anniversary of Japan’s capitulation, angering supporters
and foes alike and drawing fresh rebukes from Asian neighbours.
With the exception of the ambiguous Nakasone ruling, the top court has not
supported citizens contesting state-religion issues. In 1977, for example, the Supreme
Court declared that the use of public funds to sponsor Shinté ritual is not unconsti-
tutional per se. The controversy erupted when a city councillor in Tsu City, Mie Pre-
fecture sued municipal authorities for financing a 1965 Shinté ground-purification
ceremony. The Tsu District Court ruled that the event was a secular ritual commonly
accompanying construction projects and therefore permissible under law. In 1971,
the Nagoya High Court overturned that decision. The ceremony, despite its social
function, also was a Shinto religious observance, the Court found, and therefore
could not be funded publicly. When Tsu City appealed the verdict, however, the
Supreme Court found in its favour, upholding the court of first instance.
Judges also have sided with the state in cases involving freedom of worship. In
1968, a Self-Defence Force officer, Nakaya Takafumi, was killed in a traffic accident
while on duty. In 1972, the SDF informed his widow, Nakaya Yasuko, that against
her wishes — she was a Christian — her deceased husband had been enshrined as a
deity in the Yamaguchi prefectural Defence of the Nation Shrine (Gokoku Jinja)
along with 26 other SDF dead. Nakaya Yasuko sued, but while two lower courts
ruled that enshrinement was a religious activity and therefore illegal, the Supreme
Court reversed these decisions in 1988, allowing the state, in effect, to apotheosise
her deceased husband into a Shinté spirit.”
With the end of the Occupation, local governments began openly disbursing
municipal funds for rites honouring the war dead. In 1977 residents of Mino’o City
in Osaka Prefecture brought suit against the city for using public funds for that
purpose, but in 1993, the Supreme Court ruled the practice to be within consti-
tutional limits. During the Occupation, Mino’o authorities had concealed a war
memorial (chikonhi) erected in 1916 to the nation’s war dead, a common practice at
that time in prefectural cities and rural areas. In 1952, the city took the cenotaph out
of wraps. When it decided to move the memorial to a new location and bought land
for that purpose in 1975, anti-war residents invoked the Local Autonomy Law and
challenged municipal authorities in court. They also sued the mayor and other city
officials, including the chair of the local board of education, for attending a religious
ceremony at the monument in their official capacity and for providing financial aid
 The Legacy of Occupation 561

to a religious organisation — the Association of War-Bereaved Families, an affiliate of

the nationalistic Japan Association of War-Bereaved Families. These actions, the
anti-war group charged, violated Articles 20 and 89 of the Constitution.
In March 1982, Osaka District Court found that the allocation of public
funds for such purposes violated the Constitution. The Court also ruled that the
Association of Bereaved Families is a religious body and that public financial assist-
ance to such organisations, too, is unconstitutional. In July 1987, however, the
Osaka High Court overturned that decision on the grounds that the cenotaph was
not an object of religious veneration but a simple monument and that the use of
public funds to transfer it therefore was legitimate. ‘The Court also declared that
ceremonies honouring the war dead are not religious in nature but customary. The
presence of the mayor and other city officials thus did not constitute state involve-
ment in a religious rite. Finally, the Court held that the Association of Bereaved
Families was not a religious body. The plaintiffs appealed their case to the Supreme
Court, which upheld the High Court decision in February 1993.
The judiciary, then, generally has moved towards a looser interpretation of the
constitutional guarantees affecting religious freedoms. In at least one area, however,
superior courts have sided with citizens’ groups against the state. In 1991, the Sendai
High Court rejected decisions by the Morioka District Court sanctioning govern-
ment visits to Yasukuni and allowing the payment of a shrine fee (tamagushi-ryo) by
Iwate prefectural assembly members. The visits and the official disbursement, the
High Court said, violated the principle of separation of religion and state. Similarly,
in 1997, the Takamatsu High Court determined that tamagushi payments consti-
tuted a religious act favouring a specific cult.“* The Supreme Court has yet to rule on
this question, however.
The sarin poisoning incident in Tokyo posed a different challenge to postwar
religious freedoms. On 20 March 1995, members of Aum Shinrikyé, a doomsday
cult with thousands of young followers, released deadly sarin nerve gas on a Tokyo
subway line, killing 12 commuters and injuring more than 5,500. Following the
incident, the government promptly revised the 1951 Religious Corporation Law,
placing religious groups under the jurisdiction of the Education Ministry instead of
the prefectural governor and strengthening centralised control over religious activ-
ities in general. The government railroaded the reform bill through the Diet, enact-
ing it in late 1996. In the United States, legislation of this magnitude would have
required Congressional hearings lasting at least three years. The state next attempted
to dissolve Aum Shinrikyd under the 1952 Subversive Activities Prevention Law.
Such a measure would have created a dangerous precedent and was opposed suc-
cessfully by a broad coalition of civil libertarians, progressive political parties and
Christian, Buddhist and other religious groups.”

The mass media

SCAP’s Press and Radio Codes of September 1945 abolished state control of the mass
media, but the Occupation immediately imposed it own constraints on information.
552 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Censorship was a necessary evil that helped nurture democratic ideals, but it had
unintended consequences. Even after Japan recovered its independence, the media
remained circumspect in their coverage of the Establishment, and the Chrys-
anthemum Taboo quickly reasserted itself. Consequently, the Fourth Estate has not
played an effective watch-dog role in post-treaty Japan. The government, for its
part, closely regulates the release of state information through the exclusive press
clubs operated by each ministry and state agency and can deny access to reporters
who stray too far from the official line. The mass media seem incapable of internal
reform, but the public, too, is partly to blame for not holding editors to a higher
standard of truth.
Few mainstream news organisations, for instance, question seriously Japan’s polit-
ical and diplomatic subservience to the United States. The media’s uncritical accept-
ance of the 1997 Guidelines for Japan-US Defence Cooperation and the Theatre
Missile Defence proposal is just one recent example. Another sacred cow is the
United Nations. Editors and opinion leaders seem to believe that Japan’s UN
commitment is almighty. If the General Assembly sanctions armed intervention, as
during the Gulf War, Tokyo must follow its lead, they imply, or suffer isolation and
world condemnation. Behind the United Nations, however, stands the United States.
Indeed, in many Japanese minds, the two are inseparable. Blind support for the
United Nations clearly is dangerous, but as Japan’s power élite manipulates that
potent symbol and clamours for a seat on the Security Council, the mass media lend
it their tacit support.”
Media abuses abound. Reporters tend to develop close relationships with the
police, on whom they rely for leads on crime stories. Newspapers frequently sen-
sationalise such reports, creating the impression that law officers are acting on the
basis of established evidence, when in fact, suspects may be detained on a charge of
convenience. Arrest becomes tantamount in the public mind to an admission of
guilt, inviting miscarriages of justice. An example of irresponsible reporting is the
Matsumoto incident. In July 1994, an innocent white-collar employee was virtually
tried and convicted by the media of releasing poison gas into an apartment complex
in Matsumoto City, Nagano Prefecture, killing seven people and injuring 270. In
March 1995, the real culprit was discovered to be Aum Shinrikyo, which had used
Matsumoto as a trial run for its assault on Tokyo commuters.

HEALTH, WELFARE AND THE PURSUIT OF HAPPINESS

GHQ?’s innovations in health and welfare were ahead of their time and are among the
most remarkable of the postwar reforms. Article 25 of the 1946 Constitution states
unequivocally that ‘All people shall have the right to maintain the minimum stand-
ards of wholesome and cultured living. In all spheres of life, the State shall use its
endeavours for the promotion and extension of social welfare and security, and of
public health.’ Similar guarantees were not incorporated into international law until
 The Legacy of Occupation 553

later: the World Health Organisation Charter dates from 1951 and the International
Covenants on Human Rights (Covenant A, Article 12) from 1966.
The eighteenth-century philosopher Jean-Jacques Rousseau once commented that
the true measure of a nation’s cultural development was to be found in its vital
statistics, notably the ratio between birth and mortality rates. In that sense, the
Occupation reforms helped Japan attain a very high level of cultural maturity. For
instance, in 1947 the ratio of births to deaths per 1,000 people was 34.3 to 14.6; in
1960, it was 19.4 to 7.8; and in 1998, it was 9.6 to 7.5. Both rates have declined
rapidly at approximately the same pace. (During the six-and-half years of Occupa-
tion control, the death rate alone dropped from 18.7 per 1,000 to 8.1.) The infant
mortality rate has fallen even more dramatically, from 76.7 in 1947, to 39.8 in 1960
and to 3.6 in 1998. The lifespan of the average Japanese has grown proportionately
and today is the longest in the world. In 1947, men lived an average of 50 years, but
by 1998, that figure was 77.2 years. The figures for women, respectively, are 54 years
and 84 years.”!
Behind these data lie major advances in nutrition and the war against disease. In
1947, the average daily intake of animal protein was 6.7 grams in rural areas and 14.7
grams in the cities, but in 1950, that figure was 17 grams in both, and by 1997, it had
more than doubled to 43.9 grams. With the shift from a traditional diet to a mixed
regimen based on Western as well as Japanese foods, average height, weight and build
have increased, and our young people now approach Western norms in body size and
physical strength. Major infectious diseases also have been virtually eliminated. Cases
of dysentery and diphtheria, for example, dropped from 50.2 and 36.3 victims,
respectively, per 10,000 people in 1947 to 1.0 and 0.0 in 1997. Tuberculosis, another
deadly disease for which there once was no cure, also has declined sharply, falling
from 146.4 people per 10,000 in 1947 to 3.1 in 1997. These advances may all be
traced to the ambitious public health programme instituted by the Occupation.”
While medical care, pubic health and social welfare have made impressive strides
in the past half century, new problems such as pervasive industrial pollution also have
arisen. In the 1950s and 1960s, the Chisso Corporation in Minamata, Kumamoto
Prefecture pumped hundreds of thousands of tons of raw mercury effluent into
Minamata Bay, poisoning the fish in the Ariake Sea, killing more than 900 local
inhabitants and crippling or disabling many thousands of others. A Shéwa Denko
factory on the Agano River in Ni’igata Prefecture also caused a serious outbreak of
“Minamata disease’. In Yokkaichi, Mie Prefecture, a major petrochemical complex
fouled the air, producing severe cases of asthma over a large area, and cadmium
poisoning affecting the bones (étai-itai disease) led to widespread suffering in
Toyama Prefecture. In 1980, there were 80,000 officially recognised victims of
pollution-related diseases. By 1988, an additional 100,000 had been certified as
suffering from atmospheric pollution alone, 94 per cent of them concentrated in the
three industrial conurbations of Tokyo, Nagoya and Osaka.”
Since the ‘hollowing out’ of the economy in the 1980s, many smokestack indus-
tries have moved offshore, exporting their poisonous emissions to Southeast Asia. In
554 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Japan today, pollution is increasingly invisible, but the air and land remain danger-
ously contaminated by dioxin, polychlorinated biphenyls (PCBs), benzine and other
industrial carcinogens. Even the country’s contours have been altered, its once-
beautiful coastlines having virtually disappeared. Although two thirds of our moun-
tainous archipelago is forested, we find it cheaper to import timber from Southeast
Asia, destroying local ecosystems there as well. Concrete and asphalt cover much of
the country, and housing developments crowd out prime farmland. Consequently,
we now import 60 per cent of our food.
In 1988, the government began construction of a dam on the Nagara River in
Mie Prefecture, the longest natural river system remaining in Japan. The state has
proceeded with the project despite protests from local residents and national and
international conservation groups. Construction has adversely affected water quality,
resulting in the loss of local fish species and damaging the regional habitat. In 1993,
the government enacted the Basic Environmental Law in an effort to balance indus-
trial activity and environmental protection, and in 1997, the Environmental Assess-
ment Law was passed making ecological impact surveys mandatory. Yet even as the
1997 statute went into force, a new state reclamation project began draining some
3,550 hectares of the vast Isahaya tidal flats in Nagasaki Prefecture to create new
farmland, destroying marine life unique to the bay ecology of Japan’s largest remain-
ing wetland, Scheduled for completion in 2006, the project has disrupted the local
seaweed harvest and threatens other marine industries. Environmental laws not only
lack effective enforcement mechanisms but also deny local residents a voice in the
development projects that menace their communities. Despite Japan’s material
affluence, true prosperity — the peace of mind and generosity of spirit that come from
co-existing harmoniously with nature — eludes us.”
The computer age brings with it new health threats of which we are only beginning
to be aware. As birth and death rates have fallen and life expectancy has climbed, the
care and rights of the elderly have become pressing issues. The coffers of the National
Health Insurance programme are already badly strained, and many of us wonder who
will pay the ballooning health-care costs of the future. We are hard pressed to deal
with the growing incidence of cancer and other life-threatening diseases, and the
concept of death with dignity and the hospice movement are still novel ideas here.
Japan, too, has its AIDS crisis. Open discussion of the problem is a social taboo,
and those living with HIV are openly discriminated against, with many hospitals
refusing to treat HIV-positive patients. The number of hidden carriers is expected to
rise dramatically as the AIDS epidemic explodes in Asia. In the early 1980s, Health
and Welfare Ministry officials knowingly allowed unheated blood products from the
United States to enter Japan without testing them for HIV. As a result more than
2,000 haemophiliacs have contacted the immuno-deficiency virus through transfu-
sions. In 1995, the Tokyo and Osaka District Courts ordered the government and
five pharmaceutical companies, including the controversial Green Cross Corporation
(chapter 10), to pay extensive damages to the victims and their families. In February
1996, Health and Welfare Minister Kan Naoto admitted the Ministry’s responsibil-
 The Legacy of Occupation 555

ity for the tragedy and issued a formal apology, and the government subsequently
brought criminal charges against a doctor, a Ministry official and three Green Cross
executives.
These are a few of the problems of a postmodern society at century’s end. Many of
them reflect the highly managed, authority-orientated society we have built since
1952. Economism, embodied in the modern ‘enterprise state,’ has shifted popular
loyalties from the emperor system to the corporation while weakening the social
fabric of family and community life.” For many, the only alternative seems to be
hedonism and the narrow pursuit of selfish, even antisocial, goals. Despite the very
real gains Japan has made since the Occupation, issues such as the exclusion of
cultural and ethnic minorities and the nation’s war responsibility seem intractable.
Nevertheless, if we continue working in the spirit of the postwar reforms, Japanese
democracy is robust enough to meet such challenges. One of the keys to resolving
these and future problems lies in our endogenous tradition of local-level activism.

GRASS-ROOTS DEMOCRACY

In May 1945, former ambassador to Japan Joseph C. Grew told President Truman
that ‘from the long range point of view, the best we can hope for in Japan is the
development of a constitutional monarchy, experience having shown that democracy
... would never work’. Nearly three years later, in February 1948, George F. Kennan,
head of the State Department’s Policy Planning Staff, wrote in a similar vein that “We
should cease to talk about vague and — for the Far East — unreal objectives such as
human rights, the raising of the living standards, and democratization. The day is
not far off when we are going to have to deal in straight power concepts. The less we
are hampered by idealistic slogans, the better.’ Such cynical views were not shared
by the forward-looking men and women in SCAP who oversaw the early reforms, or
by the equally progressive Japanese who implemented and embraced them. Our
postwar history is proof that the prospect of democracy was neither vague nor unreal.

The birth ofcitizens’ movements

Critics of Occupation policy speak dismissively of ‘trickle-down democracy’, but
what happened at the grass roots as the years passed was more of a drenching than a
dribbling. The mid-1950s witnessed the florescence of a nationwide anti-war cit-
izens’ movement that MacArthur’s headquarters had sought to suppress. Popular
revulsion at US nuclear testing in the Pacific turned to outrage in March 1954 when
a hydrogen bomb blast at the Bikini Atoll in the Marshalls irradiated islanders and
the crew of a Japanese fishing vessel, Lucky Dragon (Fukuryit Maru) No. 5, which
happened to be in the vicinity. In May, a non-partisan women’s group in Tokyo’s
Suginami Ward launched a national signature campaign, and the so-called Suginami
Appeal signalled the beginning of a mass movement to abolish nuclear weapons and
war. By the end of 1954, more than 20 million signatures had been collected, and
556 Policy Shift and Aftermath

many Japanese had turned their attention to the forgotten victims of Hiroshima
and Nagasaki. In August 1955, the World Conference Against Atomic and Hydro-
gen Bombs was convened in Hiroshima, and in September of that year, the Japan
Council Against Atomic and Hydrogen Bombs (Gensuikyo) was formed, linking
groups across the political, religious and intellectual spectrum and including many
hibakusha. The organisation was instrumental in securing passage in 1957 of the
Atomic Bomb Victims’ Medical Care Law, the first official relief programme for
victims of the bombings. Backed by the Communist and Socialist Parties and Sahya,
Gensuikyé also played a major role in the 1960 struggle against renewal of the Japan—
US Security Treaty (Anpa). In 1964, Socialist-led groups, protesting Communist
support nuclear testing by Communist states, left Gensuikyé to form a rival organisa-
tion, the Japan Congress Against Atomic and Hydrogen Bombs (Gensuikin).””
The year 1960 marked the rise of people’s movements seeking democratic change
through direct collective action. These began with the struggle of the Miike miners
in Kyushu, who struck for more than nine months to win decent working conditions
and stop mine closures. The confrontation became a national cause célébre pitting
Japan’s labour movement against big business and the state. As the Miike strike
progressed, roughly 5 million students, farmers, workers, housewives and highly
diverse groups of citizens across the country joined forces to oppose renewal of the
Security Treaty. The unprecedented outpouring of popular dissent prompted the
Kishi Nobusuke Cabinet to resort to police force and ram the treaty through Parlia-
ment in May. The ensuing political upheavals of June, with bloody confrontations in
front of the Diet, obliged US President Dwight D. Eisenhower to cancel a scheduled
visit to Japan and precipitated the collapse of the Kishi government in July. The 1960
protests marked a shift away from mass movements dominated by workers and
opposition parties towards smaller coalitions in which citizens occupied centre stage
as they struggled to redefine Japanese democracy on their own terms.”*
From the mid-1960s, national coalitions of local residents, students and citizens’
groups, acting independently of existing political parties, rallied in support of the
victims of mercury poisoning at Minamata, opposed the expansion of US military
bases and contested the forcible expropriation of land for the construction of the
Narita International Airport at Sanrizuka, Chiba Prefecture. In the 1970s, sustained
economic growth produced a culture of complacency, and as the labour and student
movements waned, the victory seemed to go to corporate Japan and the state. Since
the 1980s, however, there has been a remarkable upswing in grass-roots activism,
with local residents tackling a bewildering range of issues, from ethnic discrimin-
ation, the emperor system and rearmament to the environment, consumers’ rights,
information disclosure, gender equality and police abuses. Of these, the movement
to atone for the past and make just restitution to the victims of Japan’s wartime
aggression is of special significance.
 The Legacy of Occupation 557

The movement for redress

The 1990s saw a veritable explosion of lawsuits filed by Koreans, Chinese and other
non-Japanese intent on seeking justice. This civil rights litigation has placed the state
itself on trial. Some 100 lawsuits demanding apologies and redress for war-related
military conscription, compulsory labour and sexual slavery are currently being
heard in the nation’s courtrooms. Former Korean B- and C-class war criminals,
ordered by Japanese superiors to carry out war crimes and jailed by US military
judges, also have contested their postwar treatment.” Legal action has been initiated
by former Allied prisoners of war from Australia, Britain, the Netherlands, New
Zealand and the United States; Hong Kong residents compelled to convert wartime
wages and savings into worthless military scrip; Taiwanese seeking payment of
Japanese military postal savings; Filipinos, Malaysians, Pacific Islanders and Papua
New Guineans seeking compensation for atrocities; and Chinese survivors of Unit
731’s chemical and biological warfare experiments.
Japanese citizens’ groups have been intimately involved in supporting these claims,
offering legal advice, paying court fees, publicising the issues and bringing pressure to
bear on the government. In 1993, more than 100 residents of Shinjuku Ward in
Tokyo filed a restraining order to prevent the government from disposing of human
bones unearthed at the site of the former Institute of Infectious Diseases. The
remains were believed to include those of Asians killed in biological warfare tests in
China and shipped back to Tokyo for post-mortem analysis. Citizens also have gone
to court to win release of state-held documentary evidence on forced labour and
sexual slavery, including the names of victims.
In July 1995, responding to pressure from Japanese civil rights groups, the coali-
tion Cabinet of Socialist Murayama Tomi’ichi announced the establishment of the
Asian Women’s Fund to solicit private contributions with which to compensate
surviving former ‘military comfort women’ (jzgun ianfu). The Murayama govern-
ment also set up an unofficial state fund to provide medical and welfare services to
the women. By limiting its campaign to corporate and private donations, however,
the government purposely sidestepped the question of state responsibility for the sex-
slave programme. Many human rights groups in Japan and abroad oppose the fund
for that reason, and to date only 170 Asian women have accepted money from it. In
August 2000, the UN Human Rights Committee in Geneva acknowledged in a
resolution on the ‘comfort women’ problem that Japan has made partial efforts to
atone for military prostitution but concluded that it has not adequately discharged
its obligations under international law.
The government contends that compensation issues were laid to rest by the 1952
San Francisco Peace Treaty and subsequent bilateral war reparations agreements.
Diplomatic records declassified in 2000, however, suggest otherwise. According to
the documents, the Netherlands threatened to boycott the San Francisco Peace Con-
ference unless Japan vouchsafed the right of its nationals to seek personal redress. In a
letter to the Dutch government, Prime Minister Yoshida temporised by endorsing
the view that the Peace Treaty did not prevent individuals from filing private war
558 Policy Shift and Aftermath

claims. ‘Today, momentum continues to build for a general settlement of outstanding

claims as Japan enters the new century. In May 2000, the Diet enacted landmark
legislation awarding a lump-sum ¥4 million ($37,000) payment to Koreans, For-
mosans and other Asians who served in the Japanese military during World War IL.
Widows of veterans will receive ¥2.6 million ($24,000) in compensation. The new
law is expected to benefit between 2,000 and 3,000 people but applies only to
permanent residents of Japan. Former Korean and Chinese soldiers — Imperial sub-
jects at the time — are demanding the same level of compensation as their Japanese
counterparts. (Between 1952 and 1994, a total of ¥39 trillion, or $361 billion, in
assistance was paid out to former Japanese combatants and their families, of which
three quarters went for military pensions.)*
Shortly afterwards, in July, in another precedent-setting decision, the Supreme
Court ordered a Japanese company, Nachi-Fujikoshi, to reach an out-of-court settle-
ment with three South Koreans seeking compensation for wartime forced labour at
the company’s munitions factory in Toyama Prefecture. The firm agreed to pay an
unspecified sum but refused to offer an apology, which the plaintiffs had demanded
as well. In late November, taking its cue from the Supreme Court’s intercession in
July, the Tokyo High Court announced that it had brokered an even more dramatic
settlement. Following a lengthy civil suit, the Kajima Corporation agreed to apolo-
gise to survivors of the June 1945 massacre of Chinese labour conscripts at the
Hanaoka Mine in Akita Prefecture (chapter 7). It also promised to pay an indemnity
totaling ¥500 million (about $4.5 million) to a// victims or their heirs, not merely
the 11 plaintiffs who initiated the action,
A sincere act of contrition by the state for past misdeeds, however, has not been
forthcoming. In 1993, amid the groundswell of agitation to acknowledge Japan’s war
responsibility, Hosokawa Morihiro, a reform-orientated conservative from Kyushu,
became prime minister. The grandson of Prince Konoe Fumimaro, Hosokawa was
seven when Konoe committed suicide in 1945 to avoid war crimes prosecution. One
of Hosokawa’s first official acts upon taking office was to call a press conference and
announce candidly that Japan had been wrong to wage a war of aggression. Hosokawa’s
frank admission of culpability was followed in 1995 by a similar statement of regret
from Prime Minister Murayama, leader of the first Socialist-LDP coalition. Since
then, however, pro forma apologies have become a diplomatic ritual — politically
correct but generally devoid of substance. The most recent expressions of remorse
were offered by Prime Minister Koizumi in October 2001 during visits to Beijing
and Seoul. These conciliatory gestures were widely viewed, however, as an effort to
deflect criticism over the premier’s pledge to mobilise the SDF in support of Ameri-
can military involvement in Afghanistan.
The National Diet has yet to pass a resolution atoning for the past, and the LDP is
bitterly opposed to any such blanket confession of guilt. During President Jiang
Zemin’s visit to Tokyo in November 1998, the Chinese government asked for an
unambiguous apology from Japan. The text proposed by Prime Minister Obuchi fell
short of Chinese expectations, however, and Jiang refused to sign the joint com-
 The Legacy of Occupation 559

muniqué. The Chinese President later told an audience at Waseda University in

Tokyo that the Japanese atrocities he personally witnessed during the war compelled
him to speak out against the possible resurgence of Japanese militarism. What has
prevented most Japanese leaders from doing likewise?

Looking to the future

Many Japanese remain ambivalent about the war. One reason is the troubling legacy
of the atomic bombings. In the United States, the official story of the A-bomb is that
its use in the ‘Good War’ was justified, and most Americans still regard nuclear arms
as ‘the ultimate symbol of victory’.” In Japan, the official line is one of abject
victimisation. This victim-consciousness prevents us from locating our experience of
nuclear holocaust in the broader perspective of Japan’s war of aggression in Asia. The
Bomb was an unmitigated evil, but so were our wartime actions in Asia and the
Pacific. This remains a difficult lesson for many. SCAP’s censorship policies, which
discouraged meaningful discussion of the bombings; its preservation of the mon-
archy; and its courting of the conservative élite as a Cold War ally deepened this
fundamental ambiguity.
Rightist politicians have mined the fault line that runs through the national psy-
che, using the bombings and the dual humiliations of defeat and occupation to foster
a backward-looking, narcissistic nationalism. In April 2000, Tokyo Governor Ishi-
hara Shintar6 told members of a Ground Self-Defence Force unit in the city that their
responsibility in the event of an earthquake or other national emergency was to crack
down on ‘sankokujin’ (so-called third-country nationals) and other illegal immi-
grants, who could be expected to riot, and “show the Japanese people and the inhabit-
ants of Tokyo what the military is for in a state’. Ishihara’s spontaneous use of
sankokujin, the pejorative Occupation-era term for resident Koreans and Chinese, his
confusion of these minorities with Third-World migrant workers and his suggestion
that foreigners in general were potential enemies of the state stunned human rights
groups and alarmed Koreans, Chinese and foreign labourers’ organisations. Sadly, few
Japanese seemed troubled by the fact that Ishihara’s comments could be taken as an
incitement to violence and evoked the spectre of the massacre of Koreans after the
1923 Great Kanto Earthquake — a criticism that was levelled by the UN Committee
on Human Rights in March 2001. Most considered his remarks as typical of the brash
ultra-nationalist politician, and many privately applauded him for his candor.
In almost perfect counterpoint, one month later, Prime Minister Mori Yoshiré told
a political action group affiliated with the Association of Shinté Shrines that Japan is a
“divine nation centred on the Emperor’. Unlike Ishihara’s pronouncement, Mori’s
comments created a national furore. The premier was forced to apologise for ‘causing
misunderstanding’, but he refused to retract the sentiments behind his statement and
shortly afterwards embellished another speech with the term kokutai (‘national pol-
ity’), the pre-1945 euphemism for Imperial rule. Despite the ensuing controversy, the
LDP and its allies commanded sufficient votes in the Diet to defeat a non-confidence
motion, and Mori was returned to office in the general elections of June 2000.
560 Policy Shift and Aftermath

Imperial conservatives, Ishihara and Mori are products of the Occupation period
and Japan’s myopic postwar political culture. Ishihara dreams of restoring Japan’s
military prowess, and Mori is an open admirer and one-time protégé of Colonel
Tsuji Masanobu, the jingoistic ideologue and unindicted war crimes suspect.” Such
politicians seem to command a substantial audience these days, but in this author’s
view, they represent Japan’s past, not its future.
In April 2001, a younger politician, one who grew up in the 1950s, became prime
minister. The sudden rise to power of Koizumi Jun’ichiré as we enter the 21st
century seemed to herald a turning point of sorts. The maverick politician appointed
the outspoken Tanaka Makiko as Japan’s first female Foreign Minister. He also has
declared war against LDP factionalism and pledged to further streamline the bureau-
cracy, making it more responsive to lawmakers, and to overhaul the nation’s eco-
nomic, financial and social institutions. These are laudable goals, for genuine polit-
ical and structural reform are long overdue, and the only way out of the Heisei
recession, the longest of the postwar period. However, just as his alterego, the ultra-
nationalist Nakasone Yasuhiro, did in the 1980s, Koizumi has announced his inten-
tion to draw up a balance sheet and ‘settle accounts’ with the Occupation reforms.
He openly advocates official visits to Yasukuni Shrine, constitutional revision and a
strong collective defence arrangement with the United States. The Prime Minister’s
New Right political philosophy will make it difficult for Japan to assert moral or
political leadership in Asia anytime soon.
Less than a week after Japanese dignitaries observed the Peace Treaty celebrations
in San Francisco, an extremist group wreaked horrifying destruction on the United
States. The terrorist strikes have placed that country on a war footing and prompted
calls from Washington for Japan to‘show the flag’ and join in retaliating against those
it considers responsible. With this dark and tragic event — a defining moment that
truly marks the end of the postwar era — a point of no return appears to have been
reached that bodes ill for the demilitarised, liberal society we have struggled to create.
The verdict on Japanese democracy is not yet in, however, for it is the people, not the
politicians, who will have the final word. Many Japanese continue to regard the 1947
Constitution, with its guarantee of popular sovereignty, extensive civil liberties and
war-renouncing Article Nine, as an achievement of universal significance. They are
determined to work within that framework to make Japan a more just society and
regain the trust of their Asian neighbours, despite the resistance of an entrenched
conservatism and intense pressures from our American ally to participate militarily in
an expanding war on terrorism.
 Notes

Introduction
1. Takemae Eiji, GHQ, Iwanami Shinsho, 1983.
2. Kawai Kazuo, Japan’s American Interlude, University of Chicago Press, 1960.
3. Use of the expression dates from 1933, when MacArthur, then Army Chief of
Staff, and General Hugh A. Drum, Deputy Chief of Staff, referred to the head-
quarters of the new air component they were planning as GHQ. The acronym
stuck and the term became official in 1935 with the creation of General
Headquarters, US Army Air Forces (GHQ/USAF), a unified combat command
directly under the Army General Staff. For a short time in 1941 or 1942, Army
Chief of Staff George C. Marshall referred to the War Department’s War Plans
Division (WPD) as GHQ, but that appellation was dropped when the WPD
was renamed Operations Division. See D. Clayton James, The Years of
MacArthur, vol. 1: 1880-1941, Houghton Mifflin, 1970, pp. 458-60.
4. GHQ/AFPAC was reorganised as General Headquarters, Far East Command
(GHQ/ FECOM) in January 1947.
5. The expression is Mark Gayn’s. Japan Diary, Charles E. Tuttle, 1981 (William
Sloane, 1948), p. 340.
6. Maeda Tamon, “The Direction of Postwar Education in Japan’, in The Japan
Quarterly, no. 3, 1956, pp. 415-16; Kawai (1960), p. 189.
7. During the war, the Japanese term for the conflict was the Greater East Asia
War, which militarists dated from the invasion of China in 1937. On 15
December 1945, GHQ’s Shint6 Directive outlawed the use of this phrase
because of its association with State Shinté and ultra-nationalism. The Occupa-
tion directed that “Pacific War’ be used instead. Because this expression denotes
the conflict with the United States and its Allies (1941-5) but minimises Japan’s
Asian conquests, many historians have adopted the blanket term Fifteen Years’
War, which covers the period from the takeover of Manchuria in 1931
until Japan’s defeat in 1945 (see Ienaga Saburd, The Pacific War, 1931-1945,
Pantheon Books, 1978, pp. 247-8). I, too, prefer the latter when writing in
Japanese, but Asia—Pacific War sufficiently conveys this sense in English.
8. The International Military Tribunal for the Far East, which tried Japanese war
crimes, placed the number of dead at 200,000. The official Chinese figure
is 300,000. Some Japanese historians propose a much lower number. Hata
Ikuhiko, for instance, states that only 38,000 to 42,000 deaths can accurately be
documented (Nanjing jiken [The Nanjing Incident], Chid Koronsha, 1986,
chapter 7), but the lesser figures do not include the killing of prisoners of war or
562 Notes to Pages xxxit—xxxv

civilians outside the city limits (see the brief discussion in Honda Katsuichi, The
Nanking Massacre: A Japanese Journalist Confronts Japan’s National Shame, M. E.
Sharpe, 1999, p. 284). The severe breakdown in military discipline alarmed
even Imperial General Headquarters. Although news of the Nanjing atrocities
was kept from the public, several commanders involved were recalled to Tokyo,
as were the recently formed reserve units that had run amok. An overview of the
massacre and its interpretations is Joshua A. Fogel, ed., The Nanjing Massacre: Its
History and Historiography, University of California Press, 2000. See also Tim-
othy Brook, ed., Documents on the Rape of Nanjing, University of Michigan
Press, 1999.
. Emperor Hirohito ascribed the underlying causes of World War II to Japan’s
inability to achieve equality with the West. Specifically, he cited the refusal of the
United States and other Western powers to insert a racial equality clause in the
Versailles Peace Treaty, America’s Oriental exclusion laws and the discriminatory
treatment of Japanese immigrants on the West Coast. See Terasaki Hidenari
and Mariko Terasaki Miller, eds, Showa Tennd dokuhakuroku — Terasaki Hide-
nari, goyogakari nikki (The Showa Emperor’s Soliloquy and the Diary of Terasaki
Hidenari), Bungei Shunjisha, 1991, p. 20.
10. Iriye Akira, Power and Culture: The Japanese-American War, 1941-1945,
Harvard University Press, 1981, p. 13.
ae Alvin D. Cox, Nomonhan: Japan Against Russia, 1939, Stanford University Press,
1985, vol. 1, chapter 7 and vol. 2, pp. 915, 923, 929.
12. Tenaga (1978), p. 132.
13; Dean Acheson, Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department, New
American Library, 1970 (W. W. Norton, 1969), p. 64.
14. In English, see the discussion in Ben-Ami Shillony, Politics and Culture in
Wartime Japan, Clarendon Press (Oxford), 1982, p. 198.
iD: Hillis Lory, Japan’s Military Masters: The Army in Japanese Life, Viking Press,
1943, p. 132.
16. See John W. Dower, Japan in War and Peace: Selected Essays, The New Press,
1993, pp. 104-5. Some reform-orientated bureaucrats found scope for their
ambitions in the puppet state of Manchukuo, where they eschewed industrial
capitalism and experimented with Socialist ideas. On the links between Japan’s
Manchurian empire and political forces and ideologies in the Japanese metro-
polis, see Louise Young, Japan’s Total Empire: Manchuria and the Culture of
Wartime Imperialism, University of California Press, 1998.
ifs On the 2 July conference, see Herbert Feis, The Road to Pearl Harbor: The
Coming of the War Between the United States and Japan, Princeton University
Press, 1950, pp. 215-16. On the 6 September conference, see Takafusa
Nakamura, A History of Showa Japan, 1926-1989, University of Tokyo Press,
1998, pp. 251-3.
18. On Japan—US negotiations prior to war, see Robert J. C. Butow, Tojo and the
Coming of the War, Princeton University Press, 1961, chapter 11. A careful
 Notes to Pages xxxvi-xxxviii 563

discussion of planning for the Pearl Harbor strike is Peter Wetzler, Hirohito
and War: Imperial Tradition and Military Decision-Making in Prewar Japan,
University of Hawai’i Press, 1998, chapter 3.
19. John W. Dower, War Without Mercy: Race and Power in the Pacific War, Pan-
theon Books, 1986, p. 24.
20. Gotd Kenichi, ‘Indonesia Under the “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere” ’,
in Donald Denoon, Mark Hudson, Gavan McCormack and Tessa Morris-
Suzuki, eds, Multicultural Japan: Paleolithic to Postmodern, Cambridge Uni-
versity Press, 1996, pp.163-4; Ooi Keat Gin, Rising Sun Over Borneo: The
Japanese Occupation of Sarawak, 1941-1945, Macmillan, 1999, pp. 39-40. In
general, see Joyce C. Lebra, ed., Japan’s Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere in
World War IT: Selected Readings and Documents, Oxford University Press (Kuala
Lumpur), 1975, pp. 55-104 and Alfred W. McCoy, ed., Southeast Asia Under
Japanese Occupation, Monograph Series no. 22, Yale University Southeast Asian
Studies, 1980.
21, Dower (1986), p. 286; Akashi Y6ji, ‘Japanese Military Administration in
Malaya: Its Formation and Evolution in Reference to Sultans, the Islamic
Religion and the Moslem Malays, 1941-1945’ in Asian Studies, no. 7, 1969,
pp. 72-6.
De. See Paul H. Kratoska, The Japanese Occupation ofMalaya:A Social and Economic
History, University of Hawai'i Press, 1997, pp. 59, 83. Figures are from Akashi
Yoji, ‘Japan and “Asia for Asians”’, in Harry Wray and Hilary Conroy, eds,
Japan Examined: Perspectives on Modern Japanese History, University of Hawai'i
Press, 1983, p. 325.
23. Ooi (1999), p. 44.
24. In French Indo-China, Ho Chi Minh organised the Vietminh to combat Japa-
nese imperialism, led a general revolt in August 1945 and declared independ-
ence on 2 September. On 16 August, the Indonesian Army for Defenders of the
Homeland burned the Rising Sun flag, arrested Japanese collaborators and
carved out the country’s first liberated zone, from which Indonesia’s independ-
ence movement would spread. See Ienaga (1978), pp. 178-80. On the long-
term benefits of Japanese occupation, see Akashi (1983), pp. 323-30. The
quotation is from Richard Storry, A History of Modern Japan, Penguin Books,
1982, p. 220.
25. A grisly overview of Japanese atrocities is Yuki Tanaka, Hidden Horrors: Japanese
War Crimes in World War II, Westview Press, 1998.
26. Utsumi Aiko, ‘Japanese Army Internment Policies for Enemy Civilians During
the Asia—Pacific War’, in Denoon, et al, eds (1996), pp. 174-209.
By. Japanese conduct towards prisoners of war and civilians was exemplary during
the Russo-Japanese War, historians characterising it as generous and humane.
During the battle for Port Arthur in 1904, for instance, General Nogi Maresuke
gave strict orders to his troops to protect civilian life and property and punished
infractions severely. See Storry (1982), pp. 139-40. A general treatment of
564 Notes to Pages xxxviti-xliit

this subject is Olive Checkland, Humanitarianism and the Emperor’s Japan,

1877-1977, St Martin’s Press, 1994, Part 2, pp. 45-94.
28. On the figures for China, see Dower (1986), pp. 295-7. Robert PR. Newman
includes a recent review of war deaths in Asia in Truman and the Hiroshima
Cult, Michigan State University Press, 1995, pp. 134-9, especially the table on
p. 138. On the Indo-China famine, see Bui Minh Dung, ‘Japan’s Role in the
Vietnamese Starvation of 1944—45’, in Modern Asian Studies, vol. 29, no. 3,
1995, pp. 573-618.
29, Dower (1986), pp. 295-301. Arisawa Hiromi and Inaba Hidezé, eds, Shirya:
sengo nijiinen-shi (A Documentary History of the Two Postwar Decades), vol. 2
(Economics), Nihon Hyéronsha, 1966, pp. 2-5; Andé Yoshio, Showa keizai-shi
(An Economic History of the Shéwa Era), Nihon Keizai Shinbunsha, 1976,
pp. 241-4.
30. Occupation scholar Iokibe Makoto distinguishes between three types of reform.
The first are those where Japanese officials seized the initiative in order to
implement their own ideas or to pre-empt anticipated SCAP actions. These
reforms include the Lower House Electoral Law and the Labour Union Law. A
second category is legislation developed conjointly by GHQ and the concerned
ministry, such as the Local Autonomy Law and land reform. A final group are
measures imposed by Occupation fiat: constitutional revision, the Police Law,
zaibatsu dissolution and anti-monopoly legislation. See ‘Senryo seisaku no san
ruikei’ (Three Patterns in Occupation Policy), in Revaiasan (Leviathan), no. 6,
Bokutakusha, 1990, pp. 97-120. My own research has highlighted the
dynamic interplay between American and Japanese officials in drafting Japan’s
labour reform programme, where all three patterns are observed. See Takemae
Eiji, Sengo rodé-kaikaku: GHQ rodo seisaku-shi (The Postwar Labour Reforms:
A History of GHQ’s Labour Reform Policy), Toky6 Daigaku Shuppankai,
1982.
ol The historian is Takafusa Nakamura (1998), p. 285. See also Edwin O. Reis-
chauer, “The Allied Occupation: Catalyst, not Creator’, in Wray and Conroy,
eds (1983), pp. 335-42, Sheldon Garon, The State and Labor in Modern Japan,
University of California Press, 1987, pp. 229-48, and John W. Dower, ‘The
Useful War’, in Carol Gluck and Stephan R. Graubard, eds, Showa: The Japan of
Hirohito, W. W. Norton, 1992, pp. 49-70. I develop this theme in greater detail
in ‘Early Postwar Reformist Parties’, in Robert E. Ward and Sakamoto
Yoshikazu, eds, Democratizing Japan: The Allied Occupation, University of
Hawai'i Press, 1987, pp. 339-40.
32. One important task is a comprehensive comparison of the occupations of Korea,
Okinawa and the Northern Territories, characterised by direct military govern-
ance, and the occupation of the Japanese main islands, where indirect rule was
practised. These experiences should be contrasted in turn with Japan’s wartime
occupations of the Philippines, Malaya, the Dutch East Indies and other South-
east Asian countries. This is only a small part of the work ahead. For a fuller
 Notes to Page xliti 565

discussion, see Takemae Eiji, Senryd sengo-shi (A History of the Occupation and
Postwar Era), Iwanami Shoten, 1992, pp. 416-20.
32: My interest in the Allied Occupation of Japan began more than forty years ago
as a graduate student in the United States. The catalyst was the discovery of
two doctoral dissertations written by former Occupation officials: Ralph J. D.
Braibanti’s “The Occupation of Japan — A Study in Organization and Adminis-
tration’, Syracuse University, 1949 and Martin T. Comacho’s ‘Administration
of SCAP Labour Policy in Occupied Japan’, Harvard University, 1954. These
exhaustive, empirical studies on postwar Allied policy towards Japan were
based on the authors’ personal experiences in the Occupation and on internal
GHQ/SCAP documents then unavailable to students. They proved a veritable
treasure trove of information about a period that had profoundly influenced
postwar Japan’s political and socio-economic institutions, culture and values.
Yet many of these facts were unknown to Japanese researchers. My curiosity
piqued, I began to explore existing archival materials and interview former US
and Japanese officials with first-hand knowledge of this period. Conducted
over many years, this research took me to Australia, Britain, Mexico and the
United States.
Two developments greatly facilitated my work. In the late 1960s, the US
government began to declassify diplomatic and military documents relating to
the Occupation, including top-secret materials. Nearly a decade later, in 1976,
the Japanese government belatedly opened up a part of its own archives to the
public. Access to this wealth of data removed the veil of secrecy that had
shrouded many aspects of the Occupation. Using a vast array of memoranda,
staff studies, committee minutes, internal circulars, inter-sectional check sheets
and hand-written personal notes, it became possible to analyse in depth the
organisational structure of GHQ; the ideas, actions and personalities of the
officials who staffed this vast organisation; and the policy-making process itself.
Moreover, scholars could now examine some of the most controversial events of
this era, taking into account the full sweep of SCAP policy and the wider
geopolitical context within which it was shaped.
SCAP’s internal papers also highlighted errors of fact and interpretation that
had plagued early Japanese research. Few specialists here fully grasped GHQ’s
organisational structure or knew very much about the backgrounds and
responsibilities of the key players. Even such senior officials as section and
division chiefs often were identified incorrectly. In the early 1970s, the Japanese
economy entered a period of recessionary growth in the wake of the first oil
crisis. A sense of impending doom encouraged scholars to take a fresh, critical
look at the Occupation era and its significance for postwar Japanese society. This
effort was facilitated by the declassification of more government files, both in
Tokyo and Washington. The publication of the diaries, memoirs and other
personal documents of central Occupation figures also opened new vistas.
My first concern in writing Jnside GHQ, was to rectify common mistakes and
566 Notes to Pages xliv-6

misconceptions. This book marked a departure from my earlier empirical stud-

ies of SCAP’s labour reforms by attempting to integrate new themes and motifs
into a broader, more complex social and political mosaic. I also was determined
to limn the careers and personalities of the outstanding men and women who
administered GHQ’s programmes. Since then, my research has focused on the
impact of Occupation policies on the development of democracy in Japan and
on popular attitudes towards society and the state. The English edition of Inside
GHQ recapitulates this work while considerably expanding its scope.
34, Several important works have appeared as this monograph goes to press. Among
them are Herbert P. Bix, Hirohito and the Making ofModern Japan, HarperCol-
lins, 2000 and Iokibe Makoto, Sensd, senryd, kiwa 1941-1955 (War, Occupa-
tion and the Peace Settlement, 1941-1955), Cha6é Koéronsha, 2001. Two new
books on Okinawa also came to the author’s attention too late to benefit this
monograph, They are Chalmers Johnson’s Blowback: The Cost and Consequences
ofAmerican Empire, Owl Books, 2001 and Robert D. Eldridge, The Origins
of the Bilateral Okinawa Problem: Okinawa in Postwar U.S.—Japan Relations,
1945-1952, Garland Publishers (New York), 2001. For an English Review of
Japanese-language materials through the 1980s, see Takemae Eiji, “The Occupa-
tion’, in National Committee of Japanese Historians, ed., Historical Studies in
Japan (VII), 1983-1987, Yamakawa Shuppansha, 1990, pp. 267-88. A survey
of the Japanese literature is Takemae Eiji, ‘Senryd sdsetsu: senryd to GHQ’ (An
Overview of the Occupation: The Occupation and GHQ), in GHQ: Nihon
senryb-shi josetsu (GHQ;: An Introduction to the History of the Occupation of
Japan), Nihon Tosho Senta, 1996,

Chapter 1 The Pacific War and the Origins of GHQ

Ne US Department of the Army (Historical Section, G-2, FECOM), ed., Reports of
General MacArthur, vol. 1: Supplement (MacArthur in Japan — The Occupa-
tion: Military Phase), US Government Printing Office, 1966, p. 29. This
four-volume series, compiled by MacArthur’s staff in Japan but not published
until 1966, is given below as Reports ofMacArthur.
. D. Clayton James, The Years of MacArthur, vol. 2: 1941-1945, Houghton
Mifflin, 1975, p. 778.
. On MacArthur’s career, see in addition to D, Clayton James’s three-volume
study (1970-1985), William Manchester, American Caesar: Douglas MacArthur,
1880-1963, Little, Brown, 1978 and Michael Schaller, Douglas MacArthur: The
Far Eastern General, Oxford University Press, 1989. On US colonial rule in the
Philippines, see Teodoro A. Agoncillo and Milagros C. Guevro, History of the
Filipino People, R. P. Garcia (Quezon), 1977.
. Manchester (1978), p. 470.
. Justin Williams Sr, Japan's Political Revolution Under MacArthur: A Participant’s
Account, University of Tokyo Press, 1979, p. 271.
. MacArthur compared the success of his command to that of Caesar’s in a
 Notes to Pages 6-8 567

conversation with George F. Kennan. See Kennan’s Memoirs, 1925-1950,

Atlantic Monthly (Little, Brown), 1967, p. 384 and also D. Clayton James, The
Years ofMacArthur, vol. 3 Triumph and Disaster: 1945-1964, Houghton Mif-
flin, 1985, pp. 61-2. The historian is Richard Storry, A History ofModern Japan,
Penguin Books, 1982, p. 240. Storry, a member of the Australian Diplomatic
Mission in Tokyo during MacArthur’s reign, characterised the General as ‘the
American version of the traditional British grandee . . . with a tendency towards
complacent self-dramatisation’ (ibid.). The lieutenant was Elliott R. Thorpe,
East Wind, Rain, Gambit Inc. (Boston), 1969, p. 252. The oft-cited Truman
quotations are from Robert H. Ferrell, ed., Off the Record: The Private Papers of
Harry S. Truman, Harper & Row, 1980, p. 47.
. Manchester (1978), pp. 512-16. Quotation is from p. 515. The MacArthur
household was not always harmonious. Aide Bowers, for instance, found little
Arthur insufferable, describing him in later life as a ‘pampered rowdy brat’.
Okamoto Shir6, Kabuki 0 sukutta otoko: Makkasa no fukukan Fobian Bawazu
(The Man Who Saved Kabuki: MacArthur’s Military Aide Faubion Bowers),
Shieisha, 1998, p. 55.
. Faubion Bowers, “The Late General MacArthur, Warts and All’, in Esquire,
January 1967, p. 168.
. MacArthur’s 1947 quotation is from Government Section, SCAP, ed., The Polit-
ical Reorientation ofJapan, September 1945 to September 1948 (below, given as
PRj), US Government Printing Office, 1949, vol. 2, p. 764. On MacArthur’s
unguarded comments to the US Scientific Advisory Group (9 December 1948),
see Bowen C. Dees, The Allied Occupation and Japan’s Economic Miracle: Build-
ing the Foundations of Japanese Science and Technology, 1945-1952, Curzon
Press, 1997, p. 187. MacArthur’s words were jotted down in memo form. The
frequently cited statement before Congress is from the US Senate Committee
on Armed Services and the Committee on Foreign Relations, Hearing to
Conduct an Inquiry into the Military Situation in the Far East, 82nd Congress, 1st
session, 1951. On MacArthur's stewardship in Japan, see Sodei Rinjird,
Makkasa no nisen nichi (MacArthur’s 2,000 Days) Chao Koronsha, 1975 and
Sodei Rinjiro and Fukushima Jiro, Makkasa kiroku: sengo Nihon no genten
(The MacArthur Records: Postwar Japan’s Point of Departure), Nihon H6s6
Shuppan Kyokai, 1982.
10. Douglas MacArthur, Reminiscences, McGraw-Hill, 1964, pp. 282-4, 310-11.
11. James (1985), p. 64.
12. Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: The American Occupation as New Deal, The
Free Press, 1987, p. 64.
1S: Ibid., p. 56.
14. A detailed American account of the events leading up to Pearl Harbor is Gordon
W. Prange, At Dawn We Slept: The Untold Story ofPearl Harbor, Penguin Books,
1981, chapters 44-61. See also John Costello, The Pacific War, 1941-1945,
New York, Quill, 1981, chapters 6 and 7.
568 Notes to Pages 9-11

15. The Chicano troops belonged to the 200th and 515th US Coast Artilleries.
About 500,000 Mexican Americans served in World War II. Those in the 25th,
27th, 37th and 43rd National Guard Divisions would fight at Guadalcanal,
New Guinea, Bougainville and elsewhere. Many also served with Eighth Army’s
11th Airborne Division in the Philippine campaigns. See Raul Morin, Among
the Valiants: Mexican-Americans in WW II and Korea, Borden Publishing
(California), 1966, pp. 34-40, 203. Refer also to Ronald T. Takaki, Double
Victory: AMulticultural History ofAmerica in World War II, Little, Brown, 2000,
chapter 5.
. On Tsuji’s role, see Ward (1996), pp. 334-8. Death March statistics are from
Stanley L. Falk, Bataan: The March of Death, Jove Publications (New York),
1983. In general, see Boeich Boei-kenkytsho Senshi-shitsu-hen (War History
Office, Defence Agency), ed., Senshi Sdsho (2): Hito kiryaku sakusen (War His-
tory Series, no. 2: Strategic Operations in the Philippine Islands), Asakumo
Shinbunsha, 1966, chapters 4—6 and Louis Morton, The Fall of the Philippines
(The US Army in World War II: The War in the Pacific), US Army Office of the
Chief of Military History, US Government Printing Office, 1953, pp. 245-454.
. On Japanese war planning and operations see Reports of MacArthur, vol. 2:
Japanese Operations in the Southwest Pacific Area, Part 1.
18. Concerning the ADBA and development of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, see Louis
Morton, Strategy and Command: The First Two Years (The US Army in World
War II: The War in the Pacific), US Army Office of the Chief of Military History,
US Government Printing Office, 1962, pp. 86-9, 125 164-9, 172-3, 607-10.
See also Grace P. Hayes, The History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in World War II:
The War Against Japan, Naval Institute Press (Annapolis), 1982, pp. 44-50.
. The North and Central Pacific Areas were directly under Nimitz’s command.
The South Pacific Area initially was assigned to Admiral Robert L. Ghormley
and later to Nimitz protégé Admiral William F. (‘Bull’) Halsey. On US Navy
planning, see Elmer B. Potter, Nimitz, Naval Institute Press (Annapolis), 1976,
pp- 78-107.
20. GHQ/SWPA consisted of the Allied Land Forces (ALF), the Allied Air Forces
(AAF) and the Allied Naval Forces (ANF). The ALE, led by General Sir Thomas
Blamey, Commander in Chief of the Australian Army, was composed mainly of
the Australian First and Second Armies and the Australian III Corps. ALF
combat forces consisted of the Australian 6th and 7th Divisions, recalled from
the Middle East, and the US 41st and 32nd Divisions, later regrouped as I
Corps. The AAF, commanded by Lieutenant General George H. Brett, an
American, was an amalgamation of air forces from the United States, Australia
and the Dutch East Indies. Its principal strength was two American heavy
bomber groups, two American medium bomber groups and three American
fighter groups, backed by seventeen Australian squadrons and one Netherlands
bomber squadron. The ANF, under Admiral Herbert E. Leary, also an American,
included two Australian heavy cruisers, one Australian light cruiser, one
 Notes to Pages 14-17 569

American heavy cruiser and several destroyers. Reports ofMacArthur, vol. 1: The
Campaigns of MacArthur in the Pacific, pp. 31-3.
2M. Other late comers included Colonel Lester J. Whitelock, future SCAP Deputy
Chief of Staff; Colonel Elliott R. Thorpe, later SCAP’s Counter-Intelligence
Chief; Brigadier General Spencer B. Akin, subsequently SCAP’s Chief of Civil
Communications; and Colonel Burdette M. Fitch, SCAP’s Adjutant General.
The Bataan Gang took its name from MacArthur’s aircraft, of which there were
two: Bataan I, a B-17, and Bataan II, a specially modified C-54 cargo transport.
Most historians assume the name came from the Bataan Peninsula, but it may
also have been inspired by the fragrant bataan tree, whose broad, bifurcated
leaves resemble the wings of an aircraft.
De. Eichelberger began his Army career with a year on the US-Mexican border
during the Pancho Villa rebellion. From 1918 to 1920, he was Chief of Staff to
the US Expeditionary Force in Siberia, where he formed an active dislike of the
Japanese military. Following duty in the Philippines, he attended the 1921
Washington Naval Conference as military aide to the Chinese delegation and
later served as Superintendent of West Point. Robert L. Eichelberger and Milton
MacKaye, Our Jungle Road to Tokyo, Viking Press, 1950, pp. xi-xiv.
2D. The appointment of Krueger to head Sixth Army was a de facto demotion
for Eichelberger, whom MacArthur had sidelined following the Buna offensive
for not being a team player. On the Eichelberger—Krueger rivalry, refer to Paul
Chwialkowski, In Caesar's Shadow: The Life of General Robert Eichelberger,
Greenwood Press, 1993, pp. 74-82.
24. On Midway and Guadalcanal, see generally Boeichd Béei-kenkyisho Senshi-
shitsu-hen (War History Office, Defence Agency), ed., Senshi Sdsho (6): Chibu
Taiheiyo rikugun sakusen (1) — Mariana gyokusai made (Army Operations in the
Central Pacific, Part 1 — To Defeat in the Marianas), Asakumo Shinbunsha,
1967, section 2, chapters 1-2; Senshi Sdsho (7): Rikugun kokit sakusen — tobu
Nyiginia-homen (War History Series, no. 7: Army Air Operations — Around
Eastern New Guinea),-Asakumo Shinbunsha, 1967, section 1, chapters 1-3;
and Senshi sdsho (43) — Middouei-kaisen (War History Series, no. 43: The Battle
of Midway), Asakumo Shinbunsha, 1971. In English, see Reports ofMacArthur,
vol. 1, pp. 46-50, 59-66, 70-1, 91-9, 101, 105. The MacArthur quotation is
from Eichelberger and MacKaye (1950), p. 21. On Nomonhan and Buna, see
Storry (1982), p. 220.
2s Reno I was drawn up in February 1943, Reno II in August 1943, Reno III in
October 1943, Reno IV in March 1944 and Reno V in June 1944. Musketeer I
was drafted in July 1944 and Musketeer II in August of that year. Reports of
MacArthur, vol. 1, pp. 168-70, 170-2.
26. Agoncillo and Guerrero (1977), pp. 452-7.
2a Important guerrilla bases were set up in Mindanao (under Colonel Wendel W.
Fertig and Commander Charles Parsons), Samar (Colonel Pedro V. Merritt
and Lieutenant Colonel Juan Causing), Negros (Colonel Gabriel Gador and
570 Notes to Pages 17-19

Captain Salvador Abcede), Cebu (Lieutenant Colonel James H. Cushing),

Bohol (Major Ismael Ingeniero), northern Luzon (Major Russell W. Volck-
mann), central Luzon (Major Robert Lapham) and Leyte (Colonel Rupert K.
Kangleon). Reports ofMacArthur, vol. 1, pp. 295-326.
28. Agoncillo and Guerrero (1977), pp. 462-3, 471.
225 See Ienaga Sabur6é, The Pacific War, 1931-1945, Pantheon Books, 1978, p. 172.
30. Allison Ind, Allied Intelligence Bureau: Our Secret Weapon Against Japan, David
McKay, 1958, pp. 11-12, 174. On Filipino Americans and the war, see Ronald
T. Takaki, A History ofAsian Americans: Strangers from a Different Shore, Little,
Brown, 1998, pp. 359-60 and Takaki (2000), chapters 4 and 6.
aiile See Allison B. Gilmore, You Cant Fight Tanks with Bayonets: Psychological
Warfare Against the Japanese Army in the Southwest Pacific, University of
Nebraska Press, 1998, pp. 18-20. Chapter 7 examines the effectiveness of Allied
propaganda. Fellers’s Psychological Warfare Branch should not to be confused
with the Psychological Warfare Branch created by the US Office of War
Information.
52: During World War II, 25,000 Native Americans entered the ranks, and many
were used to transmit front-line messages in their native tongue, but they spoke
Chippewa, Cherokee, Chocktaw, Comanche, Creek, Hopi and Menominee,
not a specially encrypted language. The Navajo code was so effective that it
remained a military secret until the 1960s. See Doris A. Paul, The Navajo Code
Talkers, Dorrance Publishing (Pennsylvania), 1973, pp. 5-9, 36, 49, 73-5 and
Takaki (2000), pp. 64-72.
SBE Ind (1958), p. 185. Mashbir had learned Japanese during a four-year assignment
in Tokyo with US Army Military Intelligence (1920-4). See his memoir, J Was
an American Spy, Vantage Press, 1953.
34. Federal Bureau of Investigation searches uncovered no evidence of subversion,
but even the absence of proof was used to justify anti-Japanese hysteria. Curi-
ously, DeWitt’s reading of the FBI finding was that: “The very fact that no
sabotage has taken place to date is a disturbing and confirming indication that
such will be taken later.’ (Commission on Wartime Relocation and Internment
of Civilians, Personal Justice Denied: Report of the Commission on Wartime Re-
location and Internment of Civilians, Civil Liberties Public Education Fund,
1997, p. 6.) On Nisei in the Pacific, see Joseph D. Harrington, Yankee Samurai:
The Secret Role of Nisei in America’s Pacific Victory, Pettigrew Enterprises
(Detroit), 1979. A recent look at individual Nisei experiences during the war is
Hawaii Nikkei History Editorial Board, ed., Japanese Eyes, American Heart:
Personal Reflections of Hawaii's World War II Nisei Soldiers, Tendai Educational
Foundation (Honolulu), 1998.
3D: Looking back, a Nisei instructor characterised the Language School as “a
racist-motivated institution’. The Japanese-American instructors were not
commissioned, yet the Caucasian students they taught became officers upon
graduation, outranking their teachers overnight. (James Oda, Heroic Struggles of
 Notes to Pages 19-24 571

Japanese Americans: Partisan Fighters from America’s Concentration Camps, KNI,

Inc., 1980, p. 116.) Experts trained in the MISL programme not of Japanese
ancestry included academics and businessmen with experience in prewar Japan.
Several played a role in the Occupation, and a few became outstanding scholars
in the field of Japanese and Asian studies after the war. (See Allen H. Meyer,
‘MIS: Non-Nikkei’, in Unsung Heroes: Military Intelligence Service, Past, Present,
Future, MIS-Northwest Association (Seattle), 1996 pp. 97-104 and Herbert
Passin, Encounter with Japan, Kodansha International, 1982.)
36. See Suzuki Akira and Yamamoto Akira, Hiroku-boryaku senden-bira: Taiheiyo
Sensd no kami no bakudan (Secret Strategy and Propaganda Leaflets: Paper
Bombs in the Pacific War), Kodansha, 1977, pp. 152-75.
a7. In April 1943, Harold Fudenna, for example, intercepted and translated a Japa-
nese radio message at Port Moresby, New Guinea, giving the estimated time of
arrival at Bougainville of Imperial Navy Admiral Yamamoto Isoroku. This
information enabled US pilots to ambush and shoot down Yamamoto’s aircraft
on 18 April, dealing a serious blow to Japanese morale. On Willoughby’s
assessment of Japanese-Americans, see Bradford Smith, Americans from Japan,
Lipincott, 1948, p. 325. See also Matsui Mitzi, “The Military Intelligence Ser-
vice Story’, in Unsung Heroes (1996), pp. ix-xv and Suzuki and Yamamoto
(1977), op. cit. In Europe, Nisei soldiers fought with the 100th Infantry
Battalion and the 442nd Regimental Combat Team.
38. Eugene B. Sledge, With the Old Breed at Pelieu and Okinawa, Oxford University
Press, 1990 (Presidio Press, 1981), pp. 34, 115, 120—1.The former war cor-
respondent is Edgar L. Jones, cited in John W. Dower, War Without Mercy,
Pantheon Books, 1986, p. 64.
BY. The Allied summits are discussed in depth in Hayes (1982). Each of the meet-
ings was given a code name. These were: Washington (1), ‘Arcadia’; Casablanca,
‘Symbol’; Washington (2), “Trident’; Quebec (1), ‘Quadrant’; Cairo, ‘Sextant’;
Teheran, ‘Eureka’; Quebec (2), “Octagon’; Malta and Yalta, ‘Argonaut’; and
Potsdam, “Terminal’.
40. On the war in the Marshalls and Carolines, see Mark R. Peattie, Nan yo: The Rise
and Fall of the Japanese in Micronesia, 1885-1945, University of Hawai’i Press,
1988, pp. 265-77.
41. See generally, Boeichd Béei-kenkyisho Senshi-shitsu-hen (ed.), no. 6, section 3,
chapter 1 and Philip A. Crowl and Edmund G. Love, The Campaign in the
Marianas (The US Army in World War II: The War in the Pacific), Office of the
Chief of Military History, US Army, US Government Printing Office, 1960,
pp. 163-266.
42. Peattie (1988), p. 286 and Béeiché Béei-kenkyisho Senshi-shitsu-hen (ed.), no.
6, pp. 374-513.
43. See the account in Costello (1981), pp. 479-83. Quotation is from Reports of
MacArthur, Vol. 1, p. 223.
. Potter (1976), pp. 315-20.
572 Notes to Pages 25-31

45. See Edward J. Drea, Jn the Service ofthe Emperor: Essays on the Imperial Japanese
Army, University of Nebraska Press, 1998, pp. 39-43.
46. US Strategic Bombing Survey (Pacific), Summary Report, Report no. 1,
Washington DC, 1946, p. 16.
47. The LeMay quotation is from Curtis E. LeMay with MacKinlay Kantor,
Mission with LeMay: My Story, Doubleday, 1965, p. 387. The Japanese rescuer
was Captain Kubota Shigenori, head of the Army Medical School’s No. 1
Rescue Detachment. His story is related by Edoin Hoito (Edwin Hoyt), The
Night Tokyo Burned: The Incendiary Campaign Against Japan, March—August
1945, St Martin’s Press, 1987, p. 100. The Fellers quotation is from
Gar Alperovitz, The Decision to Use the Atomic Bomb, Vintage Books, 1995,
pr 352:
48. Robert R. Smith, Triumph in the Philippines (The US Army in World War
II: The War in the Pacific), US Army Office of the Chief of Military History, US
Government Printing Office, 1991, pp. 9-17.
49. James (1975), p. 557.
50. See the discussion in Richard B. Frank, Downfall: The End of the Imperial
Japanese Empire, Random House, 1999, pp. 178-80.
51. Reports ofMacArthur, vol. 1, p. 196.
D2: Dower (1986), p. 44—5. For its part, the US Army attacked the leftist Hukbala-
hap guerrillas in early March, slaughtering a large number. The fiercely nation-
alistic Huks, a part of the Filipino Resistance, opposed both Japanese and
American imperialism. See Ienaga (1978), p. 172.
53. On the role of Eighth Army in the Philippines, see Reports ofMacArthur, vol. 1,
pp. 451-60 and Chwialkowski (1993), pp. 120-37. On MacArthur’s
unauthorised invasions, see Smith (1991), pp. 584—5 and Manchester (1978),
p. 429. Casualty figures are from Smith (1991). During the war, a total of
486,000 Imperial Army and Navy personnel perished in the Philippines. An
additional 12,000 died after 15 August 1945. Kuwata Etsu and Maebara Toru,
eds, Nihon no senso: zukai to déta (Japan's Wars: Graphs and Statistics), Hara
Shob6, 1986, p. 21.
54. A vivid description of this strategy is found in Sledge (1981) pp. 53, 172.
. See Béeicho Béei-kenkyisho Senshi-shitsu-hen (War History Office, Defence
Agency), ed., Senshi Sdsho (13): Chinbu Taiheiyo; rikugun sakusen (2) — Pereriu,
Angauru, Iwojima (War History Series, no. 13: Army Operations in the Central
Pacific, Part 2 — Peleliu, Angaur, Iwo Jima), Asakumo Shinbunsha, 1968, pp.
259-416. See also Potter (1976), pp. 352-67 and Costello (1981), pp. 542-7.
56. Reports ofMacArthur, vol. 2: Japanese Operations in the Southwest Pacific Area,
Part 2, p. 575.
Df. Geiger’s III Amphibious Corps included troops who had fought at Cape
Gloucester (New Britain), Guadalcanal, Bougainville, Guam and Peleliu. XXTV
Corps had seen action at Guadalcanal and Leyte. The naval contingent con-
sisted of the Central Pacific Task Force, which included the Fifth Fleet and the
 Notes to Pages 31-36 eH)

British Pacific Fleet; Task Force Fifty; and the Joint Expeditionary Force under
Rear Admiral Richmond K. Turner. .
58. Ushijima’s Thirty-Second Army was divided into four divisions, five mixed
divisions and one artillery corps. See Béeicho Boei-kenkyisho Senshi-shitsu-
hen (War History Office, Defence Agency), ed., Senshi Sdsho (11): Okinawa-
homen rikugun sakusen (War History Series, no. 11: Army Operations Around
Okinawa), Asakumo Shinbunsha, 1968, chapter 7, and Senshi Sosho (17):
Okinawa-homen kaigun sakusen (War History Series, no. 17: Navy Operations
Around Okinawa), Asakumo Shinbunsha, 1968, chapters 4 and 5.
a2. See Ienaga (1978), p. 185. Kinjé, Professor Emeritus of Okinawa Christian
Junior College, recounted this traumatic experience to Haruko Taya Cook and
Theodore F Cook, Japan at War: An Oral History, The New Press, 1992,
pp. 365-6. See also his interview with Kajimoto Tetsushi in The Japan Times,
23 August 1996, p. 3.
60. Costello (1981), pp. 558-9.
61. Sledge (1981), pp. 260, 277-8.
62. Cook and Cook (1992), p. 360.
63. Hattori Takushir6, Dai Toa Senso-zenshi (A History of the Greater East Asian
War), Masu Shob6, vol 7, 1953, chap. 6 and Okinawa-ken, ed., Okinawa: kunan
no gendaishi (Okinawa: A Troubled Modern History), Iwanami Shoten, 1996,
pp. 20-5. See also the interview with Ota Masahide in Cook and Cook (1992),
pp. 458-61.
64. On Japanese casualties, refer to Ota Masahide, Sdshi Okinawa-sen (A Com-
prehensive History of the Battle of Okinawa), Iwanami Shoten, 1982, pp. 213-
20. American casualty figures are from Roy E. Appleman, James M. Burn,
Russell A. Gugeler and John Stevens, Okinawa: The Last Battle (The US Army
in World War II: The War in the Pacific), US Army Office of the Chief of
Military History, US Government Printing Office, 1948, p. 473. On Colonel
Ché Isamu, see Honda Katsuichi, The Nanjing Massacre: A Japanese Journalist
Confronts Japan’s National Shame, M. E. Sharpe, 1999, p. 169 and the intro-
duction by Frank B. Gibney, p. xxi.
65. See Kase Toshikazu, Eclipse of the Rising Sun, Jonathan Cape, 1951, pp. 161-6
and, especially, George A. Lensen, The Strange Neutrality: Soviet—Japanese Rela-
tions During the Second World War, 1941-1945, Diplomatic Press (Tallahassee),
1972, pp. 134-5.
66. Allied cryptanalysts had cracked Japanese diplomatic and military codes in
1941. On US intercepts of Japanese diplomatic overtures, see Alperovitz (1995),
pp. 18-22 and chapter 7.
67. On the Hirota-Malik talks, see Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, The Northern Territories
Dispute and Russo-Japanese Relations, vol. 1: Between War and Peace, 1697—
1985, University of California Press, 1998, pp. 53-4 and David Rees, The Soviet
Seizure of the Kuriles, Praeger, 1985, pp. 70-1. For two different interpretations
of the peace initiatives, see Herbert P. Bix, ‘Japan’s Delayed Surrender: A
574 Notes to Pages 37-38

Reinterpretation’, in Michael J. Hogan, ed., Hiroshima in History and Memory,

Cambridge University Press, 1996, pp. 98-106 and Takafusa Nakamura, A
History of Showa Japan, 1926-1989, University of Tokyo Press, 1998, pp.
222-31.
68. Supply commands also were reorganised. In June 1945, US Army Forces in the
West Pacific was set up in Manila under Lieutenant General Wilhelm D. Styer.
The following month US Army Forces in the Mid-Pacific was established in
Honolulu under Lieutenant General Robert C. Richardson. These replaced US
Army Services of Supply and US Army Forces in the Far East.
69. Hayes (1982), p. 714.
70. See the discussion in Frank (1999), chapter 8. Quotations are from pp. 117,
140-1.
le Under Kersu-6 (Decisive Battle Plan no. 6) for the defence of Kyushu, by early
August 1945, Imperial General Headquarters had deployed 14 divisions, 6
independent mixed brigades, 3 independent armoured brigades, 1 anti-aircraft
division and 25 infantry battalions attached directly to the commander of the
Japanese Second Army. In the Kanto region, Ketsu-3 (Decisive Battle Plan no, 3)
called for 18 divisions, 2 armoured divisions, 7 independent mixed brigades, 3
independent tank brigades, 2 independent infantry regiments, 1 anti-aircraft
division, 3 national guard brigades directly attached to the Army Commander
and 18 combined amphibious units from the Yokosuka District Navy. See
Béeich6 Béei-kenkytisho Senshi-shitsu-hen (War History Office, Defence
Agency), ed., Senshi Sdsho (51): Hondo kessen junbi (1) — Kanto no boei (War
History Series, no. 51): Preparations for the Final Battle for the Homeland, Part
1 — The Defence of the Kanto Region), Asakumo Shinbunsha, 1971, chapter 6.
For the invasion of Kyushu, the US Joint Chiefs planned to mobilise 14 divi-
sions, including 3 US Marine divisions and 1 airborne division. The Allied
attack on the Kanto Plain called for 25 divisions, including 2 armoured divi-
sions, 3 Marine divisions and 1 airborne division. US air and sea forces deployed
off Japan included 23 battleships, 26 aircraft carriers, 64 special aircraft carriers,
52 cruisers, 323 destroyers, 298 escort ships, 2,783 landing craft, 14,847 fleet
aircraft, General George C. Kenney’s Far Eastern Air Force and General Carl A.
Spaatz’s Strategic Air Forces. Against this, Japan could muster only 19 des-
troyers, 38 submarines, 3,300 special attack ships and 10,000 aircraft, 7,500
of which were no more than upgraded trainers. See Boeichd Béei-kenkyiisho
Senshi-shitsu-hen (War History Office, Defence Agency), ed., Senshi Sdsho (57):
Hondo kessen junbi (2) — Kyiishit no b6ei (War History Series, no. 57): Prepara-
tions for the Final Battle for the Homeland, Part 2 —'The Defence of Kyushu),
Asakumo Shinbunsha, 1971, chapters 5-7 and Reports of MacArthur, vol. 1,
pp. 405, 419, 430, 433-5.)
Tae See Reports ofMacArthur, vol. 2, Part 2, pp. 600-12, 648-65 and Frank (1999),
especially chapters 12 and 13. By mid-August, Japan had an estimated 735,000
troops deployed on the island, outnumbering the US Sixth Army’s 650,000
 Notes to Pages 39-42 575

men, who would constitute the main invasion force. Walter Krueger, From
Down Under to Nippon: The Story ofSixth Army in World War II, Combat Forces
Press, Washington, 1953, p. 333.
Poi Quotation is from the diary of Secretary of War Henry Stimson, 10 August
1945, cited by Frank (1999), p. 342.
74, Reports ofMacArthur, vol. 1, pp. 436-9.
PD: Krueger (1953), p. 335.
76. Manhattan Project scientists expected an explosive force of up to 1,700 tons
of TNT. The Alamogordo blast produced a yield in the vicinity of 20,000
tons. The chief administrator was Major General Leslie R. Groves. His com-
ment of 18 July 1945 is cited by Martin J. Sherwin, A World Destroyed:
Hiroshima and the Origins of the Arms Race, Vintage Books, 1987 (Knopf,
1975), p. xiii.
gs The Churchill quotation is from Leon V. Sigal, Fighting to a Finish: The Politics of
War Termination in the United States and Japan, Cornell University Press, 1988,
p. 138. London and Washington had established scientific liaison offices in early
1941, and by October of that year, both sides were working together to produce
a bomb. In 1942, Washington imposed restrictions on the exchange of informa-
tion, but bilateral cooperation resumed in mid-1943. In August 1943 at Que-
bec, Washington promised to seek London’s consent before using the weapon.
At the Hyde Park Conference in September 1944, Churchill and Roosevelt
agreed to continue bilateral nuclear collaboration after the war. By the end of
that year, Britain was deeply involved in the Manhattan Project, providing
technological support and helping the United States corner world supplies of
uranium. See Sherwin (1987), pp. 68-88, 109-11.
78. US Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States (below, given as
FRUS): The Conference of Berlin (The Potsdam Conference), vol. 2, US Govern-
ment Printing Office, 1945, pp. 1474-6.
79. Charles L. Mee Jr, Meeting at Potsdam, M. Evans and Co. (New York), 1975,
pp. 243-4. On Stalin and the bomb, see Hasegawa, vol. 1 (1998), p. 56.
80. The Americans had developed two different types of atomic weapon. The first
was an untested uranium device with a gun-like trigger, the second an
implosion-type plutonium bomb used in the Trinity blast. The US military was
determined to test both on Japan in order to assess their relative destructiveness
(Sigal, 1988, pp. 182-98). Hiroshima was a military centre, but its population
of roughly 350,000, swollen by military personnel, commuters, temporary resi-
dents, Korean labourers and Allied prisoners of wat, was overwhelmingly non-
combatant. Nagasaki, a city of about 270,000, was of lesser military significance
(see Committee for the Compilation of Materials on Damage Caused by the
Atomic Bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Hiroshima and Nagasaki: The
Physical, Medical, and Social Effects of the Atomic Bombings, Basic Books, 1981,
pp. 344-69, 462-83). Concerning Korean casualties of the bomb, S. Pak, K.
Kwak and W. Sin estimate that as many as 40,000 perished in the blast and its
576 Notes to Pages 44-46

aftermath (see Hibakusha Kankokujin [Koreans Exposed to the A-Bomb], Asahi

Shinbunsha, 1975, p. 296). Recent research suggests figures of between 20,000
and 30,000 (Lisa Yoneyama, ‘Memory Matters: Hiroshima’s Korean Atom
Bomb Memorial and the Politics of Ethnicity’, in Laura Hein and Mark Selden,
eds, Living With the Bomb: American and Japanese Cultural Conflicts in the
Nuclear Age, M. E. Sharpe, 1997, p. 205). Roughly 1,000 Japanese American
victims were said to be living in the United States alone (Hiroshima and
Nagasaki, p. 482).
81. The Truman citation is from Public Papers of the Presidents: Harry S. Truman,
1945, US Government Printing Office, 1961, p. 149. Nishina is quoted in
Monica Braw, The Atomic Bomb Suppressed, M. E. Sharpe, 1991, p. 12. Tokyo’s
protest omitted the fact that Japan, too, had joined the nuclear race. As early as
1940, Japanese scientists had discussed the possibility of developing atomic
weapons, and in 1943, the government concluded that production was possible.
By 1944, Japan had assembled four cyclotrons, but the nation’s weapons pro-
gramme never got beyond the laboratory stage due to its inability to acquire
sufficient quantities of uranium and a dearth of human, physical and financial
resources. The effort was, in the words of John W. Dower, ‘puny and almost
pathetic’ (Japan in War and Peace: Selected Essays, The New Press, 1993, p. 573
see also Dees, 1997, chapter 2).
82. Arguments justifying the bombings on grounds of military necessity are
advanced by Newman (1995) and Frank (1999).
83. The Manhattan Project and its logic are explained by Leslie R. Groves, Now It
Can Be Told: The Story of the Manhattan Project, Harper, 1962 and Sherwin
(1987), pp. 145, 194-5.
84. See Alperovitz (1995), pp. 325-6. James Hershberg analyses the reasoning of
Conant, Vannevar Bush and other Interim Committee members in James B.
Conant: Harvard to Hiroshima and the Making ofthe Nuclear Age, Knopf, 1993,
pp. 219-29.
85. The Leahy citation is from his memoir, J Was There: The Personal Story of
the Chief of Staff to the Presidents Roosevelt and Truman, Based on his Notes
and Diaries Made at the Time, McGraw-Hill, 1950, p. 441. Alperovitz, ibid.,
pp. 225-6, 327, 352-6. On Bard’s dissent, see Sherwin (1987), pp. 307-8.
86. MacArthur is quoted by Weldon E. Rhoades, Flying MacArthur to Victory, Texas
A&M University Press, 1987, p. 428.
87. The Truman quotations are cited by Alperovitz (1995), pp. 6 and 563, respect-
ively. Alperovitz introduces important new evidence concerning Truman’s
political motivations.
88. Hasegawa, vol. 1 (1998), p. 43.
89. John J. Stephan, The Russian Far East: A History, Stanford University Press,
1994, pp. 241-2 and Hasegawa, vol. 1 (1998), p. 52-3. Kase (1951), p. 224.
90. See David M. Glantz, August Storm: The Soviet 1945 Strategic Offensive in
Manchuria, Paper no. 7, Combat Studies Institute, US Army Command and
 Notes to Pages 47-54 577

Staff College, Fort Leavenworth, Kansas, 1983, pp. 5-7, 136-7, 141-2, 196-7.
De Reports ofMacArthur, vol. 2, Part 2, p. 728.
92. The First Cavalry, the 11th Airborne Division and the 77th Division were
reassigned from Sixth Army to Eighth Army, which also included IX, X and XIV
Corps. (The 11th Airborne originally was an Eighth Army command but had
been attached temporarily to Sixth Army during the battle for Luzon.) The
Eichelberger Papers, Duke University.
93: XXIV Corps was detached from Tenth Army in Okinawa, assigned to AFPAC
and sent to operate independently as the US occupation force in southern
Korea; the First Army Service Command was sent to Okinawa; and Lieutenant
General Styer’s US Army Forces in the Mid-Pacific assumed combat responsibil-
ity for the Southwest Pacific, relieving Eighth Army of all duties outside of
Japan.
94, Williams (1979), p. 2. GHQ/SCAP, History of the Nonmilitary Activities of the
Occupation ofJapan, 1945-1951, vol. 2: Administration of the Occupation,
Tokyo, 1951, pp. 21-2.
BD. See James (1985), p. 63.
96. The Yalta pact (Agreement Regarding Entry of the Soviet Union into the War
Against Japan’), signed by Churchill, Roosevelt and Stalin, is reproduced in
FRUS: The Conferences at Malta and Yalta, 1945, p. 984.

Chapter 2. Occupation: the First Weeks

5 On the Manila mission, see US Department of the Army (Historical Section, G-
2, FECOM), ed., Reports of General MacArthur, vol. 1: Supplement (MacArthur
in Japan — The Occupation: Military Phase), US Government Printing Office,
1966, pp. 19-23 (below, given as Reports ofMacArthur).
. Courtney Whitney, MacArthur: His Rendezvous with History, Knopf, 1956,
p. 212.
. Sidney F. Mashbir, J Was an American Spy, Vantage Press, 1953, pp. 304-10.
. On Willoughby and’ Arisue, see Harry E. Wildes, Typhoon in Tokyo: The
Occupation and its Aftermath, Macmillan, 1954, p. 52 and John Welfield, An
Empire in Eclipse: Japan in the Postwar American Alliance System — A Study in
the Interaction of Domestic Politics and Foreign Policy, Athlone Press, 1988,
pp. 66-8.
. Quotation is from Takemae Eiji, “C. G. Tilton and the Occupation of Japan’, in
The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 146, 1986, p. 553.
. Douglas MacArthur, Reminiscences, McGraw-Hill, 1964, pp. 282-3.
. Thomas T. Sakamoto, “The MIS Aboard the Battleship USS Missouri’, in
Unsung Heroes: Military Intelligence Service, Past, Present, Future, M\S-North-
west Association (Seattle), 1996, p. 32. The Yokohama Customs House is
described by Crawford F. Sams, ‘Medic’: The Mission of an American Military
Doctor in Occupied Japan and War-torn Korea, edited by Zabelle Zakarian, M. E.
Sharpe, 1998, p. 14.
578 Notes to Pages 56-63

8. On initial Japanese resistance to surrender, see Robert J. C. Butow, Japan’s

Decision to Surrender, Stanford University Press, 1954, pp. 222-4 and Kase
Toshikazu, Eclipse ofthe Rising Sun, Jonathan Cape, 1951, pp. 258-64. Hirohito
sent Prince Kan’in to Southeast Asia, Prince Asaka to China and Prince Takeda
to Manchuria.
. Reports of MacArthur, p. 118. The Eichelberger quotation is from Robert
L. Eichelberger and Milton MacKaye, Our Jungle Road to Tokyo, Viking Press,
1950, p. 262. The MacArthur quotation is from his speech, ‘Demobilization of
Japanese Armed Forces’, reproduced in Government Section, SCAP, The Polit-
ical Reorientation ofJapan, September 1945 to September 1948 (below, given as
PR)), US Government Printing Office, 1949, vol. 1, p. 742.
10. Mark Gayn, Japan Diary, Charles E. Tuttle, 1981 (William Sloane, 1948),
pp. 1-2.
das Sams (1998), p. 12 and Bowen C. Dees, The Allied Occupation and Japan’s
Economic Miracle: Building the Foundations ofJapanese Science and Technology,
1945-1952, Curzon Press, 1997, p. xiii.
12: Sakamoto (1996), p. 33.
1: See Kase’s account (1951).
14. The Allied signatories were General Sir Thomas Blamey (Australia), Colonel L.
Moore-Cosgrove (Canada), General Hsu Yung-chang (Republic of China),
General Jacques LeClerc (France), Admiral Conrad Helfrich (Netherlands),
Air Vice-Marshal Sir Leonard Isitt (New Zealand), Lieutenant General K. N.
Derevyanko (Soviet Union), Admiral Sir Bruce Fraser (United Kingdom), and
Admiral Chester W. Nimitz (United States).
13 ‘Statement by General MacArthur to Surrender Delegates Aboard Battleship
Missouri, in PRY, vol. 2, p. 736.
16. Cited in Takafusa Nakamura, A History ofShowa Japan, 1926-1989, University
of Tokyo Press, 1998, p. 248.
1ge John K. Emmerson, The Japanese Thread: A Life in the US Foreign Service, Holt,
Rinehart & Winston, 1978 pp. 251, 274-5.
18. Beate Sirota Gordon, The Only Woman in the Room: A Memoir, Kodansha
International, 1998, p. 11.
19. This was the reaction of Iwao Peter Sano, a Japanese American drafted into the
Imperial Army while studying in Japan and sent to Manchuria. See his 1000
Days in Siberia: the Odyssey of a Japanese-American POW, Bison Books
(University of Nebraska Press), 1999, pp. 60-1.
20. Justin Williams Sr, Japan’s Political Revolution Under MacArthur: A Participant’s
Account, University of Tokyo Press, 1979, p. 5.
Zi: Shigemitsu Mamoru, Japan and Her Destiny: My Struggle for Peace, edited by
E S. G. Piggott, E. P. Dutton, 1958, p. 375.
22 A lively account of this incident in English is Tsurumi Shunsuke, A Cultural
History ofPostwar Japan, 1945-1980, Kegan Paul International, 1987, pp. 5-6.
vik Shigemitsu (1958), p. 376.
 Notes to Pages 64-71 579

24. Justin Williams basically accepts Shigemitsu’s account of the meeting (1979,
loc. cit). On the AFPAC directive, see Reports ofMacArthur, p. 75.
25: Brigadier General George A. Lincoln of Operations Division reportedly glanced
at a map in his office and within 10 seconds determined that the dividing line
should fall along the 38th parallel. His subordinates Colonel Charles Bonesteel
and Colonel Dean Rusk agreed and lobbied aggressively for acceptance of this
boundary. See the account by Michael C. Sandusky, America’s Parallel, Old
Dominion Press, 1983, pp. 226-7.
26. Bruce Cumings, The Origins of the Korean War: Liberation and the Emergence of
Separate Regimes, 1945-1947, Princeton University Press, 1981, pp. 123-8,
137-40. Citation is from p. 128.
Zi. Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: The American Occupation as New Deal,
The Free Press, 1987, pp. 82, 133.
28. Eichelberger and MacKaye (1950), pp. 273-4.
Bo. Mainichi Shinbun (Kanagawa edition), 8 September 1945. Examples are from
Yuki Tanaka, Hidden Horrors: Japanese War Crimes in World War II, Westview
Press, 1998, p. 105.
30. Gayn (1981), p. 233. Hayato’s comment is cited in Yukiko Koshiro, Trans-
Pacific Racisms and the U.S. Occupation ofJapan, University of Columbia Press,
1999, p. 69.
Se Yamada Mieko, Senryagun ianfu (Comfort Women of the US Occupation Army),
K6jinsha, 1992, pp. 7, 42-3.
32. Some Allied forces also availed themselves of the sex slaves they ‘liberated’ from
Japanese troops on Asian battlegrounds. See George Hicks, The Comfort
Women, Yenbooks, 1995, pp. 72, 119-22, 127. The former Occupationaire is
Cohen (1987), p. 127. The US Marine is Edwin L. Neville Jr, ‘Japanese and GI
Rapport’, in William F Nimmo, ed., The Occupation ofJapan: The Grassroots,
General Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1992, p. 138. On New Zealand
troops, see Laurie Brocklebank, Jayforce: New Zealand and the Military Occupa-
tion ofJapan, 1945-48, Oxford University Press, 1997, p. 182.
35. The American observer is Michael S. Molasky. Molasky makes these points with
particular cogency, describing prostitutes, black-marketeers and war orphans as
icons of postwar life. See The American Occupation of Japan and Okinawa:
Literature and Memory, Routledge, 1999, pp. 104-5, 107. The quotation is
from p. 103. On the lives of these women, see the first-hand accounts in Mizuno
Hiroshi, ed., Shi ni nozonde uttaeru (Our Dying Words Accuse!), Togosha, 1982
(originally published as Nihon no teiso: gaikokuhei ni okasareta joseitachi no shuki
Ujapan’s Moral State: Women Raped by Foreign Soldiers and Their Stories],
Sdjusha, 1953).
34, On the Tokyo, Yokohama and Kyoto VD sweeps, see Cohen (1987), p. 131 and
Sams (1998), pp. 106-7. On the closure of the RAAs, Refer to Duus Masayo,
Makkasa no futatsu no boshi: tokushu ian-shisetsu RAA 0 meguru senryo-shi no
sokumen (The Two Hats of MacArthur: A History of RAA Comfort Stations
580 Notes to Pages 71-76

During the Occupation), Kodansha Bunko, 1985, p. 280 and Inoue Etsuko,
Senryogun ianjo: kokka ni yoru baishun shisetsu (Comfort Stations for the
Occupation Army: State-Operated Brothels), ShinhyGron, 1995, pp. 27-35.
235, On anti-prostitution legislation, consult Nishi Kyoko, Senrydka no Nihon fujin
seisaku (Policies Affecting Japanese Women Under the Occupation), Domesu
Shuppan, 1985, pp. 34-40. On women’s welfare homes, see GHQ/SCAP,
History of the Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation ofJapan, 1945-1951, vol.
18: Public Welfare, 1952, pp. 40-2.
36. Gayn (1981), pp. 245-53.
37. Whitney (1956), p. 216. One SCAP official: Takemae Eiji, ‘J. Napier and the
Purge in Japan’, in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 153, November
1987, p. 79. The Occupationaire is Justin Williams Sr (1979), p. 13. The
Yomiuri account is from Reports of MacArthur, p. 24. Instances of loathsome
behaviour by US forces in outlying regions were occasionally recorded. As late
as September 1947, a SCAP official described ‘a mild reign of terror’ in
Sapporo, Hokkaido, where troops of the 11th Airborne Division seemed
‘determined to practice their martial arts on the helpless Japanese civilians’ by
beating, knifing or mauling them ‘for a trivial or imagined reason, or for no
reason at all’. Such outrages were exceptional, however. The incident is cited
in Toshio Nishi, Unconditional Democracy: Education and Politics in Occupied
Japan, 1945-1952, Hoover Institution Press (Stanford University), 1982,
pp. 47-8.
38. Ball (1988), p. 98. The Australian press characterisation is from Peter Bates,
Japan and the British Commonwealth Occupation Force, 1946-52, Brassey’s
(UK), 1993, p. 115.
op) Sodei Rinjiré, “The Occupier and the Occupied’, in William E Nimmo, ed.
(1992), pp. 5-6. On jeeps and children, see John W. Dower, Embracing Defeat:
Japan in the Wake of World War II, W. W. Norton and the New Press, 1999,
p. 110.
40, Statistics are from Walt Sheldon, The Honorable Conquerors: The Occupation
of Japan 1945-1952, Macmillan, 1965, pp. 114-15, and GHQ/SCAP and
FECOM, Selected Data on the Occupation of Japan, Tokyo, 1950, p. 107.
Sheldon reports that the Occupation’s extensive housing programme, which
included the construction of new American-style accommodation, sparked a
construction boom that by 1949 had consumed one third of Japan’s iron and
cement, one fifth of its steel and one tenth of its lumber and glass. The analogy
with the British Raj is from Meirion and Susie Harries, Sheathing the Sword: The
Demilitarisation ofJapan, Heinemann, 1989, p. xxv. On Kennan: Letter from
Kennan to W. Walton Butterworth, 9 March 1948, cited in Michael Schaller,
The Origins of the Cold War in Asia: The American Occupation ofJapan, Oxford
University Press, 1985, p. 125. Faubion Bowers’s comment is from ‘Discussion’,
in Thomas W. Burkman, ed., The Occupation of Japan: Arts and Culture,
General Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1988, p. 204.
 Notes to Pages 76-81 581

41. Gayn (1981), p. 17. High-buttoned shoes: Carmen Johnson, Wave-Rings in the
Water: My Years With the Women of Postwar Japan, Charles River Press, 1996,
pals
42. Gayn (1981), p. 47.
43. This description is from William Costello, Democracy vs. Feudalism in Postwar
Japan, \tagaki Shoten, 1948, p. 153. See also the discussion in Christopher
Aldous, The Police in Occupation Japan: Control, Corruption and Resistance to
Reform, Routledge, 1997, pp. 95-106, 214.
44. SCAP’s report to the Famine Emergency Committee on 6 May 1946 is in PR/,
vol. 2, p. 749.
45. Figures on food rations are from Nakamura (1998), p. 281. On GHQ’s release
of food stores, see Yoshida Shigeru, Japan’s Decisive Century, 1867-1967,
Frederick A. Praeger, 1967, pp. 51-2 and Takemae Eiji, ed., C. F Samsu, DDT
kakumet: senry0-ki no iryo fukushi seisaku o kaiso suru (C. F Sams, The DDT
Revolution: Looking Back at the Reform of Medicine and Social Welfare
During the Occupation), Iwanami Shoten, 1986, pp. 106, 113. The quotation
is from Irokawa Daikichi, The Age of Hirohito: In Search ofModern Japan, The
Free Press, 1995, p. 45.
46. Irokawa, ibid., and Sams (1998), p. 60.
' 47, Sams (1998), pp. 54, 59, 60-2. Also refer to Dower (1999), pp. 93-4. On
GARIOA, see Jerome B. Cohen, Japan’s Economy in War and Reconstruction,
University of Minnesota Press, 1949.
48. The ‘six-inch rule’ is described by Donald Richie, “The Occupied Arts’, in Mark
Sandler, ed., The Confusion Eva: Art and Culture ofJapan During the Allied Occu-
pation, 1945-1952, Smithsonian Institution, 1997, p. 15. The MacArthur quo-
tation is from Faubion Bowers, “The Late General MacArthur, Warts and All’, in
Esquire, January 1967, p. 168. On MacArthur’s attitude toward fraternisation,
see W. MacMahon Ball, /ntermittent Diplomat: The Japan and Batavia Diaries of
W. MacMahon Ball, Alan Rix, ed., Melbourne University Press, 1988, p. 75.
49. Reports ofMacArthur, pp. 51-2.
50. See Whitney (1956), p. 214.
ak: The Eichelberger quotation is from official correspondence: ‘Reports’, 23
March 1946, cited in Roger Buckley, Occupation Diplomacy: Britain, the United
States and Japan 1945-1952, Cambridge University Press, 1982, p. 235. The
Occupationaire citation is from Sheldon (1965), p. 107. The historian is Yukiko
Koshiro (1999), p. 159.
52. Richard L.-G. Deverall, The Great Seduction: Red China’s Drive to Bring Free
Japan Behind the Iron Curtain, \nternational Literature Printing Co. (Tokyo),
1953, p. 97. Deverall, a former official in GHQ’s Labour Division, gives
no sources but cites this as the commonly accepted figure at the end of the
Occupation.
WD. See Bates (1993), pp. 112-14 and Cohen (1987), pp. 123, 132. The Gascoigne
citation is from Bates, p. 84.
582 Notes to Pages 82-86

54. See Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, The Northern Territories Dispute and Russo-Japanese
Relations, vol. 2: Neither Peace Nor War, 1985-1998, University of California
Press, 1998, pp. 517-18.
35; John J. Stephan, The Kuril Islands: Russo-Japanese Frontier in the Pacific,
Clarendon Press (Oxford), 1974, p. 151-2.
56. David Rees, The Soviet Seizure ofthe Kuriles, Praeger, 1985, pp. 58-9; Tsuyoshi
Hasegawa, The Northern Territories Dispute and Russo-Japanese Relations, vol. 1:
Between War and Peace, 1697-1985, University of California Press, 1998, pp.
44-5; Marc S. Gallicchio, “The Kuriles Controversy: US Diplomacy in the
Soviet—Japan Border Dispute, 1941-1956’, in Pacific Historical Review, vol. 60,
no. 1, 1991, pp. 74-6.
As Rees (1985), pp. 76, 82 and Stephan (1974), p. 158.
58. On the May 1943 study, see Gallicchio (1991), p. 73. The Blakeslee Memo-
randum is reproduced in Stephan (1974), pp. 240-4.
D9 Stephan (1974), p. 155. On Churchill’s role, see Rees (1985), pp. 63-4.
60. This is the position taken by Stephan, Rees and other scholars based on the
memoirs of Charles E. Bohlen, who accompanied Roosevelt to Yalta. See Bohlen,
Witness to History, 1929-1969, W. W. Norton, 1973, pp. 196-7.
61. Gallicchio (1991), pp. 75 and Hasegawa, vol. 1 (1998), p. 44.
62. See Gallicchio (1991), pp. 75, 77 and note 18 on p. 77. On the Joint Chiefs at
Potsdam, see Grace P. Hayes, The History of the Joint Chiefs of Staff in World
War Il: The War Against Japan, Naval Institute Press (Annapolis), 1982, pp.
720-1.
63. US Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States (below, given as
FRUS): The Conference of Berlin (The Potsdam Conference), vol. 2, US Govern-
ment Printing Office, 1945, pp. 1284-5.
64. The actual drafting of the Order was the work of the S&P’s Colonel Charles
Bonesteel, who was determined to retain at least some of the Kurils as a site for
future US bases. Gallicchio (1991), pp. 83-4.
65. Hasegawa, vol. 1 (1998), pp. 61, 63-4. On Stalin’s strategy, see David M.
Glantz, “The Soviet Invasion of Japan’, in Military History Quarterly, vol. 7, no. 3,
1995, pp. 96-7, 136-7.
66. On Truman’s motivation, refer to Wada pinks ‘Nisso sensd’ (The Japanese-
Soviet War), in Hara Teruyuki and Togawa Tsugo, eds, Koza: Surabu no sekai
(The Slavic World), vol. 8: Surabu to Nihon (The Slavic Peoples and Japan),
Kébunds, 1995, p. 123. Concerning US air bases, see Rees (1985), pp. 76-7.
On Stalin’s order to Beria, see Hasegawa, vol. 1 (1998), p. 65.
67. Boris Slavinsky, The Soviet Occupation of the Kuril Islands, August-September
1945: A Documentary Research, Kennedy School of Government, Harvard Uni-
versity, 1993, p. 50.
68. Tsutsumi’s force had lost more than half of its normal strength due to
redeployments to the main islands. In August 1945, he had at his disposition 10
infantry battalions, an artillery division consisting of 18 rapid-fire 47mm can-
 Notes to Pages 87-94 583

nons, an artillery unit with 53 mountain and field pieces, an engineering corps,
an air defence corps and an armoured regiment.
69. See Stephan (1974), pp. 162-4 and, particularly, Slavinsky, (1993), pp. 56-65.
70. Suizu Mitsuru, Hoppé ryido dakkan e no michi (Recovering the Northern Terri-
tories), Nihon Kégyé Shinbunsha 1979, p. 83.
71. Slavinsky (1993), pp. 76-84.
72. D. E Ustinov, Istoriia Vtoroi Mirovoi Voiny — 2 (History of the Second World
War, 1939-45, vol. 2), Moscow, 1980.
73. Pravda, 3 September 1945, cited in Rees (1985), p. 82.
74. On the indigenous peoples of this region, see generally Ch. M. Taksami and
V. D. Kosarev, Ainu minzoku no rekishi to bunka: hoppé shosi minzoku-gakusha
no shiza yori (The History and Culture of the Ainu People: Minorities of the
Northern Islands from an Anthropological Viewpoint), Akashi Shoten, 1998.
Bukawa Tsurunosuke, an émigré from Kunashiri who witnessed the Soviet
occupation, claims that Soviet officers of Japanese descent from Sakhalin and
Vladivostok were given high positions in the local military government to min-
imise friction with the populace. The garrison chief at Kunashiri, for example,
was a Captain Utsunenko of the Soviet Pacific Fleet, reportedly of Japanese
ancestry.
75. See Hokkaidé Keisatsubu Johoka, Soren-gun senryo-ka ni okeru Chishima oyobi
Habomai rito gaikyo (A General Survey of Conditions in the Kuril Islands and
the Offshore Islets of Habomai Under Soviet Military Occupation), October
1945.
76. On the number of captured Japanese soldiers, see Slavinsky (1993), p. 83.
Concerning local conditions, refer to Nemuro-shi Somubu Ryédo Taisaku-
gakari-hen (ed.), Hoppa ryddo: shiisen zengo no kiroku (The Occupation of the
Northern Territories: A Record of Events Before and After the End of the War),
Nemuro-shi, vol. 1, 1970 and vol. 2, 1971.
77. Stephan (1974), p. 166-68.
78. See Nemuro-shi Sémubu Ryéddo Taisaku-gakari-hen (ed.), Nihon no ryédo,
Hoppo-ryodo (The Northern Territories: Japanese Homeland), Nemuro-shi,
1980.
79. Ibid.

Chapter 3 The Occupational Dynamic

1. Hugh Borton, American Presurrender Planning for Postwar Japan, Occasional
Papers of The East Asian Institute, Columbia University, New York, 1967, p. 7.
On French, Dutch and Portuguese ambitions, see Grace P. Hayes, The History of
the Joint Chiefs ofStaff in World War II: The War Against Japan, Naval Institute
Press (Annapolis), 1982, p. 716.
2. US Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States (below, given as
FRUS), vol. 6, US Government Printing Office, 1945, pp. 630, 667-8, 670.
3. SWNCC-70/5, ‘National Composition of Forces to Occupy Japan Proper in
584 Notes to Pages 96-100

the Post-Defeat Period’, cited in Yukiko Koshiro, Trans-Pacific Racisms and the
U.S. Occupation ofJapan, University of Columbia Press, 1999, pp. 20-1, 231.
. Joint War Plans Committee, ‘Ultimate Occupation of Japan and Japanese
Territory’, 16 August 1945, Record Group 213, CCS 383.21, Japan, National
Archives Records Administration, Washington DC.
. Harry S. Truman, Memoirs: Year ofDecisions, 1945, Doubleday, 1955, pp. 431-2.
6. Concerning the FEAC and its successor, the Far Eastern Commission, see
George H. Blakeslee, The Far Eastern Commission: A Study in International
Cooperation 1945-1952, US Department of State (US Government Printing
Office), 1953.
. Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: The American Occupation as New Deal, The
Free Press, 1987, p. 56. In Japanese, the definitive study of the origins of the
FEAC and FEC is Toyoshita Narahiko, Nihon senryd kanri taisei no setritsu:
hikaku senryo-shi josetsu (The Origins of the Control System for the Occupation
of Japan: An Essay in Comparative Occupation History), Iwanami Shoten,
1992.
. As of mid-July 1947, the subcommittee chairs and deputy chairs were as follows.
Committee no. 1, Reparations: MajorJ. Plimsol (Australia), Dr R. H. van Gulik
(Netherlands); Committee no. 2, Economic and Financial Affairs: F C. Everson
(Britain), Roswel H. Whitman (United States); Committee no. 3, Consti-
tutional and Legal Reform: B. R. Sen (India), Ralph E. Collins (Canada);
Committee no, 4, Strengthening of Democratic Tendencies: G. G. Dolbin
(Soviet Union), Dr T. T. Mar (Republic of China); Committee no. 5, War
Criminals: Liu Hsuan-tsui (Republic of China), F.C. Rodriguez (Philippines);
Committee no. 6, Aliens in Japan: Francis Lacoste (France), E C. Everson
(Britain); and Committee no. 7, Disarmament of Japan: O. Reuchlin (Nether-
lands), Rear Admiral S. S. Ramishvili (Soviet Union). From “Activities of the Far
Eastern Commission’, Report by the Secretary General, 26 February 1946 —
10 July 1947. After 1949, Burma was represented by U So Nyun and Pakistan
by M. A. H. Ispahani. Other notable FEC members included Dr Herbert Evatt
(1946) of Australia, Lord Halifax (1946) and Sir George Sansom (1946-7) of
Britain, Lester Pearson (1946) of Canada, Dr V. K. Wellington Koo (1946-9)
of Nationalist China, Brigadier General Carlos P. Romulo (1946-52) of the
Philippines and Andrei Gromyko (1946) of the Soviet Union. See Blakeslee
(1953), pp. 31, 239-40.
. Ann Trotter, New Zealand and Japan, 1945-1952: The Occupation and the Peace
Treaty, Athlone Press, 1990, pp. 38-43.
10. Asakai Koichiré in Gaimushd-hen (ed.), Shoki tai-Nichi senryo seisaku (Early
Occupation Policy ‘Towards Japan), vol. 1, Mainichi Shinbunsha, 1978, pp.
211-52.
My Quotations are from, respectively, Kawai Kazuo, Japan’s American Interlude,
University of Chicago Press, 1960, p. 18 and W. MacMahon Ball, Japan: Enemy
or Ally?, Cassell (New York), 1949, pp. 23, 33.
 Notes to Pages 101-111 585

12 W. MacMahon Ball, Intermittent Diplomat: The Japan and Batavia Diaries of

W. MacMahon Ball, Alan Rix, ed., Melbourne University Press, 1988 p. 19.
MacArthur himself used the term ‘knock-down-dragout’ when he instructed US
officials to retaliate in kind against Soviet attacks. See Justin Williams Sr, Japan’
Political Revolution Under MacAthur: A Participant's Account, University of
Tokyo Press, 1979, pp. 80-81.
13; Ball (1988), p. 64 and note in same by Alan Rix, pp. 288-9; Cohen (1987),
p. 308 and Mark Gayn, Japan Diary, Charles P. Tuttle, 1981 (William Sloane,
1948), pp. 217-18.
14. See Roger Buckley, Occupation Diplomacy: Britain, the United States and Japan
1945-1952, Cambridge University Press, 1982, p. 80-4 and Ball (1988), p. 47.
On Whitney’s attitude towards Ball and Chu, see Williams (1979), p. 81.
15. William J. Sebald with Russell Brines, With MacArthur in Japan: A Personal
History ofthe Occupation, W. W. Norton, 1965, pp. 141-7.
16. Dean Acheson, Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department, New
American Library, 1970 (W. W. Norton, 1969) pp. 177-8.
WA Blakeslee (1953), p. 51.
18. See GHQ/SCAP, History of the Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation ofJapan,
1945-1951 (below, given as HNMA), vol. 2: Administration of the Occupation,
1952, pp. 146-51. Government Section, SCAR, The Political Reorientation of
Japan, September 1945 to September 1948 (below, given as PR/), US Govern-
ment Printing Office, 1949, vol. 1, pp. 1-7.
19. Robert L. Eichelberger and Milton MacKaye, Our Jungle Road to Tokyo, Viking
Press, 1950, p. 260.
20. On the role of Colonel Hattori, see Gayn (1981), pp. 445-6. See also the
suggestive comments in Meirion and Susie Harries, Sheathing the Sword: The
Demilitarisation ofJapan, Heinemann, 1987, pp. 226-7.
Zh. US Department of the Army (Historical Section, G-2, FECOM), ed., Reports of
General MacArthur, US Government Printing Office, 1966, vol. 1: Supplement
(MacArthur in Japan — The Occupation: Military Phase), pp. 166-86 (below,
given as Reports ofMacArthur), pp. 136-43.
22. Cohen (1987), pp. 146-9; Reports of MacArthur, pp. 214-16 and Blakeslee
(1953), pp. 123-30.
23. See Blakeslee, ibid., pp. 139-54.
24. GHQ/SCAP and FECOM, Selected Data on the Occupation ofJapan, Tokyo,
1950, pp. 91-2. On Korean repatriates, see William J. Gane, Repatriation, From
25 September 1945 to 31 December 1945, Headquarters, US Army Military
Government in Korea (Foreign Affairs Section), Seoul, 1946,
2). Reports ofMacArthur, p. 191.
26. HNMA, vol. 2: Administration of the Occupation, p. 163. On Japanese Ameri-
cans repatriated to Japan, see Sodei Rinjiré, Were We the Enemy? American
Survivors ofHiroshima, Westview Press, 1998, pp. 52-3, 57.
hs Sodei, ibid., p. 50.
586 Notes to Pages 111-117

28. This was the intended result of a Kremlin policy decision taken in February
1945 following Stalin’s Yalta pledge to enter the war against Japan. At that time,
the Marshal ordered the Soviet State Prison Administration to prepare for the
internment of German and Japanese war prisoners. On 23 August, one week
after Japan’s capitulation, GKO (State Committee of Defence) Order 9898
instructed Soviet commanders to deport Japanese POWs to the Soviet Union for
hard labour. Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, The Northern Territories Dispute and Russo-
Japanese Relations, vol. 1: Between War and Peace, 1697-1985, University of
California Press, 1998, pp. 62—3. See also Reports ofMacArthur, pp. 179-86.
Darsf Hane Mikiso cites the figure 500,000 based on recent archival research in the
Soviet Union but does not provide a source. See Eastern Phoenix: Japan Since
1945, Westview Press, 1996, p. 14.
30, See William F. Nimmo, Behind a Curtain of Silence: Japanese in Soviet Custody,
1945-1956, Greenwood Press, 1988, pp. 115-20 and Reports of MacArthur,
pp. 187-90,
gi; Iwao Peter Sano, 1,000 Days in Siberia: the Odyssey ofa Japanese-American POW,
Bison Books (University of Nebraska Press), 1999, p. 198.
32, Reports ofMacArthur, pp. 166-86. See also Nimmo (1988), p. 125. A first-hand
account by a Japanese POW who spent nearly two years with the British in
Southeast Asia is Aida Yaji, Prisoner of the British — A Japanese Soldier’s Experi-
ences in Burma, Cresset Press, 1966.
She On the history of the CLO, see Ara Takashi, Nihon senryo-shi kenkyit josetsu (An
Introduction to Research on the History of the Occupation of Japan), Kashiwa
Shobé, 1994, pp. 103-4,
34. PRY, vol. 1, pp. 192-3. Yoshida Shigeru, Japan’s Decisive Century, 1867-1967,
Frederick A. Praeger, 1967, pp. 47, 57-8.
35, Yoshida, ibid., p. 315. The ‘working model’ quotation is from John W. Dower,
Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War Il, W. W. Norton and the
New Press, 1999, p. 212.
36. See Cohen (1987), pp. 100, 237 and Yoshida Shigeru, The Yoshida Memoirs: The
Story ofJapan in Crisis, Heinemann, 1961, p. 55. On Williams’s intervention,
see Maeda Hideaki, Meiji, Taisho, Showa, Heisei: Episodo de tsuzuru Kokkai no
hyakunen (One Hundred Years of Diet History Seen Through Episodes from
Meiji to Heisei), Hara Shobé, 1990, pp. 74, 288-92.
Bi Faubion Bowers, ‘Discussion’, in Thomas W. Burkman, ed., The Occupation of
Japan: Arts and Culture, General Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1988, p. 203.
38. For example, the headquarters of the 106th MG Group, formerly a part of
Eighth Army’s XI Corps in Kawasaki, became the Kanto Regional MG Head-
quarters. It was transferred to Maebashi, Gunma Prefecture and placed under
the MGS of Eighth Army’s IX Corps. Eighth Army also exercised direct jurisdic-
tion over the Tokyo—Kanagawa region, and over the regional MG headquarters
for the Chagoku and Shikoku regions, which were administered by the British
Commonwealth Occupation Force. A case study of an early regional team is
 Notes to Pages 118-122 587

Takemae Eiji, “Nihon senry6é shoki gunsei no kenkya: Nagano chirya Dai 78
Gunsei Chitai no katsud6 shdkai’ (Studies in Military Government During the
Early Stage of the Occupation: An Introduction to the 78th Military Govern-
ment Headquarters Stationed in Nagano), in Gendai Hogaku, no. 1, 2000,
pp- 163-212
a9. In 1946, major MG teams consisted of 47 members (10 commissioned officers,
37 enlisted men), not counting Japanese employees, who generally out-
numbered the Americans; intermediate teams had 40 members (8 officers, 32
enlisted personnel); and minor teams consisted of 31 members (6 officers, 25
enlisted personnel). Major MG teams were assigned to 12 prefectures
(Hokkaido, Aomori, Miyagi, Yamagata, Gunma, Aichi, Shizuoka, Kyoto,
Hyogo, Hiroshima, Fukuoka, Nagasaki) and one urban district (Kyoto).
Medium teams were sent to 18 prefectures (Akita, Iwate, Toyama, Gifu, Fuku-
shima, Niigata, Tochigi, Ibaragi, Chiba, Saitama, Nagano, Mie, Okayama,
Yamaguchi, Ehime, Kumamoto, Oita, Kagoshima). Minor teams went to 13
prefectures (Nara, Shiga, Wakayama, Fukui, Ishikawa, Yamanashi, Miyazaki,
Saga, Kagawa, Kochi, Tokushima, Tottori, Shimane). Two special MG detach-
ments were set up to supervise the districts of Tokyo—Kanagawa (subdivided in
1948) and Osaka. The Tokyo—Kanagawa MG detachment consisted of 215
members (65 officers, 150 enlisted personnel); the Osaka MG team had 58
members (16 officers, 42 enlisted personnel). See Ralph J. D. Braibanti,
‘Administration of Military Government in Japan at the Prefectural Level’, in
American Political Science Review, vol. XLII, No. 2, April 1949.
40. The quotation is Eichelberger’s, loc. cit.
41. Yomiuri Shinbun, Osaka Edition, 8 July 1988.
42. Miriam Farley, Aspects ofJapan’s Labour Problems, John Day, 1960, pp. 51-2.
43. Tanaka Hiroshi, Zainichi gaikokujin: ho no kabe, kokoro no kabe (Foreigners in
Japan: Legal and Psychological Obstacles to Equality), Iwanami Shinsho, 1995,
pp. 82-3.
44, From June 1951, CAS would be involved primarily in supervising Japan’s
National Police Reserve (see chapter 9).
45. In English, see Douglas H. Mendel, The Japanese People and Foreign Policy: A
Study of Public Opinion in Post-Treaty Japan, University of California Press
(Berkeley), 1961, pp. 146-7.
46. An introduction to Okinawan history in English is George Kerr, Okinawa: The
History ofan Island People, Charles E. Tuttle, 1958.
47. Arnold G. Fisch Jr, Military Government in the Ryukyu Islands, 1945-1950, US
Army Center for Military History, US Government Printing Office, 1988,
pp. 54-6.
48. Miyagi Etsujiro, Okinawa senryo no 27-nenkan: Amerika-gunsei to bunka no
henyo (Twenty-Seven Years of Occupation in Okinawa: US Military Govern-
ment and the Transformation of Okinawan Culture), Iwanami Shoten, 1992,
pp. 11-17. Initially, the US Navy refused a request from MacArthur to
588 Notes to Pages 122-126

repatriate some 160,000 islanders who had been evacuated to Japan proper
towards the end of the war, citing a lack of food and shelter in the archipelago.
MacArthur persisted, however, and when the US Army assumed permanent
control of the Ryukyus in July 1946, he initiated a relief programme that had
returned about 140,000 Okinawans by the end of the year. The influx of
repatriates, most of them carrying only the clothes they wore, imposed a further
burden on the crippled economy. Reports ofMacArthur, pp. 169-70 and Fisch
(1988), p. 57.
49. See Watanabe Akio, The Okinawa Problem: A Chapter in Japan—US Relations,
Melbourne University Press, 1970, pp. 18-19 and Oguma Eiji, “Nihonjin’
no kyokai: Okinawa, Ainu, Taiwan, Chosen — shokuminchi kara fukki undd made
(The Boundaries of the ‘Japanese’: Okinawa, the Ainu, Taiwan, Korea — From
Colonies to the Reversion Movement), Shinydsha, 1998, p. 462.
50. Fisch (1988), pp. 70-1, 106.
pyle Ibid., pp. 72-6.
52: Ienaga Saburé, The Pacific War, 1931-1945, Pantheon Books, 1978, p. 238.
DD Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, The Northern Territories Dispute and Russo-Japanese Rela-
tions, vol. 2: Neither Peace Nor War, 1985-1998, University of California Press,
1998, pp. 77-8.
54. In January 1946, Under-Secretary of State Dean Acheson repeated Truman’s
admonition of August 1945 that the Soviet occupation was not a final territorial
disposition but did not raise the issue publicly. The same year, however, Secre-
tary of State James Byrnes and Soviet Foreign Minister V. M. Molotov tacitly
agreed to recognise each others’ territorial acquisitions in Japan. In exchange for
a pledge of support from Byrnes for Moscow’s Yalta claims at a future peace
conference, Molotoy refrained from attacking Washington’s designation of
Japan’s Pacific mandates as US trust territories. In 1947, when the State
Department proposed an early peace settlement with Japan, Washington could
have broached the question but chose not to. James F. Byrnes, Speaking Frankly,
Harper, 1947, p. 221.
DD. Takemae Eiji, ‘Sengo shoki no senkyo seido kaikaku’ (Initial Postwar Reforms
in Japan: GHQ and the 1945 Election Law Amendment), in The Journal of
Tokyo Keizai University, no. 129, 1983, pp. 63-159.
56. Onuma Yasuaki, Saharin kimin: sengo sekinin no tenkei (The Displaced of Sak-
halin: Fulfilling Japan’s Post-Colonial Responsibility), Chiko Shinsho, 1992,
pp. 24-5. On the Kuril repatriation, see Chishima Habomai Shoté Kyojiisha
Renmei-hen (ed.), Moto tomin ga kataru warera hoppo yonto: Soren senryo-hen
(Former Islanders Remember Our Four Northern Islands: Under the Soviet
Occupation), Chishima Habomai Shoté Kyojiisha Renmei (Sapporo), 1988,
chapter 8.
Pye Onuma (1992), pp. 10-11, 30-40.
58. See Dower (1999), p. 115 and George F Kennan, Memoirs, 1925-1950,
Atlantic Monthly (Little, Brown), 1967, p. 387.
 Notes to Pages 127-129 589

5D: Sixth Army, formed in Texas in February 1943 under Lieutenant General Walter
Krueger, had fought in the southwestern Pacific and the Philippines. It consisted
of the First Marine Division, the 32nd and 41st Infantry Divisions, two anti-
aircraft brigades, a special engineer brigade, an airborne infantry regiment and a
field artillery battalion. From September to December 1945, when the force was
disbanded, Sixth Army was stationed in western Japan. Eighth Army, com-
manded by Lieutenant General Robert L. Eichelberger, was formed in the late
summer of 1944. After successful campaigns in the southwestern Pacific and the
Philippines, it was transferred to Okinawa and then to Yokohama.
US Naval forces in Japan included the Third and Fifth Fleets, which had
operated independently of the US Pacific Fleet during the war. Established in
August 1943 under Admiral William Halsey, the Third Fleet consisted of 6
battleships, 5 aircraft-carriers, 13 cruisers, the Seventh Division and about 500
aircraft belonging to the 13th Air Force. It was responsible for bombarding
Japan’s Pacific coastline during July and August of 1945. The Fifth Fleet, com-
manded by Admiral Raymond Spruance, took part in campaigns in the central
Pacific and Okinawa. During the Occupation, it was assigned to Sasebo in
Kyushu. The main Occupation air force was General George C. Kenney’s US
Fifth Air Force. Established in September 1942, it comprised the major part of
SWPA’s Allied Air Force. During the Occupation, the Fifth operated under the
US Army’s Pacific Air Command, which became the Far East Air Force in 1947.
60. This figure is cited by Cohen (1987), p. 123.
61. See generally Nishi Kyoko, Senryoka no Nihon fujin seisaku (Policies Affecting
Japanese Women Under the Occupation), Domesu Shuppan, 1985.
62. Bettie J. Morden, The Women’s Army Corps, 1945-1978, US Army Center for
Military History, US Government Printing Office, 1990, pp. 47, 67, 107. On
Nisei WACs, see Yaye F.Henman, “The WAC Experience’, in Unsung Heroes:
Military Intelligence Service, Past, Present, Future, M\S-Northwest Association
(Seattle), 1996, p. 7.
63. A seminal study of women in the Occupation is Susan J. Pharr, “The Politics of
Women’s Rights’, in Robert E. Ward and Sakamoto Yoshikazu, eds, Democratiz-
ing Japan: The Allied Occupation, University of Hawaii Press, 1987, pp. 221-
52. See also Susan J. Pharr, “A Radical US Experiment: Women’s Rights and
the Occupation of Japan’, in L. H. Redford, ed., The Occupation of Japan:
Impact of Legal Reform, General Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1977,
pp. 125-34. Pharr (1987), pp. 239-41.
64. In many cases, Johnson relates in her memoir, simply indicating concern about
an issue was sufficient to bring action. Often, problems were pointed out to the
civil affairs officers by Japanese women. In one instance, a prefectural official of
the local Women’s and Minors’ Bureau informed Johnson that recent labour
legislation had failed to rectify the prewar practice in rural areas of indenturing
daughters as collateral for a loan. Johnson promptly organised a visit to factories
in the region to highlight the problem, which in at least one instance was
590 Notes to Pages 129-131

addressed immediately. ‘Isn’t it amazing what a casual visit can do?’, one of her
Japanese staff later remarked. Carmen Johnson, Wave-Rings in the Water: My
Years with the Women ofPostwar Japan, Charles River Press, 1996, pp. 97-8.
65. Ibid., p. 59. American female Occupationaires in Military Government in-
cluded Rilma Buckman, Assistant Welfare Officer at Eighth Army MG Head-
quarters in Yokohama and Edna K. Callow, Public Welfare Officer for the Tokyo
Military Government Team.
66. On the history of the 24th Infantry Regiment, see Ulysses Lee, The Employment
ofNegro Troops (The US Army in World War II), US Army Office of the Chief
of Military History, US Government Printing Office, 1966, pp. 47, 366-7, 475,
479. Bill Stevens is quoted in Mary P. Motley, ed., The Invisible Soldier: The
Experience ofBlack Soldiers in World War II, Wayne State University Press, 1975,
pi 76.
67. Sherie Mershon and Steven Schlossman, Foxholes and Color Lines: Desegregating
the U.S. Armed Forces, John Hopkins University Press, 1998, pp. 226-8 and
Robert R. Smith, MacArthur in Korea: The Naked Emperor, Simon & Schuster,
1982, p. 228.
68. Gerald Astor, The Right to Fight: A History ofAfrican Americans in the Military,
Presidio Press, 1998, pp. 346-9 and Smith (1982), ibid. See also the discussion
in Koshiro (1999), pp. 55-6, 60-1.The Eichelberger quotation is from Paul
Chwialkowski, Jn Caesar's Shadow: The Life of General Robert Eichelberger,
Greenwood Press, 1993, p. 152.
69. On Japanese images of African Americans, see John R. Russell, Nihonjin no
kokujin-kan: mondai wa ‘Chibikuro Sanbo’ dake de wa nai (Concerning Japa-
nese Images of Black People: ‘Little Black Sambo’ is not the Only Problem),
Shin Hy6ron, 1991. These points also are made by Michael S$. Molasky in his
study of African Americans in the Japanese literary imagination during the
Occupation (The American Occupation ofJapan and Okinawa: Literature and
Memory, Routledge, 1999, chapter 3). The quotation is from Molasky, p. 74.
70. Concerning black culture and Japanese jazz, see Joe B. Moore, ‘Studying Jazz
in Postwar Japan: Where to Begin?’, in Japanese Studies, vol. 18, no. 3, 1998
and ‘Reflections on Jazz in Postwar Japan: Blues People and Company Men’,
unpublished manuscript, 1998. During the war, black American leaders had
been quick to note the racist thinking that underlay much anti-Japanese propa-
ganda. They sought a ‘double victory’: the defeat of fascism abroad would bring
an end to apartheid at home. Horace Cayton, a noted black sociologist, later
remarked that, while the Japanese were imperialists, they had ‘more right to the
Orient than white imperialists’, explaining that ‘the Japanese at least tried to
break the colour line’. Many black Americans, states a historian, were not pro-
Japanese, but neither were they anti-Japanese and, at the war’s end, ‘many
African Americans emerged ready and eager for reconciliation’ with the former
enemy. On Cayton’s views, see Horace R. Cayton, Long Old Road, University of
Washington Press, 1970, pp. 271-6. On black attitudes towards the Japanese,
 Notes to Pages 131-133 ay

refer to Reginald Kearney, African American Views of the Japanese: Solidarity or

Sedition?, State University of New York Press, 1998. The quotation is from
Kearny, p. 127. See also the landmark study by Ronald T. Takaki, Double
Victory:AMulticultural History ofAmerica in World War II, Little, Brown, 2000,
pp. 22-57.
fA During the war, the air, land and sea forces of Great Britain, Australia, New
Zealand and India that would later form the BCOF fought the Japanese in
India, Burma, Malaya, Borneo and elsewhere in South and Southeast Asia.
Commonwealth troops in the Malaya Theatre Command under Lieutenant
General Arthur Percival surrendered to General Yamashita Tomoyuki at
Singapore in February 1942. Others fought with Commonwealth Forces in
Southeast Asia under Admiral Lord Louis Mountbatten. These soldiers avenged
Percival’s humiliation by accepting the surrender of General Itagaki Seishird,
Commander of Japan’s Seventh Route Army, in Singapore on 12 September
1945. Both surrenders are commemorated by wax effigies, the Dioramas, at the
Singapore History Museum on Sentosa, a small island in Singapore Bay. The
display dramatises the horror and ultimate banality of war.
1B On the question of Commonwealth participation, see Hayes (1982), pp. 714—
15 and Buckley (1982), pp. 86-7, 102. A recent discussion of the BCOF is
Takemae Eiji, “Eirenpd Nihon senryogun (BCOF) no seiritsu (1)’ (The Forma-
tion of the British Commonwealth Force, Part 1), in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai
University, no. 207, 1998, pp. 173-83. See also Chida Takeshi, Eirenpd-gun no
Nihon shinchi to tenkai (The British Commonwealth Occupation Force in
Japan: Its Deployment and History), Ochanomizu Shob6, 1997. On Australia’s
role, refer generally to James Wood, Forgotten Force: The Australian Military
Contribution to the Occupation ofJapan, Allen & Unwin, 1998.
eos Hamish Ion, ‘Canada and the Occupation of Japan’, in Ian H. Nish, ed., The
British Commonwealth and the Occupation of Japan, International Centre for
Economics and Related Disciplines, London School of Economics and Political
Science, 1983, pp. 44-68. See also Takemae Eiji, “Canadian Views on Occupa-
tion Policies and the Japanese Peace Treaty: Interview with Dr. Arthur K. Men-
zies ,in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 144, January 1986, pp. 331-2.
74, See Trotter (1990), pp. 7-23 and Laurie Brocklebank, Jayforce: New Zealand
and the Military Occupation ofJapan, 1945-48, Oxford University Press, 1997,
pp. 1-15, 28.
tes See Peter Bates, Japan and the British Commonwealth Occupation Force, 1946—
52, Brassey's (UK), 1993, p. 45-7 and Ian H. Nish, ‘India and the Occupation
of Japan’, in Nish, ed. (1983), pp. 69-87.
76. Bates (1993), p. 68. The BCOF Army Component consisted of a mixed British-
Indian division from the Fifth British Brigade, the 268th Indian Infantry Bri-
gade and the Seventh Light Cavalry of the Indian Armoured Corps, and
independent brigade groups from both Australia and New Zealand. The Air
Component included Spitfire squadrons from the Royal Air Force and the Royal
592 Notes to Pages 134-138

Indian Air Force, Mustang squadrons from the Royal Australian Air Force and a
Corsair squadron from the Royal New Zealand Air Force. The BCOF’s naval
contingent was made up of a squadron from the British Pacific Fleet, including
warships from the Royal Navy, the Royal Australian Navy and the Royal Indian
Navy. It has been suggested that the BCOF was deployed to the Chugoku
region, which includes Hiroshima, because the United States wished to keep its
troops out of the area devastated by the atomic bomb. See Sodei Rinjiré, Were We
the Enemy? American Survivors ofHiroshima, Westview Press, 1998, p. 48.
Tits Takemae Eiji, “Ball’s View on the Allied Occupation of Japan: Interview with
W. MacMahon Ball’, in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 151 (June
1987), pp. 21-2.
78. Buckley (1982), p. 93.
79. A thriving BCOF economy sprang up based on sterling notes down to 3d,
below which Australian copper coins were used. Food, basic commodities and
other supplies were procured in Australia, and even American quartermasters
turned to this source to provide perishable items for US soldiers, making the
BCOF system a dollar-earner rather than a drain on the sterling bloc. See
‘British Commonwealth Occupation Force’, in The Australian Encyclopedia,
Collins, 1984, pp. 130-4,
80. Bates (1993), pp. 134-5.
81. Ibid., pp. 118, 153-5. See also the assessment by Rajendra Singh, Post-war
Occupation Forces: Japan and South East Asia (Official History of the Indian
Armed Forces in the Second World War, 1939-45), Orient Longman (New
Delhi), 1958, chapters 8 and 11.
82. Buckley (1982), pp. 102-3, Bates (1993), p. 223 and Brocklebank (1997),
pp. 214-16.
83. Bates (1993), p. 227.
84. Takemae, ‘Interview with Dr. Arthur R. Menzies’ (1986), pp. 353-4 and Bates
(1993), chapter 22.
85, For instance, Colonel Kermit R. Dyke briefly doubled as chief of AFPAC’s
Information and Education Section and SCAP’s Civil Information and Educa-
tion Section. Until May 1946, Brigadier General Elliott R. Thorpe headed
AFPAC’s Counter-Intelligence Section and SCAP’s Civil Intelligence Section.
Major General Stuart B. Akin was in charge of AFPAC’s Signal Section and
SCAP’s Civil Communications Section, and Major General William F. Marquat
simultaneously served as chief of AFPAC’s Anti-Aircraft Section and SCAP’s
Economic and Scientific Section.
86. On Bower’s linguistic abilities, see Sidney F. Mashbir, J Was an American Spy,
Vantage Press, 1953, p. 317. On Diller, see William J. Coughlin, Conquered
Press: The MacArthur Era in Japanese Journalism, Pacific Books (Palo Alto),
1952, pp. 114-18. The description of Baker is by Cohen (1989), p. 247. At
MacArthur's personal request, Baker was made Deputy Chief of the ESS For-
eign Investment Board, where his high-handed tactics earned him further
 Notes to Pages 138-141 593

notoriety, He later served as adviser to Marquat, On Baker’ s checkered career,

see Williams (1979), pp. 94-7,
87. See Sidney L. Huff with Joe Alex Morris, My Fifteen Years with General
MacArthur, Paperback Library (New York), 1964.
88. On Fellets’ and Bunker's political views, see Cohen (1987), p. 73 and Williams
(1979), pp. 88-9,
89. HNMA, vol, 2: Administration of the Occupation, pp. 25-34,
90. See Laura E, Hein, Fueling Growth: The Energy Revolution and Economie Policy
in Postwar Japan, Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1990,
pp. 75-8.
91. For example, in early 1946, following the creation of the International Prosecu-
tion Section, Legal Section was raised from the special to the general staff level
and placed directly under the SCAP Chief of Staff, Diplomatic Section also was
added to the General Staff at this time. By 1946, there were five General Mili-
tary Staff Sections in addition to the Gel through G-4 segments and 12 civil
staff sections, an organisational structure that would not change appreciably
until 1951 when SCAP began to phase out the Occupation, A major exception
occurred in January 1950, when Civil Affairs Section (CAS) was created to
oversee the Civil Affairs Teams. There were minor changes, as well. In 1946, the
Office of the Civil Property Custodian (CPC), Adjutant General’s Section
(AG), General Accounting Section (GAS) and the Civil Transportation Section
(CTS) were created as special staff groups, ‘The General Procurement Agency
was transferred to staff section level, and the Civil Intelligence Section was
temporarily disbanded (in Japan, this was widely believed to have happened in
1950). The Public Relations Office (sometimes referred to as the Public Rela-
tions Section) also was established in 1946 as SCAP’s official spokes organ. In
1947, a new group, the Reparations Section (RS), was added, bringing the
number of special staff sections to 13, where it stood through 1948, In 1949,
with the completion of the war crimes trials, the International Prosecution
Section was abolishedy and Legal Section returned to special staff level, That
year, the Office of the Comptroller was added to the General Staff on orders
from the Department of the Army to help implement the Dodge Plan, and the
General Accounting Section and the Reparations Section, their work done, were
dissolved, In 1950, Legal Section was bumped to general staff level again, and
the Statistical and Reports Section was rechristened the Civil and Historical
Section, In 1951, as the Occupation wound down, staff groups were pared to a
minimum, Economic and Scientific Section, which absorbed many of the per-
sonnel and functions of discontinued groups, alone retained something of its
former size and importance, At the Military General Staff level, only the G-1
through G-4 Sections remained until the end.
92. FRUS, vol. 6, 1948, p. 673.
93. See Toshio Nishi, Unconditional Democracy: Education and Politics in Occupied
Japan, 1945-1952, Hoover Institution Press (Stanford University), 1982, p, 207,
594 Notes to Pages 144-151

94. Courtney Whitney, MacArthur: His Rendezvous with History, Knopf, 1956,
p. 300. Faubion Bowers, “The Late General MacArthur, Warts and All’, in
Esquire, January 1967, p. 95.
95. A caustic but perceptive account of the Occupation’s public relations machine,
its handling of important visitors and efforts to mould American opinion is
Robert B. Textor, Failure in Japan: With Keystones for a Positive Policy, Greenwood
Press, 1972 (John Day, 1951), chapter 2.
96. See Ray A. Moore, ‘Discussion’, in Thomas W. Burkman, ed., The Occupation
of Japan: Arts and Culture, General Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1988,
pp. 38-9. On the Supreme Court Mission, refer to Alfred C. Oppler, Legal
Reform in Occupied Japan: A Participant Looks Back, Princeton University Press,
1976, pp. 255-75.

Chapter 4 Inside the Special Staff Sections

1. This was Colonel Crawford F. Sams of Public Health and Welfare. See Crawford
E Sams, ‘Medic’: The Mission ofan American Military Doctor in Occupied Japan
and War-torn Korea, edited by Zabelle Zakarian, M. E. Sharpe, 1998, p. 36.
2. Takemae Eiji, “The Kades Memoir on the Occupation of Japan’, in The Journal
of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 148, November 1986, p. 263.
3. Susan Deborah Chira, Cautious Revolutionaries: Occupation Planners and Japan’s
Post-War Land Reform, Tokyo: Agricultural Policy Research Center, 1982,
chapter 3.
4. Unless otherwise indicated, data on GHQ’s staff sections and personnel are
from the following sources: GHQ/SCAP, History of the Nonmilitary Activities of
the Occupation ofJapan, 1945-1951, Tokyo, 1951; GHQ/SCAP and Far East
Command, Organization and Activities of GHQ, Tokyo, 1950; GHQ/SCAP
and Far East Command, Selected Data on the Occupation ofJapan, 1950; and
GHQ/SCAP, Tokyo Telephone Directory (1945-1951), Tokyo. The multi-
volume History of the Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation ofJapan, 1945—
1951 (below given as HNMA) is unreliable in tracing the evolution of staff
sections and their administrative divisions, staff responsibilities and personnel
assignments. The information presented here has been cross-referenced with
the more accurate Tokyo telephone directories published annually during the
Occupation.
5. George F Kennan, Memoirs, 1925-1950, Atlantic Monthly (Little, Brown),
1967, p. 382. Elliott R. Thorpe, East Wind, Rain, Gambit Inc. (Boston), 1969,
p- 195.
6. Max W. Bishop, ‘Memorandum of Conversation: Reorganization of the Office
of the United States Political Advisor’ (4 April 1946), in US Department of
State, Foreign Relations of the United States (below, given as FRUS), US Govern-
ment Printing Office, vol. 8, 1946, pp. 188-90.
7. See William J. Sebald with Russell Brines, With MacArthur in Japan: A Personal
History of the Occupation, W. W. Norton, 1965.
 Notes to Pages 151-157 595

8. Charles N. Spinks, ‘Indoctrination and Re-Education of Japan’s Youth’, in

Pacific Affairs, March 1944 and The Brocade Banner, US Army Forces Pacific
(Tokyo), 1946.
. See Fearey’s memoir, The Occupation of Japan: Second Phase, 1948-50,
Macmillan, 1950.
10. Norman’s works include Japan’s Emergence as a Modern State, Institute of Pacific
Relations, 1940; Soldier and Peasant in Japan: The Origins of Conscription, Insti-
tute of Pacific Relations, 1943; and The Feudal Background ofJapanese Politics,
Institute of Pacific Relations, 1945. Government Section’s Deputy Chief Kades
reportedly derived most of his knowledge of Japan from Norman’s writings.
So great was Norman’s intellectual authority that, from 1947 to 1949, the
diplomat-scholar was asked to tutor Prince Mikasa, Hirohito’s younger brother,
in Japanese history. See John Dower’s essay, “E. H. Norman, Japan and the Uses
of History’, in John W. Dower, ed., Origins ofthe Modern Japanese State: Selected
Writings of E. H. Norman, Pantheon Books, 1975, pp. 3-101. Norman and
Emmerson were associated with two other eminent Asia experts, Owen Latti-
more and Andrew Roth, whose ideas also helped mould Allied attitudes toward
Japan. Lattimore’s Solution in Asia and Roth’s Dilemma in Japan, both published
by Little, Brown in 1945, were required reading for serious Occupationaires.
ane Richard B. Finn, Winners in Peace: MacArthur, Yoshida and Postwar Japan,
University of California Press, 1992.
12. Justin Williams Sr, Japan’s Political Revolution Under MacArthur: A Participant's
Account, University of Tokyo Press, 1979, p. 7.
13. Ibid., pp. 56-67.
14. Quotations are from Hans H. Baerwald, ‘Reminiscence of a Misspent Youth:
Tokyo 1946-1949’, in Ian H. Nish, ed., Aspects ofthe Allied Occupation ofJapan,
London School of Economics and Political Science, 1985, p. 31. On Whitney’s
anti-semitism, see Robert R. Smith, MacArthur in Korea: The Naked Emperor,
Simon & Schuster, 1982; p. 228.
15. Whitney later compiled a lengthy panegyric to his boss, MacArthur: His Rendez-
vous with History, Knopf, 1956. His uncritical adulation of MacArthur and
absolute intolerance of any criticism of the Supreme Commander prompted
some historians to dismiss him and the Bataan clique as sycophants. See Richard
Storry, A History ofModern Japan, Penguin, 1982, p. 240.
16. According to Williams, without Kades’s leadership qualities, keen mind, ideal-
ism and imagination, Whitney might never have considered drafting a model
constitution for Japan. (1979), p. 36.
Ty Before the war, Tsukahara had worked as a Longshoresman and been active in
the labour movement, eventually joining the Communist Party. In 1942, he was
interned at the Tule Lake Relocation Center, a punishment camp in California
for ‘disloyal elements’, where he helped to defuse a major disturbance before
volunteering for military service. See Sodei Rinjird, ‘Nihon senryé to Nikkei-
nisei’ (Japanese-Americans and the Occupation of Japan), in Hata Ikuhiko and
596 Notes to Pages 157-163

Sodei Rinjir6, eds., Nihon senryo hishi (A Secret History of the Occupation of
Japan), vol. 2, Asahi Shinbunsha, 1979, pp. 284-7.
. Williams (1979), pp. 188-9. William’s personal account of GS provides an
intimate glimpse of the personalities and day-to-day workings of MacArthur's
headquarters.
Des Ibid., pp. 54-5, 69-70 and Alfred C. Oppler, Legal Reform in Occupied Japan: A
Participant Looks Back, Princeton University Press, 1976, pp. 29-30.
20; Hoover, after serving for over twenty years in business corporations and public
commissions as a management and personnel expert, became a consultant in
1946 to the US Civil Service Commission and then President of the Civil
Service Assembly of the United States and Canada. He came to Japan in 1947
at the invitation of Government Section to study ways of modernising the
Japanese bureaucracy.
a)ip Maki had studied in Japan from 1937-39 and during the war worked for the
Foreign Broadcast Intelligence Service and the OWI. He drew on his Occupa-
tion experience to write Government and Politics in Japan: The Road to Democracy,
Frederick A. Praeger, 1962'and Court and Constitution in Japan: Selected Supreme
Court Decisions, 1948-1960, University of Washington Press, 1964.
223 Quotations are from Oppler (1976), p. 31. The Baerwald study is The Purge of
Japanese Leaders Under the Occupation, University of California Press, 1959.
biap Koseki Shdichi, The Birth ofJapan’s Postwar Constitution, Westview Press, 1997,
p. 86 and Williams (1979), p. 58.
24. Harry E. Wildes, Social Currents in Japan: With Special Reference to the Press,
University of Chicago Press, 1927. Wildes later wrote Typhoon in Tokyo: The
Occupation and its Aftermath, Macmillan, 1954.
25: Beate Sirota Gordon, The Only Woman in the Room: A Memoir, Kodansha, 1997.
26. Eleanor M. Hadley, Anti-Trust in Japan, Princeton University Press, 1970.
Zi Bisson’s works included Basic Treaty Issues in Manchuria Between Japan and
China, Foreign Policy Association, 1931; Japan in China, Macmillan, 1938; and
Japan’s War Economy, \nstitute of Pacific Relations, 1945. He subsequently
wrote Prospects for Democracy in Japan, Macmillan, 1949. Bisson’s representative
postwar work, Zaibatsu Dissolution in Japan (University of California Press,
1954), complements Hadley’s account of the anti-trust programme.
28. Oppler’s 1976 memoir, cited above, provides important insights into the
process of legal reform.
29: Meirion and Susie Harries, Sheathing the Sword: The Demilitarisation ofJapan,
Heinemann, 1987, p. 222. The quotation on Mussolini is from Charles A. Wil-
loughby, Maneuver in War, Military Service Publishing Company (Harrisburg),
1939, p. 235.
30. Takemae (1986), pp. 300-1.
oy Charles A. Willoughby and John Chamberlain, MacArthur, 1941-1951: Victory
in the Pacific, McGraw-Hill, 1954, p. 323; Takemae (1986), pp. 304, 313. The
Hussey quotation is from the Harrieses (1987), p. 224.
 Notes to Pages 163-168 597

. On the early history of Counter-Intelligence, see Thorpe (1969), pp. 91-5.

. Ibid., p. 248-9.
. Robert B. Textor, Failure in Japan: With Keystones for a Positive Policy, Green-
wood Press, 1972 (John Day, 1951), p. 190.
. On the G-2 censorship order, see Williams (1979), p. 191. The only published
account of the Canon Unit, by one of its operatives, should be consulted with
caution. See Yon Cheong, Kyanon kikan kara no shogen (Inside the Canon Unit),
Bancho Shobo, 1973, pp. 70-3, 89-127.
. Fifteen of these volumes have been published in a reprint edition by the US
Army Office of the Chief of Military History: War in Asia and the Pacific, 1937-
1949, Garland, 1980. One of Arisue’s staff, Colonel Hattori Takushiré, alone
produced an eight-volume history of the war between 1953 and 1956 based in
part on military documents he had acquired surreptitiously and secreted from
his employer. These were later abridged as Dai Toa Senso zenshi (A History of the
Greater East Asian War), Hara Shobo, 1965.
Clarke Kawakami was the son of one of the founders of the Japan Socialist
Party, Kawakami Kiyoshi. The elder Kawakami left politics and emigrated to the
United States, where he studied journalism at the University of Minnesota and
married an Irish-American. Clarke graduated from Harvard and worked as a
journalist for the official Japanese news agency Domei. When war broke out, he
joined the Office of War Information. Attached to GHQ at war’s end,
Kawakami became deputy to the ATIS chief before being recruited by G-2’s
Historical Section. After the Occupation, he worked for the United States
Information Agency. Sodei (1979), op. cit., pp. 254. 278-9. On MacArthur's
war-history project, see Jerome Forrest and Clarke H. Kawakami, ‘General
MacArthur and His Vanishing War History’, in Reporter, 14 October 1952, pp.
20-5.
a/. See Mark Gayn, Japan Diary, Charles P. Tuttle, 1981 (William Sloane, 1948),
pp. 445-6 and Harry E. Wildes, Typhoon in Tokyo: The Occupation and its
Aftermath, Macmillan, 1954, pp. 52-3, 307-9.
38. Aiso retired from the Army as a Lieutenant Colonel and in 1953 became Ameri-
ca’s first Nisei judge. In 1968, he was appointed to the California Court of
Appeals. See the interview with Aiso in Takemae Eiji, Nihon senryo: GHQ kokan
no shogen (The Occupation as Told by Senior GHQ Officials), Chiao K6ronsha,
1988, chapter 7. On Aiso’s career, see also Tad Ichinokuchi, ed., John Aiso and
the M.LS. — Japanese-American Soldiers in the Military Intelligence Service, World
War II, MIS Club of Southern California, 1988, pp. 4-35.
a. GHQ/SCAP, A Brief History of G-II Section, Tokyo, 1948.
40. The Willoughby quotation is from Willoughby and Chamberlain (1954).
p. 322. CIC activities are detailed in US Army Intelligence Center, History of
the Counter-Intelligence Corps, Fort Halabird, Maryland, 1960 (RG 319, CIC,
National Archives Records Administration, Washington DC).
41. Williams (1979), pp. 193-5.
598 Notes to Pages 168-174

42. Harries (1987), pp. 109, 115.

43. See Richard M. Minear, Victor’s Justice: The Tokyo War Crimes Trial, Tuttle,
1972, chapter 2.
44. Harries (1987), pp. 106, 115.
45. Ibid., pp. 147—9. On Justice Northcroft’s views, see Ann Trotter, New Zealand
and Japan, 1945-1952: The Occupation and the Peace Treaty, Athlone Press,
1990, pp. 82-3. Prominent defence lawyers includedJ.G. Brannon, counsel for
Nagano Osami; Owen Cunningham, counsel for Oshima Hiroshi; J. N. Free-
man, counsel for Saté Kenryd; G. A. Furness, counsel for Shigemitsu Mamoru;
D. F. Smith and G. Yamaoka, counsels for Hirota Koki; W. Logan, counsel for
Kido Kéichi; and G. E Blewett, counsel for Tojo Hideki. The defence was
assisted by a Japanese legal team led by Kiyose Ichiré, famous for his prewar legal
battles on behalf of extreme rightists. After the Occupation, he would serve as
minister of education (November 1955 to December 1956).
46. See Minear (1972), chapter 4.
47. Pal graduated from Presidency University and taught mathematics at the Uni-
versity of Anandmohan before completing a law degree at the University of
Calcutta. He subsequently was professor of law, vice president of the university
and justice of the Calcutta Supreme Court.
48. Oppler (1976), pp. 69, 220-1. After the Occupation, Steiner went on to an
academic career. His representative work is Local Government in Japan, Stanford
University Press, 1965.
49. Before the war, Kramer had been chair of the Beldin Hemingway Company, a
member of the Board of Directors of Gimbel Brothers and a director of Inter-
state Department Stores. When war broke out, he entered the US Army, serving
as head of the Joint Supply Survey Board for the South Pacific and assistant to
the US Deputy Chief of Staff in Australia.
50. Sebald (1965), p. 131.
Di: Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: The American Occupation as New Deal, The
Free Press, 1987, pp. 86-7.
Be Finance Division chiefs were C. EF Thomas, Walter K. Lecount (a banker who
succeeded Thomas) and J. R. Allison (who succeeded Lecount in 1950 after
handling legal affairs and public security for the 32nd MG Company). Head of
the Finance Division’s Fiscal Policy Branch was Eugene M. Reed, a specialist in
local government and former adviser to the National Urban League and budget
assessor for the Federal Government. A Navy Commander during the war years,
Reed went through the Military Government School at Princeton, Japanese
language school at the Stanford CATS and the Civil Affairs Staging Area in
Monterey. The Money and Banking Branch Chief was Orville J. McDiarmid,
who later assisted the Young Mission. Public Finance Branch was led by Henry
Shavell, a Washington economist responsible for assessing property taxes and
drawing up a schedule for indemnity payments. Shavell aided the Shoup
Mission, which came to Japan in 1949 to revamp the tax system.
 Notes to Pages 175-179 599

The Section’s Internal Revenue Division Chief was Lon H. Moss, a personal
friend of MacArthur from Manila days. Moss had worked in the Internal Rev-
enue Division, US Army Military Government in Korea, before joining GHQ.
In Tokyo, he was involved largely with tax reform. He also developed close
contacts with Ikeda Hayato, the future Japanese finance minister (1949-52).
The heads of the Budget Management Branch were Arthur M. McGlauflin and
Edmond C. Hutchinson, who helped draft the Dodge Plan. Price Control and
Rationing Division was headed by H. E Alber, who entered GHQ as a civilian
after service in the Philippines and with the Okayama Prefectural Military
Government Team.
a0. Cohen (1989), pp. 356-66.
54. On Cohen’s reassignment, see Takemae Eiji, Sengo rédd-kaikaku: GHQ vido
seisaku-shi (The Postwar Labour Reforms: A History of GHQ’s Labour Reform
Policy), Téky6 Daigaku Shuppankai, 1982, p. 184. The ‘pathological fear’
quotation is from Gayn (1981), p. 331. On Cohen’s anti-Communism, see
Takemae, “The U.S. Occupation Policies for Japan: Interview with Mr.
Theodore Cohen’, in Jokyo Metropolitan University Journal of Law and Politics,
Vol. 14, no. 1, 1973, p. 43.
es. Howard B. Schonberger, Aftermath of War: Americans and the Remaking of
Japan, 1945-1952, Kent State University Press, 1989, pp. 119-20.
56. Takemae Eiji, ‘Senryé shiketsuki no rdd6-seisaku; GHQ saigo no réd6 kachéd
Emisu ni kiku’ (Labour Policy Towards the End of the Occupation: An Inter-
view with Robert Amis, GHQ’s Last Labour Division Chief), in 7dkyd Keidai
Gakkaishi, nos. 116-17, 1980, pp. 196-9.
57. Key staff members included Paul Stanchfield, who helped Cohen draft the
1946 Labour Relations Adjustment Law; Dr Edgar C. McVoy and Sterling D.
Collette, who assisted Hepler improve employment security; G. G. Becker,
who collaborated on the 1947 Labour Standards Law; Leon Becker (in charge of
the labour purge); H. G. Thrig (public works); Alice W. Schurcliff (vocational
training); and S. Balicka (labour statistics).
58. See the interviews with Stander and Smith in Takemae Eiji, GHQ réddka no hito
to seisaku (Personnel and Policies of GHQ’s Labour Division), Emutei Shuppan,
1991, pp. 205-8.
59. The Science Council was elected by some 44,000 certified academics and
researchers in fields ranging from the humanities, law and economics to the
theoretical and applied sciences. Its job was to promote the peaceful develop-
ment of science and technology and advise the government on basic science
policy. The Scientific and Technical Commission, staffed by an equal number of
bureaucrats and non-government scientists, was created inside the Prime Minis-
ters Office to act on Science Council recommendations and coordinate the
implementation of science policy among the various ministries, Both bodies
were established by law in the latter half of 1948 and became active in January
1949, See Bowen C. Dees, The Allied Occupation and Japan's Economic Miracle:
600 Notes to Pages 179-183

Building the Foundations ofJapanese Science and Technology, 1945-1952, Curzon

Press, 1997, chapter 8.
60. Dees, ibid., pp. 31-9, 49-60.
61. Ibid., pp. 60-2 and chapter 6.
62. Marlene J. Mayo, ‘American Wartime Planning for Occupied Japan: The Role
of the Experts’, in Robert Wolfe, ed., Americans as Proconsuls; United States
Military Government in Germany and Japan, 1944-1952, Southern Illinois
University Press, 1984, p. 83.
63. The 1946 divisions were Administration, Education, Religions, Information
(combining Press and Publications, Radio, Motion Picture and Theatrical,
Libraries, Central Motion Picture Exchange, and Policy and Planning), Arts and
Monuments, and Analysis and Research. In late 1947, Arts and Monuments was
merged with Religions to form the Religions and Cultural Resources Division.
In late 1948, Analysis and Research was rechristened Public Opinion and Socio-
logical Research Division.
64. The Education and Information Divisions each were subdivided into six
branches. In the Education Division, these were: School Education (elementary
and secondary education, administration and finance), Higher Education
(teacher training, universities, women’s education and two-year colleges), Adult
Education (youth organisations, vocational education, adult education and
libraries), Specialist Education (language reform, curriculum and. textbooks
and the promotion of the natural and social sciences), Education Research,
and Liaison and Investigation. The Information Division consisted of Press and
Publications, Radio, Motion Pictures and Theatre, the Information Centre,
Policy and Programmes, and the Central Motion Pictures Exchange.
65. William J. Coughlin, Conquered Press: The MacArthur Era in Japanese Journal-
ism, Pacific Books (Palo Alto), 1952, p. 81.
66. Donald R. Nugent and Reginald Bell, eds, The Pacific Area and its Problems: A
Study Guide, Institute for Pacific Relations, 1936,
67. See William M. Baltz, “The Role of American Educators in the Decentralization
and Reorganization of Education in Postwar Japan (1945-1952)’, PhD disserta-
tion, State University of New York (Buffalo), 1965, pp. 40-1 and Mayo (1982),
p. 91. Hall recounted his experiences in Education for a New Japan, Yale
University Press, 1949, Wunderlich completed a PhD in education at Stanford
in 1952. His dissertation, “Ihe Japanese Textbook Problem and Solution’, was
based on his experience in CI&E.
68. Takemae Eiji, “Kydiku kaikaku no omoide: GHQ Kydiku-kachd M. T. Oa
hakase ni kiku’ (Reminiscences of the Education Reforms: An Interview with
Dr Mark T. Orr, GHQ’s Education Division Chief), in Tokyo Keidai Gakkaishi,
no. 115, March 1980, p. 132. After the Occupation, Orr completed his
doctorate, writing a dissertation on the CI&E reforms: “Education Reform
in Occupied Japan’, Department of Political Science, University of North
Carolina, 1954.
 Notes to Pages 184-187 601

69. Marlene J. Mayo, ‘Civil Censorship and Media Control in Early Occupied
Japan: From Minimum to Stringent Surveillance’, in Wolfe, ed. (1984),
pp. 285, 301-4.
70. Kyoko Hirano, Mr. Smith Goes to Tokyo: Japanese Cinema Under the American
Occupation, 1945-1952, Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992, pp. 41, 102-3,
148-9,
. Marlene J. Mayo, “The War of Words Continues: American Radio Guidance in
Occupied Japan’, in Thomas W. Burkman, ed., The Occupation ofJapan: Arts
and Culture, General Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1988, pp. 55-6.
72. See Kurt Steiner, “The Occupation and the Reform of the Japanese Civil Code’,
in Robert E. Ward and Sakamoto Yoshikazu, eds, Democratizing Japan: The
Allied Occupation, University of Hawai'i Press, 1987, pp. 196, 200 and Susan J.
Pharr, “The Politics of Women’s Rights’ (1987), in Ward and Sakamoto, ibid.,
pp. 239-40, 251.
. Gary H. Tsuchimochi, Education Reform in Postwar Japan: The 1946 US Educa-
tion Mission, University of Tokyo Press, 1993, pp. 76-7.
. Toshio Nishi, Unconditional Democracy: Education and Politics in Occupied
Japan, 1945-1952, Hoover Institution Press (Stanford University), 1982, pp.
154-5.
. Baltz (1965), pp. 57-9, 60-1, 63. Other female educators, some of them later
replacements, included Edna Ambrose from Harvard University; Rebecca Barn-
hart, an education administrator; Luana Bowles from the US Office of Educa-
tion who had lived in prewar Japan; Major Hazel B. Bundy, a guidance expert in
charge of secondary school education; Edith Divelbiss, an education researcher;
Jane Fairweather, a library specialist; Helen Hosp from the American Associ-
ation of University Women; Major Stella Ware; and Dr Maude Williamson
of Colorado State College. See Joseph C. Trainor, Educational Reform in Occu-
pied Japan: Trainor’s Memoir, Meisei University Press, 1983, pp. 423-45. The
quotation is from Trainor, p. 424.
. See Sherman E. Lee, ‘My Work in Japan: Arts and Monuments, 1946-1948’, in
Mark Sandler, ed., The Confusion Era: Art and Culture ofJapan During the Allied
Occupation, 1945-1952, Smithsonian Institution, 1997, pp. 91-102.
. Nishi Kyoko, Senryoka no Nihon fujin seisaku (Policies Affecting Japanese
Women Under the Occupation), Domesu Shuppan, 1985, pp. 81-9.
. After the Occupation, Passin pursued an academic career at Columbia Uni-
versity. His best known works are Society and Education in Japan, Columbia
University Press, 1965 and The Legacy of the Occupation — Japan, Occasional
Papers of the East Institute, Columbia University, 1968.
7. Colonel Edward H. Farr, Deputy Chief of Division until June 1946, graduated
from the University of California and worked as a high school principal and
city school-district superintendent. Major Roy W. Arrowood had been chair-
man of the mathematics department at a Texas high school before joining
Education Division as Liaison Officer. Lieutenant Colonel Bernard A. Schmitz,
602 Notes to Pages 188-193

an Education Branch teaching specialist, had been a school instructor, Captain

John W. Barnard, who held a PhD in education, assisted the Education Branch
in drawing up teacher-training plans and preparing new textbooks, Captain
Harry E. Griffith had taken a leave of absence from a teaching job at a California
junior college to help CI&E reform Japan’s teacher-training programmes at the
normal school level.
Even lower-ranking officers were well-qualified for the work they did. Sec-
ond Lieutenant Scott George (PhD in English, Vanderbilt University) was the
Education Division’s Vocational ‘Training Officer and worked on simplifying
the Japanese language. Second Lieutenant James B, Gibson, an Education
Division liaison officer, was a one-time instructor of history and government
at a California junior college. John W. Norviel, the Division’s Recreation Offi-
cer, had a Master’s degree in education from the University of Southern
California.
80. William P. Woodard, The Allied Occupation ofJapan, 1945-1952, and Japanese
Religions, E. J. Brill, 1972.
81. Eells recounts his experiences in Communism in Asia, Africa and the Far Pacific,
American Council on Education, 1954.
82. Jacob Van Staaveren, An American in Japan, 1945-1948: A Civilian View ofthe
Occupation, University of Washington Press, 1994, pp, 156, 175,
83. Lawrence J. Hewes, Japan; Land and Men, \owa State College Press, 1955.
84. HNMA, vol, 2: Administration of the Occupation, p, 80, Sams (1998), p. 33,
85, On Sams’s contribution, see Takemae Eiji’s comments in his translation of
Sams’s memoir, C. F Samsu, DDT kakumei; senryd-ki no iryd fukushi seisaku o
kaisé suru (C. F. Sams, The DDT Revolution: Looking Back at the Reform of
Medicine and Social Welfare During the Occupation), lwanami Shoten, 1986,
pp. 419-29. See also the introduction and chronology by Zebelle Zakarian in
Sams (1998), pp. ix—xxi.
86. Other women in the Section included Florence Brugger, Social Work ‘Training
Supervisor; Agnes O’Donnell, Assistant Nutrition Consultant; and Dorothy
Toom, Medical-Surgical Nursing Consultant.
87. Sams, ibid., chapter 30. .
88. Public Health and Welfare Division, Medical Section, Public Health and Welfare
in Japan: Final Summary, 1951-52, GHQ/SCAP, Tokyo, 1952, pp. 1-2, On
Sams’s resignation and the post-Occupation assignment of technical advisers to
the US Embassy, see Sams (1998), pp, 255, 260.
89. Economics Division monitored directives on industry, natural resources, labour
and commerce. Legal and Government Division oversaw the courts, political
parties, government bodies and local officials, Social Affairs Division supervised
the implementation of GHQ information, education, and public health and
welfare directives,
90. In the Public Information Section, military information was handled by
the Information and Education Branch (domestic news) and the Public
 Notes to Pages 194-197 603

Information Branch (foreign news), both of which also belonged to the Far East
Command’s Information Division.
91). The Hannah Memorandum recommended the establishment of a committee
of civilian experts to oversee NHK’s reorganisation, the formation of a working
committee to assist the chair in carrying out his or her duties, as well as specific
proposals for choosing the committee chair, establishing a broadcasting code of
ethics and allocating radio frequencies. The Feissner Memorandum argued that
broadcasting should be unregulated and unbiased, serve the public and meet
certain technical standards for air waves and frequencies based on the Broad-
casting Law, the Wireless Telegraphy Law and the statute creating the Radio
Regulatory Committee. All of these measures were implemented with CCS
assistance.
92. Division heads were Lieutenant Colonel J. E. Gonseth (Industry Division),
Major W. C. Boese (Radio Division), Major B, E. Small (Domestic Radio
Division), M. G. Cooke (International Radio Division) and Lieutenant
Colonel W. L. Wardell (Telephone and Telegraph Division).
93. CTS carried out this duty with the close cooperation of Eighth Army Rail
Transportation Offices (RTOs), which had been set up at major stations to
handle special rail traffic. RTOs were responsible, in particular, for the running
of troop trains, which were identified by signs reading ‘US Army’ or ‘Allied
Forces’ affixed to the sides of the cars. The trains were under the jurisdiction of
Major J. L. Rankin’s Third Transportation Military Railway Unit located in the
Nihon Yusen Building in Tokyo.
94, Serving as Executive Officer and, from 1949, as Railway Transportation Div-
ision Chief was Lieutenant Colonel D. R. Changnon, a University of Illinois
engineering graduate who had studied accounting at Northwestern University
and worked for the Illinois Central Railroad. During World War I, Changnon
fought as a Second Lieutenant with US Army Air Forces in Europe. During
World War II, he was assigned to GHQ/AFPAC in Manila as Transportation
Planning Officer. Had the Allies invaded Japan, Changnon would have secured
and operated the Japanese railway system.
9. Wildes (1954), pp. 309-16.
1 96. Leading members were drawn from Government Section (Major W. E.
Monagan, Lieutenant Colonel Jack P. Napier), G-2 (R. P. Wheeler, Colonel
E. C. Ewert), Civil Information and Education Section (Lieutenant Colonel
Donald R. Nugent), Economic and Scientific Section (H. J. Irig), LS (S. A.
Reese), Diplomatic Section (Dr Charles N. Spinks), Public Information Office
(Colonel G. P. Welch), Public Health and Welfare (Colonel C. S. Mollohan),
the Provost Marshal (Major C. F. Vail), the Psychological Warfare Unit (Major
H. H. Deering) and a legal adviser (Major C. A. Nye). GHQ/SCAP, Govern-
ment Section, “‘Counter-Measures Against the Subversive Potential in Japan —
1946 to 1951 Inclusive’ (RG 331, Box 8497, Washington National Records
Center, Archives II, College Park, Maryland).
604 Notes to Pages 202-209

Chapter 5 The Genesis ofReform

ilk See Takemae Eiji, ed., Beikoku Riku-Kaigun: gunsei-minji manyuaru (The
United States Army and Navy Manual of Military Government and Civil
Affairs), Misuzu Shobd, 1998. Takemae’s translation includes the original
English and a commentary.
. Refer generally to Marlene J. Mayo, ‘American Wartime Planning for Occupied
Japan: The Role of the Experts’, in Robert Wolfe, ed. Americans as Proconsuls:
United States Military Government in Germany and Japan, 1944-1952, Southern
Illinois University Press, 1984, pp. 3-51. On Hornbeck’s reputation, see p. 11.
The Pence quotation is from p. 23.
. Ibid., p. 18.
: Wpidaup. 32.
. Suye Mura, A Japanese Village, University of Chicago Press, 1939.
O&O
wR
NW . On the organisation of early planning for Japan, see Hugh Borton, American
Presurrender Planning for Postwar Japan, Occasional Papers of the East Asian
Institute, Columbia University, 1967.
. Borton was known for Japan Since 1931: Its Political and Social Development,
Institute of Pacific Relations, 1940, and ‘Peasant Uprisings in Japan of the
Tokugawa Period’, in Transactions, Asiatic Society ofJapan, 1938 (reprinted in
book form by Paragon in 1968).
. Mayo (1984), pp. 20-1.
. Ibid.
. Arnold G. Fisch Jr, Military Government in the Ryukyu Islands, 1945-1950, US
Army Center for Military History, US Government Printing Office, 1988,
pp. 14-15.
. See Ralph J. D. Braibanti, “The Occupation of Japan: A Study in Organisation
and Administration’, PhD dissertation, Syracuse University, 1949, chapter 2.
Wg Takemae Eiji, ‘Kydiku kaikaku no omoide: GHQ Kyéoiku-kacho M. T. Oa
hakase ni kiku’ (Reminiscences of the Education Reforms: An Interview with
Dr Mark T. Orr, GHQ’s Education Division Chief), in Tokyo Keidai Gakkaishi,
no. 115, March 1980, pp. 133-4.
WS Takemae Eiji, ‘C. G. Tilton and the Occupation of Japan’, in The Journal of
Tokyo Keizai University, no. 146, 1986, pp. 550-2.
14. Justin Williams Sr, Japan’s Political Revolution Under MacArthur: A Participant's
Account, Tokyo, University of Tokyo Press, 1979, p. 2 and Braibanti (1949),
p. 71.
AS: A list of published Handbooks and Guides is found in Iokibe Makoto, ed.,
The Occupation ofJapan: US Planning Documents, 1942-1945, Congressional
Information Service and Maruzen Publishing Co., 1987, pp. 18-21.
16. See the discussion in Joe B. Moore, Japanese Workers and the Struggle for Power,
1945-1947, University of Wisconsin Press, 1983, pp. 63—5.
17. See Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: the American Occupation as New Deal,
the Free Press, 1987, pp. 37-42.
 Notes to Pages 210-217 605

. Mayo (1984), pp. 34-5.

. Cited in John H. Backer, ‘From the Morgenthau Plan to the Marshall Plan’, in
Robert Wolfe, ed. (1984), p. 155.
. See Borton (1967), pp. 19-20.
. On the Morgenthau Plan and its impact on JCS-1380, refer to Cohen (1987),
pp. 27-31.
. Borton (1967), p. 21.
. Cohen (1987), p. 42.
. US Department of State, Record of Hearings Before the Committee on Foreign
Relations (United States Senate, 78th Congress, Second Session, 12 and 13
December 1944), US Government Printing Office, Washington, 1944,
pp. 18-19.
. John K. Emmerson, The Japanese Thread:A Life in the US Foreign Service, Holt,
Rinehart & Winston, 1978, p. 175.
. US Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States (below, given as
FRUS), US Government Printing Office, vol. 6, 1945, pp. 545-7.
. See Nakamura Masanori The Japanese Monarchy: Ambassador Grew and the
Making of the ‘Symbol Emperor System’, 1931-1991, M. E. Sharpe, 1992,
pp. 73-4.
. The JCS memorandum is ‘JCS 1388’ (FRUS: The Conference on Berlin — The
Potsdam Conference), 1945, vol. 1, pp. 903-10. Truman reviewed the memo-
randum at the conference of 18 June.
. Concerning the opinion of the British General Staff, see Alperovitz (1995),
p- 370. On the views of Truman’s top military advisers, see Mayo (1984), p. 44.
A recent discussion is Richard B. Frank, Downfall: The End of the Imperial
Japanese Empire, Random House, 1999, pp. 217-21.
. Grace P. Hayes, The History of the Joint Chiefs ofStaff in World War II: The War
Against Japan, Naval Institute Press (Annapolis), 1982, pp. 722-3. The princi-
pal author of the Proclamation was reported to be Colonel Charles Bonesteel of
the Army’s Strategy and Policy Group (Operations Division), which was headed
by Brigadier General George A. Lincoln. See Marc S. Gallicchio, “The Kuriles
Controversy: US Diplomacy in the Soviet—Japan Border Dispute, 1941-1950’,
in Pacific Historical Review, vol. 60, no. 1, 1991, pp. 81-2, especially Note 34 on
p. 82.
. FRUS: The Conference of Berlin (The Potsdam Conference) vol. 1, 1945, pp.
889-94.
. The MacLeish quotation is from FRUS, ibid. p. 895. Dean Acheson, Present
at the Creation: My Years in the State Department, New American Library, 1970
(W. W. Norton, 1969), p. 162.
. This process is analysed in detail by Yamagiwa Akira, ‘Potsudamu sengen
no sdan ni tsuite’ (Concerning the Draft of the Potsdam Proclamation),
in Yokohama Shiritsu Daigaku Ronso (Jinbun-Shakai-hen), no. 10, vol. 39,
pp. 35-71.
606 Notes to Pages 217-221

34. See Cordell Hull, The Memoirs of Cordell Hull, Macmillan, vol. 2, 1948,
pp- 1589-93.
205 ‘JCS Memorandum to the President’, 18 July 1945, FRUS: The Conference of
Berlin (The Potsdam Conference), vol. 2, 1945, p. 1269. On the importance of
this document, refer to Frank (1999), pp. 219-20.
36. FRUS, ibid., pp. 1277, 1284-9. On this point, see Leon V. Sigal, Fighting to a
Finish: The Politics of War Termination in the United States and Japan, Cornell
University Press, 1988, p. 143.
37. See Roger Buckley, Occupation Diplomacy: Britain, the United States and Japan
1945-1952, Cambridge University Press, 1982, pp. 10-13, 59-60.
38. Williams (1979), pp. 98-9. Another possible interpretation is that the phrase
was retained as a subtle way of evading just such a commitment, since in the
view of US military planners and civilian hardliners there was no ‘freely
expressed will’ in Japan. Thus, the paragraph may be seen as a clever means of
preparing the ground for extensive ‘top-down’ democratic reforms. John W.
Dower, personal communication to the author, 23 January 1999.
39. Quotation is from Robert Smith, MacArthur in Korea: The Naked Emperor,
Simon & Schuster, 1982, p. 210. As the American scholar Andrew Roth noted
in 1946, the terms ‘moderate’ and ‘liberalist’ are misleading as they apply to
Japanese leaders of this period and should not be confused with conventional
Anglo-American usage. Both moderates and militarists, he noted, shared the
goal of establishing Japanese hegemony in the Far East. For moderates, the
use of military force to achieve that goal was a question of expediency, involy-
ing a shrewd calculation of the costs and rewards. (Andrew Roth, Dilemma in
Japan, Victor Gallancz, 1946, pp. 33-4.) A contemporary discussion of this
question is Germaine A. Hoston, “The State, Modernity, and the Fate of
Liberalism in Prewar Japan’, in The Journal of Asian Studies, no. 51, 1992, pp.
287-316. ‘Moderates’ generally viewed the Soviet Union as Japan’s ultimate
enemy and believed that war with Britain and the United States was a strategic
error.
40. Notable for the role they would play in the closing days of the war were
Hirota Koki, who served as prime minister from March 1936 to February
1937; Prince Konoe Fumimaro (June to January 1937, July 1940 to July 1941,
July to October 1941); Baron Hiranuma Ki ichird (January to August 1939);
Admiral Yonai Mitsumasa (January to July 1940); General Tojo Hideki
(October 1941 to July 1944); and General Koiso Kuniaki (July 1944 to April
1945). These former heads of government advised the Emperor, recommended
new prime ministers and served as a buffer between the Throne and the formal
government.
41. On fears of a popular revolt at home, see Kido Nikki Kenkytikai-hen (ed.), Kido
Koichi Nikki (Diary ofMarquis Kido Koichi), Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1966
p. 1171 and Kido Nikki Kenkyakai, ed., Kido Koichi kankei bunsho (Documents
Concerning Kido Koichi), Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1966, p. 459. The
 Notes to Pages 221-228 607

English translation of the Konoe Memorial is from Robert J. C. Butow, Japan’s

Decision to Surrender, Stanford University Press, 1954, p. 47.
42. See John W. Dower, Empire and Afiermath: Yoshida Shigeru and the Japanese
Experience, 1878-1954, Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University,
1979, pp. 235-45, 252-4.
43. See Frank (1999), pp. 90-1.
44, Ibid., pp. 95-6.
45. See Butow (1954), pp. 119-20.
46. Richard Storry, A History ofModern Japan, Penguin Books, 1982, p. 230.
47. Detailed accounts of the 9 August conferences in English are found in Butow
(1954), pp. 160-1 and, especially, Frank (1999), chapter 18. Frank summarises
and interprets recent materials in Japanese and English.
48. Herbert P. Bix, ‘Japan’s Delayed Surrender: A Reinterpretation’, in Michael J.
Hogan, ed., Hiroshima in History and Memory, Cambridge University Press,
1996, p. 111.
49. Hirohito’s words have been carefully reconstructed from several sources by
Butow (1954), p. 176. On this process, see Terasaki Hidenari and Mariko
Terasaki Miller, eds, Showa tennd dokuhakuroku — Terasaki Hidenari, goyogakari
nikki (The Showa Emperor’s Soliloguy and the Diary of Terasaki Hidenari),
Bungei Shunjiisha, 1991, pp. 125-6. A concise account in English is Frank
(1999), pp. 308-15. See also Bix (1996).
50. Kase Toshikazu, Eclipse of the Rising Sun, Jonathan Cape, 1951, p. 243.
pil. Byrnes—Grassli, 11 August 1945. FRUS, vol. 6, 1945, pp. 631-2. Frank (1999),
pr302.
a2. Gaimush6-hen (ed.), Shasen shiroku (A Historical Record of the End of Hos-
tilities), Shinbun Gekkansha, 1952, pp. 630-7. In English, see Shigemitsu
Mamoru, Japan and Her Destiny: My Struggle for Peace, edited by FE. S. G.
Piggott, E. P. Dutton, 1958, p. 362.
aye Butow (1954), pp. 207-8.
54. FRUS, vol. 6, 1945, pp. 584-6.
55. Mayo (1984), pp. 44-5.
56. Emmerson (1978), p. 252.
Die Later documents included “The Treatment of the Emperor of Japan’ (SWNCC-
55), ‘Apprehension and Punishment of War Criminals’ (SWNCC-57), ‘Initial
Allied Control Machinery for Japan Proper’ (SWNCC-70), “Treatment of Japa-
nese Workers’ Organisations’ (SWNCC-92), “Treatment of the Institution of
the Emperor’ (SWNCC-209), ‘The Reform of the Japanese Governmental Sys-
tem and Constitutional Reform in Japan’ (SWNCC-228), ‘Policy for the
Reform of the Japanese Educational System’ (SWNCC-108), and ‘Reduction of
Japanese Industrial War Potential’ (SWNCC-302), which urged economic
decentralisation through zazbatsu dissolution.
58. Cohen (1987), pp. 13, 48.
59. Ibid., p. 13, and Takemae Eiji, ‘The US Occupation Policies for Japan: Interview
608 Notes to Pages 229-233

with Mr. Theodore Cohen’, in Tokyo Metropolitan University Journal ofLaw and
Politics, vol. 14, no. 1, 1973, pp. 11-12.
60. Takafusa Nakamura, A History ofShowa Japan, 1926-1989, University of Tokyo
Press, 1998, p. 265.
61. Government Section, SCAP, The Political Reorientation of Japan, September
1945 to September 1948 (below, given as PR/), US Government Printing Office,
1949, vol. 2, p. 419.
62: The Emperor’s speech is reproduced in US Department of the Army (Historical
Section, G-2, FECOM), ed., Reports of General MacArthur, vol. 2: Japanese
Operations in the Southwest Pacific Area, Part 2, US Government Printing
Office, 1966, p. 728.
63. Cited in Toshio Nishi, Unconditional Democracy: Education and Politics in Occu-
pied Japan, 1945-1952, Hoover Institution Press (Stanford University), 1982,
pp. 146-7. The Emperor’s 24 August statement is from Thomas A. Bisson,
‘Winning the Peace in Japan’, in Amerasia, September 1945, p. 246. On
Ishibashi Tanzan, see Nakamura (1998), p. 258.
64. Even before Potsdam, Navy Captain Ellis M. Zacharias had exploited the ambi-
guity in Allied demands in his ‘psywar’ broadcasts to Japan. In these radio
emissions, he ‘slipped the leash of official policy’ and asserted that unconditional
surrender was a technical term and that the Atlantic Charter’s pledge of self-
determination implied the right to retain the emperor system. These broadcasts
appear to have had virtually no effect on Japan’s top leadership, however. Frank
(1999), pp. 220-1, 231-2.
65. See Cohen (1987), pp. 8-9.
66. Acheson (1970), p. 162.
67. ‘Authority of General MacArthur as Supreme Commander for the Allied
Powers’, 6 September 1945, in US Department of State, ed., Occupation of
Japan: Policy and Progress, Greenwood Press, 1969, pp. 88-9.
68. These provisions are found, respectively, in Articles 6 to 12 of the Proclamation.
69. Gerhard von Glahn, The Occupation of Enemy Territory: A Commentary on
the Law and Practice of Belligerent Occupation, Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 1957, pp. 286-7.
70. Charles L. Kades, ‘Representative Government in Japan’, in PRY, vol. I, p. xxv.
TM, See Andé Nisuke, Surrender, Occupation, and Private Property in International Law,
Clarendon Press (Oxford), 1991, chapter 5.
V2 This is spelled out in Glahn (1957), op. cit. and Ando (1991), chapter 4.
Ue GHQ/SCAP, History of the Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation ofJapan,
1945-1951, vol. 2: Administration of the Occupation, 1951, pp. 171-8.
74. See, for instance, Eto Jun, Mo hitotsu no sengo-shi (An Alternative History of the
Postwar Era), Kodansha, 1978; Wasureta koto to wasurerareta koto (What We
Forgot and What We Were Made to Forget), Bungei Shunjisha, 1979; and
Senryo shiroku (A Documentary History of the Occupation), Kodansha, vols.
1-4, 1981-2.
 Notes to Pages 236-241 609

Chapter 6 The Political Reforms

6 Douglas MacArthur, Reminiscences, McGraw-Hill, 1964, p. 288. A transcript of
the meeting was prepared by Imperial Household interpreter Okumura Kat-
suzo, and in the early 1970s, historian Kojima Noboru acquired and published
a copy (“Tenno to Amerika to taiheiyd senso’ [The Emperor, America and the
Pacific War], in Bungei Shunji, November 1975, pp. 115-19). The quotation is
from Faubion Bowers, “The Late General MacArthur, Warts and All’, in
Esquire, January 1967, p. 166.
. See William P. Woodard, The Allied Occupation ofJapan, 1945-1952, and Japa-
nese Religions, Leiden: Brill, 1972, pp. 259-68, 317-21. A detailed account of
the Emperor’s statement on divinity is found in John W. Dower, Embracing
Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II, W. W. Norton and the New Press,
1999, pp. 309-14. See also Nakamura Masanori, The Japanese Monarchy:
Ambassador Joseph Grew and the Making of the Symbol Emperor System’, 1931-
1991, M. E. Sharpe, 1992, pp. 109-10.
. This point is elaborated on by Dower (1999), pp. 12-14 and Note 25 on
p. 601.
. MacArthur’s comment on the Imperial Rescript is from GHQ/SCAP, Political
Reorientation ofJapan, September 1945 to September 1948 (below, given as PR/),
Tokyo, vol. 2, 1949, p. 471. See Dower’s trenchant critique, op. cit., pp. 314-18.
. PRj, vol. 2, pp. 463-5. On Behrstock, see Kyoko Hirano, Mr Smith Goes
to Tokyo: Japanese Cinema Under the American Occupation, 1945-1952, Smith-
sonian Institution Press, 1992, p. 112.
. See Takemae Eiji, “Nihon Kydsantd no kaihé sareta hi’ (The Day the Com-
munist Party was Liberated), in Chitd Koron, July 1978 and Takemae, Senryé
sengo-shi (A History of the Postwar Occupation), Iwanami Shoten 1992,
pp- 93-170. On the role of the Korean community, see Pak Kyéng-sik,
Kaiho-go: Zainichi Chosenjin undo (The Korean Movement in Japan Following
Liberation), San’ichi Shobd, 1989, pp. 51-4.
. John K. Emmerson, The Japanese Thread:A Life in the US Foreign Service, Holt,
Rinehart & Winston, 1978, pp. 257-60, chapter 12.
. See Takemae Eiji, “Early Postwar Reformist Parties’, in Robert E. Ward and
Sakamoto Yoshikazu, eds, Democratizing Japan: The Allied Occupation, Uni-
- versity of Hawai'i Press, 1987, pp. 339-65 and Takemae Eiji, ‘J. K. Emason-shi
danwa sokkiroku’ (Stenographic Record of a Talk withJ.K. Emmerson), in Tokyo
Keidai Gakkaishi, no. 99, 1977, pp. 45-79.
. In his youth, Katé Kanji had advocated democratic reform domestically but
supported military expansion abroad. After military service in Siberia during
Japan’s intervention there (1918-22), he moved quickly to left and took a job
with the country’s first labour organ, Rod6 Sekai (The World of Labour). He later
became a union organiser and committed Socialist. Katé Shizue, former spouse
of Baron Ishimoto Keikichi, was an early feminist who became an active pro-
ponent of birth control after a visit to the United States (1919-20) during
610 Notes to Pages 241-244

which Agnes Smedley introduced her to Margaret Sanger. During the war, she
refused to cooperate with the government-controlled women’s movement and
was jailed briefly in 1937. After divorcing Baron Ishimoto, she married Kato
Kanja in 1944. In the United States, the Army’s Civil Affairs Training Schools
employed her autobiography as a textbook, and following the surrender, she was
one of the first people GHQ approached for advice. Shizue spoke English well,
and GHQ frequently used her as an interpreter. On her prewar activities, see
Baroness Ishimoto Shidzué, Facing Two Ways: The Story of My Life, Stanford
University Press, 1984 (Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1938). Concerning her
relations with SCAP, refer to Takemae (1987), p. 354 and Helen M. Hopper,
‘Kat6 Shizue, Socialist Party MP, and Occupation Reforms Affecting Women,
1945-1948: A Case Study of the Formal vs. Informal Political Influence of
Japanese Women’, in Thomas W. Burkman, ed. The Occupation ofJapan: Educa-
tion and Social Reform, General Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1982, pp.
375-400. See also Katé’s interview with Osuga Mizuo, ‘Minshuteki datta
GHQ’ (GHQ Was Democratic) in Tokyo Shinbun, 25 July 1993, p. 11. On
Kishimoto, see Woodard (1972), pp. 26, 40.
10. Tanaka Sumiko, Josei kaihé no shisd to kidd (Women’s Liberation: Theory and
Praxis), Jiji Tsishinsha, 1975, pp. 6-8. Ichikawa’s position in the postwar femi-
nist movement was an ambiguous one. Following Japan’s invasion of China in
1937, she had written, “Now we are forced to choose one of three alternatives.
The choices are: to go to prison by publicly opposing the war, to withdraw
completely from the [women’s] movement, or to cooperate with the state to a
certain extent by acknowledging things as they are.’ Ichikawa and such leading
feminists as Akamatsu Tsuneko and Kawasaki Natsu opted to struggle for equal
rights by cooperating with the government as fully as men. For this, she would
be purged by GHQ. Fujieda Mioko, ‘Japan’s First Phase of Feminism’, in
Fumiko Fujimura-Fanselow and Atsuko Kameda, eds, Japanese Women: New
Feminist Perspectives on the Past, Present, and Future, The Feminist Press (City
University of New York), 1995, p. 336.
te The placard incident is analysed by David J. Danelski, ‘Purakado jiken o meg-
uru seiji to ho’ (Political and Legal Ramifications of the Placard Incident), in
Horitsu Jiho, Parts 1 (pp. 40-47) and 2 (pp. 63-68), July and August 1988. The
April directive from SWNCC and Nugent’s suppression of the CI&E proposal
were reported by Mark Gayn, Japan Diary, Charles P. Tuttle, 1981 (William
Sloane, 1948), pp. 260-1. Emperor’s broadcast: Asahi Shinbun, 25 May 1946.
Concerning government resistance to abolition of the /ese-majesté statute, see
Koseki Shoichi, The Birth ofJapan’s Postwar Constitution, Westview Press, 1997,
pp: 231-2.
12; Emmerson (1978), p. 254.
13? Sumiya Yukio, Akazawa Shird, Utsumi Aiko, Ogata Naokichi and Otabe Yiji,
eds, Tokyo saiban handobukku (A Handbook of the Tokyo Tribunal), Aoki
Shoten, 1989, p. 8. On Japanese—American collaboration, see Dower (1999),
 Notes to Pages 244-248 611

p- 325, chapter 15. On the history of Sugamo Prison: John L. Ginn, Sugamo
Prison, Tokyo: An Account ofthe Trial and Sentencing ofJapanese War Criminals in
1948, by a US Participant, McFarland & Co., 1992, pp. 1-13.
14. See Richard M. Minear, Victor's Justice: The Tokyo War Crimes Trial, Tuttle,
1972, p. 40.
Sy Emmerson (1978), p. 267. The justice and associate prosecutor for each country
were as follows. Australia: Sir William Webb (President), Sir Alan Mansfield;
Britain: Lord Patrick, Sir Arthur Comyns-Carr; Canada: Edward Stuart
McDougall, H. G. Nolon; France: Henri Bernard, Robert Oneto; India:
Radhabinod Pal, Govinda Menon; Netherlands: Bert V. A. Réling, W. G. F.
Boegerhoff Mulder; New Zealand: Sir Erima Harvey Northcroft, Ronald H.
Quilliam; Philippines: Delfin Jaranilla, Pedro Lopez; Republic of China: Mei
Ju-ao, Hsiang Che-chun; USSR: Ivan Zaryanov; United States: Major General
Myron C. Cramer, Joseph B. Keenan (Chief Prosecutor).
16. US Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States (below, cited as
FRUS), vol. 6, 1948, p. 897. See also William J. Sebald with Russell Brines,
With MacArthur in Japan: A Personal History of the Occupation, W. W. Norton,
1965, pp. 168-9. The original sentences were as follows. Hanging: General
Doihara Kenji , Hirota Koki, General Itagaki Seishird, General Kimura Heitaro,
General Matsui Iwane, General Muté Akira and General T6jo Hideki. Life
imprisonment: General Araki Sadao, Colonel Hashimoto Kingoré, General
Hata Shunroku, Baron Hiranuma K?ichird, Hoshino Naoki , Kaya Okinori,
Marquis Kido Koichi, General Koiso Kuniaki, General Minami Jiro , Admiral
Oka Takasumi, Baron Oshima Hiroshi, General Saté Kenry6, Admiral Shimada
Shigetar6, Shiratori Toshio, General Suzuki Tei’ichi and General Umezu
Yoshijird. Twenty years’ imprisonment: Togo Shigenori. Seven years’
imprisonment: Shigemitsu Mamoru. Matsuoka Yosuke and Admiral Nagano
Osami died during the Tribunal, and Okawa Shimei was declared mentally unfit
to stand trial. Minear (1971), pp. 200-3.
is Typical of the war criminals who found their way into this underworld was
Colonel Tsuji Masanobu, a former Imperial Army officer who had written a key
propaganda booklet for the Imperial Army in 1942 entitled Read This and the
War is Won. Deeply implicated in atrocities in Singapore and the Philippines (he
reportedly ordered the Bataan Death March), Tsuji had evaded arrest by escaping
to Southeast Asia and China, where he worked for the Chinese Nationalist Army.
In mid-1946, he re-entered Japan and lived incognito (with the knowledge of
General Willoughby, who was secretly recruiting an experienced military cadre
for a future Japanese army). In early January 1950, US authorities dropped all
charges against this fugitive, granting him a de facto pardon. Tsuji later became a
best-selling author and Diet member, a dramatic career reversal experienced by
many of the Old Guard after the Occupation. On Tsuji’s wartime role, see Ward
(1996), pp. 78, 80-2, 84, 334-8. See also Dower (1999), pp. 511-13.
18. Minear (1972), pp. 41-2, 50-3. For the trial proceedings, refer to R. John
612 Notes to Pages 248-251

Pritchard and Sonia M. Zaide, eds, The Tokyo War Crimes Trial: The Complete
Transcripts ofthe Proceedings ofthe International Military Tribunal for the Far East
in Twenty-Two Volumes, Garland, 1981.
19: Elliott R. Thorpe, East Wind, Rain, Gambit Inc. (Boston), 1969, p. 196. The
Kennan quotation is from Dower (1999), p. 453.
20. See Minear (1972), chapter 4.
Ze On missed days in court, see Meirion and Susie Harries, Sheathing the Sword:
The Demilitarisation of Japan, Heinemann, 1987, p. 149. On the revolt of
Commonwealth justices: Ann Trotter, New Zealand and Japan, 1945-1952: The
Occupation and the Peace Treaty, Athlone Press, 1990, pp. 83-4.
DHT These points are argued with particular clarity and insight by Dower (1999),
chapter 15. On Pedro Lopez, see the Harrieses (1987), p. 121. The quotation is
from the Harrieses, p. 108.
23. On the Tribunal’s segregated facilities, see Yukiko Koshiro, Trans-Pacific Racisms
and the U.S. Occupation ofJapan, University of Columbia Press, 1999, p. 61.
24. For the judgment and dissenting opinions, see B. V. A. Réling and C. FE. Ruter,
eds, The Tokyo Judgment: The International Military Tribunal for the Far
East (ILM.T-FE.), 29 April 1946-12 November 1948, 2 vols, APA University
Press (Amsterdam), 1977.
25; On this point, consult Ienaga Saburo, The Pacific War, 1931-1945, Pantheon
Books, 1978, pp. 201, 249-50. The noted philosopher is Tsurumi Shunsuke,
“What the War Trials Left to the Japanese People’, in C. Hosoya, N. And6, Y.
Onuma and R. Minear, eds, The Tokyo War Crimes Trial: An International Sym-
posium, Kodansha International, 1986, pp. 134-45. A detailed discussion in
English of Japanese views of the Tribunal is Tsurumi Shunsuke, A Cultural His-
tory ofPostwar Japan, 1945-1980, Kegan Paul International, 1987, pp. 13-27.
26. Gavan McCormack, Hank Nelson, eds, The Burma-Thailand Railway, Allen
& Unwin, 1993, p. 1 and chapter 7 (Yoshinori Murai, “Asian Forced Labour).
Comparative statistics on Allied POW death rates are from Kyokuto Kokusai
Gunji Saiban sokkiroku (Stenographic Record of the International Military
Tribunal for the Far East), Yashod6, 1968, vol. 10, p. 766.
27. Takemae Eiji, “Kaisetsu’ (Commentary), in Beikoku Riku-Kaigun: gunsei-minji
manyuaru (The United States Army and Navy Manual of Military Government
and Civil Affairs), Misuzu Shobd, 1998, pp. 72-3. On the psychology of
cruelty, see Yuki Tanaka, Hidden Horrors: Japanese War Crimes in World War II,
Westview Press, 1999, pp. 70-8 and Utsumi Aiko, ‘Japanese Army Internment
Policies for Enemy Civilians During the Asia—Pacific War’, in Denoon et al,
eds, Multicultural Japan: Palaeolithic to Postmodern, Cambridge University Press,
1996, pp. 199-211. A British perspective is the Harrieses (1987), chapter 19.
The quotation is from the latter, p. 179.
28. See discussion and figures in Awaya Kentard, 7oky6 Saiban-ron (An Analysis of
the Tokyo Tribunal), Otsuki Shoten, 1989, p. 288. For a list of those actually exe-
cuted, see Cha’en Yoshio, “The Research on the Justice of Japan War Criminals
 Notes to Pages 252-254 613

After the Second World War’, PhD dissertation, Pacific’ Western University,
1996, p. 103. Refer also to Toyoda Sumio, Sensd saiban yoroku (Supplementary
Documents on the War Trials), Taiseisha, 1986, chapter 14.
29. Tanaka (1996), p. 217. For the 3,000 figure, see Dower (1999), p. 449. On the
Soviet trials of Unit 731 operatives, see Peter Williams and David Wallace, Unit
731: Japan’s Secret Biological Warfare in World War II, The Free Press, 1989,
p- 220. The statistics on Japanese POWs in the People’s Republic of China are
from Sumiya Yukio et ad, eds (1989), pp. 128-31, 218-25.
30. The citation is from William Manchester, American Caesar: Douglas MacArthur,
1880-1963, Little, Brown, 1978, pp. 484-5. Utsumi (1996), pp. 202, 209,
comments on the severity of sentences. The Nishimura case is examined in
Ward (1996), especially chapters 14-16.
a: Awaya (1989), pp. 286-7. On Indonesian ‘auxiliaries’, see Utsumi (1996).
Be: The first Japanese American to be tried for treason was Tomoya Kawakita, a
Kibei who had left California in 1939 to study at Meiji University in Tokyo.
Following the attack on Pearl Harbor, he was drafted and later assigned to the
Oeyama POW camp near Kyoto because of his English ability. In August 1946,
Kawakita returned home with the first group of Nisei to be repatriated. In 1947,
a former POW whom Kawakita had mistreated recognised him in Los Angeles,
and he was arrested, tried and condemned to death. The sentence was later
commuted, however, and Kawakita was deported to Japan in the early 1960s.
Sodei Rinjird, Were We the Enemy? American Survivors of Hiroshima, Westview
Press, 1998, pp. 54-55. On Iva Toguri: Masayo U. Duus, Tokyo Rose: Orphan of
the Pacific, Kodansha International, 1979.
a5: See generally Yoshimi Yoshiaki, ed., Jagun-ianfu shiryoshi (Basic Documents on
the Military Comfort Women), Otsuki Shoten, 1992 and Jagun ianfu (The
Military Comfort Women), Iwanami Shoten, 1995. In English, see Tanaka
(1996), chapter 3. The precursors of the military prostitutes were impoverished
‘China-bound’ Japanese women (Karayuki-san) sold into indentured servitude
in China and Southeast Asia in the late ninteenth and early twentieth centuries
(Yamazaki Tomoko, Sandakan Brothel No. 8: An Episode in the History ofLower-
Class Japanese Women, M. E. Sharpe, 1999). Estimates of the number of women
hired or conscripted as military prostitutes during World War II vary consider-
ably, and an accurate assessment is probably not possible. Figures as low as
30,000 have been advanced, but these are not cumulative. Nor do they
include replacements, which must have been considerable as women died,
escaped or in some cases returned home, or account for the large numbers of
women captured and kept as sex slaves for relatively short periods by roving
Army units. In light of these difficulties, Yoshimi has revised his estimates to as
few as 50,000 and as many as 200,000 (personal communication to the author,
7 June, 1999). See also Yoshimi (1995), pp. 78-81.
34. B. V. A. Réling, “The Tokyo Trial in Retrospect’, in Susumu Yamaguchi, ed.,
Buddhism and Culture, Nakano Press (Kyoto), 1960, p. 248.
614 Notes to Pages 255-258

35. Williams and Wallace (1989), pp. 207-10 and Sheldon H. Harris, Factories of
Death: Japanese Biological Warfare, 1932-45, and the American Cover-up, Rout-
ledge, 1994, pp. 18-21, 33-9, 49-51, 63-72, 93-4, 167.
36. Williams and Wallace, ibid., p. 301. The debriefings of Ishii are detailed in
Edward Regis, The Biology of Doom: The History of America’s Germ Warfare
Project, Henry Holt, 1999, pp. 85-113. See also pp. 126-30. The Fell quotation
is from p. 129. On the Subcommittee for the Far East report, see Wallace
(1989), p. 220. Military Intelligence’s appraisal of Ishii is reported in Stephen
Endicott and Edward Hagerman, The United States and Biological Warfare:
Secrets from the Early Cold War and Korea, \ndiana University Press, 1998, p. 40.
37. Quotations are from Minear (1972), pp. 116-17, 162.
38. The 170-page transcription was found among the personal papers of Terasaki
Hidenari in the United States at the home of his daughter, Mariko Terasaki
Miller. The discovery was made public in late 1990. See Terasaki Hidenari and
Mariko Terasaki Miller, eds, Showa Tenno dokuhakuroku — Terasaki Hidenari,
goyogakari nikki (The Showa Emperor’s Soliloquy and the Diary of Terasaki
Hidenari), Bungei Shunjisha, 1991. See also Fujiwara Akira, Awaya Kentar6,
Yoshida Yutaka and Yamada Akira eds, Tettei-kensho: Showa Tennod ‘doku-
hakuroku’ (Conclusive Evidence: The Showa Emperor’s ‘Soliloquy’), Otsuki
Shoten, 1991, pp. 35-75; Herbert P. Bix, ‘Japan’s Delayed Surrender: A
Reinterpretation’, in Michael J. Hogan, ed. Hiroshima in History and Memory,
Cambridge University Press, 1996, p. 87; and Irokawa Daikichi, The Age of
Hirohito: In Search ofModern Japan, The Free Press, 1995, pp. 94-8.
39. Two recent studies of Hirohito’s military role in English are Edward J. Drea, Jn
the Service of the Emperor: Essays on the Imperial Japanese Army, University of
Nebraska Press, 1998, chapter 12 and Peter Wetzler, Hirohito and War: Imperial
Tradition and Military Decision-Making in Prewar Japan, University of Hawai’i
Press, 1998, Introduction, chapters 2 and 3. In Japanese, see Terasaki and Miller
(1991). Herbert P. Bix’s monumental work, Hirohito and the Making ofModern
Japan, HarperCollins, 2000, Part II, summarises the recent scholarship with
especial force and acumen.
40. See Masumi Junnosuke, Showa Tenné to sono jidai (The Emperor Showa and
His Era), Yamakawa Shuppansha, 1998, pp. 141-218 and Fujiwara and Awaya,
eds (1991). The quotation is from a military attaché to Imperial Vice Chamber-
lain Kinoshita Michio. See Kinoshita, Sokkin nisshi (A Vice Chamberlain’s
Diary), Bungei Shunjiisha, 1990, p. 34. The translation is John Dower’s (1999),
pa29.
41. The US opinion survey is in George H. Gallup, The Gallup Poll: Public Opinion
1935-1971, New York: Random House, 1972, vol. 1, p. 512. On the JCS
message, refer to Robert E. Ward, ‘Presurrender Planning: Treatment of the
Emperor and Constitutional Change’, in Ward and Sakamoto, eds (1987), p.
65. MacArthur’s response of 25 January is in FRUS (1946), vol. 8, pp. 395-7.
On the FEAC mission, see Trotter (1990), p. 78.
 Notes to Pages 258-269 615

42. Masumi (1998), pp. 233-8.

43. This is how Bonner Fellers, writing in 1947, described Hirohito. Cited in
Herbert P. Bix, “The Showa Emperor’s “Soliloquy” and the Problem of War
Responsibility’, in The Journal ofJapanese Studies, no. 18, 1992, pp. 86-7.
44. On Fellers’s early ideas concerning the Emperor, see Allison B. Gilmore, You
Can't Fight Tanks with Bayonets: Psychological Warfare Against the Japanese Army
in the Southwest Pacific, University of Nebraska Press, 1998, pp. 51-2. The
Fellers Memorandum is reproduced in Woodard (1972), pp. 360-1.
45. Awaya Kentar6é, ‘Emperor Showa’s Accountability for War’, in The Japan
Quarterly, October—December, 1991, p. 390.
46. Dower dubs the blaming of the military for the war and the depiction of the
Emperor as a pacifist the ‘wedge’ strategy. Dower (1999), chapter 9. A recent
overview of this process is Masumi (1998), pp. 74-82. On the abdication
debate, see Dower (1999), pp. 320-30 and Irokawa (1995), pp. 98-9.
47. FRUS, loc. cit.
48. Takemae (1987), pp. 355-8 and Joe B. Moore, Japanese Workers and the Struggle
for Power, 1945-1947, University of Wisconsin Press, 1983, pp. 114-19, 123-4.
49. Takemae, ibid., pp. 330-55.
50. See Uchida Kenzé, ‘Japan’s Postwar Conservative Parties’, in Ward and Saka-
moto, eds. (1987), pp. 306-38.
ot. Justin Williams Sr, Japan’s Political Revolution Under MacArthur, University of
Tokyo Press, 1979, pp. 10-11, pp. 75-7.
D2. PRY, vol. 1, p. 316.
3: Ibid., p. 345.
54. Tanaka (1975), p. 9.
25. Richard B. Finn, Winners in Peace: MacArthur, Yoshida, and Postwar Japan,
University of California Press, 1992, p. 108. On the 1947 electoral reform, see
Williams (1979), pp. 175-6.
56. Courtney Whitney, MacArthur: His Rendezvous with History, Knopf, 1956,
p. 245.
a7. See Hans H. Baerwald, The Purge ofJapanese Leaders under the Occupation,
University of California Press, 1959. The Kades quotation is from Takemae Eiji,
“The Kades Memoir on the Occupation of Japan’, in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai
University, no. 148, 1986, pp. 264-5.
58. Captain Arthur Behrstock and Lieutenant Tom Tsukahara of CI8&E reportedly
were behind Hatoyama’s removal. Tsukahara had found a book Hatoyama had
authored in 1938 following a visit to Germany and Italy in which he praised
Hitler and Mussolini. Behrstock attempted to mobilise opinion against the
politician inside GHQ but failed to elicit much interest. He then informed
Mark Gayn of The Chicago Tribune, who questioned Hatoyama about the book
at a Foreign Correspondents’ Club press dinner. The issue was taken up by the
media, and MacArthur decided to purge Hatoyama just as he was to become
premier. See Gayn (1981), pp. 161-4, Kyoko Hirano, Mr. Smith Goes to Tokyo:
616 Notes to Pages 269-280

Japanese Cinema Under the American Occupation, 1945-1952, Smithsonian

Institution Press, 1992, pp. 188, 305 (Note 28) and Masuda Hiroshi, Seijika
tsuiho (The Purge of the Politicians), Chi Koron Shinsha, 2001, chapter 1.
59. On the economic purge, refer to Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: The Ameri-
can Occupation as New Deal, The Free Press, 1987, pp. 161-8.
60. Takemae (1986), pp. 266-7. On Yoshida and Ishibashi, see Sumimoto Toshio,
Senryo hiroku (The Secret Story of the Occupation), vol. 2, Mainichi Shinbun-
sha, 1952, p. 101. The reasons for Ishibashi’s purge are cited by Marlene J.
Mayo, ‘Civil Censorship and Media Control in Early Occupied Japan: From
Minimum to Stringent Surveillance’, in Robert Wolfe, ed., Americans as Pro-
consuls: United States Military Government in Germany and Japan, 1944-1952,
Southern Illinois University Press, 1984, Note 50 on p. 509. Ichikawa’s purge is
discussed in depth in Masuda (2001), chap. 7. On Japanese participation in the
purge, see Yoshida Shigeru, The Yoshida Memoirs: The Story ofJapan in Crisis,
William Heinemann, 1961, p. 63. Concerning the exclusion of women, refer to
the comment by Helen M. Hopper in Burkman, ed. (1982), p. 438. Purge
figures are from PRj, vol. 2; p. 553.
61. Susan J. Pharr, “The Politics of Women’s Rights’, in Ward and Sakamoto, eds
(1987), p. 225.
62. See discussion in Koseki (1997), pp. 26-44 and the analysis by Dower (1999),
pp. 355-60.
63. Koseki (1997), p. 41.
64. Ibid. p. 70. On the GS reaction, refer to Takayanagi Kenzo, Otomo Ichiré and
Tanaka Hideo, eds, Nihonkoku kenpo seitei no katei (The Making of the Consti-
tution of Japan), vol. 1, Yahikaku, 1972, p. 36. See also PRJ, vol. 1, pp. 94-8.
65. Takayanagi et al. (1972), pp. 412-18. See also Williams (1979), p. 100-1, and
Koseki (1997), p. 71.
66. On the FEAC’s Tokyo interview with MacArthur, see Koseki (1997), pp. 73-6.
67. Ibid., pp. 77-80 and also Dower (1999), p. 369.
68. Beate Sirota Gordon, The Only Woman in the Room: A Memoir, Kodansha
International, 1998, pp. 107-18. In fact, Sirota was not the only woman in the
room, although her contribution was immense. The role of Ruth Ellerman, one
of three other-women present, awaits further study.
69. Ibid., pp. 121-4. On Japan’s Constitution and the protection of women, see
Susan Pharr, ‘A Radical US Experiment: Women’s Rights and the Occupation
of Japan’, in L. H. Redford, ed. The Occupation ofJapan: Impact ofLegal Reform,
The Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1977, pp. 125-7.
70. See interview with Karpinsky in Takemae Eiji, ‘Senryo kaimaku-ki no rdd6
seisaku’ (Labour Policy at the Opening of the Occupation), in Nihon Rodo
Kyokai Zasshi, no. 252, 1980.
7a See Takayanagi Kenzé et al. (1972), pp. 320-36 and Hideo Tanaka, The Japa-
nese Legal System: Introduction: Cases and Materials, University of Tokyo Press,
1976, p. 676.
 Notes to Pages 280-286 617

a2: Whitney’s atomic sunshine comment is from Whitney (1956), p. 251. Accord-
ing to Kades, Whitney was running a high fever that day and ‘tended to say
things he ordinarily wouldn’t say’. Takemae (1986), pp. 282-3.
Mik Takayanagi et al., eds (1972), op. cit.
74. Koseki (1997), pp. 107-8.
75. Ibid., p. 109. PR/, vol. 2, p. 657.
76. MacArthur (1964), pp. 287-8 and Gayn (1981), pp. 125-7.
ree Nakamura (1992), chapter 9.
78. Mears had written the prewar work, The Year of the Wild Boar: An American
Woman in Japan, J. B. Lippincott, 1942 and later authored the influential
Mirror for Americans: Japan, Houghton Mifflin, 1948. On the impact her essay
had on Drew, see Nakamura, ibid., pp. 87-94, 103-6.
ee Nakamura, ibid., pp. 168-9. Yoshida (1961), p. 145.
80. Quotation is from Takayanagi et al. (1972), p. 393. On Imperial democracy, see
Dower (1999), pp. 378, 384-5, 388.
81. The historian is Irokawa (1995), p. 101. The journalist is Allen Raymond in The
New York Herald Tribune, 17 December 1947, cited in Thomas A. Bisson,
Prospects for Democracy in Japan, Macmillan, 1949, p. 25. On Blyth’s role, see
Dower (1999), pp. 331-2.
82. See Theodore H. McNelly, “General Douglas MacArthur and the Constitutional
Disarmament of Japan’, in The Transactions of the Asiatic Society ofJapan, third
series, vol. 17, 1982, p. 2. Quotation is from Takemae (1986), pp. 277, 279.
83. See Dower (1979), pp. 379-81. Yoshida (1961), p. 145.
. On this controversy, see, respectively, MacArthur (1964), pp. 302-3; Williams
(1979), pp. 107-8; Tanaka (1976), pp. 695-7; McNelly (1982), pp. 1-34; and
Charles L. Kades, “The American Role in Revising Japan’s Imperial Constitu-
tion’, in Political Science Quarterly, vol. 104, no. 2, 1989, pp. 215-47. See
especially Theodore H. McNelly, The Origins ofJapan’s Democratic Constitution,
University Press of America, 2000, chapter 5. According to McNelly and Kades,
the GS Deputy Chief had been profoundly influenced by the Pact of Paris as
a law student at Harvard. The Emperor’s formal renunciation of divinity on 1
January 1946 and his pledge to build a new Japan based on pacifism also had left
a deep impression. Kades reportedly proposed to Whitney that Hirohito issue
an Imperial rescript renouncing Japan’s war-making powers in order to mitigate
worldwide hostility to the monarch and fulfil the demilitarisation provisions of
the Potsdam Proclamation. According to this scenario, Whitney solicited Shide-
hara’s opinion on 28 January 1946 and then conveyed the proposal to
MacArthur, who subsequently incorporated the anti-war clauses into his three-
point note to Government Section.
85. See Nakagawa G6, ‘Nichi-Fi rydkoku kenp6 ni miru ruien’ (Similarities
Observed in the Constitutions of Japan and the Philippines), in Chad Koron,
May 1987, pp. 177-89 but, especially, p. 185; Kataoka Tetsuya, The Price of
a Constitution: the Origin ofJapan’s Postwar Politics, Crane Russak (Taylor &
618 Notes to Pages 287-297

Francis), 1991, p. 37; and Koseki (1997), p. 85. Japan was not the only postwar
state to foreswear war-making, Under the 1945 United Nations Charter, 50
nations renounced aggressive war in similar terms, and the present-day constitu-
tions of France, Germany and Brazil also include explicit anti-war clauses, albeit
none so ambitious as the Japanese charter,
86, PRY, vol, 2, pp. 747-8.
87, A contemporary pacifist interpretation is C, Douglas Lummis, ‘Japan’s Radical
Constitution’, in Nihonkoku kenpd o yomu (Reading the Constitution of Japan),
Kashiwa Shobé, 1993, pp, 155-94. See generally, Koseki Shoichi, Kyitj6 to anpo
hoshé (Article Nine and National Security), Shogakkan, 2000.
88, Gayn (1981), p, 130,
89, See Sat6’s account in Saté ‘Tatsuo, “The Origin and Development of the Draft
Constitution of Japan’, in Contemporary Japan, vol. 24, nos 4—6 (pp. 175—87)
and nos, 7~9 (pp, 371-87), 1956, Refer also to Irie Toshir6, Kenpé seiritsu no
heii to kenpojd no sho-mondai (The Writing of the Constitution and Consti-
tutional Problems), Daiichi Hdki, 1976.
90, Kades (1989), p, 234; Inoue Kyoko, MacArthur's Japanese Constitution, Uni-
versity of Chicago Press, 1991, chapters 3 and 5; Koseki Shoichi, ‘Japanizing the
Constitution’, in The Japan Quarterly, vol, 35, no. 3, 1988, pp. 234-40. A
recent overview of the problem is Takemae Eiji and Okabe Fuminobu, Kenpa
seitel-shi: Kenpo wa oshi-tsukerareta ka (A History of the Drafting of the Consti-
tution; Was it Really Imposed on Japan?), Shogakkan Bunko, 2000,
91, Williams (1979), p. 115,
92, Koseki (1997), pp. 173-9,
93, Ibid., pp. 181-3,
94, Kades (1989), p, 236; Koseki (1988), p, 239; Takemae (1986), pp. 279-80.
95, Koseki (1988), pp, 237~8; Koseki (1997), pp. 202~3; Theodore H. McNelly,
‘Induced Revolution”: The Policy and Process of Constitutional Reform in
Japan’, in Ward and Sakamoto, eds (1987), pp. 94-5; and McNelly (2000),
Op, cit,
96, George H, Blakeslee, The Far Eastern Commission: A Study in International
Cooperation ~ 1945~1952, US Department of State (US Government Printing
Office), 1953, pp, 48-65, See also McNelly (1987), p. 87 and, especially, Koseki
(1997), pp. 243-54,

Chapter 7 Institutional and Economie Reforms

1, The quotations are from, respectively, GHQ/SCAP, The Political Reorientation
ofJapan, September 1945 to September 1948 (below, given as PR/), Tokyo, vol. 1,
1949, pp, 292 and 284, A comprehensive study of Occupation-era law
enforcement in English is Christopher Aldous, The Police in Occupation Japan:
Control, Corruption and Resistance to Reform, Routledge, 1997.
2. ESS Labour Division (GHQ/SCAP), Monthly Report, November and December
1945, See Amakawa Akira, ‘Senryé-seisaku to kanryd no taid’ (Occupation
 Notes to Pages 297-304 619

Policy and the Response of the Bureaucracy), in Shisd no Kagaku Kenkytkai-

hen (ed.), Kyodo kenkyu: Nihon senryogun: sono hikari to kage (Two Faces of the
Occupation Army of Japan: Joint Research), vol. 1, Tokuma Shoten, 1978,
pp. 225-7. Aldous (1997), p. 47. Takemae Eiji, Sengo rodo-kaikaku: GHQ rodo
seisaku-shi (The Postwar Labour Reforms: A History of GHQ’s Labour Reform
Policy), Tékyé Daigaku Shuppankai, 1982, pp. 114-15.
. On pre-surrender planning for police reforms, see Takemae Eiji, Senryd sengo-shi
(A History of the Postwar Occupation), Iwanami Shoten, 1992, chapter 7. A
detailed discussion of the reforms is found in Hironaka Toshio, Sengo nihon no
keisatsu (The Police in Postwar Japan), Iwanami Shoten, 1968, chapter 1
and Chihd-jichi Kenkya Shiryo Senta-hen (ed.), Sengo jichi-shi (A History of
Postwar Local Government Reform), Bunsei Shoin, 1977, chapter 5.
. The Occupationaire is Harry E. Wildes, Typhoon in Tokyo: The Occupation and
its Aftermath, Macmillan, 1954, p. 185. ‘A certain pulling and hauling’ is Kurt
Steiner’s expression: Local Government in Japan, Stanford University Press,
1965, p. 90. Pulliam’s hyperbolic utterance is from Wildes (1954), p. 186. The
other quotations are from PR/, vol. 1, p. 296. Refer also to Aldous (1997),
pazk2.
. MacArthur letter to Katayama, 16 September 1947 (PR/, pp. 298-9).
A)

. The organic statutes included the Law Concerning the Organisation of Urban
and Rural Prefectures, the Law Concerning the Organisation of Cities, the Law
Concerning the Organisation of Towns and Villages, the Law Concerning the
Tokyo Metropolis and the Law Concerning the Hokkaido Assembly. See PR/,
vol. 1, pp. 266—7 and Steiner (1965), pp. 77-8.
. The Kades quotation is from Takemae Eiji, ‘Kades Memoir on the Occupation
of Japan’, in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 148, 1986, p. 290. The
characterisations of Rowell and Kades are from the GS document, ‘Meeting
of the Steering Committee on the Chapter on Local Government, Monday
11 February 1946’, cited in Takayanagi Kenzo, Otomo Ichird and Tanaka
Hideo, eds, Nihonkoku kenpé seitei no katei (The Making of the Constitution of
Japan), vol. 1, Yahikaku, 1972, pp. 236.
. See Steiner (1965), pp. 81-4.
. Japanese theories of local self-rule are discussed in Teruhisa Horio, Educational
Thought and Ideology in Modern Japan, University of Tokyo Press, 1988,
pp- 139-42. On the Communist Party’s position, see Steiner (1965), pp. 79-80.
10. Takemae Eiji, “C. G. Tilton and the Occupation of Japan’, in The Journal of
Tokyo Keizai University, no. 146, 1986. See also PRJ, vol. 1, pp. 270-84 and
Amakawa Akira, “The Making of the Postwar Local Government System’, in
Robert E. Ward and Sakamoto Yoshikazu, eds, Democratizing Japan: The Allied
Occupation, University of Hawai’i Press, 1987, pp. 253-83.
Le Justin Williams Sr, Japan’s Political Revolution Under MacArthur: A Participant's
Account, University of Tokyo Press, 1979, pp. 55-6.
12: Thomas A. Bisson, Prospects for Democracy in Japan, Macmillan, 1949, pp. 72-4.
620 Notes to Pages 304-312

fe). Steiner (1965), pp. 72-5.

14, Ibid., pp. 136-7. PRY, vol. 1, p. 29.
ND): Taikakai-hen (ed.), Naimusho-shi (A History of the Home Ministry), vol. 3,
Hara Shobo, 1980, pp. 997-1028.
16. Ibid., p. 578.
17. See T. J. Pempel, “The Tar Baby Target: “Reform” of the Japanese Bureaucracy’,
in Ward, Sakamoto, eds (1987), pp. 166-7. See generally, John M. Maki,
Government and Politics in Japan: The Road to Democracy, Frederick A. Praeger,
1962.
18. PRY, vol. 2, p. 433.
19: Ibid.
20. Tsuru Shigeto, Japanese Capitalism: Creative Defeat and Beyond, Cambridge
University Press, 1993, pp. 15-16. On the reform bureaucrats, see John W.
Dower, Empire and Afiermath: Yoshida Shigeru and the Japanese Experience,
1878-1954, Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1979, pp. 362—
3 and Takafusa Nakamura, A History ofShowa Japan, 1926-1989, University of
Tokyo Press, 1998, pp. 58, 193-5, 279. On the social bureaucrats, see Sheldon
Garon, The State and Labor in Modern Japan, University of California Press,
1987, chapter 6.
PAN Special Survey Committee (Ministry of Foreign Affairs), Basic Problems for Post-
war Reconstruction of Japanese Economy (March 1946), Japan Economic
Research Center, 1977. See the discussion in Laura E. Hein, Fueling Growth: The
Energy Revolution and Economic Policy in Postwar Japan, Council on East Asian
Studies, Harvard University, 1990, pp. 111-16.
yp Ishibashi was purged by SCAP from 1947 to 1951. After the Occupation,
he was Minister of International Trade and Industry and served as prime
minister briefly in 1956. See Masuda Hiroshi, Koshoku tsuiho (The Purge of
Public Officials), Téky6 Daigaku Shuppankai, 1996, chapter 2. For a detailed
discussion of priority production and the RFB, see Hein (1990), pp. 116-24.
255 James Hoover, cited in Takemae Eiji, ‘SCAP Labour Policy for Japan: A Memoir
by an ex-GHQ Labour Official’, in Toritsu Kogyd Koto Senmon Gakko kenkyu
hokoku (Research Bulletin of the Tokyo Metropolitan Junior College of
Industrial Arts), no. 8, March 1972, p. 61.
24. See Andrew Gordon, The Evolution of Labor Relations in Japan: Heavy Industry
1853-1955, Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1985, chapter 8.
zo ESS Labour Division (GHQ/SCAP), Monthly Report, November 1945. See also
Takemae (1982), pp. 79-80. A general reference is Iwao Ayusawa, A History of
Labor in Modern Japan, University of Hawai’i Press, 1966.
26. Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: the American Occupation as New Deal, The
Free Press, 1987, pp. 215-16.
Ps A detailed account of the Hanaoka revolt is Nozoe Kenji, Hanaoka jiken 0 ou:
Chiigokujin kydsei renko no sekinin o toinaosu (The Truth About the Hanaoka
Incident: Rethinking Responsibility for the Forcible Conscription of Chinese
 Notes to Pages 313-323 621

Labourers), Ochanomizu Shob6, 1996, chapter 1 and Kikigaki Hanaoka jiken

(Witness to the Hanaoka Incident), Ochanomizu Shobé6, 1993, pp. 142-237.
28. See Joe B. Moore, Japanese Workers and the Struggle for Power, 1945-1947,
University of Wisconsin Press, 1983, pp. 41-3.
29. Ité Kenichi, Nankatsu kara Nanbu e (From South Katsushika to South Tokyo),
Iryo Tosho Shuppan, 1974; Miriam Farley, Aspects ofJapan's Labour Problems,
John Day, 1960, pp. 89-90.
30. In English, see Joe B. Moore, ‘Production Control: Workers’ Control in Early
Postwar Japan’, in Joe B. Moore, ed., The Other Japan: Conflict, Compromise,
and Resistance Since 1945, M. E. Sharpe, 1997, pp. 15-19.
ol. On the originality of production control, see Sumiya Mikio, ‘Mitsubishi Bibai
sdgi’ (The Mitsubishi Bibai Labour Dispute), in Toky6 Daigaku Shakai Kagaku
Kenkyajo-hen (ed.), Sengo shoki rodé sogi chosa (Survey of Labour Disputes in
the Early Postwar Period), Toky6 Daigaku Shuppankai, 1971. See also
Takemae Eiji, “GHQ Labour Policy During the Period of Democratization,
1946-1948: The Second Interview with Mr Theodore Cohen’, in The Journal of
Tokyo Keizai University, no. 122, 1981, p. 117.
62. Hein (1990), pp. 6-8, chapter 4.
33. Moore (1997), p. 14.
34, Ibid., pp. 31-3.
aD. The MacArthur quotations are cited, respectively, in Richard B. Finn, Winners
in Peace: MacArthur, Yoshida, and Postwar Japan, University of California Press,
1992, p. 54 and PRY, vol. 2, p. 750.
36. Cohen (1989), pp. 246-50.
a7. See Takemae (1981), pp. 108-14 and Cohen, ibid., pp. 250-1.
38. GHQ/SCAP, Monthly Summation ofNon-Military Activities in Japan and Korea,
no. 13, October, pp. 37-8.
a. The FEC document is reproduced in Farley (1960), pp. 245-7. On
MacArthur’s comment (9 December 1948), see Bowen C. Dees, The Allied
Occupation and Japan’s Economic Miracle: Building the Foundations ofJapanese
Science and Technology, 1945-1952, Curzon Press, 1997, p. 187.
40. Takemae Eiji, “The U.S. Occupation Policies for Japan: Interview with Mr.
Theodore Cohen’, in Tokyo Metropolitan University Journal of Law and Politics,
vol. 14, no. 1, 1973, pp. 28-9.
41. Takemae, ‘GHQ Labour Policy During the Period of Democratization, 1946—
1948: The Second Interview with Mr. Theodore Cohen’ (1981), p. 127.
42. PRY, vol. 1, p. 323.
43. Howard B. Schonberger, Aftermath of War: Americans and the Remaking of
Japan, 1945-1952, Kent State University Press, 1989, pp. 121-3. Richard L.-G.
Deverall, The Great Seduction: Red China’s Drive to Bring Free Japan Behind the
Iron Curtain, International Literature Printing Co. (Tokyo), 1953, p. 227.
. For a critique of the general strike leadership, see Takemae (1982), pp. 172-3.
On Zenroren, see Ayusawa (1966), pp. 285-6.
622 Notes to Pages 324-333

45. On the ‘web of rules’, consult Moore (1983), pp. 61-70. A discussion of GHQ’s
pre-systematised industrial relations is found in Anthony Woodiwiss, ‘A Revolu-
tion in Labour Law? The Fate of the Trade Union Act in Post-War Japan’, in Ian
Neary, ed. War, Revolution and Japan, Japan Library (Kent), 1993, p. 117 and,
generally, Woodiwiss, Labour and Society in Japan: From Repression to Reluctant
Tolerance, Routledge, 1992. See also Garon (1987), pp. 232-7.
46. Takemae (1982), pp. 93-102.
47. Cohen (1987), pp. 231-3 and Takemae, ibid., pp. 103-13.
48. Tanaka Sumiko, Josei kaiho no shisé to kodé (Women’s Liberation: Theory and
Praxis), Jiji Tsiishinsha, 1975, p. 16. See interviews with Stander and Smith in
Takemae Eiji, GHQ rodoka no hito to seisaku (Personnel and Policies in GHQ’s
Labour Division), Emutei Shuppan, 1991, pp. 205-8. Teramoto later
emphasised that, without the backing of ESS and MacArthur’s headquarters in
general, passage of the law would have been difficult, if not impossible (inter-
view with the author, 18 November 1981). On prewar social policy, see Garon
(1987), chapters 4 and 5.
49. On the establishment of the Labour Ministry, see Takemae (1982), pp. 177-96
and Cohen (1987), pp. 236-7. Curiously, although Cohen supported the pro-
posal, Stander distanced herself from discussions of the WMB. In frequent dis-
agreement with CI&E’s Ethel Weed over labour reform legislation, she appears
to have taken a back seat on the issue.
50. A former organiser for the Japan Seamen’s Union, Yonekubo had been a dele-
gate and adviser to the ILO before the war and served in the wartime Diet (unen-
dorsed by the Imperial Rule Assistance Association). Takemae (1982), loc. cit.
Dil See Tanaka (1975), p. 13.
2 Susan J. Pharr, “The Politics of Women’s Rights’, in Ward and Sakamoto, eds
(1987), pp. 242-5.
ap: Nishi Kydko, Senryoka no Nihon fujin seisaku (Policies Affecting Japanese
Women Under the Occupation), Domesu Shuppan, 1985, chapter 3.
54. See PRJ, vol. 1, pp. 214-21; Pharr (1987), op. cit.; Kurt Steiner, “The Occupa-
tion and the Reform of the Japanese Civil Code’, in Ward and Sakamoto, eds
(1987), pp. 188-220; and Alfred C. Oppler, Legal Reform in Occupied Japan:A
Participant Looks Back, Princeton University Press, 1976, pp. 74, 95, 111-29.
Quotations are from Oppler, p. 77.
23% Wagatsuma Sakae, ed., Sengo ni okeru minpo no keika (The Revision of the
Postwar Civil Code), Nihon Hyéronsha, 1956, p. 83.
56. PRy, vol. 2, p. 582.
57. As noted earlier, the Labour Relations Adjustment Law restricted strikes by some
public employees but only in cases where such action would clearly endanger the
public welfare.
58. Quotations cited in Schonberger (1989), p. 127.
59. PRY, vol. 1, p. 357. Dees (1997), p. 187.
60. Australia, unwilling to embarrass the United States, prevented the question from
 Notes to Pages 333-340 623

coming to a vote. George H. Blakeslee, The Far Eastern Coramission: A Study in

International Cooperation 1945-1952, US Department of State (US Govern-
ment Printing Office), 1953, pp. 170-5.
61. Takemae (1982), pp. 236-40; Cohen (1987), pp. 392-7.
62. Mitsubishi Economic Research Institute, ed. Mitsui—Mitsubishi-Sumitomo: Pres-
ent Status of the Former Zaibatsu Enterprises, Mitsubishi Economic Research
Institute, 1955, p. 6.
63. See Thomas A. Bisson, Zaibatsu Dissolution in Japan, University of California
Press, 1954, pp. 69-71. The Big Four zaibatsu also were directly involved in the
war. In 1938, Mitsui and Mitsubishi allegedly imported Iranian opium for the
Imperial Army and distributed it to Chinese in occupied areas to increase addic-
tion and facilitate pacification (on the narcotics trade, refer to chapter 8). More-
over, all of the combines profited immensely from the use of Chinese and Korean
conscript labour, both in Manchuria and Japan. Cohen (1987), p. 157-8.
64. This was defined more precisely as a company or grouping of companies with
combined assets of over ¥2 billion or capitalised at ¥500 million but having a
controlling interest in several fields of business activity.
65. Eleanor M. Hadley, Anti-Trust in Japan, Princeton University Press, 1970,
pp. 495-514.
66. Eleanor M. Hadley, “Zaibatsu Dissolution’, Kodansha Encyclopedia of Japan,
Kodansha, 1983, pp. 365-6.
67. Cohen (1989), p. 358.
68. Ibid., pp. 360-3.
69. The Kern quotation is from Newsweek, 23 June 1947, On the FEC-230 contro-
versy and the Japan Lobby, see Schonberger (1989), pp. 64, 75 and chapter 5
and John G. Roberts, “The “Japan Crowd” and the Zaibatsu Restoration’, in
The Japan Interpreter, vol. 12, nos. 3-4, 1979, pp. 384-415.
70. Okurashé Zaisei-shi Shitsu-hen (ed.), Showa zaisei-shi: shiisen kara Kowa made
(The Financial History. of the Showa Era: From the War’s End to the Peace
Treaty), vol. 2, Toyd Keizai Shinpdsha, 1981, p. 495.
AL. In 1943, Grew and Dooman rejected a proposal by Fearey to eliminate tenancy
and improve rural conditions and objected to further study of the question. In
July and August of 1945, Mark B. Williamson, later chief of Agriculture Div-
ision, Natural Resources Section, prepared two papers while at CASA in
Monterey, California urging an even more radical reform of the land tenure
system. The ideas of both men were strongly influenced by Dr Wolf I. Ladejin-
sky, a Russia-born agronomist with a deep knowledge of rural Japan then with
the US Department of Agriculture. Williamson’s Monterey proposals, too, met
with disapproval. See Susan Deborah Chira, Cautious Revolutionaries: Occupa-
tion Planners and Japan’s Post-War Land Reform, Tokyo: Agricultural Policy
Research Center, 1982, chapter 3.
P72. Yoshida Shigeru, The Yoshida Memoirs: The Story ofJapan in Crisis, William
Heinemann, 1961, p. 197.
624 Notes to Pages 341-348

Ws On Ladejinsky’s ideas, see Louis J. Walinsky, ed., Agrarian Reform as Unfinished

Business: The Selected Papers of WolfI.Ladejinsky, Oxford University Press, 1977.
Refer also to Chira (1982), pp. 22-4, 140.
74. Chira, ibid., pp. 38-9.
Tsy. See Mark Gayn, Japan Diary, Charles E. Tuttle, 1981 (William Sloane, 1948),
pp. 18-19. PR, vol. 2, p. 575.
76. Chira (1982), pp. 92-3.
Tle Kon Hidemi, Yoshida Shigeru, Kodansha, 1967, pp. 147-53. Wada, a Socialist,
headed the Economic Stabilisation Board in 1947 under the Katayama Cabinet
and also was associated with the so-called Yoshida School. In March 1949, he
joined the left wing of the Socialist Party and in 1954 was elected Secretary-
General. On Wada’s career, in English, see Alan B. Cole, George O. Totten and
Cecil H. Uyehara, Socialist Parties in Postwar Japan, Yale University Press, 1966,
pp. 282-6 and Masumi Junnosuke, Contemporary Politics in Japan, University of
California Press, 1995, pp. 307-8.
78. Personal comment from Ward to Alan Rix, 20 April 1985, cited in W. Mac-
Mahon Ball, Intermittent Diplomat: The Japan and Batavia Diaries of
W. MacMahon Ball, Alan Rix, ed., Melbourne University Press, 1988, pp. 287-8.
TD Chira (1982), p. 96.
80. Ibid., p. 99-102. Letter from Eric Ward to Ball, cited in Takemae Eiji, “Ball’s
View on the Allied Occupation of Japan: Interview with W. MacMahon Ball’, in
The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 151, June 1987, pp. 222-3.
81. See Ogura Takekazu, Can Japanese Agriculture Survive? A Historical and Com-
parative Approach, Agricultural Policy Research Centre, 1982, pp. 412-13.
82. The standard reference for the land reform is Nochi Kaikaku Kiroku Pinkai, ed.,
Nochi kaikaku tenmatsu gaiyo (A Synopsis of the Progress of the Land Reform),
Nosei Chésakai, 1951. Statistics are from vol. 14. The representative work in
English is Ronald P. Dore, Land Reform in Japan, Oxford University Press, 1959. —
Also valuable are the studies by direct participants AndrewJ.Grad [Grajdanzev],
Land and Peasant in Japan: An Introductory Survey, Institute of Pacific Relations, —
1952 and Lawrence J. Hewes, Japan: Land and Men, \owa State College Press,
1955.
83. PRY, vol. 2, p. 760.
Chapter 8 The Cultural Reforms
I. US Army Service Forces, Civil Affairs Handbook Japan, Section 15: Education, —
23 June 1944, p. 5.
Di Marlene J. Mayo, ‘Psychological Disarmament: American Wartime Planning for
the Education and Re-Education of Defeated Japan, 1943-1945’, in Thomas
W. Burkman, ed., The Occupation of Japan: Education and Social Reform, —
General Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1982, p. 23.
. The drafting committee included Japan Crowd stalwart Eugene H. Dooman;
Frances A. Gulick, a China-born student of Blakeslee who had entered the State

ore
2508
ie
tiib
 Notes to Pages 348-351 625

Department from the Office of Strategic Services; Hillis Lory of the Japan Desk,
who had taught for four years at Hokkaido Imperial University and authored
Japan’s Military Masters: The Army in Japanese Life, Viking Press, 1943; and
Ralph Turner, a Yale economic historian who had worked on education reform
for Germany. On the evolution of PCW-287, see Mayo (1982), pp. 35-46.
. Japan: The Education System Under Military Government (PWC-287)’,
15 July 1944, pp. 1-2, 7.
. Ibid., pp. 10-11.
. Bowles was an anthropologist and Asia specialist from Harvard. The son of
missionaries, he had been raised in Japan, spoke Japanese fluently and shared
with Hugh Borton a pacifist Quaker background that led him to eschew a front-
line wartime role. On Bowles’s role, see Mayo (1982), pp. 56-7, 62-6.
. The Taisho readers were popularly known as ‘dove and bean primers’ because
they opened on a picture of a dove, the symbol of peace, and beans, with which
Japanese customarily fed the doves at shrines and other public places. The
Sh6dwa textbooks were called “sakura primers’ because the opening pages con-
tained illustrations of cherry trees (sakura) in blossom, representing the Japanese
martial spirit (the second and third pages depicted soldiers with rifles and the
caption, “Advance soldiers, advance’).
. ‘Positive Policy for the Reorientation of the Japanese’ (SWNCC-162). See the
discussion in Mayo (1982), pp. 77-83. Quotations are from p. 78.
. A short discussion of the post-surrender evolution of SWNCC-108 and
SWNCC-162 is Takemae Eiji, Senryd sengo-shi (A History of the Occupation
and Postwar Era), Iwanami Shoten, 1992, pp. 331-44 and Gary H. Tsuchimo-
chi, Education Reform in Postwar Japan: The 1946 US Education Mission, Uni-
versity of Tokyo Press, 1993, p. 23. See also Mayo (1982), pp. 82-3.
10. Considered one of Japan’s leading internationalists, Maeda had studied law at
Tokyo Imperial University and served in the Home Ministry. He subsequently
had represented Japan in the International Labour Organisation in Geneva
(1923), worked as an editor for the Asahi Shinbun (1928-38) and headed the
Japanese Cultural Library in New York (1938-41). During the war, he was
Governor of Ni’igata Prefecture. A Christian, he became a Quaker after the war
through the influence of an American missionary. Appointed Education Minis-
ter in the Higashikuni Cabinet on 18 August, Maeda would serve in that cap-
acity until 13 January 1946, when, to the dismay of Bowles and other American
friends, Government Section purged him for his wartime governorship.
rd. Robert K. Hall, Education for a New Japan, Yale University Press, 1949,
pp. 291-2. .
a2. On these points, refer to Toshio Nishi, Unconditional Democracy: Education and
Politics in Occupied Japan, 1945-1952, Hoover Institution Press (Stanford Uni-
versity), 1982, pp. 147, 161-4. Maeda’s views are expounded in Maeda Tamon,
“The Direction of Postwar Education in Japan’, in The Japan Quarterly, vol. 3,
no. 4, 1956, pp. 414-25.
626 Notes to Pages 351-356

37, On this process, see Joseph C. Trainor, Educational Reform in Occupied Japan:
Trainor’s Memoir, Meisei University Press, 1983, pp. 30-4 and Tsuchimochi
(1993), pp. 89-94. The SCAPINs are reproduced in GHQ/SCAP, History ofthe
Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation of Japan (given below as HNMA),
no. 11: Education, 1952.
14. HNMA, no. 11: Education, ibid., pp. 59-68 and Ronald S. Anderson, Educa-
tion in Japan: A Century of Modern Development, US Department of Health,
Education and Welfare (US Government Printing Office), 1975, p. 63.
15. See Mark T. Orr, “Education Reform Policy in Occupied Japan’, PhD disserta-
tion, Department of Political Science, University of North Carolina, 1954,
pp. 207-8.
16. Herbert Passin, The Legacy of the Occupation — Japan, Occasional Papers of the
East Asian Institute, Columbia University, 1968, p. 4; Trainor (1983), p. 68.
17. Tsuchimochi (1993), pp. 19-22.
18. On Orr’s role, see Takemae Eiji, “Kydiku kaikaku no omoide: GHQ Kydiku-
kaché M. T. Oa hakase ni kikw’ (Reminiscences of the Education Reforms: An
Interview with Dr Mark T. Orr, GHQ’s Education Division Chief), in Tokyo
Keidai Gakkaishi, no. 115, March 1980, p. 139. Tsuchimochi, op. cit., p. 28.
Conant also is reported to have held pronounced anti-Japanese views. See Edward
R. Beauchamp, ‘Educational and Social Reform in Japan: The First United
States Education Mission to Japan, 1946’, in Burkman, ed. (1982), p. 180.
IDE Ground-breaking research on the education reforms and the US Mission has
been done by Kaigo Tokiomi, Kyoiku kaikaku (The Education Reforms), Tokyo
Daigaku Shuppankai, 1975; Suzuki Eiichi, Nihon senryo to kyoiku kaikaku
(The Occupation of Japan and Education Reform), Keisé Shob6, 1983; Kubo
Yoshiz6, Tai-Nichi senryo seisaku to sengo kyoiku kaikaku (Occupation Policy
Towards Japan and the Reform of Postwar Education), Sanseid6, 1984; and
Yomiuri Shinbun-hen (ed.), Kydiku no ayumi (Postwar Progress in Education),
Yomiuri Shinbun, 1982. For more specialised works, refer to Saté Hideo, “The
Basic Source Materials on the Education Reform in Postwar Japan: Reports of
the Surveys Conducted by the NIER Research Group’, Acta Asiatica, no. 54,
1988, pp. 75-105. .
20; Katherine Sansom, Sir George Sansom: A Memoir, Diplomatic Press (Tallahas-
see), 1972, p. 154.
2k, These were Amano Teiyai, Kawai Michi and Nanbara Shigeru. See Anderson
(1975), Note 4 on p. 87. Other Nitobe disciples were Education Minister
Maeda Tamon and his successor Abe Yoshishige. Amano, too, would later serve
in that position (May 1950 to August 1952). od
Pipe Tsuchimochi (1993), pp. 71-7, and Trainor (1983), p. 62.
23; United States Education Mission to Japan, Report of the United States Education
Mission to Japan, US Government Printing Office, 1946, pp. 1-62. The quota-
tion is from p. 3. The report contained six sections: Aims and Contents, Lan-
guage, Administration of Education, Teaching and the Education of Teachers,
 Notes to Pages 357-360 627

Adult Education and Higher Education. See also the discussion in GHQ/SCAP,
Education in the New Japan, Tokyo, May 1948.
24, Tsuchimochi (1993), p. 142.
23s The Stoddard quotation is from United States Education Mission to Japan
(1946), p. 4. Japanese and American educators made a serious effort to harmon-
ise their ideas before the final report was written, ironing out the details in a
series of meetings held from 20 to 25 March during which the Japanese side
presented its views informally as ‘opinions’. Tsuchimochi (1993), p. 141-2. On
Bowles’s role, see Tsuchimochi (1993), pp. 95-107.
26. William K. Bunce, Chief of CI&E’s Religions Division. Cited in William P.
Woodard, The Allied Occupation ofJapan, 1945-1952, and Japanese Religions,
Leiden: Brill, 1972, p. 165.
af. Yoshida Shigeru, The Yoshida Memoirs, Heinemann, 1961, p. 131. The Abe
citation is from Nishi (1982), p. 144.
28. Refer to Tsuchimochi (1993), pp. 83-4.
oo. Tanaka’s address is from the Official Gazette Extra, House of Representatives
(English translation prepared by SCAP), 28 June 1946, p. 13. See also Nishi
(1982), pp. 150-9.
30. Teruhisa Horio, Educational Thought and Ideology in Modern Japan: State
Authority and Intellectual Freedom, University of Tokyo Press, 1988, pp. 135-7.
oi. Trainor (1983), p. 297.
A2. In English, this point is argued persuasively by J. Marshall Unger, Literacy and
Script Reform in Occupation Japan: Reading Between the Lines, Oxford University
Press, 1996.
oe Opinions generally fell into three categories. In 1873, Mori Arinori, Japan’s first
Education Minister (1885-9), proposed scrapping the Japanese language out-
right and replacing it with a simplified form of English. Mori’s extremist and
widely derided prescription found few advocates, but by the 1880s, a movement
had appeared among academics, primarily scientists, to replace kanji and the
two kana syllabaries with the Latin alphabet. As early as 1866, a second group of
reformers had called for the abolition of kanji and the exclusive use of kana. A
third tendency sought to reduce the number of kanji in use, standardise readings
and streamline their basic components. All three arguments — romanisation, the
exclusive use of kana and character simplification — continued to generate ser-
ious debate in official and academic circles until the early 1930s, when ultra-
nationalist traditionalism drove discussion of script reform underground. Unger
(1996), chapter 3.
34, At the University of Michigan, Hall had studied under linguist Charles C. Fries,
a specialist on language simplification, who may have influenced his views on
Japanese. Hall was particularly interested in the romanisation of Arabic tran-
scription in Turkey under Kemal Atatiirk, President of the Turkish Republic
(1923-38). See Tsuchimochi (1993), pp. 109-10. The quotation is from Hall
(1949), p. 352. See also Unger (1996), p. 71.
628 Notes to Pages 360-364

35. Hall’s ideas on language reform are expounded in Hall (1949), pp. 293-410.
On the controversy his ideas generated inside Education Division, see
Trainor (1983), chapter 19. In 1950, Japanese language specialists conducted
experiments indicating that the use of rémaji has certain advantages over the
traditional writing system in subjects such as mathematics. See Unger (1996),
chapter 5. In December, Henderson was ‘kicked upstairs’ to the position of
Special Advisor, and Lieutenant Colonel Donald R. Nugent stepped in to
replace him as Chief of Education Branch (in May 1946, Nugent would become
CI8&E Chief of Section). Hall was relieved of operational duties and reassigned
to the Section’s Planning Division as Language Simplification Officer. Both
men returned to the United States not long afterwards to resume academic
careers.
36. Cited in Tsuchimochi (1993), pp. 111, 117-19.
ote United States Education Mission (1946), pp. 21-2. Tsuchimochi, ibid., pp. 75,
114-15.
38. United States Education Mission, ibid., p. iii. Nishi (1982), pp. 203-4.
39: Unger (1996). Hall, too, had urged that Chinese characters for everyday use be
reduced to 1,500. Based largely on the JLC recommendations, in November
1946 the Education Ministry standardised the native katakana and hiragana
syllabaries, modified a set of 1,850 characters (tdyo kanji) for ordinary use and
adopted 881 characters for instruction in the lower grades (kyoiku kanji). Minor
script modifications continued to be made during the Occupation and through
the late 1950s.
40, Quoted by Kurita Wataru, “Making Peace with Hirohito and a Militaristic Past’,
in The Japan Quarterly, April—June 1989, p. 189.
41, See Nishi (1982), pp. 176-84.
42. United States Education Mission (1946), p. 18.
43, Author’s interview with Ishiyama and Okiyama, 2 January 1983. GHQ’s liberal
certification procedures resulted in the publication of some outstanding readers,
such as The New Constitution and Yamamoto Ytizo’s Sun and Song (Taiyo to
uta). These textbooks elucidated the basic concepts of democracy in easy-to-
understand language and challenged pupils to relate them to their everyday
lives. They also expounded upon the evils of militarism and emphasised Japan’s
efforts to construct a civil society and rejoin the community of nations by
embracing pacifist principles. Some primers were read not only by students but
by adults in night-school classes and Parent-Teacher Associations.
44, At the end of six years of obligatory schooling, students continuing their studies
were channelled into mass- and élite-orientated institutions. Mass-track stu-
dents hit a dead end after two more years of study in higher elementary schools ~
or two to seven years in youth schools (seinen gakko), which taught lower-class ©
youth industrial arts, agriculture and home economics. Elite-track students able
to pass rigorous entrance exams went on to five years of middle school.
Advanced technical training also was available in vocational schools. Only about —
q
 Notes to Pages 365-366 629

10 per cent of male elementary school graduates and 8 per cent of female
graduates made the transition to middle school. Entry into higher schools,
which provided three years of pre-university training and required students to
live in dormitories, was even more selective. Less than 8 per cent of middle-
school graduates managed to win acceptance to 32 state-run higher schools.
Three years of university studies awaited the chosen few — less than 1 per cent of
elementary school graduates. At the apex of the system were nine Imperial
universities (including one each in Korea and Formosa) and below them a
handful of prestigious private colleges. Women were barred from Tokyo and
Kyoto Imperial Universities, but some 50 women’s colleges existed, many of
them founded by Christian missionaries. Women also had access to normal and
technical schools, but only a small number pursued advanced studies. Education
was intended to make women ‘good wives’ and ‘wise mothers’, and standards
generally were lower than in boys’ institutions. Academically, many women’s
colleges were colleges in name only, and the Education Ministry considered
them on a par with boys’ higher schools. In 1941, the Education Ministry
attempted to extend compulsory education from six to eight years, but this
measure could not be enforced because of the war. On 30 January 1946, just
before the arrival of the Stoddard Mission, it announced that the prewar 6-5-3
(elementary, middle, higher school) ladder, with the first six years free and
compulsory for all, would remain official policy. See HNMA, no. 11: Education,
pp. 23-49 and Anderson (1975), chapter 2. Anderson was an Education Officer
with a Military Government Team in southwestern Japan during the Occupa-
tion. His comments on Japanese education and the postwar reforms at the local
level are particularly lucid.
45. On Japanese reformers, see Tsuchimochi (Gary) Héichi, Rokusansei kyoiku no
tanjo: sengo kyoiku no genten (The Origins of the 6-3 Education System: The
Starting Point of Postwar Education ), Yashisha, 1992, pp. 96-100.
46. Tsuchimochi (1993), pp. 85, 107-9, 111.
47. Ibid., pp. 135-7.
48. Nanbara is quoted in Tsuchimochi, ibid., pp. 104, 107.
49. Author's interview with Kennoki Toshihiro. Kennoki was Education Minister
from 1966 to 1967. See his Ushi no ayumi: kyoiku ni waga michi 0 motomete (At
a Snail’s Pace: For an Education System Suitable to Japan’s Needs), Shogakkan,
1973;
50. The Nanbara quotation is cited in Tsuchimochi (1993), p. 167.
Sl. Ibid. The Japanese side also insisted that specialised technical schools (senmon
gakko) be eliminated and integrated into higher-level institutions all enjoying
the same academic standards. Normal schools and colleges, too, were to be
phased out and teachers’ training courses incorporated into university curricula.
See Anderson (1975), pp. 75-8, 80.
p52: To encourage the free exchange of ideas, from 1949 the Government and Relief
in Occupied Areas (GARIOA) programme invited more than 1,000 Japanese
630 Notes to Pages 367-369

students and scholars to the United States to study in American universities.

A smaller but constant stream of American educators also visited Japanese
schools and institutions of higher learning.
aD: American efforts to influence Japanese education continued long after the Stod-
dard Mission. Improvements for advanced science education were suggested by
the six-man US Scientific Advisory Group (SAG), organised by the US National
Academy of Sciences and led by chemist Roger Adams of the University of
Illinois, which arrived in Tokyo in August 1947 at the invitation of Economic
and Scientific Section. The SAG recommended dismantling the chair system,
which it characterised as a feudalistic ‘family-type’ unit that stifled original
thinking and narrowed the scope of scientific inquiry; increasing academic
exchanges between institutions; and emphasising applied over pure science. In
November 1948, a second SAG consisting of five members visited Tokyo to
appraise the results of the first group. In September, a five-man US Cultural
Science Mission, including historian Edwin O. Reischauer of Harvard and
geographer Glen T. Trewartha of the University of Wisconsin, arrived to pro-
mote the social sciences. A second US Education Mission was despatched to
Tokyo in August 1950, at the height of the Red Purge, but its primary function
was to lend moral support to GHQ’s anti-Communist crusade in the schools,
and it made few substantive recommendations. On the SAGs, see Bowen C.
Dees, The Allied Occupation and Japan’s Economic Miracle: Building the Founda-
tions ofJapanese Science and Technology, 1945-1952, Curzon Press, 1997, chap-
ter 9. A short description of the US Cultural Science Mission is found in Nishi
(1982), pp. 230-2.
54, Nishi Kyoko, Senryoka no Nihon fujin seisaku (Policies Affecting Japanese
Women Under the Occupation), Domesu Shuppan, 1985, p. 83.
D9: Nishi (1982), p. 223.
56. San’ichi Shobé-hen (ed.), Shiryd sengo gakusei undo (1), 1945-1949 (Basic
Documents on the Student Movement, Part I: 1945), San’ichi Shobo, 1968,
pp. 3-12.
afc See San’ichi Shobé-hen (ed.), ibid. In English, see also Shimbori Michiya, “The
Sociology of a Student Movement — A Japan Case Study’, in Daedalus, vol. 97,
Winter 1968, pp. 204-28 and Matsunami Michihiro, “Origins of Zengakuren’,
in Stuart J. Dowsey, ed., Zengakuren: Japan’s Revolutionary Students, Ishi Press
(Berkeley), 1970, pp. 42-74.
58. Horio (1988), p. 129. Article 1 defined the aims of education as ‘the full
development of personality striving for the rearing of people . . . who shall love
truth and justice, esteem individual value, respect labour and have a deep sense
of responsibility, and be imbued with the independent spirit, as builders of the
peaceful state and society’. Article 3 guaranteed equal opportunity and outlawed
discrimination ‘on account of race, creed, sex, social status, economic position
or family origin’. Article 4 made education universal, compulsory and tuition-
free; Article 5 provided for coeducation; Article 6 defined teachers as servants of
 Notes to Pages 369-373 631

the community; Article 8 assured a political education necessary for ‘intelligent

citizenship’; Article 9 ordained religious tolerance and separation of church and
state; and Article 10 made the school system and education in general “directly
responsible to the whole people’. HNMA, no. 11: Education, pp. 69-71.
59. Nishi (1982), pp. 213-14, 255-6.
60. Takemae (1980), pp. 140-1.
61. HNMA, no. 11: Education, pp. 168-9, 207-36, 292-306.
62. Kurt Steiner, Local Government in Japan, Stanford University Press, 1965, p. 95.
The Ministry of Education Establishment Law gave the Ministry a purely
advisory role and eliminated its authority to select textbooks and to certify and
control administrative appointments and teacher promotions. The Private
School Law assured a measure of autonomy to private schools by detaching
them from direct state control. They were regulated by prefectural private-
school councils composed of private-school teachers and administrators
appointed by the governor.
. See Nishi (1982), pp. 210-14 and Anderson (1975), pp. 68-9.
. Ironically, Derevyanko’s protestations in the Allied Council for Japan that
officially sanctioned anti-Soviet literature violated basic Allied policy were dis-
missed as Soviet propaganda. Nishi, ibid., pp. 252-4.
65. Anderson (1975), pp. 69-70 and Steiner (1965), pp. 96-7. One consequence
of the Dodge austerity programme of 1949 was a severe cut in the percentage of
national funds allocated to local government. Diplomatic Section’s Richard B.
Finn, in a report to DS Chief William J. Sebald, noted in mid-1949 that more
than 100 mayors and village heads had resigned and that 25 had been recalled
by local assemblies for failure to procure adequate funding for education. In
September 1949, the Shoup Mission recommended a system of block grants as a
means of systematising national disbursements and reducing central control
over local entities (chapter 10). In 1950, however, the government attempted to
exempt educational funds from such grants. CI&E backed the government,
preferring the system of local tax levies supplemented by special Ministry subsid-
ies which it was in a position to control, but Government Section and other staff
groups objected strenuously that such exceptions would jeopardise the entire
scheme. Although MacArthur sided with Government Section, the Yoshida
administration ignored GHQ and never implemented Shoup’s recommenda-
tions. Finn’s report of 25 July 1949 is cited in Nishi (1982), p. 215. On the
block grant system, see Steiner (1965), loc. cit.
66. William K. Bunce, Religions in Japan: Buddhism, Shinto, Christianity, Charles E.
Tuttle, 1955, pp. 27-34, 115-28. Bunce’s book is based on a CI&E report he
wrote in 1948 as a field guide for Military Government Teams. The pamphlet
was prepared in cooperation with Kishimoto Hideo, a leading religious scholar.
67. On the divisions within Shint6, see generally Masaharu Anesaki, The Religious
Life ofthe Japanese People, Kokusai Bunka Shinkokai, 1961.
68. Bunce (1966), loc. cit.
632 Notes to Pages 374-378

69 . US Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States (below, given as

FRUS), vol. 5, US Government Printing Office, 1944, pp. 1207-8.
70. Woodard (1972), pp. 51-2, 179.
Ta: Ibid, pp. 54-6 and Takemae Eiji, ‘Religious Reform Under the Occupation
of Japan: Interview with Dr. W. K. Bunce’, in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai
University, no. 150, March 1987, p. 195.
V2: Takemae, ibid., pp. 199-200. Woodard (1972), pp. 26, 40, 341-2, 350, 354-5.
(isk Holtom’s book on Shint6 was required reading for Occupationaires. Daniel C.
Holtom, The National Faith ofJapan: A Study in Modern Shinto, D. P. Dutton,
1938. Kishimoto was the author of Japanese Religion in the Meiji Era, Centenary
Cultural Council Series, 1955.
74. Personal letter from Bunce to Dr Ebina Sugeo, 11 September 1994. Cited by
courtesy of Dr Ebina.
I: HNMA, no. 20: Religion, pp. 6-10, 27-31.
76. Woodard (1972), pp. 57, 186-7, 193, 338-9.
Hoe Woodard, ibid., pp. 59-61. Takemae (1987), p. 202.
78. Bunce had taught at the Matsuyama High School from 1936 to 1939. It has
been suggested that this experience sensitised him not only to Shint6 practice
but to the significance of Buddhism in Japanese religious life as well, convincing
him of the folly of favouring one faith over another. Ebina Sugeo, “Shisen hiwa:
Makkasa to kyiisei Matsuyama koko no “Nenbutsu Rydka”’ (An Untold Story
of the Early Postwar Era: MacArthur and the Former Matsuyama High School’s
‘Dormitory Sutra’), unpublished manuscript. Personal letter from Bunce to Dr
Ebina Sugeo, ibid. Dr Ebina was a student at the high school.
7: Ironically, when SCAPIN-448 was publicised in mid-December, the careless
mistranslation of a key clause appeared to outlaw Shinto in its entirety. The
original English read: ‘All teachers’ manuals and textbooks now in use in any
educational institution supported wholly or in part by public funds will be
censored, and all Shinto doctrine will be deleted.’ Education Ministry trans-
lators, however, truncated the sentence, rendering it simply as “All Shinto doc-
trine will be deleted.’ This, of course, was what the Shinto establishment had
dreaded. The error was quickly corrected but misunderstanding lingered. Bunce
also struggled with the word church and its Christian connotations. In the
directive’s first two drafts, he followed the US Constitution and used the phrase
‘separation of church and state’, but in the third draft, he changed ‘church’ to
‘religion’. As he and his staff came to realise, Japanese and Western concepts of
religion and worship differ significantly and cannot be used interchangeably.
80. Woodard (1972), pp. 243-5, 355-7.
81. Ibid., pp. 218-26, 231, 359; Douglas MacArthur, Reminiscences, McGraw-Hill,
1964, pp. 310-11; HNMA, no. 20: Religion, p. 48; Nishi (1982), pp. 44-5.
82. Woodard, ibid., pp. 351-3. Richard B. Finn, Winners in Peace: MacArthur,
Yoshida and Postwar Japan, University of California Press, 1992, p. 168. Trainor
(1983), pp. 284-7.
 Notes to Pages 379-382 633

83. Christianity nonetheless won a number of prominent converts. A late and

unlikely proselyte was Yoshida Shigeru. On his death bed, Yoshida summoned a
Catholic priest, who arrived shortly after his death but baptized the deceased
politician anyway. Yoshida’s family included practising Catholics, and they
chose the baptismal name Thomas More. Yoshida earlier had indicated a prefer-
ence for Joseph, and the former premier was buried as Joseph Thomas More
following funeral rites held at a Catholic cathedral in Tokyo. See John W.
Dower, Empire and Aftermath: Yoshida Shigeru and the Japanese Experience,
1878-1954, Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1979, pp. 306,
547 (Note 3).
84. Elliott R. Thorpe, East Wind, Rain, Gambit Inc. (Boston), 1969, pp. 235-6.
Woodard (1972), pp. 245, 272-5. Nishi (1982), pp. 43, 290. The MacArthur
quotations are from the Forrestal Diary (Princeton University), as cited by Mikio
Haruna, ‘MacArthur Pondered Showa Conversion’, in The Japan Times, 4 May
2000, p. 3.
85. The Supreme Commander did not oppose attempts to Westernise the Imperial
family, however. In early 1949, he supported a request by the Empress to have
Akihito educated in the United States. According to Diplomatic Section’s
William Sebald, MacArthur believed study in America would not only help
Japan—US relations but wean the Prince from ‘the enervating atmosphere of a
royal court in which feudal customs may gradually reappear’. Walton Butter-
worth of the State Department’s Far Eastern Division vetoed the proposal,
suggesting that if the Prince must go abroad, he should choose Britain instead.
(Akihito remained in Japan, but years later, his eldest son Hironomiya
would study at Oxford.) Memorandum from William Sebald to W. Walton
Butterworth, 18 February 1949 (894.001 1/2-1849, National Archives Records
Administration, Washington DC).
86. Woodard (1972), pp. 119-24.
87. Ibid., pp. 128-33, 227-9.
88. Ibid., pp. 91-102. See also Joseph M. Kitagawa, Religions in Japanese History,
Columbia University Press, 1966, pp. 279-81.
89. Kitagawa, ibid., pp. 273-5.
90. Woodard (1972), pp. 149-56.
Bi. On the Office of Censorship, see Marlene J. Mayo, “Civil Censorship and Media
Control in Early Occupied Japan: From Minimum to Stringent Surveillance’, in
Robert Wolfe, ed., Americans as Proconsuls: United States Military Government in
Germany and Japan, 1944-1952, Southern Illinois University Press, 1984,
pp. 267, 499 (Note 4).
Q2. Information control is integral to the concept of military governance. The 1940
field guide, The United States Army and Navy Manual of Military Government
and Civil Affairs (chapter 5), stipulated that ‘[t]o the extent that military inter-
ests are not prejudiced, freedom of speech and press should be maintained
and instituted’. But the handbook forbade the transmission or receipt of ‘any
634 Notes to Pages 382-384

message containing anything hostile, detrimental or disrespectful to the United

States, its armed forces, their personnel, or the military government’. Takemae
Eiji, ed., Beikoku rikukaigun: gunsei-minji manyuaru (The United States Army
and Navy Manual of Military Government and Civil Affairs), Misuzu Shobé,
1998, p. 37.
99: See Mayo (1984), pp. 267-71. JSC-873/3 distinguished three phases of infor-
mation management: invasion, occupation and indigenous government. The
invasion and occupation phases would entail stringent media controls.
94. Monica Braw, The Atomic Bomb Suppressed, M. E. Sharpe, 1991, pp. 24-5.
Mayo, ibid., pp. 278-9.
95. CAC-237 proposed strict information controls in the early emergency phase of
occupation. Freedom of speech was to be guaranteed to the maximum extent
possible, however, and censorship would be imposed only where there was a
clear threat to the safety of the occupying forces or their mission. Moreover, such
constraints were to be relaxed progressively during the post-emergency period
and greater cooperation sought with liberal Japanese. Specific recommendations
included the abolition of restrictive laws on freedom of expression, the monitor-
ing of national newspapers (regional newspapers would not be watched), the
use of Japan Broadcasting Corporation (NHK) facilities and the vetting of
radio, theatre and film for militaristic content (film screenings would require
prior military government approval).
96. Mayo (1984), pp. 277, 288-9, Note 18 on p. 510 and Marlene J. Mayo, “The
War of Words Continues: American Radio Guidance in Occupied Japan’, in
Thomas W. Burkman, ed., The Occupation ofJapan: Arts and Culture, General
Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1988, p. 46.
Mi At this time, the War Department's Civil Affairs Division set up an independent
Reorientation Branch, and the State Department absorbed the Office of War
Information, reorganising it as the Office of International Information and
Cultural Affairs. Mayo (1982), pp. 77-83.
98. Fellers had been a ready convert to the notion of moral disarmament. On 27
August 1945, he transformed the Psychological Warfare Branch into the Infor-
mation Dissemination Section. On 22 September, the IDS was incorporated
into the Civil Information and Education Section, evolving into its Information
Dissemination Branch. Mayo (1984), pp. 285-7.
DD: Shortly after its inception, the Meiji state enacted the Press Ordinance of 1875,
followed by the Press Law of 1909, imposing clear limits on freedom of speech.
From the late 1930s, the government stepped up its surveillance of public media
and from 1941, narrow restraints were placed on the media in conjunction with
the 1938 National Mobilisation Law, which commandeered the human and
physical resources necessary for war. The Censorship Section of the Home
Ministry’s Police Bureau tightly monitored public and private communications
for anything disruptive of the public tranquillity, offensive to the sanctity of the
Throne or critical of the institutions of private property and the family. Police
 Notes to Pages 384-386 635

exercised pre-publication censorship of newspaper articles, radio scripts

and film scenarios and post-publication controls over magazine pieces. See
Lawrence W. Beer, Freedom ofExpression in Japan:A Study in Comparative Law,
Politics, and Society, Kodansha International, 1984, p. 67; Richard H. Mitchell,
Censorship in Imperial Japan, Princeton University Press, 1983; and William J.
Coughlin, Conquered Press: The MacArthur Era in Japanese Journalism, Pacific
Books (Palo Alto), 1952, pp. 65-7.
100. Braw (1991), p. 35. Thorpe (1969), pp. 190-1.
101. See generally, Matsuda Hiroshi, Hdsd sengo-shi (A History of Postwar Broad-
casting), Matagakisha, 1980 and NHK (Radio and TV Culture Institute), 50
Years ofJapanese Broadcasting, Nihon Hésé Kyokai, 1977.
102. Government Section, SCAP, ed., The Political Reorientation ofJapan, September
1945 to September 1948 (below, given as PR), US Government Printing Office,
1949, vol. 2, p. 460, Hailed by GHQ as the ‘show window of the Occupation’,
The Nippon Times quickly became a mouthpiece for SCAP, with 30 per cent
of its mews emanating from MacArthur’s Public Information Office. See
Yamamoto Taketoshi, Senryoki medeia bunseki (A Study of the Media During
the Occupation), Hései Daigaku Shuppankyoku, 1996, pp. 93-111.
103. Mayo (1984), p. 296. Coughlin (1952), pp. 20, 111-17.
104. Furuno claimed he was taking responsibility for Démei’s wartime role as
propaganda organ and espionage centre, but his real motive was to forestall
more drastic action by SCAP. On 1 November, two new press agencies arose
from the ashes, Kyodo and Jiji, which survived by dividing the parent
company’s financial, material and human assets. Jiji tailored its activities to
the business community, and Kyéd6 quickly re-established much of Démei’s
former news monopoly. Furuno himself was arrested on Class-A war
crimes charges but escaped conviction. See Yamamoto (1996), pp. 116-38,
292-7.
105. After establishing SCAP custodianship of the media, Hoover resigned in
November 1945. In April 1946, Colonel William B. Putnam took charge of
the Detachment, remaining in that position for most of the Occupation. In
May 1946, Thorpe resigned and his Civil Intelligence Section was dissolved,
and Putnam’s CCD was transferred to G-2 Section’s Civil Intelligence Divi-
sion. Under Willoughby’s watchful eye, the CCD divided its duties among
the Postal Division, the Telecommunications Division and the Press, Pictorial
and Broadcast Division. Putnam maintained established stations in four
regions: Tokyo (District I, northern Japan), Osaka (District II, central Japan),
Fukuoka (District III, southern Japan) and, in the early phase, Seoul (District
IV, southern Korea). Data on CCD personnel are from Yamamoto (1996),
p. 299. Kawaguchi was interviewed in Los Angeles by Takagi Kikuro,
‘“GHQ no ken’etsu: héd6 no “jiya” to “tdei” to iu mujun’ (GHQ Censorship:
The Contradiction Between ‘Freedom’ and ‘Control’), in Yomiuri Shinbun
Henshiikyoku, Sengo gojiinen: Nippon no kiseki (Fifty Years After the War:
636 Notes to Pages 387-390

Japan’s Path), vol. 1, 1995, p. 165. The Military Intelligence quotation is cited
by Mayo (1984), p. 514.
106, On the objectives of censorship, see US Department of the Army (Historical
Section, G-2, FECOM), ed., Reports of General MacArthur, vol. 1: Supplement
(MacArthur in Japan — The Occupation: Military Phase), US Government
Printing Office, 1966, pp. 232-3 (below, given as Reports ofMacArthur). On 1
October and 27 November 1945, SCAP directives entitled ‘Censorship of the
Mails’ and ‘Regulations Governing Communications Over International, For-
eign, and External Telegraph, Telephone and Wireless Facilities’ authorised the
CCD to screen mail as well as tap phones, and these became entrenched
practices that continued until censorship was lifted in October 1949. Data are
from Furukawa Atsushi, ‘Nenpyd — Senrydka no shuppan, engeki, h6dsd
ken’etsu’ (A Chronology of Censored Publications, Dramas and Broadcasts
Under the Occupation), in 7okyd Keidai Gakkaishi (The Journal of Tokyo
Keizai University), no. 118, 1980, pp. 231-51.
107. Okuizumi Eizaburé and Furukawa Atsushi, ‘Nihon senryoki no Kyokuté Bei-
gun johé shisha katsud6 ‘to soshiki’ (Information-Gathering Activities and
Organisation of the US Far East Command During the Occupation of Japan),
in Tokyd Keidai Gakkaishi (The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University), nos.
109-10, 1978, pp. 128-36; and Yamamoto (1996), pp. 263-4, 294-5, 329.
108. Haru Matsukata Reischauer, Samurai and Silk; A Japanese and American
Heritage, Charles E. Tuttle, 1987 (Harvard University Press, 1986), pp. 312-13.
109, Braw (1991), pp. 55-8; Coughlin (1952), pp. 52-3, 79; Kyoko Hirano, Mr.
Smith Goes to Tokyo: Japanese Cinema Under the American Occupation,
1945~—1952, Smithsonian Institution Press, 1992, pp. 56-7.
110, The expression is John Dower’s: Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World
War Il, W. W. Norton and the New Press, 1999, chapter 14.
HAUGIE Braw (1991), pp. 90-2, 94-9. The scholar is Mark Selden in the preface to
Braw, p. x.
112, Robert M. Spaulding, ‘CCD Censorship of Japan’s Daily Press’, in Burkman,
ed. (1988), pp. 6-9. On ‘Japan’s Tragedy’, see Hirano (1992), pp. 122-45.
Iwasaki Akira, Senryd sareta sukurin (The Occupied Screen), Shin Nihon
Shuppansha, 1975, p. 83, translated by Hirano (1992), p. 102.
LS; See the discussion in Hirano, ibid., pp. 54-5, 172-5 and, particularly, Dower
(1999), pp. 429-31.
114, Earle Ernst also became an admirer of Kabuki and cooperated with Bowers
in working to liberate it gradually from CCD control. He left SCAP for
the University of Hawai’i shortly after Bowers joined PPB, becoming ‘the
pre-eminent Kabuki scholar in the West’ (Donald Richie, “The Occupied Arts’, —
in Mark Sandler, ed., The Confusion Era: Art and Culture ofJapan During the —
Allied Occupation, 1945-1952, Smithsonian Institution, 1997, p. 18). The art
critic is Richie, ibid. On modern drama, see David G. Goodman, ‘Shingeki
Under the Occupation’, in Burkman, ed. (1988), pp. 190-7.
 Notes to Pages 391-397 637

135. Bowers left Japan in May 1948, his mission accomplished. Okamoto Shird,
Kabuki 0 sukutta otoko: Makkasa no fukukan Fobian Bawazu (The Man Who
Saved Kabuki: MacArthur’s Military Aide Faubion Bowers), Shiieisha, 1998,
pp. 157-8, 248, 268, 277, 367; Faubion Bowers, ‘Discussion’, in Burkman,
ed. (1988), p. 204.
116. Reports of MacArthur, pp. 239-41. The State Department quotation is from
Mayo (1984), p. 313.
Bs Takakuwa Kokichi, cited in Hirano (1992), p. 103. Yamamoto (1996),
pp. 294-5.
118. Robert B. Textor, Failure in Japan: With Keystones for a Positive Policy,
Greenwood Press, 1972 (The John Day Co., 1951), p. 110.
Dy On Eirin, see Saté Tadao, Nihon eiga-shi, 1941-1959 (The History of Japanese
Cinema, 1941-1959), vol. 2, wanami Shoten, 1995, p. 230. Et6’s arguments
are developed in Ochiba no hakiyose: haisen, senryo, ken'etsu to bungaku (Raked
Leaves; Defeat, Occupation, Censorship and Literature), Bungei Shunjiisha,
1981.
120. The quoted expression is Richie’s, loc. cit. See also Reports ofMacArthur, p. 241,
Furukawa (1978), pp. 128-35 and, generally, Matsuura S626, Senrydka no gen-
ron dan atsu (Repression of Free Speech Under the Occupation), Gendai Janari-
zumu Shuppankai, 1977, pp. 302, 309-11. Mayo (1984), p. 515 (Note 88).
121. Braw (1991), p. 75, chapter 7. Although the kamishibai ordinances gradually
were repealed as television rendered that art form obsolete, Kanagawa Pre-
fecture did not annul the ban until 1983. Yamamoto (1996), pp. 276-9. Sato
Tadao, Nihon no eiga: hadaka no Nihonjin (The Japanese Cinema: The Japa-
nese Revealed), Hyéronsha, 1978, p. 116, translated by Dower (1999), p. 439.
122. Harry E. Wildes, the quixotic Government Section scholar and rabid anti-
Communist, later charged that ‘[o]fficial CIE publications, notably on press,
radio, and movie development, favoured the Communist line, attacking con-
servatives as rightist, feudalistic, or reactionary while hailing radicals as progres-
sives, liberals, and democrats’. Typhoon in Tokyo: The Occupation and its
Aftermath, Macmillan, 1954, p. 274.
123. Mayo (1984), p. 308. Coughlin (1952), p. 45.
124. Mayo (1988), pp. 55-6.
125. On relations between CCD and CI&XE, see Robert H. Berkoy, “The Press in
Postwar Japan’, in Far Eastern Survey, vol. 16, 1947, pp. 162-6. Coughlin
(1952), p. 51. Shirasu Jird suggested that David Conde’s role in the film’s
development and his close association with Nichiei producer Iwasaki Akira
precipitated his departure from CI&E in June 1946, See Hirano (1992),
p- 134.
126. Mayo (1988), p. 58.
127. Conde was assisted by a British national of mixed ancestry, Hugh Walker
(Japanese name: Okawa Shi) who had worked on the margins of the prewar
Japanese cinema but knew the industry well and whose fluency in Japanese
638 Notes to Pages 398-402

made up for the Branch Chief's lack of language skills. A Formosan named
Chen, a former physician, also worked under Conde, presumably as a transla-
tor and interpreter. Internal SCAP criticism of Conde’s role in the production
of The Tragedy ofJapan hastened his resignation in June 1946. In November,
George Gercke became Chief of Motion Picture and Drama Branch. A musi-
cian by training, he was one of the rare censors with actual experience in the
film and entertainment industry, having managed productions in London
and worked as assistant director for the musical Show Boat. Although Conde’s
tenure was brief, his influence on Japanese film was decisive and lasting.
Hirano, ibid., pp. 39-44, 102-3, 134 and, by the same author, “The Occupa-
tion and Japanese Cinema’, in Burkman, ed. (1988), p. 149.
128. Hirano (1992), chapter 4.
129: Hirano, ibid. and Keiko McDonald, “Whatever Happened to Passive Suffering?
Women on Screen’, in Sandler, ed. (1997), pp. 53-70.
130. Mayo (1988), p. 57; Baba (1988), p. 87.
131. Mayo, ibid., pp. 58-72. Baba, ibid., p. 86. Takagi (1995), p. 164.
132. In its prewar colonies, Japan had made Japanese the official public language
as part of a policy of cultural and ethnic assimilation, actively discouraging
national tongues. But in the Empire’s wartime Pacific and Southeast Asian
possessions, Japanese officials pursued a dual strategy. On the one hand, they
imposed Japanese as the lingua franca of the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity
Sphere. Here, recognising the intrinsic difficulties of kanji, they drew from
prewar ideas on language simplification, experimenting with romanisation
and kana. On the other hand, Imperial authorities encouraged linguistic
unity within each of the cultural spheres they controlled, establishing lan-
guage blocs within which Tagalog, Indonesian, Vietnamese and Burmese
were given ascendancy over other local languages. Takemae Eiji, Senryo sengo-
shi (A History of the Occupation and Postwar Era), Iwanami Shoten, 1992,
pp. 355-7.
133. Reports ofMacArthur, pp. 51-2. Takemae (1992), pp. 358-9. On the success of
Ogawa’s book, see Dower (1999), pp. 188-9.
134. The author’s interview with Hirakawa is reproduced in Takemae Eiji (1992),
pp. 369-72. It was first published in ‘Sengo demokurashi to Ei-kaiwa: “Kamu
Kamu Eigo” no yakuwari (Postwar Democracy and English Conversation; The
Role of ‘Come, Come English’), in Shis6 no Kagaku Kenkyikai, ed., Kyodo
kenkyu: Nihon senryé (Joint Research: The Occupation of Japan), Tokuma
Shobé, 1972, pp. 131-46.
135: Hirakawa Kiyoshi, Kamu, kamu evuribadé: Hirakawa Tadaiichi to ‘Kamu,
Kamu Eigo’ no jidai (Come, Come Everybody: Hirakawa Tada’ichi and the
Era of ‘Come, Come English’), NHK Shuppan, 1995, pp. 16-19.
136. In the first three years, the programme presented 107 stories with a total
vocabulary of more than 12,000 words, of which 600 were high-frequency core
terms that were repeated systematically.
 Notes to Pages 403-406 639

137. Hirakawa’s own career exemplified the democratic values he attempted to instil
in his listeners. As a young man of 16, he had gone to the United States to join
his father, a migrant labourer. Settling in Seattle, Washington, he washed
dishes, worked on the railroad and in a paper mill and sold automobiles. He
began his education over again, entering elementary school and finally winning
acceptance at Washington State University, where he majored in drama. After
graduation, he moved to Los Angeles and worked as an actor in Hollywood,
later marrying a compatriot. In 1937, when his wife’s visa expired, Hirakawa
accompanied her back to Japan. In Tokyo, he joined the Japan Broadcasting
Corporation where his impeccable English soon made him the leading overseas
broadcaster. When MacArthur’s staff set up headquarters in Yokohama,
Hirakawa was despatched to help the US Army set up its own broadcasting
facilities and serve as liaison with NHK. Known to the Americans as Joe
Hirakawa, he worked with CI&E’s Radio Branch to renovate the broadcasting
corporation. Hirakawa (1995), pp. 180-216; Mayo (1988), p. 78 (Note 36).
Ibid., p. 76. Takemae (1992), pp. 359-60, 374-5, 378.
138. Ishihara Shintar6, introduction to Hirakawa (1995), pp. 1, 3.
139. As a junior high school student in those days, I was very busy. To make ends
meet, I rolled cigarettes, made charcoal and gathered herbs in the mountains,
which I sold together with rice on the black market. At the same time, I was
reading Hegel and Marx. Hirakawa’s programme so completely captured my
fancy that I organised a “Come, Come’ club in Nagano. As president, I learned
English. I also learned the rudiments of social science by negotiating a tax
exemption with Japanese officials for a ‘Come, Come’ rally we were organising
and to which we had invited members of the local Military Government Team.
For me personally, the Occupation was a period of challenge and opportunity,
not one of darkness and confusion, although later I would experience its
sombre side, as well. ‘Come, Come English’ symbolised the sense of excitement,
freedom and discovery that I and others my age felt in these early postwar years.

Chapter 9 The Welfare Reforms and Minorities

1B Cited in Tatara Toshio, “The Allied Occupation and Japanese Public Welfare:
An Overview of SCAP Activities During the Early Phase’, in Thomas W.
Burkman, ed., The Occupation ofJapan: Education and Social Reform, General
Douglas MacArthur Foundation, 1982, p. 314. SWNCC-107 (Policy With
Respect to Relief in Japan’) of 1 October 1945 contained the same admonition.
. Ibid., p. 324-5. After the European example, the Meiji state had instituted
poor laws in 1874 and 1880, but care of the indigent was relegated primarily
to Buddhist and Christian charitable organisations. See generally, Tatara
Toshio, ‘1400 Years of Japanese Social Work From its Origins Through the
Allied Occupation, 552-1952’, PhD dissertation, Bryn Mawr College, 1975,
chapters 2, 4 and 5.
Bi Refer to the note by Zabelle Zakarian in Crawford F. Sams ‘Medic’: The Mission
640 Notes to Pages 407-409

ofan American Military Doctor in Occupied Japan and Wartorn Korea, Edited by
Zabelle Zakarian, M. E. Sharpe, 1998, pp. 270-1.
. See Ishida Takeshi, Nihon no seiji to kotoba: jiyn’tofukushi’ (Politics and Lan-
guage in Japan: ‘Freedom and Welfare’, vol. 1, Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai,
Tokyo, 1989, pp. 287-90 and the discussion in Takahashi Mutsuko, The
Emergence of Welfare Society in Japan, Ashgate, 1997, p. 56-8. Refer also to the
analysis by former Health and Welfare Ministry official Murakami Kimiko,
Senryoki no fukushi seisaku (Welfare Policy During the Occupation of Japan),
Keiso Shobd, 1987, chapter 2 and to Késeishd Gojiinen-shi Henshi T’inkai
(below, given as Késeishd), ed., Kaseishd gojinen-shi (The Ministry of Health
and Welfare: The First Fifty Years), Kosei Mondai Kenkyikai, 1988, pp. 584-5.
. A graduate of Tokyo Imperial University’s Law Faculty, Kasai began his career in
the Home Ministry, transferring to Welfare at its creation in 1938. From 1945
until his retirement in 1951, he worked closely with PH&W. The quotation is
from Tatara (1982), p. 321.
. On the notion of Imperial mercy, see Ikeda Yoshimasa, Nihon shakai fukushi-shi
(A History of Social Welfare in Japan), Horitsu Bunkasha, 1986, pp. 163-8.
Concerning the manipulation of phraseology, refer to Murakami (1987),
pp. 42-8 and the discussion in Takahashi (1997), p. 60.
. On the hémen-iin, see Tatara (1975), chapter 4 and Ishida (1989), p. 262-8.
Statistics are from Public Health and Welfare Section, Missions and Accomplish-
ments of the Occupation in the Public, Health and Welfare Fields (below, given as
PH&W, Missions and Accomplishments), GHQ/SCAP, Tokyo, December 1949,
pe22:
. See Kasai Yoshisuke, ‘“Nomu, utsu, kau” to seikatsu hogo héan’ (Drunkards,
Beggars and the Livelihood Protection Bill), in Késeisho Nijiinen-shi Henshi
Pinkai, ed., Kdseishé nijiinen-shi (The Ministry of Health and Welfare: The First
Twenty Years), Kosei Mondai Kenkyikai, 1960, pp. 392-3, Tatara (1982),
pp. 322-3 and the comments by Harold W. Fieldman, then chief of PH&W’s
Public Assistance Branch, in response to Tatara in Burkman, ed. (1982), p. 365.
A concise summary in English is Takahashi (1997), pp. 60-2.
. Sams (1998), pp. 158, 288 (Note 3) and Public Health and Welfare Section,
Public Health and Welfare in Japan, GHQ/SCAP, Tokyo, 1949, pp. 212-22.
10. In May 1946, the average urban dweller consumed a mere 1,500 calories a day
but, by November, that figure had jumped to 2,000 calories. See Takemae Eiji,
ed., C. F Samsu, DDT kakumei: senryo-ki no iryo fukushi seisaku o kaiso suru (C.
E Sams, The DDT Revolution: Looking Back at the Reform of Medicine and
Social Welfare During the Occupation), Iwanami Shoten, 1986, pp. 106-7,
113. Takemae’s translation of Sams’s memoir includes sidebars with a running
commentary on the text. The school lunch programme, for instance, originated
with the visit of a United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Agency mission to
Japan in the summer of 1946 led by former US President Herbert Hoover.
Hoover was appalled by the widespread malnutrition he encountered among
 Notes to Pages 409-412 641

children and recommended remedial action to MacArthur. Japanese teachers,

too, had petitioned the Education Ministry for school food relief. The Ministry
approached CI&E, but when Section Chief Nugent showed little interest in the
proposal, PH&W seized the initiative. On 14 October 1946, Sams ordered the
government to establish a school meal programme, which was begun on 11
December in all state schools with assistance from Licensed Agencies for Relief
in Asia (see Note 11 below). Students were asked to pay a modest ¥0.74 per
lunch, but those with parents on the dole were exempted. Takemae, ibid., pp.
122-3.
ine On 30 August, PH&W directed the Welfare Ministry’s Social Affairs Bureau to
administer the distribution of food, clothing and medical supplies organised by
an international aid consortium, the Licensed Agencies for Relief in Asia
(LARA). Three LARA representatives, one each from the Catholic Church, the
Quaker Friends Service Committee and the Protestant World Church Alliance,
were attached to PH&W to assist in this work. By December 1949, LARA had
supplied nearly 10.5 million tons of relief goods to 7 million people. In August
1947, PH&W began helping the Cooperative for American Remittances to
Europe (CARE) distribute “CARE packages’ to destitute Japanese. In 1949, at
Sams’s invitation, the United Nations Children’s Emergency Relief Fund
(UNICEF) began providing surplus American skim milk to Japanese schools for
the school lunch programme. The costs were borne by the Japanese government.
On the food crisis and LARA, see Sams, ibid., pp. 59-64, 163-4 and PH&W,
Missions and Accomplishments, p. 23.
12. Sorifu (Prime Minister’s Office), Nihon tokei nenkan (Japan Statistical Year-
book), Tokyo, 1956, p. 477.
WS. Takemae (1986), pp. 18-19 and Okamoto Shird, Kabuki 0 sukutta otoko:
Makkasa no fukukan Fobian Bawazu (The Man Who Saved Kabuki: Mac-
Arthur’s Military Aide Faubion Bowers), Shieisha, 1998 p. 243.
14. Sams (1998), pp. 84-5, 93-4.
15. Takemae (1986), pp. 134-5.
. Sams (1998), pp. 89-91, 207.
ie Sams, ibid., chapters 8-10. See also Harry E. Wildes, Typhoon in Tokyo: The
Occupation and its Aftermath, Macmillan, 1954, chapter 19 and HMNA, no.
19: Public Health, pp. 49-51.
18. By 1949, dysentery had been reduced by 79 per cent. Cholera was effectively
eliminated by December 1946, and smallpox, too, was brought quickly under
control, falling from 17,000 cases in 1946 to 124 in 1949. In 1945, there were
58,000 instances of typhoid fever, but by 1949, that figure had plummeted by 90
per cent to fewer than 6,000. In 1945, a typhus epidemic broke out in Hokkaido
among Korean miners, but the 32,000 cases reported in 1946 had dwindled to
212 by 1949. Diphtheria had afflicted 94,000 Japanese in 1944. Immunisation
was begun in 1947, and by 1949, the incidence of this disease had dropped by
86 per cent. Japan had long suffered one of the world’s highest death rates from
642 Notes to Pages 414-415

tuberculosis, but this scourge, too, was curbed following BCG vaccination pro-
grammes, and by 1949, the number of deaths had been slashed by 40 per cent.
PH&W, Missions and Accomplishments, pp. 2-13.
19. Sams’s first obligation was to the Occupation forces, and on 12 September,
before instituting basic reforms, he helped the US Army requisition St Luke’s
Hospital in Tokyo (the hospital would remain under American military control
until May 1956). In October, the Army took over Déai Memorial Hospital in
Tokyo (returned in October 1955) and in early November it acquired the Osaka
Red Cross Hospital (returned in February 1955). On Sams’s agreement with
Whitney, see Sams (1998), pp. 144-5. At the same time, PH&W demilitarised
the Japan Red Cross, the world’s second largest national society. Responsible
primarily for the care of wounded soldiers, the Japan branch had been placed
under the Sanitation Commission of the Imperial Army and Navy. On 20 Sep-
tember 1945, Sams invited the American Red Cross to help restructure and
democratise its sister society. This task was undertaken by American Red Cross
personnel on loan to PH&W as consultants. The Japan Red Cross elected new
leaders for the first time in January 1947. Divested of its former military duties,
the organisation continued to operate hospitals and clinics and train nurses but
now included among its activities volunteer services, safety education (water
safety and first aid) and civilian disaster relief. Sams’s Welfare Division also over-
saw passage of the Disaster Relief Law of 18 October 1947. Thestatute establisheda
National Disaster Board with branches in each prefecture and made the central
government responsible for financing and coordinating relief activities. The
National Disaster Board proved its mettle during the devastating Ishikawa—Fukui
earthquake of June 1948. HNMA, no. 18: Public Welfare, pp. 94-5, 102-3.
20. Késeishd, ed. (1960), pp. 94-6, and Yoshida Kyuichi, Nihon shakai jigyo no
rekishi (A History of Social Work in Japan), Keiso Shobd, 1994, chapter 13.
PH&W collided with Government Section over the issue of creating prefectural
health and welfare departments, GS being extremely reluctant to revise the
Local Autonomy Law it had just enacted in May 1947. After months of discus-
sion, Sams eventually prevailed on GS Chief Whitney to amend the statute. The
Sams—Whitney impasse was related to the author by former Welfare Ministry
official Saita Noboru on 12 December 1985.
2s Tatara (1982), pp. 324-6 and Takemae (1986), pp. 214-15, 223.
22r Sams (1998), pp. 71-2 and Takemae (1986), pp. 218-20. In Tokyo, a model
health centre was set up in Suginami Ward consisting of the following divisions:
Administrative Affairs, Medical Affairs, Pharmaceutical Affairs, Environmental
Sanitation, Food and Animal Disease Control, Communicable Disease Control,
Venereal Disease Control, Prevention (Parasites), Maternal and Child Hygiene,
Dental Hygiene, Nutrition, Health Education, Public Health Statistics, Public
Nursing, Medical Social Science and Laboratories.
23 Katsumata Minoru, former Chief of the Welfare Ministry's Health Bureau,
played a crucial role in facilitating bilateral collaboration on the collection of
 Notes to Pages 415-418 643

statistics. On Katsumata’s role, see the memorial volume issued by his students,
Kindai koshi-eisei no chichi: Katsumata Minoru (Katsumata Minoru: The Father
of Modern Public Health and Welfare), 1970.
24. Murakami (1987), pp. 151, 232 and Sams (1998), p. 79. When Dr Selwyn T.
Collins, head statistician of the US Public Health Service, arrived in Tokyo at
Sams’s invitation to evaluate the reorganisation of vital statistics, he found a
remarkably high level of reporting, which eventually achieved rates of complete-
ness ranging from 95 to 99.8 per cent.
25) Sams (1998), p. 125 and Note 5 on p. 284, respectively.
26. The transformation of the nursing profession under Alt’s supervision was stun-
ning. Traditionally, nurses received little formal training and were looked down
upon as menials. In June 1946, Alt set up the Tokyo Model Demonstration
School of Nursing in the Central Red Cross Hospital and assigned American
military nurses at St Luke’s Hospital to key teaching positions. In 1949, as a
result of improved nursing education and licensing standards, the Association of
Japanese Midwives, Clinical Nurses and Public Health Nurses was admitted to
the International Council of Nurses, enhancing the public image of these vital
care-givers.
Jf HNMA, no. 19: Public Health, pp. 128-43. The Pharmaceutical Affairs Law
was enacted on 29 July, followed by the Dental Practitioners Law, the Dental
Hygienists Law and the Public Health Nurse, Midwife and Nurses Law, which
were passed together with the Medical Practitioners Law on 30 July.
28. See John M. Jennings, The Opium Empire: Japanese Imperialism and Drug Traf-
ficking in Asia, 1895-1945, Praeger, 1997, pp. 99-107. After the war, Japan’s
civilian and former military drug lords managed to conceal large stores of nar-
cotics and later made fortunes from their covert sale. Ironically, many buyers
were Gls. Health and Welfare Ministry statistics show that in 1952, 11 per cent
of all drug dealing in Japan took place in the vicinity of US military bases. A year
later, that figure had jumped to 16 per cent. Wildes (1954), p. 198.
no. See Murakami (1987), pp. 102-8, 138-9 and Takemae (1986), pp. 56-7.
30. Although the Social Affairs Bureau championed the plan, the real impetus for
the Children’s Bureau came from a private citizens’ coalition, the Forum on the
Problems of Mothers and Children (Boshi Mondai Kondankai). After studying
laws for minors in the United States and Europe, the Forum concluded that
only an independent bureau could adequately safeguard the rights of children,
and it energetically lobbied both PH&W and the Welfare Ministry. Murakami
analyses the dovetailing of Japanese and American interests on this issue.
Murakami (1987), pp. 127-9.
Sh. A former English teacher active in the Japan Christian Temperance Union,
Yoshimi began her career as a social worker after graduating from the New York
School of Social Work in 1929. During the depression years of the 1930s, she
devoted herself to relief projects and volunteer work in Tokyo’s impoverished
popular quarters.
644 Notes to Pages 420-423

32: HNMA, no. 18: Public Welfare, pp. 53-63.

DD: K6seish6, ed. (1988), pp. 586-7 and HNMA, ibid., pp. 44-6.
34. See Kim Nan Goo, ‘Sengo shogaisha seisaku no seisei (The Origins of Japan’s
Postwar Policy for the Disabled), PhD dissertation, Tokyo Keizai University,
1995, pp. 67-8 and Murakami (1987), chapter 4.
35: Iwahashi Hideyuki, Nippon Raitohausu yonjitnen-shi (Nippon Lighthouse: The
First 40 Years), Nippon Lighthouse, 1962. All of the consultants were highly
accomplished in their respective fields. Hara Yasukazu (President, All-Japan
Federation of Social Welfare Commissioners) had studied at Columbia and Yale
Universities before the war. Kawamoto Unosuke (Principal, Tokyo School for
the Blind) had undertaken research in Britain, Denmark, Germany and the
United States. Ono Kakuji was editor of the Mainichi Shinbur’s braille daily, the
Tenji Mainichi. Representing GHQ were PH&W (Welfare Division’s Neff),
Civil Information and Education Section (Dr Louis Q. Moss, Vocational Edu-
cation Officer, Education Division) and Economic and Scientific Section (Alice
W. Shurcliff, Vocational Training Officer, Labour Division). Welfare Division’s
Micklautz took a personal interest in the Nippon Lighthouse Foundation and
regularly conferred with professional associations and political action groups,
including disabled veterans’ organisations. Kim (1995), pp. 68-72.
36. In the late 1930s and early 1940s, the United States had enacted or revised three
laws for the disabled: the Randolt-Sheppard Act (1936), the Wagner-O’Day
Act (1938) and the revised Barden—LaFollette Act (1943, originally passed in
1920). A comprehensive Federal statute, however, did not appear until the
Rehabilitation Act of 1973, which provided for vocational placement. The Act’s
Section 504 also outlawed discrimination against the disabled for the first time.
The first legislation to codify the civil rights of the disabled was the 1990
Americans With Disabilities Act.
oie Kim (1995). pp. 68-72.
38. Késeisha, ed. (1988), p. 587.
39. Despite the delay in enactment, some work-guarantee provisions of the dis-
abilities bill were incorporated into revisions of the Employment Security Law
(20 May 1949), the Emergency Unemployment Counter-Measures Law (20
May 1949) and the Unemployment Insurance Law (1 June 1949). The legisla-
tive process also produced a number of spin-off measures. In May 1949, the
Ministry created a Rehabilitation Section inside the Social Affairs Bureau to
administer its evolving programme for the handicapped and appointed Kuroki
Toshikatsu to head it. Kuroki had just returned from a five-month tour of the
United States, where he had studied American legislation for the disabled and
rehabilitation work. The same month, the Ministry created the National
Rehabilitation Centre for the Physically Disabled (31 May). In mid-1949, the
scope of the disability bill was narrowed to include only individuals with
physical impairments, but the Mental Health Law (1 May 1950) and the
Tuberculosis Prevention Law (31 March 1951) were later passed as extensions
 Notes to Pages 423-426 645

of the earlier draft of the disabilities statute. Kim (1995), pp. 84-6, 105
(Note 49).
40. Yoshida (1994), pp. 175-83.
41, HNMA, no. 20: Social Security, pp. 10-16.
42. The Social Insurance Working Group included Morito Tatsuo (Socialist parlia-
mentarian and future education minister), Shimizu Gen (former chief of the
Welfare Ministry’s Social Security Bureau) and liberal economist Okéchi Kazuo.
Murakami (1987), pp. 218-20.
43. See discussion in Takahashi (1997), p. 69.
44. Wandel held a PhD in economics from Columbia University. During the
war, he was chief of the Labour Department’s Unemployment Compensation
Division, and from 1947, he headed the Programme Division in the Labour
Department’s Bureau of Employment Security. From May 1947, he also served
as consultant to PH&W’s Social Security Division. On the Wandel Report,
refer to Shakai Hosh6 Kenkyajo-hen (ed.), Nihon shakai-hosho shiryo (Data on
Japan’s Social Security System), vol. 1, Shiseid6, 1975, pp. 23-97.
45. The new Council included Health and Welfare officials Katsumata Minoru and
Shimizu Gen, and Marxist economist Ouchi Hyoe of Tokyo University.
46. Sams (1998), pp. 171-2.
47. Cited by Zabelle Zakarian in her introduction to Sams, ibid., p. xv.
48, HNMA, no. 20: Social Security, pp. 17-19. On specialisation, refer to Sams,
ibid., pp. 127-8.
49. Sams and his staff displayed little understanding of Japanese midwifery and
bone-setting (Aone-tsugi) or Chinese acupressure (shiatsu), acupuncture (hari)
and moxa-cautery (yi), time-honoured alternative medical practices in Japan.
PH&W originally had intended to curtail or eliminate these ancient professions
altogether, but pressure from Japanese professional associations prevented it
from doing so. Instead, the Section introduced a highly restrictive licensing
system to discourage their practice. Acupressure, acupuncture and moxa-cautery
normally were taught to the visually disabled as a means of livelihood, and about
half of Japan’s roughly 76,000 traditional practitioners were blind. Curiously,
some Occupation officials took this as disqualifying factor. Sams, ibid., pp. 176-
7 and Obayashi Michiko, Josampu no sengo (Midwifery in the Postwar Era),
Keiso Shob6d, 1989, pp. 116-17. Most Americans were simply ignorant of
Chinese medicine. American POWs treated with acupuncture and moxa-
cautery later charged that they had been tortured. Sams had to explain to US
war crimes prosecutors that this was accepted medical practice in Asia (Sams,
1998, p. 130). Other shortcomings of the medical reforms are discussed briefly
in Sugiyama Akiko, Senryoki no iryd kaikaku (Medical Reforms During the
Occupation), Keisé Shobd, 1995, pp. 220-2.
50. Takemae (1986), pp. 244-5.
Ske HNMA, no. 19: Public Health, pp. 63-4.
52, In January 1952, the victims sued the government, and the case eventually was
646 Notes to Page 427

settled out of court. In October 1951, the Science Council of Japan’s Medical
Section urged the Welfare Ministry to discontinue compulsory BCG tubercu-
losis shots because of their potentially dangerous side effects. When Welfare
Minister Hashimoto Rytigo publicly considered a temporary suspension, Sams’s
replacement, Colonel Cecil S. Mollohan, intervened forcefully in defence of the
programme’s safety. As the controversy raged, mandatory vaccinations became
an issue in the Diet, but in January 1952, Hashimoto declared the risks were
minimal and announced that the programme would be continued, bringing the
affair to a close. Késeishé (1988), p. 592. See the discussion in Takemae (1986),
pp. 200-1, 378-9.
53 Takemae, ibid., pp. 293-4.
54. Former bio-war scientists returned to their universities carrying their data with
them, and several went on to brilliant careers in medical science. One became
president of the reformed Japan Medical Association, another vice president of
that body. Four became presidents of Kanazawa University, Nagoya Municipal
Medical College and Kyoto Medical College, and others deans of medical facul-
ties in prestigious universities. A few went to work in the private sector. See
Takasugi Shingo, 731 butai: saikinsen no ishi o oe (Unit 731: On the Trail of the
Bio-war Doctors), Tokuma Shoten, 1982, chapter 1 and Shibata Shingo,
*“Akuma no héshoku” no senso hanzai’ (War Crimes: The “Devil’s Gluttony),
in Shibata Shingo, ed., Senso to heiwa no ronri (The Logic of War and Peace),
Keisd Shobo, 1992, pp. 114-16.
aD: See Tsuneishi Keiichi, [gakusha-tachi no soshiki hanzai: Kantogun Dai 731
Butai (The Organised Crime of [Japan’s] Medical Scientists: The Kwantung
Army’s Unit 731), Asahi Shinbunsha, 1994, pp. 199-219 and 731 Butai: seib-
utsu heiki hanzai no shinjitsu (Unit 731: The Truth Behind the Crime of Bio-
logical Weapon’s Development), Kédansha, 1995, pp. 188-98. In the early
1990s, the Green Cross Corporation would be accused of knowingly importing
and selling American blood products tainted with the human immuno-
deficiency virus.
56. The 1987 interview was conducted by Shibata (1995), p. 116. On the 406
Medical General Laboratory, see Stephen Endicott and Edward Hagerman, The
United States and Biological Warfare: Secrets from the Early Cold War and Korea,
Indiana University Press, 1998, pp. 141-8.
57. PH&W also used the wartime findings of the Ishii group to conduct its own
medical trials on healthy subjects. In November 1946, Sams ordered the Welfare
Ministry and the Institute of Infectious Diseases to organise a typhus experi-
ment using inmates in Fucha Prison outside of Tokyo. That year, typhus had
stricken some 32,000 people, resulting in more than 3,300 deaths, and PH&eW
was desperate for new ways to combat the disease. The experiments, set up to
track the spead of typhus by lice and the disease’s transmutations, reportedly
were conducted by the Institute over a one- to two-year period on 12 volunteers
serving terms for non-capital offences. At Japanese insistence, informed consent
 Notes to Pages 428-430 647

was obtained, but the medical trials reportedly replicated those conducted by
Kitano Masaji on Chinese prisoners awaiting execution in wartime Manchuria,
some of which had involved vivisections. The PH&W tests were benign
compared to the murderous work of Ishii and Kitano, but they illustrate once
again the readiness with which American authorities turned for help to those
involved in Japan’s bio-war programme. Sams and his staff became, in effect, co-
conspirators after the fact in those wartime crimes. Takasugi (1982), chapter 3.
See also the summary in Takemae (1986), pp. 152-4.
58. On 6 September, following independent confirmation of the human toll from
Marcel Junod of the International Red Cross, Sams issued a Military Govern-
ment directive in MacArthur’s name ordering Tokyo to cooperate with the
Farrell Mission. The directive also authorised the release of 12 tons of medical
supplies for immediate distribution to the stricken areas by the IRC. Takemae
(1986), pp. 32-3.
59. Surveys were conducted during this period by the Atomic Energy Commission,
the Joint Commission on Atomic Effects, the US Public Health Service, the
Strategic Bomb Survey, Army Medical Corps Intelligence and Navy Medical
Corps Intelligence.
' 60. See Furukawa Atsushi, “Senryd to chohé: “Genbaku eiga” fuirumu to kiroku
eiga no yukue’ (The Occupation and Military Intelligence: The Fate of the
‘Atomic Bomb’ Footage and Documentary), in Senshi Hogaku Ronshi
(Occasional Papers, Law Faculty, Senshu University), nos 55 and 56, 1992,
pp. 527-45.
61. On the origins of the ABCC, see M. Susan Lindee, Suffering Made Real: Ameri-
can Science and the Survivors at Hiroshima, University of Chicago Press,
1994, pp. 23-37. Concerning PH&W’s role, see Zakarian’s notes in Sams
(1988), pp. 284-5.
62. Dr James Yamazaki, assigned to the ABCC in Nagasaki from 1949 to 1951 to
study radiation illness,-learned on leaving Japan that earlier US research on the
bomb’s aftereffects had been hidden from him. See Children of the Atomic
Bombs: An American Physician’s Memoir of Nagasaki, Hiroshima, and the
Marshall Islands, Duke University Press, 1995. See also Monica Braw, The
Atomic Bomb Suppressed, M. E. Sharpe, 1991, pp. 119-20, 130, 155-6; the
Committee for the Compilation of Materials on Damage Caused by the Atomic
Bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Hiroshima and Nagasaki: The Physical,
Medical, and Social Effects ofthe Atomic Bombings (below, given as Hiroshima and
Nagasaki), Basic Books, 1981, pp. 511-12; and Lindee, chapter 2.
63. Sasamoto Yukuo, Beigun senryoka no genbaku chosa: genbaku kagai-koku ni natta
Nihon (The US Military Atomic Bomb Survey during the Occupation: When
Japan Became an Atomic Aggressor), Shinkansha, 1995, chapter 4. Sasamoto’s
study provides a critical in-depth study of the ABCC’s work from a Japanese
perspective.
64. Ibid.
648 Notes to Pages 430-434

65. Eileen Welsome, The Plutonium Files, The Dial Press, 1999, p. 212. See also p.
365.
66. Sasamoto (1995), pp. 195, 207. Hiroshima and Nagasaki, p. 535.
67. Takemae (1986), pp. 308-10. For American thinking on this question, which
was openly debated inside the ABCC, see Lindee (1994), pp. 117-42.
68. Sasamoto (1995), pp. 7, 288.
69. Fujime Yuki, Sei no rekishi-gaku (The Historical Development of Gender in
Modern Japan), Fuji Shuppan, 1997, p. 357.
70. Ibid., p. 358. Helen M. Hopper, ‘Katé Shizue, Socialist Party MP, and Occupa-
tion Reforms Affecting Women, 1945-1948: A Case Study of the Formal vs.
Informal Political Influence of Japanese Women’, in Burkman, ed. (1982), pp.
388-91. See also Barbara Molony’s afterword in Baroness Shidzué Ishimoto,
Facing Two Ways: The Story of My Life, Stanford University Press, 1984 (Holt,
Rinehart and Winston, 1938), pp. xxvi-xxvii.
rie Sams (1998), pp. 183-7 and Hopper (1982), p. 391-2. See also Deborah
Oakley, “The Development of Population Policy in Japan, 1945-1952, and
American Participation’, PhD dissertation, University of Michigan, 1977, pp.
151-3, 261-2. In this context, in 1947 Sams rejected a request by the Institute
of Population Problems to survey children born to American fathers and Japa-
nese mothers. The problem, he said, was too grievous a sore to probe and would
raise uncomfortable questions about the 30,000 children Imperial troops were
said to have left behind in Indonesia and the thousands more Japanese soldiers
had fathered in China. Sams believed that such children would fare better if
their American parentage were downplayed and they were assimilated quietly
into Japanese society. GHQ imposed a blanket ban on public discussion of
konketsuji, literally ‘mixed-blood children’ but with the nuance of ‘half-caste’.
The fate of these orphans was consigned to silence until censorship controls
were lifted in 1949. In June 1948, a US journalist for The Saturday Evening Post
was expelled from Japan for violating that taboo with an exposé on Japan’s
‘Occupation babies’. In August 1952, the Welfare Ministry’s Children’s Bureau
finally conducted a survey, finding a total of 5,013 inter-racial children in
Japan, of whom 84 per cent were part-Caucasian, 14 per cent part-African and 2
per cent of unknown ancestry. See Wildes (1954), p. 333 and Yukiko Koshiro,
Trans-Pacific Racisms and the U.S. Occupation of Japan, East Asian Institute,
Columbia University, 1999, pp. 162-4.
V2 See Zachery Gussow, Leprosy, Racism, and Public Health: Social Policy in Chronic
Disease Control, Westview Press, 1989, pp. 85-7.
13. On the origins of the pre-1945 system, see generally Fujino Yutaka, Nihon
fashizumu to iryo (Japanese Fascism and the Medical Establisment), Iwanami
Shoten, 1993. On postwar developments, consult Otani Fujiré, Rai yobaho
haishi no rekishi (A History of the Movement to Abolish the Leprosy Prevention
Law), Keis6 Shob6, 1996, pp. 42-77.
74, Hirasawa Yasui, Jinsei ni zetsubd wa nai: Hansen-by6 100-nen no tatakai (There is
 Notes to Pages 434-437 649

Always Hope for One’s Life: The 100-Year Struggle of Japan’s Leprosy Suf-
ferers), Kamogawa Shuppan, 1997, chapter 3. The lives of individual patients
are recounted in Miyashita Tadako, Kakuri no sato (Segregated Villages), Otsuki
Shoten, 1998,
Tipe A final twist to this puzzle was added in December 1951 by the arrival of
two US Public Health Service officials on loan to Harvard’s Leonard Wood
Memorial Foundation, the only group in the United States then studying new
chemotherapies for leprosy. From April 1952, the scientists conducted experi-
ments on 342 patients involving the administration of untested drugs, biopsies
and extensive photographing. Késeishd (1988), p. 708. Gussow (1989),
pp. 167-8. On the leprosy experiment, see Medical Section (Public Health
and Welfare Division), Public Health and Welfare in Japan: Final Summary,
1951-52, GHQ/SCAP, Tokyo, 1952, pp. 77-9.
76. On the position of the Japan Communist Party, see Ian Neary, “Burakumin in
Contemporary Japan’, in Michael Weiner, ed., Japan’s Minorities: The Illusion of
Homogeneity, Routledge, 1997, p. 60. An overview of research on minorities
during the Occupation is Takemae Eiji, ‘ Senry6 to mainoritei: kenkyi no doké
to kadai’ (Minorities under the Occupation: Research Trends and Topics), in
Buraku Kaihé Kenkyit, no. 75, 1990, pp. 41-52.
Ti. Takemae (1990), p. 42-4. The OSS reports on ‘Eta’ are reproduced in Buraku
Kaihd Kenkyijo-hen (ed.), Senrydki no Buraku mondai (Documents on the
Buraku Problem During the Occupation of Japan), Kaihd Shuppansha, 1991,
pp. 260-87.
78. Takayanagi Kenzo, Otomo Ichird and Tanaka Hideo, eds, Nihonkoku kenpo
seitei no katei (The Making of the Constitution of Japan), vol. 1, Yahikaku,
1972, pp. 430-2.
oo. Koreans and Formosans registered in Japanese koseki in the main islands
through adoption, marriage or other devices were eligible to vote in national
and local elections. Some 200 Korean candidates stood in elections between
1929 and 1943, one winning a seat in the Lower House. On the colonial
registration system, see Oguma Eiji, ‘Nihonjin’no kyékai: Okinawa, Ainu, Tai-
wan, Chosen — shokuminchi kara fukki undo made (The Boundaries of the
‘Japanese’: Okinawa, the Ainu, Formosa, Korea — From Colonies to the Rever-
sion Movement), Shinydsha, 1998, chapters 6 and 17. On pre-1945 electoral
rights, see the brief summary in Kashiwazaki Chikako, “The Politics of Legal
Status: The Equation of Nationality with Ethnonational Identity’, in Sonia
Ryang, ed., Koreans in Japan: Critical Voices from the Margin, Routledge, 2000,
p. 18.
80. Mizuno Naoki, ‘Zainichi Chdésenjin-Taiwanjin sansei-ken “teishi” j6k6 no
seiitsu’ (The Origin of the Clause Suspending the Electoral Rights of Koreans
and Formosans in Japan), in Sekai Jinken-mondai Kenkyit Senta kenkyi kiyo
(Annals of the Centre for the Study of World Human Rights Issues), no. 1 (15
March), 1996, pp. 43-65 and no. 2, pp. 59-82.
650 Notes to Pages 437-441

81. Furukawa Atsushi, ‘Gaikokujin no jinken (1): Sengo kenpd kaikaku to no kan-
ren ni oite’ (The Human Rights of Foreign Residents (1): In the Context of
Postwar Constitutional Reform), in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no.
146, 1986, pp. 63-80. See also Koseki Shdichi, ‘Japanizing the Constitution’, in
The Japan Quarterly, vol. 35, no. 3, 1988, pp. 234-40.
82. Watanabe Toshio’s interview with Kades, Buraku mondai to Nihon senryd monjo
kenkyii nyiisu (News Bulletin on the Buraku Problem and Research on Occupa-
tion Documents), no. 14, 1989, pp. 7-8.
83. Watanabe Toshio, ‘Senry6-ki no Buraku mondai’ (The Buraku Problem During
the Occupation) in Buraku Kaihé-shi: Fukuoka (The History of Buraku
Liberation: Fukuoka), no, 58, June 1990, pp. 31-4.
84. Takemae Eiji, “The Kades Memoir on the Occupation of Japan’, in The Journal
of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 148, November 1986, pp. 276-7 and Watanabe
(1989), p. 7. On the FEC Note, see George H. Blakeslee, The Far Eastern
Commission: A Study in International Cooperation 1945-1952, US Department
of State (US Government Printing Office), 1953, p. 65.
85. See generally Takakura Sei’ichiré, “The Ainu of Northern Japan: A Study in
Conquest and Acculturation’, in The Transactions of the Philosophical Society of
Philadelphia, vol. 50, no. 4, 1960. See also Richard Siddle, Race, Resistance and
the Ainu ofJapan, Routledge, 2000, chapter 3.
86, Concerning the 1947 meeting in Sapporo, see Yoshihisa Masuko, ‘Maboroshi
no Ainu dokuritsu-ron o ou: chérd ni shikin o okutta GHQ no shin’? (In
Search of the Mysterious Ainu Independence Proposal: GHQ’s Real Intention
in Sending Money to Ainu Elders), in Asahi Janaru, 3 March 1989, pp, 87-90.
For the petition, see ‘Airgram from the American Consulate in Shanghai to
the Department of State, A-683, 29 July 1948’ (RG 54, 849,4016/7-2948,
National Archives Records Administration, Washington DC), Gifts to
MacArthur, are discussed in Sodei Rinjird, Haikei Makkasa Gensui-sama: —
senryoka no Nihonjin no tegami (Dear General MacArthur: Japanese Letters [to
MacArthur] During the Occupation), Chad Kéronsha, 1991, chapters 7 and 8,
The Ainu example is cited and translated by John Dower in Embracing Defeat:
Japan in the Wake of World War II, W. XW. Norton and the New Press, 1999,
p. 231. The Passin quotation is from Herbert Passin, Encounter With Japan,
Kodansha International, 1982, p. 163.
87. Siddle (2000), pp. 148-51. Biratori-ché (ed.), Hidaka chihd ni okeru Ainu-kei
jiumin no seikatsu-jitai to sono mondai-ten (Living Conditions and Problems of
Ainu Residents in the Hidaka Region), 1965, p. 33.
88. Okinawa Kenritsu Toshokan Shiry6 Henshishitsu-hen (ed.), Okinawa-ken shi:
shiryo-hen (History of Okinawa Prefecture: Documents), Okinawa-ken Kydiku
Pinkai, no. 2 (English), 1996, pp. 24-9 and discussion in Oguma (1998),
pp. 462-6.
89. Arasaki Moriteru, Dokyumento: Okinawa tosd (Documents on Okinawa’s
Struggle), Aki Shobd, 1969, chapters 1 and 2 and Arnold G, Fisch Jr, Military

O
 Notes to Pages 441-446 651

Government in the Ryukyu Islands, 1945-1950, US Army Center for Military

History, US Government Printing Office, 1988, pp. 169-70.
90. Fisch, ibid., pp. 77-9, 155-6.
Se Ibid., pp. 82-7. The Life Magazine article of 19 December 1949 is cited by
Fisch, p. 82.
D2: Sodei Rinjiré, Rimemba Showa! Dojidai-shi no oboegaki (Remember Showa! A
Memorandum on the History of Our Age), Marunouchi Shuppan, 1999, pp.
88-9.
93. In January 1946, popular elections were held for district governors and coun-
cillors based on universal suffrage. In April of that year, the Okinawan
Advisory Council appointed a governor for the Okinawa Group, and a Central
Okinawan Administration (later, the Okinawan Civilian Administration) was
set up.
94, Fisch (1998), pp. 103-16.
ee Koji Taira, “Troubled National Identity: The Ryukyuans/Okinawans’, in
Michael Weiner, ed., Japan's Minorities: The Illusion ofHomogeneity, Routledge,
1997, pp. 160-1.
96. GHQ/SCAP and FECOM, Selected Data on the Occupation ofJapan, Tokyo,
1950, p. 199 and Reports ofMacArthur, p. 86. US Department of State, Foreign
Relations ofthe United States (below, given as FRUS), US Government Printing
Office, vol. 6, 1947, p. 512.
97. Shind6 Evichi, an Occupation scholar at Tsukuba University, discovered the
Sebald Memorandum in the US National Archives in 1979, Opposition parties
raised the issue in the Diet, producing shock and dismay in Okinawa and, in
Tokyo, a storm of controversy. See Shindé Evichi, ‘Bunkatsu sareta ryddo’
(Japan’s National Territory Divided) in Sekai, April 1979, pp. 31-51. A com-
prehensive treatment of this issue is Robert D. Eldridge, The Origins of the
Bilateral Okinawa Problem: Okinawa in Postwar U.S.—Japan Relations, 1945-
1952, Garland Publishing (New York), 2001, chapter 6.
98. Policy Planning Staff/10/1, cited by Ota Masahide, ‘War Memories Die Hard
in Okinawa’ in The Japan Quarterly, vol. 35, no. 1, 1988, p. 12.
99; See the discussion in Ota, ibid., pp. 12-13 and Irokawa Daikichi, The Age of
Hirohito: In Search ofModern Japan, The Free Press, 1995, pp. 99-101, 106.
100. Refer to Emiko Ohnuki-Tierney, ‘A Conceptual Model for the Historical
Relationship Between the Self and the Internal and External Others’, in Dru C,
Gladney, ed., Making Majorities: Constituting the Nation in Japan, Korea,
China, Malaysia, Fiji, Turkey, and the United States, Stanford University Press,
1998, pp. 31-51 and Ian Neary (1997), p. 53.
101. See Buraku Kaihé Kenkyiijo-hen (ed.), 1991 and Akatsuka Yasuo, Buraku
Kaiho Kenkyit, no. 60, 1988. On the GS memos, refer to Watanabe Toshio,
“Tokushai: Senry6-ki no Buraku mondai’ (Special Feature; The Buraku Problem
Under the Occupation), in Buraku Kaiho Kenkyii, no. 69, 1989, pp. 5-6, 7-10.
See also his interview with Kurt Steiner in ‘Senry6é-ki no jinken hoshé to
652 Notes to Pages 447-450

Buraku mondai’ (Human Rights Guarantees Under the Occupation and the
Buraku Problem), in Buraku Kaihé Kenkyu, no. 73, 1990-a. In 1950, Carmen
Johnson, an education officer in Shikoku, asked a Japanese scholar on her Civil
Affairs staff to write a study of this problem, “The Present Situation of Eta (or
Etta) in Shikoku’, but by her own admission, she did not fully understand it.
See Wave-Rings in the Water: My Years with the Women of Postwar Japan, Charles
River Press, 1996, pp. 158-60.
102. Watanabe Toshio, ‘Senry6-ki no Buraku mondai’, in Buraku Kaiho-shi: Fuku-
oka, no. 58, 1990-b, pp. 41, 47. Passin’s reports are found in Buraku Kaiho
Kenkyijo-hen (ed.), 1991, pp. 388-409.
103. See Watanabe’s interview with Kades in Watanabe (1989), p. 9 and, generally,
Watanabe Toshio, Gendai-shi no naka no Buraku mondai (The Buraku Problem
in Contemporary History), Kaiho Shuppansha, 1988. See also Watanabe
(1990-b), pp. 41-2.
104. George De Vos and Wagatsuma Hiroshi, Japan’s Invisible Race: Caste in Culture
and Personality, University of California Press, 1966, pp. 73-4.
105. Population figures for Koreans are from William J. Gane, Repatriation, From 25
September 1945 to 31 December 1945, Headquarters, US Army Military Gov-
ernment in Korea (Foreign Affairs Section), Seoul, 1946, p. 14. Figures from
Foreign Ministry archives in Tokyo released in December 2000 show a total of
2.18 million Koreans in Japan as of October 1945. See also Research and
Analysis Branch, Office of Strategic Services, Civil Affairs Guide: Aliens in
Japan, June 1945, pp. v—vi. Miyazaki Akira, ‘Senry6 shoki ni okeru Beikoku no
Zainichi Chésenjin seisaku: Nihon seifu no taid to tomo ni’ (The US Army’s
Korean Policy During the Occupation and the Japanese Government's
Response), in Shisé, no. 734, August 1985, pp. 122-39.
106. Government Section, SCAP, ed., The Political Reorientation ofJapan, September
1945 to September 1948 (below, given as PR/), US Government Printing Office, ~
1949, vol. 2, p. 432.
107. The quotation is from HNMA, no. 6: Treatment of Foreign Nationals, p. 103.
On the view of Koreans as refugees, see Kim T’ae-gi, Sengo Nihon seiji to
Zainichi Chosenjin mondai (Postwar Japanese Politics and the Problem of
Koreans in Japan), Keiso Shobé, 1997, pp. 54-73.
108. The origins of the prewar Korean community in Japan are discussed by
Michael Weiner, Race and Migration in Imperial Japan, Routledge, 1994. On
repatriation, see Gane (1946), Edward Wagner, The Korean Minority in Japan,
1904-1950, Institute of Pacific Relations, 1951, chapter 4 and Kim (1997),
chapter 2.
109. HNMA, no. 6: Treatment of Foreign Nationals, p. 132.
110. Alfred C. Oppler, Legal Reform in Occupied Japan: A Participant Looks Back,
Princeton University Press, 1976, p. 167.
PE The ARO had been preceded by a ‘Korean registration’ statute enacted locally
by the Osaka Municipal government in November 1946 with the consent of
 Notes to Pages 451-453 653

the Osaka Regional Military Government Team. The Osaka Korean Registra-
tion Ordinance required Koreans to give their fingerprints and carry an identi-
fication card, but fierce resistance made the fingerprinting requirement
unenforceable, and the registration itself could only be partially completed. See
Yang Ydng-hu, ‘Osaka-fu Chésenjin téroku jorei seitei: 1946 no tenmatsu ni
tsuite’ (The Establishment of Municipal Osaka’s Korean Registration Ordin-
ance: Concerning the Events of 1946), in Zainichi Chosenjin-shi Kenkyi, no.
16, 1986, pp. 104-26.
Hi. On the Kyowakai, see Wagner (1951), pp. 37-8 and Weiner (1994), chapter 5.
The definitive study of the ARO is Onuma Yasuaki, Tan itsu minzoku shakai o
koete: Zainichi Kankoku-Chosenjin to shitsunyukoku kanri-taisei (Beyond the
Myth of the Mono-ethnic Society: Koreans in Japan and the Immigration
Control System), Toshind6d, 1992, chapter 3. The SCAP report referred to is
HNMA, no. 6: Treatment of Foreign Nationals, p. 109. The G-2 assessment of
the ARO is from Civil Intelligence Section, GHQ/FEC/SCAP, Operations of
the Civil Intelligence Section, GHQ, FEC & SCAP, vol. IX, Intelligence Series
(1), 1949, p. 119 (RG 319, Military History Section, Box 138, Washington
National Records Centre, Archives II, College Park, Maryland).
13: The statistics on black-marketeering are supplied by former Osaka Metro-
politan Police Chief Suzuki Eiji, Sokan rakudai-ki (My Failures as Superinten-
dent of Police), Masu Shobé, 1952, p. 16. A brief description of the Shibuya
riot is found in Kédansha, eds, Showa: niman nichi no zenkiroku (The Showa
Era: A 20,000-Day Chronicle), vol. 7, Kédansha, 1989, pp. 283-4. A det-
ailed American account is included in POLAD documents, RG 84, boxes 7
and 17, Washington National Records Center, Archives II, College Park,
Maryland.
114. POLAD, ibid. HNMA, no. 6: Treatment of Foreign Nationals, pp. 75-80.
UP Wagner (1951), pp. 65-6. In fact, the US Army Military Government in Korea’s
Office of Foreign Affairs attempted to intercede on behalf of Japan’s Korean
minority and frequently found itself in conflict with SCAP on this issue. In
1946, the Office established permanent liaison teams in Tokyo, Osaka and
other cities in an effort to represent Korean interests in Japan. General John
Hodge, US commander in southern Korea, personally protested SCAP’s deci-
sion to treat Koreans as Japanese nationals, warning of ‘violent repercussions’ in
Japan and Korea. MacArthur’s staff generally ignored such pleas. See Cheong
Sun-hwa, The Politics ofAnti-Japanese Sentiment in Korea, Greenwood Press,
1991, chapter 5.
116. HINMA, no. 6: Treatment of Foreign Nationals, p. 26.
bY7. David Conde, “The Korean Minority in Japan’, in The Far Eastern Survey, 26
February 1947, pp. 43-5. Wagner (1951), p. 61.
118. Kim Ch’6n-hae is cited in Pak Kyéng-shik, Kaihégo Zainichi Chosenjin undo-
shi (The Postwar Movement of Koreans in Japan After Liberation), San’ichi
Shob6, 1989, p. 56.
654 Notes to Pages 453-459

119. See Kobayashi Tomoko, ‘8-15 chokugo ni okeru Zainichi Chésenjin to shin
Chésen kensetsu no kadai: Zainichi Chésenjin Renmei no katsud6 o chushin
ni’ (Koreans in Japan Immediately After 15 August 1945 and the Task of
Building a New Korea: The Activities of the League of Korean Residents in
Japan), in Zainichi Chosenjin-shi Kenkyu, no. 21, 1991.
120. Ozawa Yiisaku, Zainichi Chosenjin kyoiku-ron: rekishi-hen (Education and
Koreans in Japan: Historical Background), Aki Shobd, 1973, pp. 186-99,
197-9, and Pak (1989), chapters 1 and 3.
12a In a review of Korean-language texts, an American historian found no ‘appeals
to anti-Americanism or calls for violent revolution’. The school books, he
noted, examined both Soviet and American social and political institutions,
and some included Biblical materials, as well. W. Donald Smith, ‘Democracy
Denied: The American Repression of Korean Education in Occupied Japan’,
unpublished essay (Graduate School of History, University of Washington),
July 1993, pp. 14, 16-22. The statistics are from Uzawa (1973), p. 195.
N22: On Occupation attitudes towards Koreans, see Robert Ricketts, “Zainichi
Chésenjin no minzoku jishuken no hakai-katei: 1948-1949 o chishin ni’
(Koreans in Occupied Japan: The Destruction of Korean Cultural Autonomy,
1948-9), in Seikyi gakujutsu ronshi, no. 10, Kankoku Bunka Kenkya Shinko
Zaidan, 1995, pp. 219, 228-30. The scholar is Mihashi Osamu, ‘Joron: Senry6
ni okeru tai-Zainichi Chésenjin kanri-seisaku keisei-katei no kenkya (1)
(Introduction: An Analysis of the Establishment of Control Policies for Kore-
ans in Occupied Japan), in Seikya gakujutsu ronshi, no. 10, Kankoku Bunka
Kenkya Shink6 Zaidan, 1995, p. 202.

Chapter 10 Changing Course

ike On the national security state, see Robert J. Goldstein, Political Repression in
Modern America: From 1870 to the Present, Schenkman Publishing Company,
1978, chapter 9. American globalism is discussed in Joyce and Gabriel Kolko,
The Limits of Power: The World and United States Foreign Policy, 1945-1954,
Harper & Row, 1972, chapter 4.
. John Dower has characterised American strategy towards Japan between 1947
and 1949 asthe era of soft Cold War policy: Japan in War and Peace: Selected
Essays, The New Press, 1993, chapter 5. On Kennan and US strategy, refer to
Bruce Cumings, The Origins of the Korean War. Vol. Il: The Roaring of the
Cataract, Princeton University Press, 1990, chapter 2.
. Royall’s speech is reproduced in Jon Livingston, Joe B. Moore and Felicia
Oldfather, eds, Postwar Japan: 1945 to the Present, Pantheon Books, 1973,
pp. 116-19.
. Cumings (1990), p. 56.
. George E Kennan, Memoirs, 1925-1950, Atlantic Monthly (Little, Brown),
1967, pp. 388-9. Howard B. Schonberger, Aftermath of War: Americans and
the Remaking ofJapan, 1945-1952, Kent State University Press, 1989, 143-55.
 Notes to Pages 460-462 655

. Michael Schaller, The American Occupation ofJapan: The Origins ofthe Cold War
in Asia, Oxford University Press, 1985, p. 120.
. Ibid., pp. 114, 127.
. See Arisawa Hiromi, ed., Showa keizai-shi (A History of the Japanese Economy
in the Showa Era), Nihon Keizai Shinbunsha, 1976, pp. 265-8.
. Watanabe Takeshi, Senryoka no Nihon zaiset-oboegaki (A Memoir of Japanese
Financial Policy Under the Occupation), Nihon Keizai Shinbunsha, 1966. See
especially “Watanabe Nikki’ (The Watanabe Diary) of 31 May 1946, excerpted
in Okurashé Zaisei-shi Shitsu-hen (Ministry of Finance, Financial History
Office), ed. Showa zaisei-shi: shiusen kara Kowa made (The Financial History of
the Showa Era: From the War’s End to the Peace Treaty), vol. 11, Toky6 Keizai
Shinpdsha, 1983, pp. 251-2.
. John W. Dower, Empire and Aftermath: Yoshida Shigeru and the Japanese Experi-
ence, 1878-1954, Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University, 1979,
p. 298.
. A final footnote would be written to SCAP’s attempt to decentralise and
democratise the economy with the Shoup Mission of May 1949. Dr Carl S.
Shoup, a tax specialist from Columbia University, brought a team of financial
experts to Japan to study the tax system and make recommendations. The
mission’s findings were presented in the Shoup Report, released in August
1949, which proposed a more equitable system of assessment, with greater
government reliance on direct levies such as personal and corporate taxes for its
revenues, and greater fiscal autonomy for municipalities. The need for the
latter was acute, for by 1949, as a result of increasing expenditures and declin-
ing subsidies from Tokyo, the finances of local self-governing bodies were in a
precarious state. To remedy this problem, Shoup suggested that independent
local tax sources be increased and income-tax revenues shared with the central
government (the so-called equalisation, or shared, tax). Shoup also recommen-
ded the creation of a strong Local Finance Commission to end the system of
central government patronage and defend local prerogatives. In 1950, the Diet
passed most of Shoup’s recommendations, but the Yoshida government repealed
or ignored the bulk of them. Yoshida effectively sabotaged the Local Finance
Commission, which was absorbed into the Autonomy Agency in 1952 without
ever fulfilling its intended function. Conservatives manipulated local fiscal
reform to increase the reliance of municipal and prefectural authorities on cen-
tral funding, and since the end of the Occupation, the central government has
encroached steadily on local autonomy. See generally Tsuji Kiyoaki, Nihon no
chiho-jichi (Local Autonomy in Japan), Iwanami Shoten, 1976. In English, see
Shiomi Saburé, Japan’s Finance and Taxation, Columbia University Press, 1957,
pp. 82-92.
a2. Letter to the Secretary of the Army, 14 August 1948 (RG319, Plans and
Operations Division, Department of the Army, 1946-8, box 86, National
Archives Records Administration, Washington DC).
656 Notes to Pages 462-466

13. Pink to Foreign Office, 26 August 1948 (FO 371/69823, Public Records Office,
London). Cited in Schaller (1985), p. 134.
14. On the education controversy in general, see Kim Kyéng-hae, ed., Zainichi
Chosenjin minzoku-kyoiku yogo tosd shiryoshit (Documents on the Struggle to
Defend Korean Ethnic Education in Japan), vol. 1, Akashi Shoten, 1988 and
Kim T’ae-gi, Sengo Nihon seiji to Zainichi Chosenjin mondai (Postwar Japanese
Politics and the Problem of Koreans in Japan), Keisd Shobd, 1997, chapter 4.
15. On the League’s arguments, see Educational Counter-Plan, Committee ofKoreans
Residing in Japan, Educational Real Situation ofKorean Residents in Japan — In the
Past and at Present, 15 April 1948 (RG 331, Government Section Files, Japan
National Diet Library Collection). Representative of American assumptions are
those expressed in early 1948 by an education officer with the Yamanashi Mili-
tary Government Team, who explained to local Koreans that: “The teaching of
the Japanese language was considered essential if they and their families elected
to remain permanent residents of Japan.’ America, he said, ‘was a country of
many races, but all children . . . learned English and American history’. Jacob
Van Staaveren, An American in Japan, 1945-1948: A Civilian View of the
Occupation, University of Washington Press, 1994, p. 183.
16. A detailed and compelling analysis of the limited emergency declared in Kobe
under the “Tollbooth’ alert plan is Ara Takashi, Nihon senryo-shi kenkyi josetsu
(An Introduction to Research on the History of the Occupation of Japan),
Kashiwa Shobo, 1994, pp. 67-100. On police methods, see Osaka-fu Keisatsu-
shi Henshi T’inkai-hen (ed.), Osaka-fu keisatsu-shi (A History of the Osaka
Prefectural Police), vol. 3, Osaka-fu Keisatsu Honbu, 1973, pp. 234-49. A
discussion in English is Inokuchi Hiromitsu, ‘Korean Ethnic Schools in Occu-
pied Japan, 1945-52’, in Sonia Ryang, ed., Koreans in Japan: Critical Voices from
the Margin, Routledge, 2000, pp. 140-53.
17. The Osaka Public Safety Ordinance was modelled on emergency public safety —
decrees promulgated by Fukui City and Fukui Prefecture in June 1948 at the
prompting of the regional Military Government Team to prevent looting and
other public disorders in the wake of the Ishikawa—Fukui earthquake. See Ozaki
Isamu, Koan jorei seitei hishi (The Secret History of the Passage of the Public
Safety Ordinances), Takushoku Shobé, 1978, chapters 3-4, 10-11.
18. These are the forces Eighth Army mobilised according to a G-2 Spot Intelli-
gence report of 19 August. See Kyoko Hirano, Mr. Smith Goes to Tokyo: Japanese
Cinema Under the American Occupation, 1945-1952, Smithsonian Institution
Press, 1992, pp. 225-9 and Note 59 on p. 311. Observers at the scene reported
a scout plane, four armoured reconnaissance cars and four Sherman. tanks.
Robert B. Textor, Failure in Japan: With Keystones foraPositive Policy, Greenwood
Press (The John Day Co., 1951), 1972, p. 136.
19. Joe B. Moore, ‘Purging Toho Cinema of the “Two Reds”: A Case Study of the
Reverse Course in the Japanese Labour Movement, 1947-1948’, in Canadian —
Journal ofHistory, vol. 26, December 1991, p. 456.
 Notes to Pages 467-473 657

20. See Moore, ibid., pp. 469, 471-2 and his ‘Nikkeiren and Restoration of the
Right to Manage in Postwar Japan’, in Labour & Industry, vol. 3, nos 2 & 3,
1990,
pp. 281-301.
. ‘Memorandum of Conference: Tého Movie Studio Dispute’, 20 August 1948
(Chronological Files, May 48—December 48, RG 331, box no. 8477, Washington
National Records Center, Archives II, College Park, Maryland). Cited in Chris
Gerteis, ‘Seeing Red: US Labor Policy and the Struggle for the Shopfloor at the
Toho Motion Picture Studios, 1948’, MA dissertation, University of Iowa, 1995.
. Just before Kades left Japan, he and Whitney would clash with Yoshida again
over the latter’s attempt to dissolve the House of Representatives without first
obtaining a vote of no confidence. The Constitution, Kades said, gave the Diet
alone the power to take such action. He was convinced that Yoshida’s violation
of Diet procedures, ‘if not his arrogance’, had eroded the principle of Diet
supremacy. See Takemae Eiji, ‘Possible Addendum to “Kades Memoir”’, in
The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 150, March 1987, p. 222, Sodei
Rinjiré, Makkasa no nisen-nichi (MacArthur's 2000 Days), Chad Kéronsha,
1989, pp. 257-63 and Justin Williams Sr, Japan’s Political Revolution Under
MacArthur: A Participant’s Account, University of Tokyo Press, 1979, pp. 50-1.
. National Security Council, A Report to the President by the National Security
Council, 7 October 1948 (RG 319 POLAD Top Secret File, Washington
National Records Center, Archives II, College Park, Maryland).
. See George H. Blakeslee, The Far Eastern Commission: A Study in International
Cooperation — 1945-1952, US Department of State (US Government Printing
Office), 1953, pp. 163-6.
. Richard B. Finn, Winners in Peace: MacArthur, Yoshida and Postwar Japan,
University of California Press, 1992, p. 221.
. Theodore Cohen, Remaking Japan: The American Occupation as New Deal, The
Free Press, 1987, p. 441.
. Takemae Eiji, ‘GHQ Labour Policy During the Period of Democratization,
1946-1948: The Second Interview With Mr. Theodore Cohen’, in The Journal
of the Tokyo Keizai University, no. 122, 1981, p. 137.
. See Cohen (1987), pp. 444-6. John Price, “Valery Burati and the Formation of
Sohyé During the US Occupation of Japan’, in Pacific Affairs, vol. 64, no. 2,
1991,
pp. 209-10.
. Joe B. Moore, “The Toshiba Dispute of 1949: The “Rationalization” of Labor
Relations’, in Labour, Capital and Society, vol. 23, no. 1, 1990, p. 149.
. See Takemae Eiji, Sengo rodo-kaikaku: GHQ rodo seisaku-shi (The Postwar
Labour Reforms: A History of GHQ’s Labour Reform Policy), Toky6 Daigaku
Shuppankai, 1982, pp. 251-98.
. Takemae, ibid. and Cohen (1987), p. 449. The historian is Sheldon Garon, The
State and Labor in Modern Japan, University of California Press, 1987, p. 237.
. Herbert P. Bix, ‘Japan: The Roots of Militarism’, in Mark Selden, ed., Remaking
Asia: Essays on the American Uses ofPower, Pantheon Books, 1974, pp. 320-1.
658 Notes to Pages 473-479

3h The word originally applied to the depurging of ultra-nationalists in June 1951

but was enlarged to include the revival of militaristic themes in popular culture
and the reassertion of traditional values and customs that occurred as independ-
ence drew near. The expression quickly acquired a broader dual meaning, refer-
ring to both the resetting of US policy goals for Japan after 1948 and the
accompanying reactionary swing to the right of domestic politics that ushered in
the second Yoshida Cabinet (October) and the era of domestic repression. In the
late 1960s, younger American scholars borrowed the phrase to express their own
misgivings about the evolution of US policy in Asia. See Takano Kazumoto,
‘Nihon senry6 kenkyai ni okeru “gyaku-kdsu”’ (The Concept of ‘Reverse
Course’ in Studies on the Occupation of Japan), in Chad Daigaku Daigakuin
kenkyit nenpo (Annals of the Graduate School, Chi University), no. 15, March
1986, pp. 105-16.
34. Dower (1992), pp. 179-80.
35. Blakeslee (1953), pp. 167-8.
36. The US policy reversal on reparations also removed restrictions on the Japanese
shipbuilding industry, which, over the vehement protests of Ausralia, Britain
and New Zealand, was allowed to resume production. The industry became one
of the engines driving Japan’s economic recovery, and by 1960, its merchant
tonnage had recovered to the 1941 level. See Miwa Rydichi, ‘Senrydki no Nihon
zosen kisei no jittai’ (The State of Restrictions on Shipbuilding During the
Occupation), in Aoyama Keizai Ronshi, nos 1-3, vol. 51, 1999, pp. 133-63.On
US military pronouncements, see E. J. Lewe Van Aduard, Japan: From Surrender
to Peace, Praeger, 1954, p. 109. Concerning US plans for Southeast Asia, refer to
William S. Borden, The Pacific Alliance: United States Foreign Economic Policy
and Japanese Trade Recovery, 1947-1955, University of Wisconsin Press, 1984,
pp- 43-50 and chapter 3.
BN Letter of 12 May 1950 to Robert B. Textor, reproduced in Failure in Japan: With
Keystones for a Positive Policy, Greenwood Press, 1972 (John Day, 1951), p. 124.
38. Goldstein (1978), p. 323.
By: The MacArthur quotations are from GHQ/SCAP and Far East Command,
Selected Data on the Occupation ofJapan, Tokyo, 1950, p. 11 and Robert A.
Fearey, The Occupation ofJapan, Second Phase: 1948-1950, Macmillan, 1950,
p. 206. The text of the Cominform critique is reproduced in Tsuji Kiyoaki,
ed., Shiryo: sengo nijyunen-shi (A Documentary History of the Two Postwar
Decades), vol. 1 (Politics), Nihon Hyéronsha, 1966, pp. 407-8.
40. Watanabe Toshio, ‘Senryd-ki no Buraku mondai’ (The Buraku Problem During
the Occupation) in Buraku Kaiho-shi: Fukuoka (The History of Buraku Libera-
tion: Fukuoka), no. 58, June 1990, pp. 43-5. An important recent study is that
by Masuda Hiroshi, Seijika tsuihd (The Purge of the Politicians), Chad Koron ~ |
Shinsha, 2001, pp. 240-77. See also George De Vos and Wagatsuma Hiroshi,
Japan’s Invisible Race: Caste in Culture and Personality, University of California
Press, 1966, pp. 70-2.
 Notes to Pages 479-485 659

. Tsuji (1966), pp. 66-7.

. Gendai Hései Shiry6 Hensankai-hen (ed.), Sengo senryo-ka horitsu-shi (Com-
pendium of Laws Enacted Under the Postwar Occupation), Kokushokan
Gyokai, 1986, pp. 83-6.
. On the SIB, see Yoshikawa Mitsusada’s report, ‘Homushd Tokubetsu Shinsa
Kyoku’, reproduced in Takemae (1982), pp. 421-38. See also Jack Napier,
“Counter-Measures Against the Subversive Potential in Japan, 1946 to 1951
Inclusive’, no date (RG 331, box 8497, Washington National Records Center,
Archives II, College Park, Maryland).
. On the Yokosuka incident, see Takemae Eiji, Senryd sengo-shi (A History of the
Occupation and Postwar Era), Iwanami Shoten, 1992, pp. 172-98. The follow-
ing discussion is based on Takemae (1982), pp. 340-60 and Takemae (1992),
pp. 201-32.
. Hollingshead is quoted in Richard J. Smethurst, “The Origins of the Japanese
Teachers’ Union’, in Richard K. Beardsley, ed., Studies in Japanese History and
Politics, University of Michigan Center for Japanese Studies, Occasional Papers,
no. 10, 1967, p. 142. The Dupell quotation is from Toshio Nishi, Unconditional
Democracy: Education and Politics in Occupied Japan, 1945-1952, Hoover Insti-
tution Press (Stanford University), 1982, p. 257..The Trainor citation is from
Joseph C. Trainor, Educational Reform in Occupied Japan: Trainor’s Memoir,
Meisei University Press, 1983, p. 329.
. Walter C. Eells, Communism in Education in Asia, Africa and the Far Pacific,
American Council on Education, 1954, p. 12. Eells’s speech is reproduced in
Edward R. Beauchamp and James M. Vardaman Jr, eds, Japanese Education Since
1945: ADocumentary Study, M. E. Sharpe, 1994, pp. 118-22.
. Kim T’ae-gi, Sengo Nihon seiji to Zainichi Chosenjin mondai (Postwar Japanese
Politics and the Problem of Koreans in Japan), Keisd Shobd, 1997, pp. 561-3.
. Cited in Courtney Whitney, MacArthur: His Rendezvous With History, Knopf,
1956, p. 310.
. Letter from Valary Burati to Philip Sullivan dated ‘22 August 1950 and after’,
cited in Takemae Eiji (1982), p. 354. The letter is from the Burati Papers,
Walter P. Reuther Library, Wayne State University.
. Ibid. On the Labour Ministry circular of 9 October 1950, see Takemae (1982),
pp. 418-20.
. Takemae Eiji, ‘Sohyé and US Occupation Labour Policy: An Interview with
Valery Burati’ in The Journal of the Tokyo College ofEconomics, nos. 97-8, 1976,
p. 265.
. Takemae (1982), pp. 361-6.
. Ibid., pp. 366-7.
. Tsuru Shigeto, Japan’s Capitalism: Creative Defeat and Beyond, Cambridge
University Press, 1993, p. 58. The Yoshida quotation is from Dower (1979),
p- 316. For the Murphy citation, see Robert Murphy, Diplomat Among Warriors,
Doubleday, 1964, p. 347.
660 Notes to Pages 486-491

aD: Herbert P. Bix, ‘Regional Integration: Japan and South Korea in America’s Asian
Policy.’, in Frank Baldwin, ed., Without Parallel: The American-Korean Relation-
ship Since 1945, Pantheon Books, 1974, p. 197.
56. See Takafusa Nakamura, A History of Showa Japan, 1926-1989, University of
Tokyo Press, 1998, pp. 306-7.
Bi See generally Hata Ikuhiko, Shiroku: Nihon saigunbi (Historical Documents
Pertaining to the Rearmament of Japan), Bungei Shunjisha, 1976, chapter 6. In
English, consult John W. Dower, “The Eye of the Beholder’, The Bulletin of
Concerned Asian Scholars, vol. 2, no.1, October 1969, pp. 21-2 and Maeda
Tetsuo, The Hidden Army: The Untold Story ofJapan’s Military Forces, Edition Q
(Tokyo), 1995, chapters 1 and 2.
58. William J. Sebald with Russell Brines, With MacArthur in Japan: A Personal
History of the Occupation, W. W. Norton, 1965, p. 198.
Doe Frank Kowalski, Nihon saigunbi: watakushi wa Nihon o saibusd shita (The
Remilitarisation of Japan: How I Rearmed Japan), Saimaru Shuppansha, 1969.
Dower (1969), pp. 16-25. On the Manchukuo Army applicants, see John
Welfield, An Empire in Eclipse: Japan in the Postwar American Alliance System —A
Study in the Interaction of Domestic Politics and Foreign Policy, Athlone Press, —
1988, p. 75.
60. Dower (1969), pp. 16-17. Alfred Rodman Hussey Papers, University of Michi-
gan, cited in Harries (1989),p. 224. GHQ/SCAP (Civil Affairs Section), A
Report on the Japanese Maa Police Reserve, October 1951, p. 9 (RG 319,
Army Operations, 1950-1 (Top Secret, box 30).
61. Civil Affairs Section (1951), loc. cit. Dower (1979), p. 468.
62. Murphy (1964), pp. 347-8. A concise account in English is Welfield (1988),
chapter 3.
63. See Takemae Eiji, Ozaki Tsuyoshi and Tanaka Kaori, ‘Shogen: sengo shold|
kaiun hishi (A Witness to the Postwar History of Japanese Seamen: The
Korean War and M. Kitamura), in Shizen kagaku ronshi (Occasional Papers
in the Journal of Humanities and the Natural Sciences), Tokyo Keizai
Daigaku, March 1998, pp. 133-66. See also Transportation Section JLC
8000th Army Unit, ‘JLC/TS Activities Report’, September 1950, p. 11 (RG
407, box 4613, US National Archives and Records Administration, Washing-
ton DC).
64. Whitney (1956), p. 261. Charles L. Kades, “The American Role in Revising
Japan’s Imperial Constitution’, in Political Science Quarterly, vol. 104, no. 2,
1989, p. 224. The official cited by Kades was most likely Frank Rizzo, who —
replaced Whitney as chief of Government Section in 1951. See the interview
with Rizzo in Osamu Nishi, Jen Days inside General Headquarters (GHQ): How
the Original Draft of the Japanese Constitution was Written in 1946, Seibundo
Publishing Company (Tokyo), 1989, p. 101. Murphy (1964), p. 341.
65. See discussion in Schaller (1985), pp. 276-8.
66. US Senate Committee on Armed Services and the Committee on Foreign Rela-
 Notes to Pages 491-495 661

tions, Hearing to Conduct an Inquiry into the Military Situation in the Far East,
82nd Congress, Ist session, 1951, p. 19. See also Kolko (1972), pp. 593-607,
67. On the ‘integrated’ Cold War, see Dower (1993), pp. 189-93. On MacArthur's
dismissal: Lawrence J. Korb, The Joint Chief of Staff— The First Twenty-five
Years, Indiana University press, 1976, pp. 147-8.
68. GHQ/SCAP, History of the Nonmilitary Activities of the Occupation ofJapan,
1945-1951: ‘The Purge’, Tokyo, 1951, pp. 122, 127. Civil Affairs Section
(1951), loc. cit.
69. Miyauchi Yutaka, Sengo chian rippé no kihonteki setkaku (The Real Nature ofthe
Postwar Public Security Laws), Yushind6, 1960, pp. 40-2, 55-7.
70. Miyauchi, ibid.; Dower (1979), pp. 366-8; and Takemae (1982), pp. 367-8.
ale Takemae (1976), p. 262.
fees Price (1991), 222-3.
os Takemae (1976), p. 264. For a closer analysis of Burati’s role, see Takemae Eiji,
Senryd sengo-shi (A History of the Occupation and Postwar Era), Iwanami
Shoten, 1992, chapter 4. Burati recognised the limits imposed by ‘the over-
powering weight of American capitalism working hand in hand through the
Army with Japanese capitalism’, but he himself had overstepped those bounds
once too often. In 1949, he had testified against the US Navy on behalf of an
alleged Communist union leader arrested in the Yokosuka incident. His close
personal friendships with such left-leaning labour activists as Takano Minoru
were another mark against him. Finally, his unstinting support for Sd/yé even
after its drift to the left made his removal inevitable. Ridgway recounts his
decision in Matthew B. Ridgway, Soldier: The Memoirs ofMatthew B. Ridgway,
Harpers, 1956, pp. 225, 227.
74, Lawrence W. Beer, Freedom ofExpression in Japan: A Study in Comparative Law,
Politics, and Society, Kodansha International, 1984, p. 178.
Tas This process is detailed by Kobayashi Tomoko, ‘“GHQ no Zainichi Chésenjin
ninshiki ni kansuru ichi késatsu: G-2 Minkan Chohé Kyoku teiki hékokusho o
chishin ni? (Remarks on GHQ’s Perception of Koreans in Japan: Periodic
Reports of G-2’s Civil Intelligence Section), in Zainichi Chasenjin-shi Kenkyitkai
ronbunshi, no. 32, 1994.
76. See Cheong Sung-hwa, The Politics of Anti-Japanese Sentiment in Korea:
Japanese-South Korean Relations Under American Occupation, 1945-1952,
Greenwood Press, 1991, chapter 5. Richard B. Finn, ‘Memorandum of Conver-
sation, Subject: Koreans in Japan’, 3 February 1949, Enclosure no. 2 to dispatch
no. 111, POLAD to State Department, 18 February 1949 (RG 54, 894.4016/
5—1248, National Archives Records Administration, Washington DC). A fuller
account of Finn’s role, his views on Koreans and three interviews are given in
Robert Ricketts, “GHQ no tai-Zainichi-Chésenjin seisaku o tsukutta otoko-
tachi’ (Cold Warriors and the Korean Minority in Occupied Japan: Part 1 =
Richard B. Finn), in Waké Daigaku Ningen-kankei Gakubu kiyé (Annals of the
Faculty of Human Sciences, Wako University), no. 2, 1997, pp. 67-114,
662 Notes to Pages 496-497

77. Check Sheet (Subject: Status of Koreans in Japan), From: LS To: DS, 2 May
1949 (State Department Document no. 894.4016/8-1549, National Archives
Records Administration, Washington DC). The outcome of the Finn—Bassin
proposal is discussed at length in Kim (1997), pp. 610-59.
78. Government Section File: ‘Status and Treatment of Koreans in Japan’ and
Matsukata Makoto, ‘Memorandum for: Executive Officer, Government Sec-
tion, Subject: Korean Situation in Japan’, draft (RG 331, box 2190, Washington
National Records Center, Archives II, College Park, Maryland).
7: Wagner (1951), p. 90.
80. Concerning the Sendai incident, see Yi Hyeong Nang, ‘Miyagi-ken chi’iki ni
okeru Zainichi-Chésenjin no déké’ (The Korean Community in Miyagi Pre-
fecture), in Setkyit gakujutsu ronshii, no. 13, Kankoku Bunka Kenkya Shinké
Zaidan, 1998, pp. 267-71. For other flag-related incidents, see Son Mun-gyu,
‘Kokki 0 mamori-nuita hitobito: Chésen Minshushugi Jinmin Kyéwa Koku
kokki-keiyé jiken no shins6’ (People who Protected Their National Flag: The
Truth About the DPRK Flag-Raising Incidents), in 76itsu Hydron, no. 60, 1978,
pp. 66-73,
81. This was particularly evident in censorship policies towards Korean publica-
tions. Articles dealing with national identity, independence and reconstruction
of the homeland were excised regularly from the beginning. By late 1947, how-
ever, the Korean left had become the main target of the censor’s blue pencil,
which deleted commentary critical of Japanese imperialism and the suppression
of ethnic rights or favourable to the Soviet Union. A Civil Intelligence Section
survey of December 1948 determined that fully 55 per cent of Korean daily
papers and 41 per cent of other publications contained material hostile to the
Occupation. This led to two showcase trials intended to bring the Korean media
into line. In August 1949, a Military Court sentenced Kim Won-yun, a Korean
editor in Osaka, to five years at hard labour followed by deportation to South
Korea for a Press Code violation, and in September Eun Muam, a Korean editor
in Tokyo, received a two-year sentence without deportation for a similar offence,
See Kobayashi Tomoko, ‘GHQ ni yoru Zainichi Chésenjin kank6 zasshi no
ken’etsu’ (The Censorship of Korean Publications by GHQ), in Zainichi —
Chosenjin-shi Kenkyitkai, no. 22, 1992, pp. 84-98; Kim (1997), pp. 491-8; —
and Monica Braw, The Atomic Bomb Suppressed, M. E. Sharpe, 1991, pp. 87, —
169. See also the examples cited by Yukiko Koshiro, Tians-Pacific Racisms and —
the U.S. Occupation ofJapan, East Asian Institute, Columbia University, 1999,
pp. 116-17.
82. The Shirasu memo is reproduced in Ricketts (1997), pp. 113-14. Yoshida is —
thought to have written his undated letter to MacArthur in late August 1949,
The Prime Minister estimated that there were about 1 million Koreans in Japan
‘of whom one half are illegal entrants’, Koreans, he claimed, were consuming
huge amounts of US food imports, unfairly burdening future generations of —
Japanese who would have to shoulder that debt. Moreover, he asserted, a great
 Notes to Pages 498-500 663

majority were ‘not contributing at all to the economic reconstruction of Japan’

and a large percentage were ‘prone to commit political offences of the most
vicious kind. More than 7,000 are always in jail.’ The letter is published in
Sodei Rinjir6, Yoshida-Makkasa ofuku shokan-shi, 1945-1951 (Correspondence
Between General MacArthur, Prime Minister Yoshida and Other High Japanese
Officials, 1945-1951), Hosei Daigaku Shuppankyoku, 2000, pp. 147-8.
83. Takemae Eiji, ‘J. Napier and the Purge in Japan: Interview With Mr. Jack P.
Napier’, in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 153, November 1987,
pp. 73-99. The MacArthur citation is from POLAD, Tokyo, Dispatch 734,
21 October 1949 (RG 84, POLAD box 48, Washington National Records
Center, Archives II, College Park, Maryland).
84. The revision stemmed from a series of conferences held by SCAP and Eighth
Army between May and July 1949 to deal with the illegal entry of subversive
elements from Korea. The resulting plan called for the reissuing of ‘Korean
registration certificates’, tougher penalties and tighter police enforcement. At
the July conference, Diplomatic Section’s Richard Finn defended these measures
as discriminatory but unavoidable and rejected a G-2 proposal to remove restric-
tions on travel between Japan and Korea as an alternative means of solving the
problem. Takemae Eiji and Robert Ricketts, “Robato Riketto shimon-6natsu
kyohi jiken kankei-shiryd’ (Historical Documents Pertaining to Robert Ricketts’s
Trial for Fingerprint Refusal), in The Journal of Tokyo Keizai University, no. 161,
June 1989, pp. 7-14. See also Kim (1997), pp. 666-71.
85. The Kobe—Kyoto—Otsu disturbances are discussed in Kim (1997), pp. 684-5.
On the immigration law and subsequent measures against Koreans, see Takemae
and Ricketts (1989), pp. 37-9.
86. Memorandum for Chief of Staff, Subject: Deportation of Subversive Aliens,
17 July 1951 (SCAP Records, Top Secret File, Sheets 00295—96, Japan National
Diet Library). Although signed by Legal Section Chief Alva Carpenter, the brief
was drafted by Bassin. See the discussion in Robert Ricketts, ‘“GHQ no Zainichi
Chésenjin seisaku’ (GHQ’s Korean Policy), in Ajia Kenkyt, Wako Daigaku,
1994, pp. 15-16, 34.
87. Minutes of the Twenty-Third Meeting of the Committee on Countermeasures
Against Communism in the Far East, 18 October 1951. GHQ/SCAP, Govern-
ment Section, “Counter-Measures Against the Subversive Potential in Japan —
1946 to 1951 Inclusive’ (RG 331, box 8497, Washington National Records
Center, Archives II, College Park, Maryland).
88. Dean Acheson, Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department, New
American Library, 1970 (Norton, 1969), p. 341. Finn (1992), pp. 156-7. On
Dulles, see Schonberger (1989), p. 238.
89. Kennan (1967), p. 396.
90. William J. Sebald with Russell Brines, With MacArthur in Japan: A Personal
History of the Occupation, Norton, 1965, p. 256-7. Yoshida’s views on rearma-
ment are discussed in Gerald L. Curtis, “The Dulles—Yoshida Negotiations
664 Notes to Pages 501-503

on the San Francisco Peace Treaty’, in Columbia Essays in International Affairs,

vol, 2, Columbia University Press, 1967, pp. 37-61.
Oi The MacArthur citation is from US Department of State, Foreign Relations of
the United States (below, given as FRUS), US Government Printing Office, vol.
6, 1950, p. 1215, Pakenham was born in Kobe to a distinguished English
family, and spoke fluent Japanese. A former member of Britain’s élite Cold-
stream Guards, he had good contacts in the Imperial household and among
ultra-conservative political leaders. He also was a bitter foe of MacArthur, hav-
ing been denied re-entry into Japan in early 1948 for his caustic reporting on
SCAP’s economic reforms (the Japan Lobby intervened and Army Secretary
Royall engineered his return), On the Emperor and Dulles, see Toyoshita Nara-
hiko, Anpé Joyaku no seiritsu: Yoshida gaik6 to Tenno gaiké (‘The Drafting of the
Security ‘Treaty: Yoshida’s Diplomacy and the Emperor’s Diplomacy), Iwanami
Shinsho, 1996, pp. 165-86. The message as reconstructed by Pakenham is
reproduced in Schonberger (1989), pp. 154-6. The Dulles version is in FRUS,
vol, 6, 1950, pp. 1236-7. In January 1951, the Emperor reportedly attempted
to arrange a sequel to Pakenham’s party of June 1950 through Matsudaira and
Kern, but Dulles demurred. On 6 February, however, Pakenham introduced the
US envoy to Hatoyama Ichir6é and other Japanese conservatives committed to
rearmament, who presented him with a statement of their goals. On 10 Febru-
ary, Dulles conferred informally with the Emperor in the Imperial Palace fol-
lowing preliminary bilateral agreement on the stationing of US forces in Japan.
Upon hearing Dulles’s account of the accord, Hirohito ‘expressed his whole-
hearted agreement and appreciation to the United States’ and said that he was
‘fully in accord with the concepts mentioned’, Dulles met Hirohito again on 22
April and 18 December 1951, On 28 April 1952, the day the treaty went into
effect, the special adviser sent Hirohito a message of his own, thanking the
sovereign for affording him several opportunities to discuss bilateral issues.
FRUS, vol. 6, Part 1, 1951, pp. 873-4 and Toyoshita (1996), pp. 180-1.
92; FRUS, vol, 6, Part 1, 1951, pp. 788-9.
93. See Frederick §, Dunn, Peace-Making and the Settlement with Japan, Princeton
University Press, 1963, pp. 107-8 and, generally, Michael M. Yoshitsu, Japan
and the San Francisco Peace Settlement, Columbia University Press, 1983,
chapter 3.
94, FRUS, vol 6, Part 1, 1951, p. 832. Nishimura Kumao, Sanfuranshisuko
heiwa joyaku (The San Francisco Peace Treaty), in Nihon gaikéshi (Japanese
Diplomatic History), vol. 27, Kajima Kenkyiijo Shuppankai, 1971, pp. 889.
Késaka Masataka, ‘Saisho Yoshida Shigeru ron’ (Prime Minister Yoshida
Shigeru: An Interpretation), Chié Kéron, February 1965, p. 107.
py, The 2 February documentis reproduced in Finn (1992), p. 279 and a slightly
different version in Yoshitsu (1983), p. 60.
96, Ann ‘Trotter, New Zealand and Japan, 1945-1952: The Occupation and the
Peace Treaty, Athlone Press, 1990, pp. 157-62. See also Dunn (1963), p. 113.
 Notes to Pages 503-512 665

Di FRUS, vol. 6, Part 1, 1951, pp. 1024-37, 1119-33. On economic reintegra-

tion, see Schaller (1985), chapter 16, especially pp. 294-8 and Borden (1984),
pp- 143-65.
98. Yoshitsu (1983), chapter 4. See also discussion in Michael Schaller, Altered
States: The United States and Japan Since the Occupation, Oxford University
Press, 1997, chapter 2.
D9: The Herter quotation is from US Senate, Committee on Foreign Relations,
Treaty of Mutual Cooperation and Security with Japan, 86th Congress, 2nd
Session (7 June 1960), pp. 30-1.
100. Yoshitsu (1983), pp. 83-100 and Schonberger (1989), pp. 265-78.
101. See Kurihara Sadako, Black Eggs: Poems by Kurihara Sadako, Center for
Japanese Studies, University of Michigan, 1994.
102. Committee for the Compilation of Materials on Damage Caused by the Atomic
Bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Hiroshima and Nagasaki: The Physical, Med-
ical, and Social Effects of the Atomic Bombings, Basic Books, 1981, pp. 571-4.
103. “A Statement by the Peace Study Group on the Problem of the Peace Settle-
ment for Japan’ in Sekai Editorial Staff, Three Statements for World Peace,
Tokyo, 1950, pp. 18-22.
104. See discussion in Dower (1979), pp. 371-2.
105. ‘Memorandum of Conversation by Mr. Robert A. Fearey of the Office of
Northeast Asian Affairs’, 23 April 1951, in FRUS, vol. 6, Part 1, 1951, 1006-8.
106. Dunn (1963), pp. 99-100.
107. Cheong (1991), pp. 92-3. In retrospect, by London’s logic, it is ironical that
Ceylon and Indonesia, neither of them FEC members, both were invited to
the Peace Conference, an incongruity that seems to have escaped the treaty’s
Anglo-American planners.
108. On Nishimura’s statement to the Diet, see Tanaka (1995), pp. 70-1. The
Japanese Foreign Ministry had included the option of Japanese citizenship in
its own treaty drafts between 1947 and 1950 on the assumption that the
Americans would demand such a provision. In fact, however, the Ministry had
envisaged citizenship for a select few, intending to forcibly repatriate the major-
ity. Neither Japan nor the Republic of Korea was prepared to offer Koreans a
choice in this matter, nor did the Korean movement in Japan ever formulate
such a demand. All three parties regarded ethnicity and nationality as syn-
onymous, conflating the very distinct concepts of ethnic identity, nationality
and citizenship. On the nationality issue, see Matsumoto Kunihiko, ‘Zainichi
Chésenjin no Nihon kokuseki hakudatsu’ (The Denationalisation of Koreans
in Japan), in Hogaku, vol. 52, no. 4, 1988, pp. 645-79 and Kashiwazaki
Chikako, “The Politics of Legal Status: The Equation of Nationality with Eth-
nonational Identity’, in Sonia Ryang, ed., Koreans in Japan: Critical Voices from
the Margin, Routledge, 2000, pp. 20-30.
109. Changsoo Lee and George De Vos, Koreans in Japan: Ethnic Conflict and
Accommodation, University of California Press, 1981, pp. 149-51. For instance,
666 Notes to Pages 512-514

today, non-Japanese generally are excluded from the civil service, the state
school system, local boards of education, civil liberties commissions, welfare
commissions and other public bodies. In recent years, qualified foreigners have
been hired to teach in state schools but without the same rights and possibilities
for promotion as Japanese. In the private sector, aliens cannot hold decision-
making positions in mining, fishing, or telecommunications. Their employ-
ment is restricted in banking, the securities and insurance industries and
aviation. Japanese nationality also is a condition for public accountants
and ship pilots. See Gaimushé Joyaku-kyoku-hen (ed.), Waga kuni ni okeru
gaikokujin no hoteki chii (The Legal Status of Aliens in Japan), Nihon Kajo
Shuppan, 1993, pp. 25-7.
110. The Wajima quotation is contained in a telegram from Ambassador Robert
Murphy, US Embassy, Tokyo, to the Secretary of State, 2 October 1952 (State
Department Central Files, Document no. 694.96B/10-252F, National Archives
Records Administration, Washington DC). On the need for a post-treaty policy
for former colonials, see Tanaka Hiroshi’s seminal essay, ‘Sengo Nihon to
posuto-shokuminchi mondai’ (Postwar Japan and the Post-Colonial Settle-
ment Issue), in Shisd, no. 734, August 1985, pp. 38-52. A useful but dated
treatment in English of Koreans in post-treaty Japan is Lee and De Vos (1981),
chapter 7. See also Sonia Ryang’s important monograph, North Koreans in
Japan: Language, Ideology, and Identity, Westview Press, 1997, chapter 3.
SEM, The ‘Anglo-Saxon lake’ quotation is from The New York Times, 2 March 1949,
cited in Acheson (1970), p. 465. Acheson’s comment is on p. 466. On
MacArthur’s ‘insular imperialism’, see John W. Dower, ‘Occupied Japan and
the American Lake’ in Edward Friedman and Mark Selden, eds, America’s Asia:
Dissenting Essays on Asian-American Relations, Vintage Books, 1971, p. 170.
112. See Arnold G. Fisch Jr, Military Government in the Ryukyu Islands, 1945-1950,
US Army Center for Military History, US Government Printing Office, 1988,
chapter 7; FRUS, vol. 7, Part 2, 1949, pp. 815-16; and Kenneth W. Condit,
The Joint Chiefs of Staff and National Policy, 1947-1949, vol. 2 of The History
of the Joint Chiefs ofStaff; Michael Glazier, 1979, chapter 9.
113. Fisch (1988), p. 174.
114. The GRI’s legislative branch, however, was composed of locally elected offi-
cials, allowing a limited degree of self-rule that complemented the system of
municipal self-government established in 1948 (chapter 9). Watanabe Akio,
The Okinawa Problem: AChapter in Japan—US Relations, Melbourne University
Press, 1970, p. 22.
115. Fisch, (1988), p. 169. In English, see the concise accounts by Watanabe
(1970), pp. 13, 25 and Robert K. Sakai and Mitsugu Sakihara, ‘Okinawa’, in
The Kodansha Encyclopedia of Japan, Kodansha, 1983, pp. 89-90. A recent
discussion of the making of an American colony is Nicholas Evan Sarantakes,
Keystone: The American Occupation of Okinawa and US — Japanese Relations,
Texas A & M University Press, 2000 chapter 4. Of particular interest is Robert
 Notes to Pages 514-520 667

D. Eldridge, The Origins ofthe Bilateral Okinawa Problem:.Okinawa in Postwar

U.S.—Japan Relations, 1945-1952, Garland Publishing (New York), 2001,
chapter 7.
116. David Rees, The Soviet Seizure of the Kuriles, Praeger, 1985, p. 89. The Mar-
shall Islands, in particular, would become a vast proving ground for American
nuclear weapons. Between 1946 and 1958, the United States tested a total of
66 atomic and hydrogen bombs there. Today, the islands continue to serve
as a test range for America’s arsenal of intercontinental ballistic missiles. Jane
Dibblin, Day of Two Suns: US Nuclear Testing and the Pacific Islands, New
Amsterdam (New York), 1990, p. 20. The historian is Tsuyoshi Hasegawa, The
Northern Territories Dispute and Russo-Japanese Relations, vol. 1: Between War
and Peace, 1697-1985, University of California Press, 1998, p. 89.
DAs Hasegawa, ibid., pp. 88-105.

Chapter 11 The Legacy of Occupation

Ne The following is an abridged and updated version of Takemae Eiji’s ‘Senryd
sOsetsu: senryo to GHQ’ (An Overview of the Occupation: The Occupation
and GHQ), in GHQ: Nihon senryo-shi josetsu (GHQ: An Introduction to the
History of the Occupation of Japan), Nihon Tosho Senta, 1996, pp. 74-95.
. John J. Stephan, The Kuril Islands: Russo-Japanese Fontier in the Pacific,
Clarendon Press (Oxford), 1974, p. 219.
. Kyodo News Service, ‘Moscow Wanted to Give Two Islands Back’, in The Japan
Times, 3 March 1993.
. See, for example, Fujiwara Akira, Awaya Kentaré, Okada Akina and Yamada
Akina eds., Tettei-kensho: Showa-tennd dokuhaku-roku’ (Conclusive Evidence:
The Showa Emperor’s ‘Soliloguy’), Otsuki Shoten, 1991 pp. 36-77 and Yosh-
ida Yutaka, Showa-tennd no shien-shi (A Postwar History of the Showa
Emperor), Iwanami Shinsho, 1992, Part I, chapters 1-2. A damning indict-
ment of Hirohito’s war complicity in English is the study by Herbert P. Bix,
Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan, HarperCollins, 2000, chapters
7-13.
. Nakamura Masanori, The Japanese Monarchy: Ambassador Grew and the Making
ofthe Symbol Emperor System’, 1931-1991, M. E. Sharpe, 1992, pp. 175-84.
. See discussion in Nakamura, ibid., pp. 121-2.
. Watanabe Osamu, “Gendai Nihon kokka no tokushu na k6z6’ (The Peculiar
Structure of the Modern Japanese State), in Tokyd Daigaku Shakaikagaku
Kenkyijo-hen (ed.), Gendai Nihon Shakai (Contemporary Japanese Society),
vol. 1, Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1991, pp. 201-95.
. See Norma Field’s compelling personal account of Motojima, In the Realm ofa
Dying Emperor: Japan at Century’s End, Vintage, 1993, chapter 3.
. See, for instance, Koseki Shdichi, ‘Kenpé o toi-naosu sengo gojiinen-me no
“shiten”’ (A Fresh Look at the Constitution Fifty Years Later), in Nihon
Janarisuto Kaigi-hen (ed.), Masukomi no rekishi sekinin to mirai sekinin (The
668 Notes to Pages 522-531

Mass Media’s Responsibility for the Past and the Future), Kobunken, 1995,
pp. 93-125.
10. Takemae Eiji, Senryd sengo-shi (A History of the Occupation and Postwar Era),
Iwanami Shoten, 1992, pp. 414-15.
lal For an overview of these problems, see Arasaki Moriteru, Okinawa hansen-jinushi
(Okinawa and the Anti-War Landlords), Kobunken, 1996, especially chapters 3,
6 and 7.
. Edwin O. Reischauer, My Life Between Japan and America, Weatherhill, 1986, p.
299. A fuller account is Michael Schaller, Altered States: the United States and
Japan Since the Occupation, Oxford University Press, 1997, pp. 196-7. On the
Ogasawaras, see the news story in The Japan Times, 3 August 2000.
. Minutes of the Research Commission on the Constitution, House of Council-
lors, 2 May 2000, pp. 21-2. A powerful endorsement of this view by an Ameri-
can observer is C. Douglas Lummis, Kenpé to senso (The Constitution and War),
Shdbunsha, 2000. See generally, Takemae Eiji, Goken-kaiken-shi ron (An Analysis
of Arguments For and Against Constitutional Revision), Shogakkan Bunko, 2001.
14. Nakamura Masanori, ‘Sengo kaikaku to gendai’ (The Postwar Reforms and
Contemporary Japan), in Senryd to sengo-kaikaku (The Occupation and the
Postwar Reforms), Yoshikawa Kobunkan, 1994, p. 16.
1S: Udagawa Megumi, “The Bitter Legacy of Eugenics’, in The Japan Views Quar-
terly, The Asia Foundation Translation Series (Tokyo), vol. 2, no. 4, Winter
1993, pp. 37-8 and especially Matsubara Yoko, ‘Nihon: sengo no Yiisei Hogo-
hd (Japan: The Postwar Eugenics Protection Law — A Sterilisation Law in Dis-
guise), in Yoneyama Shohei, ed., Yaseigaku to ningen shakai: seimei-kagaku no
seiki wa doko e mukau ka (Eugenics and Human Society: Where is the Century
of Life Science Headed?) Kédansha, 2000, pp. 229-33.
16. See Kinjo Kiyoko, ‘Legal Challenges to the Status Quo’, in Fumiko Fujimura-
Fanselow and Atsuko Kameda, eds, Japanese Women: New Feminist Perspectives
on the Past, Present and Future, The Feminist Press (City University of New
York), 1995, pp. 353-63. See generally Prime Minister's Office, The Present
Status of Gender Equality and Measures, 1999; Nakamura Akemi, “New Equal
Opportunity Law Called a Start’, The Japan Times, | April 1999, p. 3; and
Foreign Press Centre, Japan, ed., Japan:A Pocket Guide, 2000, pp. 173-4.
Ws George Hicks, ‘Japan, Land of Quiet Apartheid’, The International Herald Trib-
une, 18 March 1992. A general discussion of ethnic and other minorities in
Japan is Michael Weiner, ed., Japan’s Minorities: The Illusion of Homogeneity,
Routledge, 1997. See also John Lie, Multiethnic Japan, Harvard University
Press, 2001, chapter 5.
. Tanaka Hiroshi, Zainichi Gaikokujin: ho no kabe, kokoro no kabe (Foreigners in
Japan: Legal and Psychological Obstacles to Equality), Iwanami Shinsho, 1995,
chapter 6,
19. For a sensitive insider’s account of North Koreans in Japan, see Sonia Ryang,
North Koreans in Japan: Language, Ideology, and Identity, Westview Press, 1997
 Notes to Pages 531-537 669

and on Koreans in general, Sonia Ryang, ed., Koreans in Japan: Critical Voices
from the Margin, Routledge, 2000.
20. Kajimura Hideki, ‘Confronting Japanese Racism: Toward a Korean Identity’, in
Japan—Asia Quarterly Review (AMPO), vol. 20, nos 1-2, 1990, pp. 34-41. On
naturalisation, see Kim Yong-dal, Zainichi Chosenjin no kika (The Naturalisa-
tion of Koreans in Japan), Akashi Shoten, 1990.
21. Tanaka (1995), chapter 8. In English, see generally Komai Hiroshi, Migrant
Workers in Japan, Kegan Paul International, 1995.
22. Frank K. Upham, Law and Social Change in Postwar Japan, Harvard University
Press, 1987, chapter 3. On the Buraku people in general, see Roger I. Yoshino,
The Invisible Minority: Japan’s Burakumin, Buraku Kaihd Kenkyisho, 1977.
2D: The historical background to these changes is given in Kayano Shigeru, Our
Land Was a Forest: An Ainu Memoir, Westview Press, 1994. On the Ainu ethnic
revival, see Katarina Sjoberg, The Return of the Ainu: Cultural Mobilization and
the Practice of Ethnicity in Japan, Harwood Academic, 1993. A discussion of
recent developments is Richard Siddle, Race, Resistance and the Ainu ofJapan,
Routledge, 2000, chapter 7.
24. John W. Dower, Empire and Aftermath: Yoshida Shigeru and the Japanese
Experience, 1878-1954, Council on East Asian Studies, Harvard University,
1979; p. 398.
Rage Shibata Tokue and Miyamoto Ken’ichi pointed to this anomaly in the early
1960s. See their Chihé zaisei (Regional Fiscal Policy), Yihikaku, 1963, p. 119.
Journalists later coined the term. In English: Kurt Steiner, Local Government in
Japan, Stanford University Press, 1965, p. 293.
26. Oshita Katsumasa, Machida-shi ga kawatta: chiho-jichi to fukushi (Machida City
Transformed: Local Autonomy and Social Welfare), Asahi Shinbunsha, 1992,
chapter 4.
27. Takemae (1992), pp. 397-400.
28. Namie Ken, Honmono no chiho-bunken/chiho-jichi (Regional Decentralisation,
Local Autonomy: The Real McCoy), BOC Shuppanbu, 1995. An overview of
local action and national politics is Sheila A. Smith, ed., Local Voices, National
Issues: The Impact of Local Initiative in Japanese Policy-Making, University of
Michigan Press, 2000.
29. Hayakawa Noboru, Jma Miyakejima: NLP kichi kensetsu keikaku ni hantai-suru
shima-ikusa to kuno suru shima no genjitsu (Miyakejima Now! An Island Opposes
the Construction of an NLP Base: Miyake’s Struggle and Travail), San’ichi
Shobé, 1988.
30. Chibana Shdichi, Yakisuterareta Hinomaru (The Rising Sun Flag Burned to
Ashes), Shakai Shisdsha, 1996. See also Norma Field’s insightful account
(1993), chapter 1.
aL: See Patricia Maclachlan, ‘Information Disclosure and the Center-Local Rela-
tionship in Japan’, in Smith (2000), pp. 9-30. The quotation is from p. 29.
Oz. Gavan McCormack, ‘Crime, Confession, and Control in Contemporary Japan’,
670 Notes to Pages 538-544

in Gavan McCormack and Yoshio Sugimoto, eds, Democracy in Contemporary

Japan, Hale & Ironmonger, 1986, pp. 186-214.
OEe Akagi Suruki, Kansei no keisei (The Establishment of the Bureaucracy), Nihon
Hyoronsha, 1991, pp. 39-402 and, generally, Okada Akira, Gendai Nihon
kanryo-sei no seiritsu (The Establishment of the Modern Japanese Bureaucratic
System), Hdsei Daigaku Shuppan-kyoku, 1994.
34. Amakawa Akira, ‘Minshuka-katei to kanryd no taié’ (The Democratic Pro-
cess and the Response of the Bureaucracy), in Nakamura Masanori, ed., Sengo
Nihon: senry6 to sengo-kaikaku (Postwar Japan: The Occupation and Postwar
Reforms), vol. 2, Iwanami Shoten, 1995, pp. 233-66.
55) Robert A. Scalapino and Masumi Junnosuke, Parties and Politics in Contempor-
ary Japan, University of California Press, 1962, pp. 47-9.
36. See the discussion in Schaller (1997), pp. 135-6, 195.
a7. The number of Lower House seats was reduced from 511 to 500, of which 300
were single-seat constituencies where voters elect one candidate by name. The
remaining 200 seats were allocated by party, voters selecting a party rather than a
politician in 11 national blocs. The percentage of ballots each party receives
determines the number of politicians it can put into office. Candidates are
ranked for each bloc before the election. In February 2000, the number of seats
was reduced further to 480 (300 single-seat members and 180 proportional
representatives).
38. Stuart Auerbach, “The US Created its “Japan Problem”’, in The Japan Times, 26
July 1993 (reprinted from The Washington Post).
Buh This point is made by C. Douglas Lummis, Radical Democracy, Cornell
University Press, 1996, chapter 4.
40. On the Occupation reforms and the Japanese economy, see Bernard Bernier, Le
Japon contemporain: Une Economie nationale, Une Economie morale, Les Presses
de l'Université de Montréal, 1995, chapter 2. See also generally, Lonny E.
Carlisle and Mark C. Tilton, eds, Js Japan Really Changing its Ways? Regulatory
Reform and the Japanese Economy, Brookings Institution Press, 1998.
4l. See Michael Schaller, The Origins ofthe Cold War in Asia: The American Occupa-
tion ofJapan, Oxford University Press, 1985, chapter 8 and Schaller (1997),
chapter 6. A similar argument is advanced cogently by William S. Borden, The
Pacific Alliance: United States Foreign Economic Policy and Japanese Trade
Recovery, 1947-1955, University of Wisconsin Press, 1984, chapter 3.
42. For more detail, see Takemae Eiji, Shiryo Nihon no rodo: seisaku, undo, hanrei
(Historical Documents on Japanese Labour: Policy, Labour Movements, Legal
Precedents), Yushisha, 1994.
43, Iwamoto Sumiaki and Teruoka Shuz6, “Néchi-kaikaku: jinushi-sei no shiien to
jisakund taisei’ (The Land Reform: The Demise of the Landlord System and
the System of Independent Farm Producers), in Sodei Rinjiro and Takemae
Eiji, eds, Sengo Nihon no genten: senryo-shi no genzai (Postwar Japan: The Point
of Origin—Occupation History Today), Yushisha, vol. 2, 1992, pp. 61-126.
 Notes to Pages 545-554 671

Figures are from Asahi Shinbun ed., The Japan Almanac 2000, Asahi Shinbun-
sha, 1999, p. 140.
44, Goda Kimitsugu, ‘Nokyo-hé, dai’ichi kaisei-hd to GHQ no kyédé-kumiai sei-
saku’ (The First Farmers’ Co-op Law and GHQ’s Policy on Cooperatives), Parts
1 and 2, in Oita Daigaku keizai ronsha (Oita University Occasional Papers in
Economics), no. 47, vols 1 and 3, 1995. Statistics are from The Japan Almanac,
p. 142.
45. Kubo Yoshiz6, Showa kyoiku-shi (A History of Education During the Showa
Era), vol. 2, 1994, p. 42.
46. Nozaki Yoshiko and Inokuchi Hiromitsu, ‘Japanese Education, Nationalism,
and Ienaga Saburd’s Textbook Lawsuits’, in Laura Hein and Mark Selden, eds,
Censoring History: Citizenship and Memory in Japan, Germany, and the United
States, M. E. Sharpe, 2000, pp. 96-126. See also Ienaga Saburé, Japan’s Past,
Japan’s Future: One Historian’s Odessey, Rowman & Littlefield, 2001. Another
useful account in English despite its lack of documentation is Peter J. Herzog,
Japan’s Pseudo-Democracy, Japan Library (Kent), 1993, pp. 208-17.
47. See Field (1993), chapter 2 and David M. O’Brien with Yasuo Ohkoshi, 7o
Dream ofDreams: Religious Freedom and Constitutional Politics in Postwar Japan,
University of Hawai’i Press, 1996, chapters 5 and 6.
48. Court cases in this section are discussed in Saiké Saibansho Sékyoku-hen (ed.),
Gyosei jiken saihanrei-shia (Court Verdicts in Civil Suits), no. 38, vols 6 and 7,
Zaidan Hojin Hésdkai, 1988, pp. 561-924. Saik6 Saibansho Hanrei Chésa
Pinkai-hen (ed.), Saiko Saibansho minji hanrei-shi (Civil Verdicts of the Supreme
Court), Saiké Saibansho Hanrei Chésa Tinkai, no. 3, vol. 47, 1993, p. 1145
and Ashibe Nobuyoshi, Kenpé (The Constitution), Iwanami Shoten, 1999,
pp. 150-3. See also O’Brien and Ohkoshi (1996), pp. 172-3.
49. Today, the Aum trials continue. In June and July 2000, four of five cultists
convicted of the attack were sentenced to death, and two other members
received the same penalty for their role in the 1989 murder of an anti-Aum
lawyer and his family. Other Aum-linked killings are still being prosecuted, but
the trial of the cult’s guru, Asahara Shdk6, is expected to continue for some
time. The organisation now operates under a different name, Aleph.
50. See Oda Makoto, “Nihon wa “Kokuren” 0 yamete, “Kokuren” ni kyoryoku seyo’
(Japan Should Quit, Then Cooperate With, the United Nations), Gekkan Asahi,
January 1991, pp. 60-5 and Shindé Eiichi, “Chi no suijaku ga motarasu sekai-
zo no hizumi to hoshu e no kaiki’ (Distortions in Our Worldview Caused by
Intellectual Stagnation and Nostalgia for the Right) in Nihon Janarisuto Kaigi,
ed. (1995), pp. 127-71.
51. Statistics are from Ministry of Health and Welfare, Statistical Abstracts on Health
and Welfare in Japan, 1999, pp. 35, 62.
52: Ibid., pp. 67, 73.
2: See, for example, Hoshino Yoshiré, ‘Japan’s Post-Second World War Environ-
mental Problems’, in Ui Jun, ed., Industrial Pollution in Japan, United Nations
672 Notes to Pages 554-556

University Press, 1992, pp. 64-76 and Ui Jun, ‘Minamata Disease’, in Ui Jun,
ed., ibid., pp. 103-32. The data on victims of atmospheric pollution are from
Miyamoto Ken’ichi, Kokyé seisaku no susume: gendai-teki kokyosei to wa nani ka
(For an Enlightened Public Interest Policy: A Query into the Modern Concept
of Public Interest), Yihikaku, 1998, pp. 218-19. The government admitted
that the Minamata and Agano cases were caused by industrial pollution, but it
subsequently devised excessively stringent medical criteria to identify sufferers in
order to minimise the number eligible for compensation. From the start, local
governments and the corporate polluters attempted to evade responsibility.
Kumamoto Governor Teramoto Késaku, former Welfare Ministry official and
author of the Labour Standards Law, played a central role in this cover-up in
the early 1960s (see Mishima Akio, Bitter Sea: The Human Cost of Minamata
Disease, Kosei Publishing Company, 1992, pp. 46, 102).
A partial solution was not reached until October 1995, when victims’ organ-
isations, Opposition parties and the government agreed on a one-time-only
compensation package for more than 8,000 people stricken with the disease.
The settlement came 40 years after the outbreak of the malady and failed to
answer the question of corporate and state responsibility. In April 2001, the
Osaka High Court ruled that the state, Kumamoto Prefecture and Chisso Corp.
were guilty of failing to prevent the Minamata tragedy and ordered them to pay
damages to the plaintiffs. In May, however, the Justice Ministry announced it
would appeal that verdict to the Supreme Court. On the structure of anti-
pollution movements, see generally Jeffrey Broadbent, Environmental Politics in
Japan: Networks ofPower and Protest, Cambridge University Press, 1998.
54, A systematic critique of the modern Japanese scrap-and-build developmental
state is Miyamoto (1998). In the early 1970s, social activists coined the term
‘junkyard development’ to characterise grandiose state schemes designed to pro-
mote economic integration at the expense of primary producers and local resi-
dents, See ‘Junkyard Development’, in APO; A Report on the Japanese People’s
Movements, no. 11, 1971, pp. 21-7.
Dos This point is made by Nakamura Masanori, The Japanese Monarchy: Ambassador
Grew and the Making of the Symbol Emperor System’, 1931-1991, M. E. Sharpe,
1992, chaptert 1.
56, Grew’s remarks are in US Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United
States (below, given as FRUS), US Government Printing Office, vol. 6, 1945,
p. 545, See also Sebastian Swann, ‘Democratisation and the Evasion of War
Responsibility: The Allied Occupation of Japan’, in Reflections on the Allied
Occupation of Japan, STICERD Discussion Paper no. IS/99/370, London
School of Economics and Political Science, October 1999, pp. 20-1. The Ken-
han quotation is from Policy Planning Staff Document no. 23 of 24 February
1948, reproduced in FRUS, vol. 1, Part 2, 1948, p. 524.
af. Committee for the Compilation of Materials on Damage Caused by the
Atomic Bombs in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Hiroshima and Nagasaki: The

a
 Notes to Pages 556-560 673

Physical, Medical, and Social Effects of the Atomic Bombings, Basic Books, 1981,
pp. 542-4, 554-5, 575-81.
58. See the ground breaking study on the Ampé struggle by Wesley Sasaki-Uemura,
Organizing the Spontaneous: Citisen Protest in Postwar Japan, University of
Hawai'i Press, 2001.
59 Koreans serving prison terms for B and C war crimes offences were not granted a
remission of their sentences despite being arbitrarily deprived of Japanese
nationality in April 1952. Article 11 of the San Francisco Peace ‘Treaty obliged
Japan to continue imposing on its nationals all penalties handed down by Allied
military tribunals, Soon after the country recovered its sovereignty, 30 Korean
and Taiwanese prisoners appealed their cases on the grounds that they were no
longer Japanese, The Supreme Court (presided over by Tanaka Kétard), how-
ever, ruled that they had been Japanese nationals when they committed their
crimes and therefore were not eligible for release, In a classic example of
the double bind, in virtually all other instances, the government has justified its
denial of basic civil and political liberties to former colonial subjects using the
opposite argument; their ‘loss’ of Japanese nationality. See Utsumi Aiko, Chasen-
jin BC-kyit senpan no kiroku (A Documentary Record of Class B and C Korean
War Criminals), Keisé Shob6, 1982, pp. 213-46,
60 - Recent news reports indicate that the Fund is running out of money, To date it
has raised only about ¥448 million ($4 million), most of which is now gone.
Japan’s efforts pale beside those of Germany to compensate of Jews and East
Europeans for Nazi depredations, Under a 1956 Federal relief law, that country
has contributed a total of ¥6 trillion ($50 billion) to Jewish and non-German
war victims.
61 On the Yoshida letter to the Dutch government, see John Price, ‘Fifty Years
Later, it’s Time to Right the Wrongs of the San Francisco Peace ‘Treaty,’ in 7e
Japan Times, 6 September 2001, On the compensation issue, see generally
Odabe Yuji, Hayashi Hiroshi and Yamada Akira, Kiwado: Nihon no sensd hansai
(Keywords: Japan’s War Crimes), Ytisankaku, 1997, pp. 214-15,
62 Laura Hein and Mark Selden, eds, Living with the Bomb: American and Japanese
Cultural Conflicts in the Nuclear Age, M. E. Sharpe, 1997, p. 3.
63 Concerning Tsuji, see note 17, chapter 6,
 Translators’ Note

Inside GHQ has evolved into a very different work from the slim monograph that
Professor Takemae Eiji published in Japanese in 1983. With characteristic modesty,
the author made few references in the original version to his own pioneering research
in labour policy and other areas of Occupation history. In adapting the present work,
the translators have drawn extensively from this impressive corpus of scholarship as
well as from the in-depth interviews Professor Takemae has conducted with former
SCAP and Japanese officials since 1983. The incorporation of recent scholarship
on the Occupation, background information and copious endnotes has imparted
additional depth, and volume, to the English edition.
The draft translation of the original Japanese text devolved largely upon Sebastian
Swann in Washington DC, who also compiled the bibliography and index and
coordinated the project with Athlone. The task of reorganising, updating and editing
the text was undertaken by Robert Ricketts in Tokyo, under the close supervision of
the author. Ricketts also integrated relevant materials from Professor Takemae’s
other writings, compiled endnotes and added the Introduction and chapters 9
and 11 based on the author’s recent research. In the process, Jnside GHQ’s four
original chapters ballooned to eleven, the English typescript from 270 pages to 1,200.
Both translators have reviewed each other’s work and contributed to the adaptation
of the text as a whole; both are responsible for the final product.
We gratefully acknowledge the generous assistance of And6 Rei, Lonny Carlisle,
Victor Carpenter, Alistair Graham, Inoue Teruko, Iwase Fusako, Deborah Kaplan,
Koh Myong-shin, Matsuno Masako, Joe B. Moore, Naité Kazuko, Ian H. Nish,
Nishioka Takeo, Thaddeus Yoneji Ohta, Nina Raj, Lynne Riggs, Susan Schmidt,
Lynne Wakabayashi, and Wendy Zeldin. Sasamoto Yukuo and Tanaka Kaori, Occu-
pation scholars and Professor Takemae’s assistants, provided services above and
beyond the call of duty in tracking down difficult-to-locate sources, verifying facts and
figures and encouraging the translators. We owe a special debt of gratitude to John W.
Dower for his strong moral support and painstaking, insightful critique of the final
draft. His sharp eye caught many inaccuracies, subtle and manifest, in the translation.
We also are grateful to Brian Southam of Athlone Press and to Caroline Wintersgill
and Jeremy Albutt of Continuum International Publishing Group for their kind
assistance and remarkable patience in seeing this project to fruition. Finally, a heartfelt
‘thank you’ to the author, Professor Takemae Eiji, and his spouse, Atsuko, for their
encouragement, guidance and refusal to lose faith in us during difficult times.
Robert Ricketts (Tokyo)
Sebastian Swann (Washington DC)

ei
e
 Bibliography

Acheson, Dean, Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department, New
American Library, 1970 (W. W. Norton, 1969).
Agoncillo, Teodoro A. and Milagros C. Guerrero, History of the Filipino People, R. P.
Garcia (Quezon), 1977.
Aida Yuji, Prisoner of the British — A Japanese Soldier's Experiences in Burma, Cresset
Press, 1966.
Akagi Suruki, Kansei no keisei (The Establishment of the Bureaucracy), Nihon
Hyéronsha, 1991.
Akashi Yoji, ‘Japanese Military Administration in Malaya: Its Formation and
Evolution in Reference to Sultans, the Islamic Religion and the Moslem Malays,
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 Index

‘ABCD’ (American, British, Chinese, Dutch) Hokkaido Ainu Association, 439; and
encirclement, xxxi, xxxii Hokkaido Former Aborigines’ Protection
ABDA (American-British-Dutch-Australian Act (1899), 438, 440, 534; and negative
Command in the Far East), 11 impact of Occupation’s land reform upon,
Abe Iso’o, 261 440
Abe Shigetaka, 364-5 Aiso, John, B, 166-7
Abe Yoshishige, 351, 358, 507 Aka, Raymond, Y,, 158
Acheson, Dean, xxxii, 105, 151, 216, 226, Akahata (Red Flag) (newspaper), 240, 243,
230, 457, 475, 499, 504-5, 512-13 261, 392-3, 482
Adams, Roger, 143 Akamatsu Tsuneko, 241, 265, 321, 327, 432
Adjutant General’s Office, 194 Akihito, Crown Prince, 6, 237, 379, 381,
administrative decentralisation (education), 519-21
356-7 Akin, Spencer, B,, 11, 194
advisory commissions (to GHQ), 115 Alamo Force, 14
Advisory Committee on Postwar Foreign Alamogordo (New Mexico), 217
Policy, 202 Alber, H. BR, 599
Advisory Council on the Welfare of the Aleutian Islands, 10, 22, 81
Physically Disabled, 423 aliens in Japan, 208, 292, 436-7, 447;
Afghanistan, xxv, 524, 526, 558 alien passbooks and controls, 450, 476,
AFPAC, See General Headquarters, United 493, 498-9, 530-2; fingerprinting of
States Army Forces in the Pacifie (GHQ/ aliens, 450, 476, 498-9, 530; fingerprint
AFPAC) refusers, 531, 535, See also Chinese
Aftican Americans in Japan, xxviii, 129-31, (Formosans) and Koreans
135, 144, 354, 357, 441; discriminatory Alien Registration (Smith) Act (1940, US);,
treatment of, 81, 129-30; and Japanese 450, 476, 493, 498-9
jazz and entertainment, 131; racial Alien Registration Law (1952, Japan), 499,
tensions with white troops, 130; sympathy 511):531; 505
with Japanese suffering, 131 Alien Registration Ordinance (ARO) (1947,
agrarian emancipation directives, 340-4, See Japan), 450-1, 491-8; revision of, 498,
also land reform Allan, Edward, 179
agricultural cooperatives (Ndkyd), 545 Allied Combined Chiefs of Staff, 11, 22, 37,
Agricultural Land Adjustment Law (1945), 84, 131, 382
341 Allied Council for Japan (ACJ), 97, 99-103,
Agriculture and Forestry, Minisery of, 110, 150—1, 166, 315, 324, 326, 333, 342-3,
148, 189, 340; Agriculcural 361, 439, 404, 479
Administration Bureau of, 343 Allied Intelligence Bureau (AIB), 17, 19
Aguinaldo, Emilio, 4 Allied Translation and Interpreters Service
AIDS, 554 (ATIS), 18-21, 137, 156, 163, 166
Ainu, xxvi, xl, 87, 158, 435, 437-40, 517, Allied war planning, 4, 22
532-4; acknowledgment as ethnic Allison, John, R., 598
minority under New Ainu Cultural Almond, Edward, M,, 130, 139
Promotion Law (1996), 534; and Biratori Alt, Grace, E,, 191, 416
dam construction controversy, 534; Amami Islands, 516, 538
716 Index

Amano Masakazu, 52 fragility of Western imperial rule, xxxv,

Amaterasu Omikami (Sun Goddess), 237, 372 xxxvi; Japan’s search for a ‘decisive
Ambrose, Edna, 601 victory’, 24-5, 38-9, 257; Japanese
American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU), 7, surrender, 46-7, 57-60; Japanese war
475, 479 aims, xxxi; losses to Japan in, xxviii, xxix;
American Council on Japan (ACJ). See Japan low popular morale during, 39; problems
Lobby. created by ultra-rightists at end of, 39;
American Medical Association Mission to return of Western colonial rule after, 50;
Tokyo, 424-5 savagery of race hatreds in, 21; Soviet
American Red Cross, 431 declaration of war, 45; US strategic
Amis, Robert, T., 175-7, 470 bombing in, 25-6, 30-1, 40
Anami Korechika, 56, 222-4 Aso Kazuko, 139
anarchists, 296 Atcheson, George, Jr, 100-2, 226, 240, 315,
Ando Akira, 71 341
Ando Masatsugu, 356, 360 Atlantic Charter (1941), 10, 49-50, 83-4,
Andé6 Sekiten, 124 2315272
Ando Shoji, 353 ‘atoll war’, 22
Anesaki Masaharu, 375-6 Atomic Bomb Casualties Commission
anti-American sentiment, 333; in Okinawa, (ABCC), 179, 191-2, 405, 428-31;
442-3 Radiation Effects Research Foundation,
anti-Communism, 378, 399, 472-3, 429; and refusal to provide relief to
476-8; anti-Communist Japanese bomb victims, 430
bureaucrats, 479; crackdown on atomic bomb, xxvi, 38, 40-6, 50, 55, 64,
Communists, 493, 495 179, 215=17, 219; 222, 230;250j;254,
Anti-Monopoly Law (1947), 336-7, 460-1 354, 385, 387, 389, 430, 506, 559;
ANZUS security pact (1951), 136, 502-4 Alamogordo test, 40-1; Atomic Bomb
Appel, Leonard, 171-2 Victims’ Medical Care Law, 1957, 556;
Arcadia Conference (December, 1941), as crime against humanity, 44; Hiroshima
10-11, 21 and Nagasaki, 42-6, 428, 431; Hyde Park
Ariga Tetsutaro, 358 Conference, 41, 44; and Japan as nuclear
Arisawa Hiromi, 308-10 victim of, 431, 559; Manhattan Project,
Arisue Seiz6, 42, 52-3, 165-6, 259, 428 38, 44; misgivings of US military leaders
Arrowhead, Roy, W., 601 about, 44—5; radiation as a result of,
Article Nine. See Constitution (postwar) 428-9; suppression by SCAP of effects
Asahi Shinbun (newspaper), 184, 238, 313, of, 389-90, 428-9; World Conference
385, 398 Against Atomic and Hydrogen Bombs,
Asakai Koichird, 100 555. See also atrocities, Hiroshima,
Asano combine. See zaibatsu. Nagasaki, war crimes.
Asanuma Inejird, 261 atrocities, xix, 250-3, 254, 396, 546-7,
Ashida Hitoshi, 165, 239, 261-2, 280, 289, 557-8; atomic bombings as atrocity, 44;
291, 295, 321, 331-3, 369, 414, 462, Bataan Death March, 9, 248, 252-3;
467; ‘Ashida Amendment’, 289, 291 effects of ‘strategic bombing’, 25-7, 57,
Asia Development Board, xxx, xxxvi, xxxvii 409, 420; fire bombings, 215, 250, 254;
Asia-Pacific War, xix, xxx—xxxix, xliii, 12, forced labour, xxxviii, 253; forced suicides
122, 163, 399-400, 409, 516; air raids on (in Saipan and the Keramas), 23, 32;
Japan, 30, 40; calls for “a hundred million Japanese and US atrocities in Okinawa,
shattered jewels’, 39; destruction of supply 33; Sack of Manila, 28-9; sexual slavery,
routes to home islands, 30—1; divided 254; targeting of civilians, 25-6; Unit,
Japanese leadership over, xxxiv; fear of 731 (bio-war), xix, 254-6, 547, 557. See
ABCD encirclement, xxxi, xxxii; fear also atomic bomb, biological and chemical
of domestic insurrection, 35, 39, 46; warfare, ‘comfort women’, war crimes.
 Index GAT

Atsugi Air Base, 3, 52-6, 58, 125 Bassin, Jules, 172, 206, 496, 499
Attorney General, Office of (established Bataan (MacArthur's aircraft), 3
1948), 478-9, 493, 496-7; 120, 153, 171; ‘Bataan Crowd’ (or Bataan Boys, or Bataan
Special Investigations Bureau of, 305, 479, Gang), 11, 49, 155-6, 171, 174
484, 493, 498; US Attorney General’s Bataan Death March. See atrocities.
Office, 477 Batavia (Jakarta), 251
Aum Shinrikyo, 551-2 Becker, G. G., 599
Australia, xxix, 3, 10-11, 14-15, 58, 94, Becker, Leon, 599
97-100, 131-3, 135-6, 194, 244, 246, Behrstock, Arthur, 238, 241, 341, 395
248, 251, 253, 257, 269, 281-2, 284, “The Bells Toll for Nagasaki’ (Vagasaki no
292, 318, 333, 469, 502 kane), 389
Australian Scientific Mission, 142, 179 Bennett, John, W., 187
Autonomy Agency, 538 Berendsen, Carl, 98—9, 258, 275
Axis powers, xxx, 50 Berger, David, C., 153
Ayukawa combine (Nissan). See zaibatsu. Beria, Lavrenty, 86
Ayusawa Iwao, 241, 311, 325 Berkov, Robert, H., 184, 395, 397
Bernard, Henri, 248—50, 256
B-29 ‘superfortresses’, 25-6, 29, 42, 59, Besson, Frank, S., 195
122, 209, 224, 280 “Between War and Peace’ (Sensé to heiwa), 390
Ba Maw, xxxvii Beveridge Report (UK), 424
Baba, Frank, S., 188, 395, 398-9 Bibai Mine (Hokkaido), 313
Baba Tsunego, 313, 317 Bikini Atoll (Marshall Islands), 428, 555
Back, George, I., 194 Biological and Chemical Warfare (BCW),
Baerwald, Hans, H., 159 xix, 252, 254-6, 426, 546, 557; and role
Baker, Frayne, 138, 193-4, 317 of BW war crimes suspects in development
Baldwin, Roger, N., 7, 144, 475-6 of postwar preventative medicine, 426-7;
Balicka, S., 599 Unit 100 (Changchun), 256; Unit 9420
Balfour, John, 225 (Singapore), 256; Unit 731 (Harbin), xix,
Ball, W. Macmahon, 101-3, 134, 342-4 252, 254-6, 426-7, 547, 557; Unit
Ballantine, Joseph, 203, 206, 210, 224-6, Ei-1644 (Nanjing), 256, 427. See also
258, 459 atrocities, war crimes.
Bank of Japan, 310 birth control, 432-3
Bard, Ralph, A., 44 Bishop, Max, W., 151, 155, 267
Barnard, John, W., 602 Bismarck Archipelago, 10, 14
Barnhart, Rebecca, 601 Bisson, Thomas, A., 160, 162, 305, 335,
bases, (US in Japan), 441-2, 444, 480, 341
489-90, 500-1, 505, 507; in Okinawa, ‘Blacklist’, Operation, 37, 39-40, 47, 64,
524; opposition to, 525, 535, 555; US 131
efforts to get Japanese base workers to sign black market (yami ichi), 67, 69, 71, 76-8,
loyalty statements disavowing 119, 131, 135, 189, 312, 387, 451,
Communism, 480 453-4; high profitability of, 76-7; impact
Basic Agricultural Law (1961), 545 on postwar economic recovery, 77; and
‘Basic Directive for Post-Surrender Military importance of in revival of the ‘Old
Government in Japan Proper’ (JCS, 1380/ Guard’, 77 official involvement in, 76
15, 1945), 104-5, 156, 206, 210, 212, ‘black mist’ scandal. See scandals.
227-8, 231, 233, 307, 374, 384, Blakemore, Thomas, L., 161, 171
405, 447-8, 457, 468. See also Joint Blakeslee, George, H., 83, 204, 210, 340,
Chiefs of Staff. 348
Basic Environmental Law (1993), 554 Blyth, Reginald, E., 237, 284
‘Basic Plan for Civilian Censorship in Japan’ Board of Education Law. See education.
(30 September 1945), 383 Boese, W. C., 603
718 Index

Bohlen, Charles, #,, 83 Buddhism, 371-3, 377-9, 381, 551

bombing, See Asia-Pacific War, atrocities, Bunce, William, K,, 49, 181, 183, 188,
Bonin Islands, See Ogasawara Islands, 373-8, 380
Bonus marchers, 4 Bundy, Hazel, B,, 601
Borneo, xxviii, 28, 36, 50, 137 Bunker, Laurence, E,, 6-7, 138-9, 489
Borron, Hugh, 176, 204, 206, 209-10, 218, Burakumin (persecuted minority), xxvi, xl,
258, 283, 340, 348-9 265, 435, 437, 446-7, 478-9, 532, 534;
Bose, Subhas Chandra, »oevil continuing discrimination through
Bouverse, Arthur, D,, 191 circulation of secret registers, 534;
Bowers, Haubion, 6, 76, 79, 116, 137-8, National Committee for Buraku
236, 390-1, 410 Liberation, 261, 265, 273, 447, 478;
Howles, Gordon, T;, 152, 348-9, 354, Special Measures Law for Assimilation
347-8, 460 Projects, 532, See ao Matsumoto
Bowles, Luana, 187 Jiichird, minorities, Suéheisha,
Bradley, Omar, N,, 103 Burati, Valery, 163, 177, 470-1, 483-4,
Bratton, Rufus, §., 167 493-4
Hrect, George, H,, 11 Burchett, Wilfred, 389
Krines, Russell, 392 bureaucracy, xlli, 66, 100, 115, 142-3, 154,
Brisbane, 10, 19, 155, 161 159, 204, 212, 220, 222, 226, 270, 272,
Britain, xx, addi, ey, 8, 10, 22, 31, 58, 295, 301, 304-6, 309-11, 330, 333, 356,
44, 93-100, 109, 112, 170, 221, 243, 400, 414, 425, 432, 468, 473, 481-2,
251, 258, 269, 283, 318, 420, 510-11; 530, 536-9, 543; bureaucratic reform,
and British Commonwealth 159, 305-7, 331, 470, 538; failure of
Occupation Faree (BCOF), xxix, 90x, bureaucratic restructuring, 538;
131-7; and suspension ofoil exports to Government Section commitment to
Japan (1941), sory; and suspension of administrative efficiency of, 154; Hoover
repatriation of Japanese troops in mission, 143, 305; prewar reform
Southease Asia, 112 proposals concerning, xlii; ‘reform
British Navy, 31; British Par Rast Fleet, 54) bureaucrats’, xli, xii, 242, 279, 308-11,
British Pacific Fleet, 40, 131; sinking of 324, 326, 328, 340, 350, 352, 471-3,
HMS Prince afWales, 10, 32; Task Force 483, 485
Fifty-Seven, al Burma, xxviii, 10-11, 37, 50, 98, 109,
Rritish Commonwealth Occupation Rorce 133, 208, 249, 254, 504
(BCOF), xxix, 94-6, 108, 126, 131-7; Burma—Thailand railway, 250
anti-traternisarion decrees against Burnette, Paul, 184
Japanese and US Nisei, 81; attacks on business Japanese), 466, 482, 521, 543;
women by Auseralian troops, 67; (US), 459, See also black market, ‘black
bigoted behaviour of Australian mist’, corruption, Dodge retrenchment,
rroops, 145; BRINDJAP (British and econoinic stabilisation, Keidanren,
Indian Troops, Japan), 135-6; Nikkeiven, scandals, Showa Denko,
Commonwealth Division, Korea, 136; zaibatsn,
housing of women in barracks by New Bussey, Charles, 130
Zealand troops, 69; kept in subaleern Byrnes, James, R, 40, 44, 97, 217, 219, 224,
position by MacArthur, 134; multi-ethnic 230; Byrnes Note, 46, 224, 230-1; fe

composition of, xxx, 134; national Foreign Ministry's deliberate mistransla-

composition of, xxix; New Zealand tion of Byrnes Note, 62, See aéso Potsdam
Jayforee, 143, 136 Proclamation, surrender of Japan,
brothels, 254, See aée prostitution,
Brawn, Don, 183-4, 395 Cabinet, wxxiv, xoxxix, 64, 212, 222, 224,
Brugger, Florence, 602 271-2, 299, 518; Cabinet Law (1947),
Buckner, Simon, Bolivar, Jy, 31, 34 537; Cabinet Legislation Bureau, 287,
 Index 719

328, 437; Cabinet Orders, 328 Cabinet Central Intelligence Agency (CIA), 167, 458,
Planning Board, xxxiv, xvi, 342 539
Cairo Declaration (27 November 1943), Central Liaison Office (CLO), 61—2, 100,
49-50, 64, 84, 106, 122, 205, 211, 249, 113-14, 117, 124, 139-40, 153, 196,
447 279, 305, 328, 376
Campbell, Roy, S., 461 Ceylon, 10
Canada, 58, 98, 131-2, 136, 170, 246 Chagnon, D, R., 603
Canberra, 10—11, 132, 171, 502 Charter Oath, Meiji (1868), 230
Canon Unit, 165. See also G-2, Chase, W. C., 102
capitalism, 203 Chatravarty, B. N., 246
‘Cardinal Principles of the National Polity’ Chiang Kai-shek (Jiang Jieshi), xxx, 11, 22,
(Kokutai no hongi), 357 41, 50, 59, 94, 122, 151, 377, 503
Carley, Verna, A., 128, 186 Chiba Yasuki, 398
Caroline Islands, 10, 23, 50; Truk, 22; UN Chibana Shéichi, 536
trust territories, 50 Child Care Leave Act (1991), 530
Carpenter, Alva, C., 171 child labour practices, 240
Casablanca Conference (January, 1943); call Child Welfare Law (1948), 418-20
for unconditional surrender of Axis Powers Children’s Bureau, 418
in, 21-2 China, xxx, xxxv, xxxvi, xxxvili, 10-11, 31,
Casey, Hugh, 11 36, 59, 121, 134, 185, 214, 250, 254-6,
censorship, xxi, xxv, xxvi, 131, 139, 162-3, 281, 377, 388, 432, 476, 491; People’s
167-8, 184, 236, 364, 371, 382, Republic of, 252, 261, 475, 501, 505—7,
384-97, 400, 402, 453, 552, 559; 526, 542, 545, 557; Republic of, 10, 58,
absence of concerning anti-minority 64, 94—5, 100, 102, 106, 109, 122,
sentiment, 452; absence of concerning 170, 203, 251, 291, 451, 458, 475,
Bunraku, Noh and modern drama and 505-6
literature, 391; Allied criticism of SCAP ‘China crowd’, 202~4, 210, 217, 226,
censorship, 101; ‘censored democracy’, 228, 230, 235, 282, 340
389-91; of criticism of the Emperor, Chinese, 255, 265, 312, 447, 451-2,
389-90; from ‘fascist cleansing to 557
communist chasing’, 393, 452; and G-2, Chinese Eastern Railway, 50
139; Japanese films, 387-90, 392; of Chinese Liaison Mission, 451
Kabuki, 390; of kamishibai street plays, Chinese (Formosan) minority in Japan, xxvi,
393-5; ‘key logs’, 387-8, 391, 393, 452; xxvili, 42, 69, 110, 172, 253-4, 265, 289,
as method of preventing reporting on GI 435-7, 447, 450-2, 499, 511; and
misbehaviour, 67; of nuclear holocaust, acquisition of UN diplomatic status, 451;
389, 559; percentage of materials as underclass, 69; disfranchisement under
censored compared with pre-surrender Occupation, 538, reaction to Japan’s
Japan, 391—3; of pornographic films, 398; defeat, 60; involvement in black-market
pre-publication and production activities, 76; numbers killed in atomic
censorship, 364, 383-4, 386, 389; from bombings, 42
‘pre’ to ‘post’ censorship, 391-2; self- Chinese Revolution, 388, 458, 513
censorship, 388, 391—5; of telephone, Ché Isamu, 34
telegraph and postal communications, cholera, 409
393; of US press and speeches, 388, 396; Choryon (League of Korean Residents in
Willoughby and suppression of Japan Japan), 120, 452, 462—3, 481, 496~7
Times article saying MacArthur is not a Christianity, 296, 371-3, 377-9, 381;
god, 389. See also Civil Censorship Japanese reaction to proselytisation of
Detachment, Civil Information and Christianity, 378-9
Education Section (CI&E), General Staff/ Chrysanthemum Curtain, 271
G-2, Willoughby, Chrysanthemum Taboo, 520, 552
720 Index

Chu Shih-ming, 102-3, 275, 343, 361 Analysis and Research Division, 187; Arts
Chungking, 24, 224 and Monuments Branch/Division of, 187;
Chito Koron, (journal), 391 CI&E Information Centres, 396;
Churchill, Winston, S., xxiv, 5, 10, 22, 31, Education Branch/ Division of, 180,
37, 40-1, 44, 50, 83-4, 131, 212, 215, 182-3, 185-8,350, 352, 359, 367, 369,
217, 219, 457 378, 396, 480; Information Division of,
Chiishingura (Kabuki drama), 391 150, 183-5, 187, 384, 395-6, 398;
citizens’ movements, 498, 514, 524—5, Motion Picture and Drama Branch of,
555-8; anti-airport movement (Narita), 184, 395, 397; Planning Branch of, 185;
556; anti-base movement, 514, 524—5, Press and Publications Branch of, 184,
556; anti-nuclear movement, 555; anti- 317, 395-7; Public Opinion and
war movement, 498, 555; grass-roots’ Sociological Research Division of, 187;
activism since 1980s, 556; popular Religions Division of, 49, 182-3, 187-8,
struggle against renewal of US-Japan 352, 373-6, 378-81
Security Treaty (1960), 555-6; Suginami Civil Intelligence Division (CID), GHQ
Appeal (1950s anti-nuclear signature (G-2), 164, 167-8. See also G-2.
campaign), 555; war victims’ redress Civil Intelligence Section (CIS), GHQ, 141,
movement (1990s), 557-8 150-2, 159, 162-4, 239, 386, 446. See
Civil Affairs Division (CAD), US War also G-2
Department, 146, 156, 161, 191, 206, Civil Liberties Directive (1945) (or Japanese
208, 210, 212, 217, 325, 360, 395 Bill of Rights), 162, 183, 211, 235,
Civil Affairs Guides, 161, 176, 189, 238-9, 242, 260, 351, 374, 386,
208-9, 297; guide on Aliens in Japan, 436, 464
436, 447 Civil Property Custodian, GHQ, 196.
Civil Affairs Handbooks, 177, 208; civil rights, 159-60, 172, 278, 281, 536;
handbook on Ryukyu Islands, 440 freedom of speech, 227, 382
Civil Affairs Regional Teams, 193 civil service. See bureaucracy.
Civil Affairs Section (CAS), GHQ, 192-3, civil staff, xxvii, xxviii, 64, 141—2, 162, 202
487-8 Civil Transportation Section (CTS), GHQ,
Civil Affairs Staging Area (CASA), 48, 180, 195
182-3, 185, 207-8, 353, 359-60, 487 coal, 310, 314, 486
Civil Affairs Training Schools (CATS). See coal miners, 312, 470
military government schools Cochrane, Doris, 185
Civil and Criminal Codes, xl, 185, 267, 377, Cohen, Theodore, 7, 163, 175-6, 209, 228,
399; reform of, xl, 243, 267, 289, 330, 311, 317, 319-20, 323-8, 329, 332, 337,
528 470
Civil Censorship Detachment (CCD), Cold War, xx, xxv, xli, xliv, 99, 109, 123,
GHQ, 163-4, 166-7, 383-7, 389, 125-6; 145, 165, 196, 247, 307, 388,
392-3, 395-6, 452; Communication 391, 404, 443, 454, 457-8, 472, 475,
Division of, 167; Postal Division of, 387; 478, 491, 493, 495, 499, 507, 512, 516,
Press, Pictoral and Broadcast Division of, 558; and US ‘soft’ Cold War policy, 458;
167, 384, 387-91; Telecommunications US ‘hard’ Cold War policy 473-5; and
Division of, 167, 387 US ‘integrated’ Cold War policy, 491-5
Civil Communications Section (CCS), Colegrove, Kenneth, W., 156
GHQ, 141, 194, 385, 398 Collaer, Nicholas, B., 498
Civil Information and Education Section Collette, Sterling, D., 599
(CI&E), GHQ, 49, 66, 141, 148-9, 153, Collins, Joseph, L., 103
156, 162, 180-8, 193, 207, 237-8, 243, Collins, Ralph, E., 291 e
269, 317, 340, 347, 350-2, 356, 359, collective bargaining, 176
361-4, 366, 370-1, 381, 385, 393, ‘comfort women’ (jagun tanfu), 69, 254,
395-6, 422, 446, 453, 462, 480, 497; 547, 557

a
 Index W2N

Commerce and Industry Ministry, 173 272-3; Old Guard anger at terms of, xliii,
Commission on the Constitution, 522; 278-81; Old Guard survival assured by,
Research Commission on the 276, 280; ‘Peoples Rights’ drafts in Meiji
Constitution, 526 times (Shigi kenpo), 273, 296; rights of
Committee of Japanese Educators, 352, minorities not guaranteed in, 289, 292,
354-6, 358, 360, 365-6, 368; 530; war renounced in (Article Nine), xxii,
recommendations of, 356 xxxix, 233, 271, 276, 281, 284-7, 289,
Committee on Counter-Measures Against 291-2, 390, 462, 488, 490, 501, 518,
Communism in the Far East, GHQ, 197, 522-6, 560
493, 498-9 Constitutional Discussion Group, 273
Commonwealth countries, 501—3; British Constitutional Problem Investigation
desire to have People’s Republic of China Committee (Matsumoto Committee),
represent China at the San Francisco 272-6, 283, 287
Peace Conference, 503; disagreements Constitutional Research Association, 273-4,
with Washington over the Peace Treaty, 283
501; and fears of renewed Japanese Construction Agency, 305
aggression, 502. See also British consumer rights, 536, 556
Commonwealth Occupation Force, peace containment doctrine, 458
settlement. Cooke, M. G., 603
Communism, 296, 309, 332, 368, 377-8, Corregidor, 3, 9, 11, 17, 194
390, 393, 397, 399, 462-3, 480 Correll, Irving, C., 184, 395
Communists, 168, 317, 370, 388, 426, corruption, 406, 539
452, 466, 468, 472, 478, 480-1, 511 Costantino, Anthony, 163, 176, 324-5
Comyns-Carr, Arthur, 169, 245 Costello, John, J., 167
Conant, James, B., 44, 353-4 Council on Medical Education, 415-16
Conde, David, W., 184, 389, 395, 397-9, Counter Intelligence, 163; Counter-
452 Intelligence Corps (CIC), 111, 163-4,
Confessor, Tomas, 274—5 166-8, 319, 447, 454, 462, 483
Congress (US), 257 Country and Area Committees (CACs),
Conklin, John, FE, 196 State Department, 204-6, 209; CAC-237
Constitution (1890), Meiji, xxxiv, 230, 240, (Japan: Occupation Media of Public
270-2, 276, 283, 287, 358, 372, 436, Information and Expression’, July
450 1944), 383-4; PWC/CAC memoranda,
Constitution (1947), postwar, xxii, xxv, 205-6
xxxix, xliii, 60, 64, 99, 105,129, 184-5, Court (Imperial Japanese), 212, 236~7,
233, 235, 243, 267, 270-92, 295, 298, 257-9, 270, 284, 303-4, 371-2, 379,
303-4, 321, 328-30, 332, 358, 368, 377, 381, 444, 459, 500
379-80, 382, 387-8, 390-3, 405, 444, Coville, Cabot, 203-4
488, 495, 518-20, 522, 526, 530, 549, Crews, Allbert, C., 184
550-1, 560; attempted revisions of, Crimes Against the Imperial Household. See
518-26; drafting of, 154, 159-60, 242, lese majesté statute.
263, 278-81, 287, 388, 526; Emperor Criminal Code. See Civil and Criminal
preserved in, 271-4, 276, 281-4, 518-20; Codes.
enhanced role of prime minister in, 272; Crist, William, E., 49, 155, 208, 443
gender equality in, 271, 273, 277-9, 289, Cunningham, Owen, 169
329; human rights in, 271—2, 281, 289, curricula reforms (schools), 182—3, 348,
405, 552; Japanese input to, 278-9, 356-7, 361-4, 366, 370-1, 545; ethics
287-92; labour provisions of, 279, 332; courses (shashin), 348-9, 351, 363, 545;
local autonomy under, 301-3; geography courses, 351, 363; history
MacArthur’s “Three Basic Points’, 276; courses (Japanese), 348-9, 351, 363;
Matsumoto draft and publication of, introduction of social studies courses, 363;
G22 Index

Prime Minister Nakasone’s call for Department of Justice (US), 335

curricula to emphasise Japanese identity, Department of the Treasury (US), 208, 212
547 deportation, 451-2, 476, 493, 530, 532; of
illegal immigrants, 532; of Korean
Daiei Film Studio, 398 ‘subversives’, 493
Dai-Ichi Mutual Life Insurance Building, 5, depression, 468-70. See also Dodge.
65, 94, 137, 153, 163, 191, 196-7, 240, de-purging, 480, 491, 493, 500; Emperor’s
276, 314, 388, 487 involvement in, 500; of ultra-nationalists,
Daily Life Protection Law (1946), 407-8, 480
418, 420, 424, 498, 511-12; revision to Deputy Chiefs of Staff, GHQ, 138, 140,
(1950), 408, 498 146, 193, 229; as mechanism for special
Dairen, 50 staff to bypass Military General Staff, 146
Dando Shigemitsu, 330 Derevyanko, Kuzma, 101-3, 166, 269, 324,
Darsey, John, 169 326, 333, 342-3, 479
Darwin, Australia, 10 DeShazer, Jacob, 378
DDT, 190, 401-6, 410-12 Deverall, Richard, L-G., 323
Deconcentration Review Board (DRB), 461 Dickover, Earle, R., 203, 374
‘deconcentration’ law, 173, 175, 337-9, Diet (Japan), xxxiii, 114, 142, 157, 165, 168,
461 212, 244, 251, 261, 263-6, 270-83,
Dees, Bowen, C., 57, 179 287-9, 295, 299, 301-2, 311, 331, 333,
Defence Agency (Japan), 291, 520, 523, 539; 341, 343, 359, 369, 380, 407, 418, 421,
and involvement in procurement scandal, 432, 447, 478-9, 484-5, 487, 493, 504,
539 518, 529, 537, 551; harassment of
Del Re, Arundel, 188 Communist members by G-2 in, 168;
demilitarisation and democratisation, xx, xxi, Imperial Diet, xxxiii, xlii, 39, 64, 212;
xxii, XXV, XXVi, XxVii, xxxix, xlii, xlili, 96, Lower House of, 263, 265-6, 270, 288,
99, 106-9, 153-4, 203, 205, 211, 214, 321, 358-9, 432, 493, 539; postwar
240, 308, 396-7, 399-406, 412-15, 555; improvement in status of, xxxix;, 288,
absence of in Okinawa, 524, of the 518; reforms of, 154; Upper House of,
economy, xxxix, xl, 195, 211, 307, 310, 265, 270, 288, 321, 359, 447, 478,
314, 334-5, 541-5; oflabour, xxxix, 310, 534, 546; Yoshida effort to establish
466-7; and preservation of traditional Lower House Un-Japanese Activities
elites in, 473; of public health, 405-6 Committee, 479
demobilisation, xxxix, 107-8, 110, 126, 235, Diller, Legrande, A. (‘Killer Diller’), 138
431; Demobilisation Board, 108, 166, Diplomatic Section (DS), GHQ, 99-100,
489; use of Government Rehabilitation 106, 141, 149-53, 361, 482, 487,
Loan in facilitating, 110; Local Assistance 495, 497, 511. See also Office of the
Bureaux, 108, 110; “Potsdam Promotions’ Political Adviser (POLAD).
and GS opposition to, 108; Willoughby’s disarmament, xxxix, 41, 58-9, 96, 106-8,
interest in, 108 126, 203-4, 285, 526
Democratic Liberal Party (LDP), 478 disease, 190, 255, 409-12, 415, 426-7, 432,
Democratic Party of Japan (DPJ), 540 552-3; control of, 409-12, 553;
Democratic Socialist Party (DSP), 539 involvement of biological warfare war
demonstrations, 313-14, 390, 453, 463-6, crimes suspects in vaccine production,
479, 508-9, 514, 556 426-7; preventive medicine, 405, 409;
Dentsi, 270 quarantine stations, 410, 412; sanitation,
Department of Agriculture (US), 208-9 409; vaccines, 190, 255, 409-10, 412,
Department of the Army (US), 146, 173, 415, 426-7
324, 339, 386-7, 461 district welfare volunteers (bomen iin), 407;
Department of Defense (US), 457-8, 468, reorganisation as social welfare
490 commissioners (minsei iin), 408
 Index 723

Divelbiss, Edith, 601 against Koreans and leftists in, 447,

Dixon, Oness, H., 416 559. Fukui-Ishikawa earthquake,
Division of Special Research (US State 118-19.
Department), 202, 204 East Asia Institute (70a Kenkyiijo), xxxvi
Dobashi Kazuyoshi, 312 East Asia Policy Study Group (US), 204
Dodge, Joseph, M., 143, 422, 469, 490; Echols, Marion, P., 194
retrenchment plan of (Dodge Line), 98, Economic and Scientific Section (ESS),
142-4, 173, 195, 424, 469-74, 478, GHQ, 7, 49, 66, 100, 108, 141-2, 148,
485-6, 541. See also Economic 154, 156, 172-80, 195, 207, 228, 241,
Stabilisation Programme. 269, 279, 311, 323, 325-6, 341, 389,
Doi Takako, 520 422, 449, 461, 470, 472, 480, 486; Anti-
Déomei (Japanese Confederation of Labour), Trust and Cartels Division of, 160, 173-4,
543 335, 337, 461; Fair Trade Division of,
Domei News Agency, 384-5 173; Labour Division of, 49, 143, 173-7,
Donovan, Eileen, R., 128, 153, 185-7, 2075 2007279, 011, 313,339;
355-6, 359 323-7, 332, 466-7, 470-2, 480, 484,
Doolittle, James, H., 25, 378 494; Scientific and Technical Division of,
Dooman, Eugene, H., 152, 203, 206, 142, 178-80
209-10, 214, 224, 226, 230, 340, 360-1, economic deconcentration, xxxix, xl, xli, 115,
374, 383, 459 142, 307, 457, 541
dormitory system, 326 Economic Stabilisation Board, 173, 310,
‘Downfall’ (Operation), 37-9, 47, 131, 215 333, 337, 467
Draper, William, H., 338, 441, 459-62, Economic Stabilisation Programme (ESP),
469 xli, 98, 307, 337, 404, 422, 433, 459-61,
Duff, R. G., 167 468-70, 541; export-oriented policies
Dulles, John Foster, 153, 490, 499-505, towards United States and South East Asia
510, 512, 514, 516-17; and Japanese as result of, 470; one million put out of
ethnic prejudice and anti-Communism, work as result of, 469-70; popular
510; and authorship of ‘Yoshida letter’, opposition to, 471; recession, 422, 543;
505; and differences with Britain over stabilisation directive, 468-9. See also
which Chinese regime should attend San Dodge.
Francisco Peace Conference, 503, 505; Economic Recovery in Occupied Areas
and insistence upon continuance of US (EROA), 461
bases in Japan, 501; and opposition to economy, economic recovery, 173, 458-9,
international security guarantee for an 468, 473, 475-6, 543
unarmed, neutral Japan, 501-2; and Edogawa Union, 314
pressure to rearm Japan, 490, 500; and education, xl, 115, 143, 148, 182, 211, 347,
fomenting of Japanese-USSR animosity 351, 385, 462, 480, 496, 545; boards of,
over Kuril Islands, 503-4, 516-17; and 370-1, 545-6; Board of Education Law
retention of Ryukyu islands, 512; and (1948), 364, 370 (and 1956 amendment
threat to impose permanent US to), 371, 546; censorship of, 546-8;
sovereignty over Okinawa, 516-17 decentralisation of, xl, 370; education of
Dupell, Paul, T., 480 the handicapped, 369-70; four education
Dutch East Indies. See Netherlands East directives (1945), 349, 351; Fundamental
Indies. (or Basic) Law of Education (1947), 182,
Dyakoy, Porfiry, I., 86-7 359, 368-9, 548; higher education, 356-7,
Dyke, Kermit (‘Ken’), R., 180-1, 183, 237, 366-7; introduction of six-three system,
241, 284, 354, 358, 361, 395, 399 356, 364—6, 369; junior colleges, 366;
National Schools Establishment Law
earthquake (Great Kanto Earthquake, 1923), (1949), 370; ‘New Education Policy’
447, 558-9; and state-supported violence (Education Ministry, September 1945),
724 Index

350-1, 361; prewar reform proposals elections, 124, 150, 260, 262,-3, 265-6,
concerning, xlii; reforms of, 181, 240, 304, 315, 321, 333, 387, 439, 447,
303, 356, 361-71; School Education Law 478-9, 493, 522, 538-9, 545
(1947), 182, 368-9, 377, 453; superinten- multi-member electoral constituencies,
dents of, 371; suppression of left-wing 263, 265; plural voting, 265; voting, 265,
ideas in, 480-1; US evaluation of prewar 399
Japanese education, (SWNCC, 108), electric power, 486
347-50; vocational training, 363; Electric Power Workers Union (Densan), 314
women’s colleges, 356; “Yasukuni allergy’ Elisséeff, Serge, 206
blamed on Occupation education reforms, Ellerman, Ruth, 159, 277, 328-9
549 Embree, John, F., 204
Education, Ministry of, 180, 187, 191, emergency relief, 405-9, 414, 418, 428,
348-52, 354, 356-7, 362-4, 366, 368-9, 449; GARIOA, 79, 409, 513; JCS-1534
371-2, 376, 378, 380-1, 397, 421, 428, (October, 1945), 406
462-3, 481, 512, 531, 546, 551 Emmerson, John, K., 60-1, 150, 152, 214,
Education Mission (Stoddard Mission), US, 239-40
143, 150, 182, 185, 349, 352-61, 364-6, Emperor, xxv, xxxiii, xxxiv, xxxix, 5, 18,
368-9, 546. See also Stoddard. 23-5, 35-6, 46, 53, 56, 63-4, 86, 96,
Education Reform Club (1937), 365 106-7, 137, 169, 174, 176, 203-4,
Edwards, Corwin, D., 142, 335; Edwards 210, 214-27, 229-32, 235, 242-3,
Mission, 173-4, 335; Edwards Report, 245, 256-61, 267, 272, 299, 304, 347,
175, 335-7 349, 358, 378-9, 381 386, 389, 402,
Eells, Walter, C., 188, 481 494, 512, 539; abdication talk concerning,
‘Effects of the Atomic Bomb on Hiroshima 259, 283, 519; Allied hostility towards,
and Nagasaki’, 428. See also atomic 217, 257, 282; and ‘Chrysanthemum
bombings, Nichiei Film Studio. taboo’ concerning, 520, 547; consti-
Egawa Fuji, 399 tutional position of, 242, 282; death of
Eichelberger, Robert, L., 3, 14-15, 28-9, Hirohito (1989), 520; ‘Emperor of Japan’s
48, 53, 57, 67, 79, 106, 113, 126, 130, Opinion Concerning the Future of the
134, 152, 263, 452, 459, 463 Ryukyu Islands’, 443-4, 500, 512;
Eighth Army, US (SWPA, AFPAC, emperor system, XXxill, XXXIV, XXXV, XxXxix,
FECOM), xxix, 27-8, 37, 40, 48, 53-6, xl, 203, 220, 271, 276, 282-4, 304, 347,
61, 63, 65, 67, 73, 79, 113, 116, 126-7, 358, 367, 372, 374, 390, 478, 519-20,
129-30, 133, 140, 154, 159, 189, 192-3, 559; Imperial cult and inculcation of
195-7, 208, 228—9; 251; 263; 312, 317, “extreme racial consciousness and anti-
319-20, 388, 393, 452, 454, 463-7, 472, foreign complex’, 436; Imperial
487, 491, 493, 497; 11th Airborne Soliloquy, 256; Imperial tours through
Division of, 27-8, 53-5; I Corps of, 120, Japan, 284-5, 303-4; Japanese attitudes
133; IX Corps of, 120; in Korea, 139; MG toward, 282, 350-1; and lese majesté,
Headquarters of, 117, 120; strike-breaking 242-3, 389; meeting with MacArthur
activities of, 116, 119-20 (September, 1945), 235-6, 282; message
Eighth New Zealand Division, 16 to Dulles pledging support for US bases
‘eight corners of the world under one and other US objectives regarding Japan in
roof (hakko ichi'u), xxxi return for de-purging of ultra-nationalists
Eisenhower, Dwight, D., 44, 103, 193, and ex-military officers, 500-1; and
212, 258, 541, 556 militarism, 203-4, 235-6, 397-8;
Election Law (Revised Lower House Election position under Meiji Constitution, 270-1;
Law, 1945), 260, 263, 266, 321; Yoshida power of supreme command, xxxiy, xxxy,
revision of (1947), 266 256, 271; preservation of, 204, 216,
election reform, 154, 235, 241, 260-6, 436, 281-4, 350-1, 493, 518-19; rescript
538 ‘humanising’ the Emperor, 181, 236-8,
 Index 725

376; restoration of dating system by 103, 109, 132-3, 140, 153, 170, 175,
Imperial eras (1970s), 519-20; and role in 204, 228, 234, 244, 258, 263, 265,
surrender, 46-7, 53, 56, 58-9, 106-7, 274-5, 284, 288, 291-2, 318, 333, 336,
223-5, 229-30; SCAP reliance upon to 349, 357, 361, 438, 461, 469, 475, 501;
implement Occupation decrees, 64, 114; FEC-230 (‘US Policy with Respect to
as source of Japanese imperialism, 203; Excessive Concentrations of Economic
and subordination to SCAB, 96; SWNCC Power in Japan’), 175, 336, 338, 461
and the Imperial institution, 210; as farmers, 314; farmer-worker alliances, 314,
symbol of state and ‘racial unity’, 282-3, 342
518-20; and war crimes trial, 244, farm rents, 340
249-50; war responsibility of, 169, 171, Farr, Edward, H., 353
212, 215, 221-2, 235-6, 238, 244, Farrell, Thomas, F., 389, 428
249-50, 256-60, 282, 284, 444, 519-20; Fearey, Robert, A., 150-1, 190, 203-4,
and ‘wedge’ strategy, 259 209, 340-1; Fearey Memorandum,
Employment Security Law (1947), 326; 341
1987 amendment to, 543 Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI), 162
enfranchisement of women, 154, 240-2 Feinburg Law (US), 477
Engrav, H. A., 167 Feissner, C. A., 194; Feissner Memorandum,
enterprise unionism, 542-3 194
entertainment, 385 Fell, Norbert, H., 255
environment, 555 Fellers, Bonner, E, 7, 14, 18, 20, 26, 137-8,
Environmental Assessment Law (1997), 554 180, 258-9, 282-3, 352, 384, 395
epidemics, 409-12 Field Service Code (Senjinkun), 251
Equal Employment Opportunity Law Fifteen Year War. See Asia-Pacific War, Pacific
(1985) 529; and revised law (1999), 529 War
Ernst, Earle, 390-1 Fifth Fleet (US), 23, 31
Esman, Milton, J., 159, 277-8, 305-6 Fihelly, John, 169
Eto Jun, 392 Film Ethics Regulation Committee (Zirin),
Etorofu (Iturup), 8, 516. See also Kuril 592)
Islands and Northern Territories. finance, 172, 309
eugenics, 405, 527-8; Eugenic Protection Finance, Ministry of, 173, 196, 327, 336,
Law (1948), 431-3; National Eugenic 500
Protection Law (1940), 431; revisions of fingerprinting. See aliens in Japan.
Eugenic Protection Law (1949, 1952), Finn, Richard, B., 153, 172, 495
432, 528 fire bombings. See atrocities.
fishing, 208, 518 (Rhee Line)
Factory Law (1911), 423 Five Great Reforms (October, 1945), 240,
factory workers, 313 351
Fair Trade Commission, 336 flag (Japanese), 73, 89, 233, 536,
Fairweather, Jane, 185 547
family registration system (koseki), xxvii, Flanagan, Edward, J., 418, 420
435-6 food, Food May Day demonstration (May,
Far Eastern Advisory Commission (FEAC), 19, 1946), 242, 316-17, 389, 453; food
97, 257-8, 274-6, 282 rallies, 242, 315, 317, 342, 453; shortages
Far East Command (FECOM), GHQ, 123, and rationing of, 208, 312, 315, 387, 406,
126-7, 137-8, 194, 197, 427, 441, 443, 408-9
454, 513; establishment of, 126; food relief, 72, 77-9, 143-4, 402; barter
Marianas-Bonin Command, 127; trade and enrichment of farmers, 78;
Philippine Command, 127; Ryukyus delays in food shipments from US, 78;
Command, 123, 127 establishment of GARIOA program, 79,
Far Eastern Commission (FEC), 96-100, 144; fear of famine, 77-8; food shortage
726 Index

and ‘Come, Come English’, 402; reliance Furukaki Tetsuro, 398

on US and BCOF military food reserves, Furukawa combine. See zaibatsu.
72, 78; US Food Mission, 143 Furuno Inosuke, 386
Ford, Gerald, R., 254
Foreign Affairs, Ministry of, 46-7, 113-15, Gaddis, Wilson, 185
120,153; 233; 2595 262,279; 3095385; Gallup poll, 217
498, 500, 502; and plan to fingerprint gangsters, 406, 451
Koreans (1949), 120; Immigration Gascoigne, Alvery, 81, 134
Control Bureau (1949) of, 498, 532; Gauntlett, Owen, 188
intentional mistranslation of Byrnes’ Gayn, Mark, 57, 71, 76, 247, 287
surrender note, 46, 62, 224-5, 230, Geiger, Roy, S., 31
233-4; involvement in embezzlement General Accounting Section (GAS), GHQ,
scandal (2001), 539; misleading assertion 196-7
it was responsible for US adoption of General Association of Koreans in Japan
indirect rule, 63; Special Survey (Chongryun), 532
Committee of, 309-10, 340; Treaty General Headquarters (GHQ), xxvii,
Bureau of, 224—5 xxviii, 111,120, 133, 138-42, 144-6, 160,
Foreign Economic Administration (US), 164-5, 185, 190, 196, 228-33, 235-6,
161, 171, 208 241, 258, 260, 267, 280, 302, 307, 310,
Foreign Ministers’ Conference in Moscow, 368, 394, 449, 496-7; acronyms, 142.
45, 120; 1943 meeting, 45, 84; 1945 See also FECOM, GHQ/AFPAC,
meeting, 65, 97, 99-100, 274, 285 GHQ/SCAP, GHQ/SWPA.
foreign workers, 542 General Headquarters, United States Armed
Formosa, xxx, 10, 24—5, 30, 59, 106, 122, Forces in the Pacific (GHQ/AFPAC),
134, 205-6, 254, 265, 296, 476, 501, xxvii, xxviii, xxix, 37, 47-9, 52, 58,
503, 506, 518 61, 65-6, 106, 113, 117, 137-9, 157,
Formosans. See Chinese (Formosan) 163-4, 180, 182, 190; creation of, 36-7;
minority in Japan. creation of Military Government Section
Forrestal, James, F., 338, 379, 459, 461, 475 (MGS/AFPAC) in, 47—9; creation of
Four Basic Educational Directives (1945). special staff sections in, 64; discontinuance
See education. of MGS/AFPAC, 64-6; MG rule, 117-20;
Fox, Rollin, C., 188 reorganisation into FECOM, 126; transfer
France, 58, 98, 170, 232, 243, 246, 251 of MG civil affairs functions to GHQ/
Freedom and People’s Rights Movement SCAP, 64-6, 120;
(Jiyz Minken Undo), 273-4, 296 General Headquarters, Supreme Commander
freedom of expression, 297 for the Allied Powers (GHQ/SCAP), xxvi,
‘Freedom of Worship’ Memorandum (State XXxVvili, xxviii, xxix, 49, 65-7, 118, 137-43,
Department, 1944), 205, 373-4 147, 163-4, 171, 180, 226, 277, 280,
Froloy, Alexander, S., 87 297, 304, 306, 310, 368, 392-3, 449,
Fuchii Prison, 240 493; and attempts to suppress peace
Fujikura Shaichi, 399 movement, 506; economic aims of, 308;
Fujio Masayuki, 549 establishment of , 65—7; and indifference
Fujita Taki, 186, 330, 367 of to colonial injustice suffered by Asians,
Fukuda Masako, 432 496~7; organisational chart, 147; and
Fukuda Takeo, 467 phasing out of MG Teams, 475; and
Fundamental Law for Disabled Persons preservation of Japanese traditional elites,
(1993), 527 475; ratio of civilian to military personnel
Fundamental (or Basic) Law of Education in, xxviii; special (civil) staff of, xxvii,
(1947). See education. xxviii, 118, 141, 146-7, 162, 228-9, and
Fundamental Policy for the Conduct of the switch to support of management, 314
War (Japan, 1945), 222 General Headquarters, Southwest Pacific
 Index Tat

Area (GHQ/SWPA), xxvii, 3, 11, 16, 23, tempered by promotion of administrative

27, 37, 137, 163, 181; contacts with efficiency, 154; and Constitution, 105,
Philippine resistance, 17; dissolution of, 150, 274, 279-82, 287-8; Courts and
48; establishment of, 11; First Corps of, Law Division of, 154, 171; Governmental
14-15; island leap-frogging strategy of, Powers Division, 154, 157, 161; Judiciary
16, 24; rivalry with POA, 15 Committee, 277; Korea Division, 123,
General Procurement Agent (GPA), GHQ, 154, 159, 449-50; Korea-Ryukyus
196-7 Division, 123; Legislative Division, 49,
General Staff, GHQ, 137, 139-41, 146, 157; Local Government Division, 49,
153, 163; G-1, 137, 139-40, 378, 498; 154, 159, 209, 301, 303, 343;
G-2, 11, 17-18, 53, 137, 139-40, 146, Parliamentary and Political Division, 49,
148, 155-6, 161-8, 240, 267, 269, 154, 157-9, 165; Public Administration
298-9, 393, 395, 399, 451, 463, 467, Division, 154, 159, 276; and purges, 267;
480; G-3, 110, 137, 449; G-4, 137-40, Steering Committee of, 276, 282
195, 269, 406. See also Willoughby. Graham, Billy, 379
general strike, banning of, 140, 144, 168, Grajdanzev, Andrew, J., 159, 342-3
318-21, 323 gtass roots, 301, 556-60
General Superintenders Ordinance, 39 Gray, Gordon, 103
Geneva Convention on prisoners of war Greater East Asia Ministry, xxxvii, 47
(@929);.251 Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere, xxxy,
Genro, xxxiii, xxxiv, 271 xxxvii, 16, 30, 123
George, Scott, 602 Greater Japan Association for the War
Gercke, George, 184 Disabled, 412
Germany, xxxi, xxxiii, 22, 36-7, 59, 93, 96, Greater Japan Wartime Patriotic Association
132, 149, 172, 201-2, 206, 210, 212-13, of Religions (Dai Nippon Senji Shikyo
216-17, 227, 232, 245; German-Soviet Hokoku Kai), 373-4
Non-Aggression Pact, 476 Greater Japanese Empire, 219, 516
Gls, 67-9, 72-5, 79-81, 385, 441, 482; crimes Green, J., Woodall, 187
and misdemeanors of, 67, 385, 441; Green Cross Corporation, 427, 555
fraternisation with Japanese, 79-81; Grew, Joseph, C., 151, 203-4, 210, 213-18,
friendly attitude of, 72-3; mixed 225-6, 258, 283, 459, 555
marriages, 80-1; and Okinawans, 441; Griffith, Harry, E., 602
segregated treatment of, 75, 80 Gromyko, Andrei, 504
Gibson, James, B., 602 Guadalcanal, 15, 129
Gilbert Islands, 10, 22; US capture of Makin, Guam, 10, 25-6, 50
Tarawa, 22 “Guidelines for Japan-US Defence
Gilmartin, William, T., 190, 341 Cooperation’, 523, 552
Ginza (Tokyo), 57 “Guidelines for the Administration of the
Gnechko, Aleksei, 86-7 Southern Occupied Territories’, xxxvi,
Golunsky, S. A., 169 201
Gonseth, J. E., 603 Guillain, Robert, 239
Government and Relief in Occupied Areas Gulf War, 522, 552
(GARIOA). See emergency relief. Gullion, Allen, W., 201
Government Section (GS), GHQ, 7, 49,
102, 105-6, 108, 115, 121, 123, 139, Habomai Islands, 516-17. See also Kuril
141, 143, 146-8, 153-62, 168, 171, 189, Islands, Northern Territories
196, 206, 269, 276-9, 298, 301—5, 322, Hadley, Eleanor, M., 160, 162, 335
327, 330, 337, 341, 437, 446-7, 480, Hague Conventions (1907), 202, 232, 272,
484, 496-8; Civil Rights Subcommittee, 277
277-9, 437; Civil Service Division, 154, Hakone talks (Japan-USSR), 36
159, 331; commitment to democracy Hall, Robert, K., 182-3, 350, 353-4, 360-1
728 Index

Hallaren, Mary, A., 127 officially controlled prostitution, 68; and

Halpern, Abraham, M., 182 ‘repentance of the hundred million’, 60
Halsey, William, F, 22, 28, 54, 59 higher education. See education.
Hanaoka Mine, 312, 558 Higuchi Kiichir6, 87
Hani Gor6, 359, 367 Hildring, John, H., 156, 191, 206, 210, 360
Hani Setsuko, 265 Himeyuri (Maiden Lily) Nurse Corps, 33
Hannah, P. K, 194; Hannah Memorandum, Hinomaru (Rising Sun Flag). See flag.
194 Hirakawa Tada’ichi;, 400-4; and ‘Come,
Hara Shigeru, 494 Come English’, 400-4
Harbin, 255; and Pingfang, 255 Hirano Rikiz6, 261, 331
Hardie, R. S., 190 Hiranuma Ki’ichiré, 24, 56, 223-4, 230,
Harkness, Kenneth, M., 188 245, 257
Harriman, Averell, W., 83-4, 86, 93, 213 Hirohito. See Emperor.
Harrison, Frank, R., 158 Hiroshima, 40, 42-6, 135, 219-21, 230,
Hasegawa Motokichi, 279 389, 412, 428-31, 471, 506, 555; atomic
Hashimoto Ryutard, 517, 535, 540, 550 bombing of, 42-6; BCOF and, 135;
Hatta, Mohammad, xxxvii Hiroshima Assembly to Protect the Peace,
Hatoyama Ichird, 220, 261, 268, 398, 506; Hiroshima Colloquium on Peace
491, 507, 516, 519, 546 Problems, 507; Hiroshima Democratic
Hattori Takushird, 108, 166, 489 Women’s Council, 506; Hiroshima Peace
Hauge, Osborne, 158-9 Culture Association, 506. See also atomic
Hawai’i, 11, 122 bombings, atrocities, peace movement.
Hayama, Peggy, 403 Hirota Koki, 36, 222, 245-6, 248-50
Hays, Frank, 156, 159 Hiss, Alger, 477
Health and Welfare, Ministry of, 71, 115, Historical Branch, GHQ. See G2.
191, 242, 473, 552-4. See also Welfare Hitler, Adolf, xxxiv
Ministry. Ho Chi Minh, 476
health care, xl, 148, 405-6; compulsory Hodge, John, R., 31, 64-5; and appointment
health insurance, 424; fear of epidemics, as Commanding General, US Army Forces
79; Health-Care Centre Law (1947), 414; in Korea, 64
National Health Insurance Law (1938), Hodgson, William, 102
423; prewar reform proposals, xlii; Hokkaido, xxix, 25, 38, 40, 46, 50, 81-2,
reforms, xl, xlii 84-6, 88, 93-5, 124, 126, 284, 313, 314,
Heffernan, Helen, 186 438-40, 489, 517, 534
Henderson, Harold, G., 237, 352-4 Holding Company Liquidation
Henderson, J. Mcl., 174, 335 Commission, 336-7, 339, 461
Hepler, Chester, W., 175-7 470 Hollingshead, Billie, 186-7
Herrick, Dwight, B., 184, 398 Hollingshead, Frank, A., 465, 467, 480
Herter, Christian, 504 > Hollis, Howard, C., 187
Hewes, Lawrence, J., 190 Holmes, Lulu, 185-6, 367
hibakusha (atomic bomb victims), xxvi, Holtom, Daniel, C., 375
429-31, 506, 556; absence of official relief Homan, W. E., 167
for, 431, 556; and use of pregnant women Home Affairs Bureau. See Home Ministry.
and children for research, 430. See also Home Ministry, xxxvi, 108, 153, 238, 242,
Atomic Bomb Casualties Commission, 301-2, 305-6, 327, 372, 380-1, 406,
atomic bombings. 414-15, 449-50, 479, 534-5, 537;
Hibiya Park (Tokyo), 65, 72-3, 180 dissolution of, 301, 304—5, 414, 458, 479;
Hicks, W., 341 Home Affairs Bureau, 305; Labour and
Higashikuni Naruhiko, Prince, 47, 56, Social Bureaux of, 414; Local Affairs
59-60, 62-3, 68, 237-8, 241, 259, 262, Section of, 301; Police Bureau of, 236,
272, 309, 351; and establishment of 295-6, 384-6
 Index 729

homeless children (orphans, war-displaced warfare, 252, 254-6, 426; conscription of

minors), 76, 397, 406, 418-20, 432 minorities in, 435; demobilisation and
Honma Masaharu, 9, 16-17, 251-2 disarming of, xxxix, 126; fact-finding team
Hong Kong, xxxviii, 10, 50, 132-3, 251, 502 of in Hiroshima, 42, 428; General Staff of,
Honshu, 29, 37-8, 40, 48, 84, 94-5, 126, 52, 108, 166; involvement in narcotics,
131, 205, 214-15 416; involvement of veterans of in Korean
Hoover, Blaine, 143, 159, 306, 330-2; War, 489; northern strategy of, xxxi;
Hoover Civil Service Mission, 143, Okinawa as base for, 122; re-employment
305-6. See also bureaucracy. of purged officers of inNPR, 488; and
Hoover, Donald, D., 167, 383-4, 395 Yasukuni Shrine, 373
Hoover, Herbert, 142 Imperial Conferences, xxxv, 36, 222-5,
Hornbeck, Stanley, 202-3, 210 257-8
Hoshino Ai, 355-6 Imperial family, 270, 381
Hosokawa Morihiro, 540, 558 Imperial General Headquarters (Dai
Hosp, Helen, 601 Hon ei), xxxi, xxxii, xxxiv, 8, 25, 28-31,
hospital demilitarisation, 412-15 37-8, 53, 58, 107, 165-6, 223, 271,
Huff, Sidney, L., 6, 138 428, 489; ‘defence in depth’, 29-32;
Hull, Cordell, xxxv, 8, 45, 84, 203, 210, 217 dissolution of, 107; employment of former
human rights, 526-34, 537, 555 staff officers in G-2, 53, 165-6, 489
Hume, Edgar, E., 192 Imperial Guard, 297
Humphreys, Christmas, 169 Imperial Household. See Court.
hunger (famine), 190, 312, 406, 408, 432 Imperial Iron and Blood Corps, 33
Hunter, Ralph, 399 Imperial Navy, xxii, xxxiv, xxxvi, xxxix, 8, 15,
Hussey, Alfred, R., 49, 159, 163, 27, 279, 22-3, 52, 166, 194, 256-7, 271, 406;
328-9, 489 attack on Pearl Harbor, 8-9; disarming
Hutchinson, Edmond, C., 599 and demobilisation of xxxix; General Staff
Hutchinson, William, E., 196 of, 52, 166
hydrogen bomb, 476 Imperial Ordinances, 296, 316, 464, 470,
497; Imperial Ordinance, 311
‘Iceberg’ (Operation), 31 (prohibition of activities inimical to the
Ichikawa Fusae, 241, 265, 269, 399 Occupation), 316, 464, 470, 497
Ienaga Saburo, 546 Imperial Palace, 56, 65, 242, 284, 316, 452,
Ihrig, H. G., 599 494-5
Yi Yashiré, 320 Imperial Rescript on Education (1890), 349,
Pinuma Issei, 376 351, 356-9, 368, 372; ‘Kyoto Rescripr’,
Ikeda Hayato, 68, 469, 490, 505, 539 358-9; revised Imperial Rescript on
Ikeda Seihin, 220, 334 Education, 185-6
Imai Tadashi, 397 Imperial Rule Assistance Association (IRAA),
Imamura Hitoshi, 16 xxxili, 261-3, 267, 296, 442
Imboden, Daniel, C., 181, 184, 317, 397 Inaba Hidez6, 308-10
immigration, 493 Ind, Allison, 17
Immigration Control Act (1951), 498-9, India, xxix, xxx, 10, 94, 98, 100, 131, 133,
511; alien clause of, 499 135, 170, 221, 249, 258, 469, 504
Immigration Control Agency (1950), 512 Indo-China, xxxii, xxxvi, xxxviii, 10-11, 37,
Immigration Control Bureau (1949). See 50, 59, 475, 542
Foreign Ministry. Indonesia, 206, 254; Java, 10-11; Sumatra, 14
Imperial Army, xxii, xxx, xoxxi, xxii, xxxVvi, industry, disputes, 313; output, 76; recovery,
Xxxvii, xxxviii, xxxix, 9, 11, 16, 29, 31, 307
36-8, 42, 52, 56, 83, 86-8, 111, 121-2, inflation, 110, 208, 310, 312, 321, 432, 461
126, 166, 194, 214, 219, 222, 256, 271, ‘informal guidance’, and ‘Red Purge’, 483;
295, 406, 414, 442, 488; and biological and Korean crackdown, 497
730 Index

information, 182, 208, 382—404; freedom International Red Cross, 431

of, 185; censorship of, 382, 384-5, 387 International Trade and Industry, Ministry of
Information Bureau, 384 (MITI), 469, 487
Information Dissemination Section (IDS), Irie Toshird, 288
AFPAC, 182-3, 395 Ishida Kuniko, 529
‘Initial Policy for Post-Surrender Japan’ Ishii Shiré, 254-6, 426-7
(SWNCC-150), US. See State-War-Navy Ishibashi Tanzan, 230, 262, 269, 310, 385,
Coordinating Committee (SWNCC). 491, 507
Inner Mongolia, xxx, xxxi, 416 Ishihara Shintard, 403, 550, 559
Institute for the Study of Imperial Writings Ishiwara Kanji, 489
(Koten Kokyit-sho), 376 Ishiyama Shihei, 364
Institute of Infectious Diseases, 426-7, 557; Itagaki Seishird, 246
and biological warfare, 426-7, 557 Italy, 22, 59
Institute of Physical and Chemical Research, Iwai Akira, 494
179, 428; reorganised as Scientific Iwasaki Akira, 390
Research Institute, 179 Iwahashi Takeo, 421
Institute of Population Problems, 415, 433 Iwo Jima, 27, 29-31, 35, 216, 221, 416, 536
Institute of Public Health, 415
Instrument of Surrender, 52, 59, 229, 234, Japan, xxxi, xxxii, 81, 121, 124-5, 140,
245, 296 172, 203, 206-7, 209, 213, 217-18,
intelligence, 163—6; combat intelligence, 221, 226, 247, 254, 265, 281, 298, 377,
163-4, 166; counter-intelligence, 163-4; 399-400, 431, 486, 502, 506, 518;
Joint Special Operations Branch (PSD), Allied blockade of, 30-1; as ‘bulwark’
165. See also Counter-Intelligence Section, against Communism, 338, 458; and Peace
GHQ, General Staff/G-2, Willoughby. Treaty, 502, 506; prewar organisation of,
Inter-Divisional Area Committee on the Far xxxii—xxxv; and surrender, 22, 218; as
East (IDACFE or Far Eastern Area ‘workshop of the Far East’, 338, 457-8,
Committee), US State Department, 83, 475
204-6, 373 Japan Association of Bereaved Families,
Interim Committee (US), 216, 354 550-1
interim directives, 98, 109, 469, 475 Japan Bar Association, 273
internal migration, 79, 408; restrictions Japan Broadcasting Corporation (NHK),
upon, 79 184, 187-8, 194, 384, 398-9, 400-4
Internal Security (McCarran) Act (1950), Japan Communist Party (JCP), 153, 172,
US, 477, 493, 498-9 238, 240, 242-3, 261, 263-5, 273,
International Convention on the 284, 303, 315, 318, 368, 453-4, 478,
Elimination of All Forms of Racial 480, 484, 509
Discrimination, Japan’s ratification of Japan Congress Against Atomic and
(1996), 527 Hydrogen Bombs (Gensuikin), 556
International Court of Justice, 515 Japan Council Against Atomic and
International Covenants on Human Rights, Hydrogen Bombs (Gensuikyo), 556
Japan’s ratification of (1979), 527, 553 ‘Japan Crowd’ (State Department), 151,
International Defendants’ Section (IDS), 2024, 210, 217-19, 224, 226, 230, 258,
169 338, 340, 361, 383, 459
International Military Tribunal for the Far Japan Democratic Party (JDP), 262, 295,
East (IMTFE), 132-3, 166, 168-70, 321-2, 331, 519
243-51, 256-7, 259, 285, 444, 468, 478 Japan Education Reform Council (JERC),
International Peace Cooperation Law 356, 366-7, 369-71
(1992), 522 Japan Liberal Party (JLP), 262, 265, 267,
International Prosecution Section (IPS), 168, 273, 288, 321, 343
174, 259) Japan Lobby, 338, 459-60, 500
 Index Tel

Japan Medical Association, 416 impromptu nature of, 201; use of civil
Japan Medical Corporation, 412 administrators during, xxxvi
Japan Movie and Theatre Workers’ Guild, 465 Japanese-Soviet Neutrality Pact (1941), xxxi,
Japan National Railways (JNR), 172, 318, 543 xxxii 35, 103; Soviet abrogation of (1945),
Japan Progressive Party (JPP), 262-3, 265, 103
2735321 Jaranilla, Delfin, 170, 248-9
Japan-ROK Normalisation Treaty (1965), 511 Java. See Indonesia, Netherlands East Indies
Japan Socialist Party (JSP), 261, 263, 265, jeeps, US military, 74, 189, 284, 388, 429
269, 273, 283, 288, 296, 315, 318, 321, Jeidy, Pauline, 141-2, 187
327, 331, 509, 537-40; Women’s Affairs Jiang Zemin, 558
Division of, 327 jichtkai (self-governing associations), 368
Japan Steel Company, 471 Jiyu Minken Undo (Freedom and Peoples
Japan Steel Tube, 314 Rights Movement). See Constitution.
Japan Teachers’ Union (JVikkyoso), 188, Johansen, Beppo, 383
367-71, 480, 546-8; and All Japan Johnson, Carmen, 128-9
Teachers’ Union (Zenkyé), 367; and Japan Johnson, Charles, S., 357
Educators’ Union (ikkyo), 367 Johnson, Harry, G., 191, 415
Japan Telegram and Telephone, 172 Johnson, Nelson, T., 98, 275
Japan Times, 385 Johnston, Percy, H., 461; Draper-Johnston
Japan Tobacco and Salt Public Corporation, Commission and report, 461
543 Johnson, U. Alexis, 153
Japan Trade Union Confederation (Rengo), Joint Chiefs of Staff (JCS) US, 26, 37-8, 40,
543 48, 84-6, 94-6, 103, 105, 123, 210, 215,
Japan-US Acquisition and Cross-Servicing 217, 219, 226, 230, 257, 282, 382, 405,
Agreement (1996), 523 458, 475, 491, 503, 513; failure to
Japan-US Military Security Assistance (MAS, discipline MacArthur, 29; and Kuril
1954), 489 Islands, 84—6; and opposition to return of
Japan-US Security Treaty (1952). See security Ryukyus to Japan, 123; and proposal for
treaty, Status of Forces Agreement zonal occupation (JWPC, 385/1), 94-6
(SOFA), peace settlement. Joint Struggle Committee of National
Japanese Americans (Nisei), xxix, 18-21, Labour Unions, (Zenta), 319
42, 110-11, 127, 156, 159, 166-7, 253, Joint War Planning Committee (JWPC),
386-7, 397; bravery and compassion of, US Government (Joint Chiefs of Staff),
21; intelligence role (ATIS), 18-21; 210
internment in US, 19; Kibei, 19, 111; judicial and legal reforms, 145, 154,
Nisei in Japan who had their US 21271950
citizenship revoked, 111; numbers killed Judiciary and Legislative Council, 330
in atomic blast, 42 junior colleges. See education.
Japanese Association of University Professors, Junod, Marcel, 431
367 Jushin, xxxiv, 24, 212, 221, 271
Japanese Association of University Women, Justice, Ministry of, 414, 483, 493, 498, 512,
367 529, 531, 537-8
Japanese children abandoned in China, xxvi
Japanese cinema, 184 Kabuki, 390-1, 410
Japanese Code of Broadcasting Ethics, 398 Kades, Charles, L., 7, 49, 148, 154-6, 159,
Japanese language reform, 359-61; Japanese 162, 165, 167, 206, 232, 267, 269,
Language Council, 361 274, 276-9, 282, 285-6, 288, 291,
Japanese Navy Ministry, 107 301-3, 305, 322, 328, 331, 335, 337-8,
Japanese Occupation rule in Asia, xxxv, 370, 437-8, 446, 467-8, 479, 526
XxXVi, XXXVii, Xxxviii, xxix, and imposition Kagawa Toyohiko, 261, 367, 379
of Japanese language, 399-400; Kagoshima, 412
732 Index

Kaigo Tokiomi, 241, 353, 356, 365 Kennedy, J. R., 187

Kaji Wataru, 165 Kenpeitai (military police), 17, 296
Kajima Corporation, 312, 558 Kerama Islands. See Okinawa
Kamchatka Peninsula, 81—2, 86, 88 Kern, Harry, F, 338, 459, 500
Kamei Fumio, 389-90, 396 Khruschev, Nikita, 517
kamikaze suicide attacks, 23, 28, 38, 52, 87 Kido KG6ichi, 24, 35, 222, 225, 245-6, 257,
kamishibai (paper lantern shows), 386-7, 308
393-5 Kikunami Katsumi, 318
Kan Naoto, 540, 554 Killen, James, S., 175-6, 323, 332
Kanagawa, 67, 393 Kim Chdn-hae, 240, 452
Kanamori Tokujiro, 288-9, 291 Kim Dae Jung, 532, 547
Kaneko Hajime, 330 Kim Jong, Il, 532
Kanoda, Grace, Llewellyn, 169 Kimigayo (‘The Imperial Reign’), national
“kanson minp1’ (revere the officials, despise anthem, 547-8
the people), 302 King, Edward, P., 9
Kanto Plain, 37, 412 King, Ernest, J., 15, 44
Karpinsky, William, 49, 175-6, 207, 209, Kinjé Shigeaki, 32
279, 311, 324, 435, 446, 449 Kishi Nobosuke, 247, 491, 519, 537, 556
Kasahara Shir, 427 Kishida Yukio, 465
Kasai Yoshisuke, 407-8, 418, 420 Kishimoto Hideo, 241, 353, 375
Kase Toshikazu, 45, 58, 224 Kislenko, A. P., 101
Katayama Tetsu, xliii, 261-2, 295, 298, 322, ‘kissing film’ genre (seppun eiga), 398
326, 328-31, 333, 337, 359, 432, 463, Kitamura Masanori, 490
467, 540 Kitano Masaji, 256, 427
Kato Kanji, 241, 261, 273, 332-3 Kitasato Shibasaburé, 426
Katé Shizue, 241, 264—5, 279, 289, 327-30, Kiyose Ichiré, 244
333, 399, 432-3 Knowland, William FE, 338, 459, 477
Kauffman, James, L., 338, 459 Kobe, 26, 130, 151, 153
Kawabe Torashird, 52-3, 166 Kobe demonstrations (‘riots’), 463—5, 495,
Kawai Michi, 355-6 498
Kawai Yoshinari, 327 Kodama Yoshio, 247
Kawakami, Clarke, H., 166 Kodoha (Imperial Way Faction), xxxiv, 24, 221
Kawasaki Natsu, 241, 321, 330 Koiso Kuniaki, 24, 35, 221, 245
Kawashima Takeyoshi, 330 Koizumi Jun’ichird, 540, 550, 558-60
Kaya Tsunenori, 290 Koji Kawaguchi, 386
Kayano Shigeru, 533-4 Kojima Saburé, 427
Keenan, Joseph, B., 169, 244, 258, 444 kokutai (‘national polity’), 221, 229, 296,
Keeney, P. O., 185 358, 559
Keidanren (Federation of Economic Komeit6 (Clean Government Party), 539
Organisations), 310 K6no Ichiré, 262
keiretsu, 542 Konoe Fumimaro, Prince, xxx, xxxii, xxiii,
Keisei Electric Railway Company, 313 xxxiv, xxxv, 24, 35-6, 47, 59, 203, 220-2,
Keisen Women’s College, 356 241, 245, 259, 272, 558; Konoe Memorial
Keith, Hal, 390 to the Throne, 221; ‘peace party’ of, 24
Keller, Helen, 421-2 Korea, xxx, xxxvi, 10, 29, 40, 46, 58, 81, 86,
Kellogg-Briand Pact (1928), 247, 285-6 106, 111, 121, 134, 136, 140, 172, 182,
Kelly, Harry, C., 179 205-6, 213, 249, 254-5, 265, 296, 371,
Kennan, George, F,, 75, 126, 149, 248, 444, 412, 432, 476, 489, 501; black marketeers
458-61, 468, 475, 499-500, 555; from, 135; Democratic People’s Republic
opposition to bases on Japanese home of (DPRK), 165, 168, 192, 481, 491, 496,
islands and rearmament of Japan, 500 504, 511, 526; illegal immigration from,

a
 Index 733

135; and Moscow Foreign Ministers’ Kunashiri (Kunashir) Island, 516. See Kuril
Conference, (1945), 65; North-South Islands, Northern Territories.
summit (2000), 531; Russian invasion of, Kuomintang (Nationalist Chinese
81; southern Korea, 125-6, 137, 148, government) See China, Republic of.
192, 196, 208, 495-6, 504, 510-11; US Kuni no ayumi (Our Nation’s Progress), 363,
occupation of Korea, 64—5; Thirty Eighth 546
Parallel as demarcation of Occupation Kunihiro Masao, 403
zones, 64, 86 Kure, 26, 67, 133, 135, 429-30
Korean ethnic schools (in Japan), 452-4, Kuribayashi Tadamichi, 29-30
462-5, 481, 493, 498, 531; purge of, Kurihara Sadako, 506
481 Kuril Islands, xxix, 38, 46, 51, 81, 84—5,
Korean Residents’ Union of Japan, See 87-90, 96, 98, 111, 120, 123-5, 387,
Mindan. 501, 503-4, 514-15; failure to repatriate
Korean War, xxii, xli, xliv, 103, 126-7, 130, Koreans from, 88; Northern Territories
132-3, 136, 139, 142, 149, 193, 286, of, xxix, 81-2, 84, 88; Onekotan, 82;
468, 480-3, 485-7, 489-92, 495, 498, Paramushir, 82, 86-7; repatriation of
501, 506, 513, 541 Japanese from, 90, 111; Shumshu, 82,
Korean minority in Japan, xxvi, xxviii, 42, 86; Soviet invasion of, xxix, 81—90, 113;
69, 88, 110, 117-18, 151, 153-4, 159, Urup, 82, 87. See also Etorofu,
168, 172, 239, 253-4, 265, 289, 312, Habomais, Kunashiri, Northern
315, 317, 386, 393, 431, 435-8, 447-54, Territories, Shikotan.
462-5, 472-3, 493, 495-9, 506, 511-12, Kurita Takeo, 28
530-2, 535, 557-9; alien status of, 496, Kuroda Hisao, 261, 288
531; atomic bomb victims, 42; Kurosawa Akira, 398
deportation of, 496-9; exclusion from Kusama Yoshio, 415
reform process, 495; fingerprinting of, Kushiro (Hokkaido), 85
120; hardening of GHQ attitude to, 449, Kwantung Army, xxx, xxxi, xxxvi, 24, 58,
452, 454, 499; involvement in black 252, 426, 488-9
marketeering, 76, 452; in Kuril Islands, Kwantung Leased Territory, xxx
88; in Sakhalin, 125, 517-18; loss of Kyoto (Joint Struggle Committee of Public
voting rights, 265, 289, 295-6, 452, 538; Employees Unions), See trade unions.
and North Korean flag, 117—18, 496-7; Kyushu, 37-8, 40, 48, 84, 94-5, 123, 133,
‘pachinko parlour’ scandal (1989), 531; 205, 214-15, 412, 487, 524, 528
and payment of ‘war tax’, 451—2; protests
of , 451-3, 479, 495; reaction to Japan’s Labour Advisory Committee (Advisory
defeat, 239; slave labour during war years Committee on Labour in Japan), 143,
of, 453; stripping of Japanese nationality 173, 176, 324-8, 471
upon signing of Peace Treaty, 511; threats labour-boss system (oyabun-kobun), 326
to in wake of Taepodong missile firing Labour Legislation Commission, 279, 311,
(1998), 531. See also Choryon, comfort 32D) S27
women, Korean ethnic schools, Mindan, Labour, Ministry of, 173, 191, 289, 324-9,
minorities in Japan. 414, 421, 471-2, 483, 543; Labour
hoseki (family registration system), 265, 496, Ministry Bill, 328-9; Labour Standards
511 Bureau of, 326; Women’s and Minors’
Kowalski, Frank, Jr., 193, 487, 488 Bureau (W/MB) of, 289, 326, 328-30,
K6z6 (journal), 391 367
Kramer, Raymond, C., 66, 174—5, 179, 335 labour movement, xl, 172, 176, 185, 240,
Krueger, Walter, 14, 27, 36, 126 308, 310-24, 397, 442, 471, 473, 485;
Kuala Lumpur, 251 suppression of, 307-8, 314-18, 465, 467,
Kubo Bunzé, 63 477, 493
Kume Ai, 329 labour purge. See purge.
734 Index

labour reforms, xxxix, xl, xli, xlii, 100-3, 115, 161, 168-72, 206, 255, 393, 446, 449,
148, 172, 176, 277, 324-7, 334, 343; 484, 499; Civil Affairs Branch, 171; Civil
revisions to, 470—2, 478, 480, 483; union Liberties Branch, 171; Law Division, 172;
Opposition to revisions, 472 Legislation and Justice Division, 154, 161,
Labour Relations Adjustment Act (1946), 171-2
173, 176, 324—5, 332, 471 Legislative Council, 529
Labour Standards Law (1947), 103, 173, LeMay, Curtis, 26, 30, 40
176, 178, 289, 324—6, 340, 483; Leonard, Warren, H., 189, 343
amendments to (1998), 532; Leonov, Viktor, 87
Derevyanko’s radicalisation of, 103 leprosy, 433-4; Leprosy Prevention Law
Labour Union Law (1945), 173, 176, 209, (1931, 1953), 433; repeal of (1996), and
279, 311, 324—5, 327, 332, 471-2, 542; recent court cases, 528
revision of (1949), 471-2 hse majesté statute, 236, 238, 242-3, 389,
Lacey, Arthur, L., 167 520
Ladejinsky, Wolf, I., 189-90, 209, 341-4 Leyte. See Philippines.
land reform, xl, xlii, 99-103, 116, 148, Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) (Jiminto),
159-60, 185, 189-90, 209, 308, 339-46, 522-3, 531, 538-40, 559
380, 440, 447, 473, 541, 544; absentee Liberal Party (Jiyittd), 243, 264
landlords/owners, 307, 341, 380; Agri- Library Law (1950), 185
cultural Adjuistment Law, 341, 344; and Library Mission, US, 143
Ainu, 440; and burakumin, 447; Linder, EF. E., 415
establishment of owner-cultivators, 344; List of Subversive Organisations (US), 477
land commissions, 340, 343—4, 447; livelihood protection associations, 315
landlordism, 309, 339-40; Special Local Assistance Bureaux. See demobilisation.
Measures Law (for landlords), 307, Local Autonomy Law (1947), 298, 301,
340, 344, 346 303-4, 370, 377, 414, 550; revisions to
land tenure system, 295, 307, 342; rents, (1952, 1956), 534-5
307; tenancy, xl, 307, 339-42, 344—5 Local Educational Administrative Law
language reform, 356-7, 359-61 (1956), 546
Lattimore, Owen, 160 local government, xxxix, 154, 208, 295,
Laurel, José, P., 16 301-5, 534-6
Law for Elimination of Excessive Lockheed bribery scandal, 539
Concentrations of Economic Power Loeb, Helen, 157
(1947). See ‘deconcentration’ law. London, 11, 132, 224, 285, 342, 502, 504
Law for Prohibition of Private Monopoly and Loomis, Arthur, K., 183
Methods of Preserving Fair Trade (1947), Lopez, Pedro, 249
336 Loyalty Review Board (US), 164, 477
Law for War Invalids and Families of the War Luzon, See Philippines.
Dead (1952), 512 .
Law for the Welfare of the Physically McAllen, Robert, C., 356
Disabled (1949), 418, 420, 423, 425, 527 MacArthur, Douglas, xxi, xxvii, xxviii, 3-8,
Laws of Land Warfare, 513 11, 15, 17, 23-5, 28-9, 37, 40, 44-5, 48,
League for Democratising Family Law, 330 52-5, 57-9, 63-7, 79, 93, 96-7, 100,
League of Korean Residents in Japan. See 102-3, 105, 109, 113-14, 116, 119, 130,
Choryon. 134, 138-9, 144, 149-50, 152, 155, 161,
League ofNations, xxx, 398 163, 169, 176, 182, 192, 221, 226, 235,
Leahy, William, D., 44, 103 237, 240, 243-4, 246, 252, 255, 258,
LeCount, Walter, K., 461 263, 265-7, 281, 283, 296, 298, 311,
Lee, Sherman, E., 187 313, 315-17, 319, 332-3, 332, 335-6,
Lee, W. K., 475 338, 341, 343-5, 361, 377-9, 402, 406,
Legal Section (LS), GHQ, 141, 148, 154, 443, 460-2, 469, 477-8, 482-5, 487,

a
 Index 735

490-2, 498-500, 502, 522; and AFPAC, McDougall, Edward, S, 248

37; aloofness of, 5—6; appointment as McGlauflin, Arthur, M., 599
SCAB, 48; and Article Nine, 281, 284-6, Machida City, 535
490; and banning of general strike, 116, MacLeish, Archibald, 216, 383
319; and BCOE, 134; and biological McNelly, Theodore, H., 286
warfare, 255; and burakumin, 478-9; McVoy, Edgar, C., 599
charisma of, 7; and Christianity, 7, 322, Maeda 'Tamon, 237, 239, 358, 360, 375
377-9; and Communist threat, 478; and “Magic intercepts, 36, 41, 385
Constitution, 105, 263, 271-4, 276-7, Mainichi Shinbun (newspaper), 184, 238,
280-1; and creation of GHQ/SCAP, 276, 313, 358
65-7; dismissal of, 6-7, 139, 155, 161, Maki, John, M., 159, 305-6
491-2; early career of, 3—4, 341; economic Makino Nobuaki, 220
reforms, 310-11, 335-6, 338-9, 354-6; Malaya, xxxvi, xxxvii, xxviii, 10, 50, 109,
and emergency food assistance, 79, 105, 133, 137, 208, 253, 502
406; flexibility of, 7-8; and Food May Malayans, 254
Day demonstration, 242, 316; and Malik, Yakov, A., 36, 222, 514
indirect rule, 63-4; insubordination of, malnutrition. See hunger.
29, 105; intolerance of criticism, 6, 102; Manchukuo, 247, 339
and Japanese rearmament, 461-2, 487, Manchuria, xxx, xxxvi, 10, 31, 45-6, 50,
490, 500-2, 522; and land reform, 341, 58-9, 81-4, 88, 106, 111, 205, 220, 222,
344-5; loyalty of staff toward, 6; 254-6, 262, 281, 296, 347, 373, 416,
“MacArthur reforms’, 238-42; and racial 439; Japanese invasion of, xxx; Liaodong
integration of US forces in Japan, 130; Peninsula, 82; Port Arthur, 50, 82; Soviet
opposition to Allied Council for Japan, takeover of, 45—G, 50, 88
100; opposition to returning Okinawa to Mandalay, 221
Japan, 443; opposition to rearmament of Mandated islands (mandates), xxx, 205
Japan, 461—2, 500-2; and order to create Manhattan Project, 428
National Police Reserve, 487, 522; and Manila, 5-6, 9, 19, 28-9, 37, 48, 52-4, 137,
peace treaty, 499, 502; as personification 154, 161, 165, 171, 194, 207-8, 221,
of Occupation, 5, 150; and police reform, 251-2, 383, 395, 402, 502; Intramuros,
296, 298; prejudice against State 28-9; Manila Conference, 52-3; Sack of,
Department, 149; and preservation of 389, 396. See also Philippines.
Emperor, 235-8, 242-3, 259-60, 272-7, Mansfield, Alan, 258
280-2, 284; presidential ambitions of, Mao Tse-tung (Mao Zedong), 160
338; and production control, 313; and Marcum, Carlos, P., 159
purge, 266-7; and purge of Akahata and Marianas Islands, 10, 21, 23—5, 29, 37, 50;
Japan Communist Party, 482-3; racial ‘Great Marianas Turkey Shoot’, 23
predispositions of, 6-7; reaction to atomic ' Marine Corps, US, 29, 31-2, 39, 128;
bombings, 44—5; reluctance to outlaw Marine Amphibious Corps (3rd and, 5th),
Japan Communist Party, 484—5; and 29, 31-2; Marine Divisions (3rd, 4th,
reparations, 109; and ‘reverse course’, 5th), 29; women in, 128
467-8; and SWPA, 11; and surrender, Maritime Safety Board (Japan), 487, 489
57-60; and unions, 311, 315-17, Markuson, Irving, H., 192
332 Marquat, William, E, 11, 100, 174,
McCain, John, S., 40 176, 194, 319, 323, 336-7, 470,
McCarran Act. See Internal Security Act. 486-7
McCarthy, Joseph; McCarthyism, xli, 152, Marshall, George, C., 38, 216, 353-4,
477 443-4, 457
McCloy, John, J., 216, 226 Marshall Islands, 10, 22, 50, 428; US capture
McCoy, Frank, R., 98, 275 of Kwajalein and Wotje, 22
McDiarmid, Orville, J., 598 Marshall Plan, 457
736 Index

Marshall, Richard, J., 11, 14, 49, 52, 139 imperialism, 203; notion of ‘military
Marshall, Thurgood, 144 takeover’, 258, 519
martial arts, banning of, 363 Military Government in Japan (MG), US,
Maruyama Masao, 507 xxi, xxvii, xxviii, xxix, 65, 113-20, 168,
Mashbir, Sidney, F, 18, 52-3, 137 206, 213-14, 320, 438, 443, 446, 513;
Masuhara Keikichi, 487 BCOF prevented from participating in,
Matsudaira Yasumasa, 500 134; civil affairs teams, 446; disbanding of
Matsui Iwane, xxx, 246, 248 MG tule, 168; establishment of Civil
Matsukata (Reischauer) Hara, 388 Affairs Section in GHQ/SCAP, 120;
Matsukata Makoto, 496 establishment of MG rule, 117; and
Matsukawa Incident, 473 indirect rule on Japan’s main islands, 113,
Matsumoto Incident (1994), 552 297; ineffectiveness of, 119; and instances
Matsumoto Iwakichi, 325 of armed intervention, 116-20;
Matsumoto Ji’ichir6, 261, 265, 273, 447, intervention in labour disputes, 116,
478-9; and refusal to bow to Emperor in 119-20; Kanto Military Government
Diet, 478; and purge by Yoshida in Region, 188; Osaka Regional Military
retaliation, 478 Government Team, 119; redesignation of
Matsumoto J6ji, 272, 279-80, 282, 288 MG as Civil Affairs, 120; Shikoku
Matsumoto KOoshiré, 390 Regional Military Government Team,
Matsuoka Komakichi, 241, 261, 311-12, 129; teams, 192-3, 411, 446, 463, 465,
3183322 475, 480; units, 193, 410
Matsuoka Yoko, 265 Military Government of the Ryukyus, US,
Matsuoka Yosuke, xxxii, 245 49, 440-2
Matsushima Sh6tard, 242-3 Military Government schools, 206-8, 212;
May Day Independence rally (1952), 494-5. Civil Affairs Training Schools (CATS),
See also peace movement. 156-9, 161, 172, 176, 183, 185, 187,
Meals, Frank, 297 189, 191, 206-7, 209, 328, 435; Navy
Mears, Helen, 283, 325, 328 schools of Military Government, 158,
media, xl, 184, 347, 382, 395, 399-404, 182-3, 206; University of Virginia School
473, 480, 552; broadcasting, 348, of Military Government, 157-8, 172,
400-4; censorship of, 384; movies, 183, 185, 206
348; purge of, 269; subservience of, Military Government Section (MGS);
552; surveillance of individual AFPAC, 172, 174, 176, 180, 183,
communication, 387; wiretapping of, 189-91, 207-8, 350; Eighth Army, 370
387 Military Intelligence Section, FECOM,
Medical Practitioners Law (1948), 415 255
Medical Service Law (1948), 415 Military Intelligence Service Language
Meiji Restoration (1868), 82, 371 Schools (MISLS), 19, 127—8, 167, 207
Mei Ju-ao, 248 Military Police (MPs), US, 69, 73-4, 79,
Melbourne, 3, 10, 133, 161 165, 220, 284—5, 319, 388, 390, 463;
Menon, Govinda, 169 Japanese military police, 165, 220; and
Menon, Krishna, 169 ‘six-inch rule’, 79
Micronesia, 514 military rule; initial efforts to establish direct
Midway, 15 rule, 61-3; Japanese opposition to, 62;
Miike miners, 556 switch to indirect rule as consequence of
Mikasa, Crown Prince, 259 earlier US decisions, 63
Miki Kiyoshi, 239 Miller, H. T., 195
Miki Takeo, 262, 468 Minamata disease, 553, 556
militarism, 203, 206, 240, 295, 307, 311, Mindan (Korean Residents’ Union of Japan),
313, 334, 341, 347, 350, 358, 368, 374, 453, 496, 532; GHQ bolstering of, 496
393, 397-8, 480; as cause for Japanese Mindanao. See Philippines.
 Index SHE

Mindo (Democratisation Leagues), 323, 466, Mueller, Paul, J., 139, 463
473, 483-4, 493-4 Mullhauser, Ronald, A., 185
mining, 310, 312, 423 Mundt-Nixon Bill (1948), US, 477
Mino’o City, 550. See ako religion. Murayama Tomi ichi, 540, 557-8
Minobe Tatsukichi, 272, 302-3 Murdock, George, P., 435, 440, 443
minorities in Japan, xxv, xxvi, xl, 88, 265 Murphy, Robert, 485, 489-90, 512
289, 357, 405, 435-54, 530-4, 538, Musketeer Plan (1943), 16
555. See also Ainu, Burakumin, Mussolini, Benito, xxxiv, 53
Chinese (Formosans), Koreans and
Okinawa. Nachi-Fujikoshi, 558
minors, 325-6, 498 Nadao Hirokichi, 537
Minseito (Constitutional Democratic Party), Nagai Takashi, 389
262 Nagasaki, 40, 42-6, 64, 69, 221, 223, 385,
missionaries, 144, 160, 375, 377; in Japan, 428-9, 431, 506, 520, 556; atomic
144, 371, 378, 400; and MacArthur bombing of, 42-6, 64
Mitaka Incident, 473 Nagoya, 26, 378
Mito High School strike, 368 Nagumo Chiichi, 8, 10, 23
Mitsubishi combine, 174, 314, 334-5, 337. Naito Ryoichi, 427
See zaibatsu. Nakajima combine, 334. See zaibatsu.
Mitsui combine, 220, 314, 334-5, 337, 486. Nakamura Kamesaburé, 166
See zaibatsu. Nakamura Kichiemon, 390
mixed race children (konketsu-ji), 432 Nakamura Kikuji, 362
Miyagi Kikuko, 33 Nakasone Yasuhiro, 520, 534, 549, 560
Miyamoto Inosuke, 158 Nakaya Takafumi, 550
Miyamoto Yuriko, 265, 399 Nanbara Shigeru, 259, 308, 355, 358, 360,
Miyake islanders, 536 365-6, 369, 379, 427, 507
Miyazawa Ki’ichi, 490, 549 Nanking (Nanjing), Rape of, xix, xxx, 34,
Miyazawa Toshiyoshi, 330 248, 254, 396, 547
Mizoguchi Kenji, 398 Napier, Jack, P., 159, 450, 479-82, 484, 491,
Mizutani Chézaburé, 261, 333 493, 497
Mollohan, Cecil, S., 192 narcotics, 416; Narcotics Control Bill
Molotov, Vyasheslav, M., 35, 45, 82-3, 93, (1948), 416; drug use in schools, 548
224 Narita International Airport (Sanrizuka),
‘money politics’, 539 556
Mongolians, 255 Nashimoto Morimasa, 245
Morgan, Roy, 259 Nasu Hiroshi, 341
Morgenthau, Henry, 212-13 National Administrative Organisation Law
Morgenthau Plan, 210, 212-13 (1948), 538
Mori Yoshird, 517, 538-40, 550, 559; and National Commission on Education Reform,
involvement of government in bribery 548
scandal (2001), 539 National Health Insurance Law (1948), 423,
Morito Tatsuo, 359, 369, 463, 506 554; revision of(1958), 424-5
Morotai, 27 National Institute of Health (NIH), Japan,
Morrison, Herbert, 503 69, 415, 426-7, 429; Institute of
Moscow, 221-2, 224 Infectious Diseases, 69
Moscow Foreign Ministers’ Conference National Institute of Mental Health, 415
(1945), 274, 285 National Institute of Nutrition, 415
Moss, Lon, H., 599 National Mobilisation Law (1938), 38
Motherhood Protection Law (1996), 528 National Pensions Law (1959), 424
Motojima Hiroshi, 520 National Personnel Agency, 306
Motorola, 541 National Police Agency, 537
738 Index

National Police Reserve (NPR), 142 193, New Guinea, 10-11, 14-16, 23, 27, 50;
468, 487-91, 502, 522 Buna, 15; Hollandia, 23; Papua, 15
National Public Service Law (1947), 159, New Japan Women’s League (Shin Nihon
172, 306, 467; revision of (1948), 159, Fujin Domet), 241, 265
173, 176, 321, 330-3, 368, 462, 470-1. New Order in East Asia, xxx
See also bureaucracy, Hoover (Blaine). new religions (in Japan), 380
National Railway Workers’ Union (NRWU) New York Times Magazine, 403
(Kokuré), 312, 320, 323, 333, 470-1, New Zealand, xxix, 58, 94, 98-100, 131-3,
473-4, 494 135-6, 170, 248, 258, 269, 284, 318,
National Rehabilitation Commission, 469, 502-3
421 newspapers, 184, 387, 392, 403, 482
National Rural Police, 299, 500; abolition of Newsweek, 338, 459-60
(1953), 537 Nichiei Film Studio; confiscation of Nichiei
National Schools Establishment Law (1949), film footage of Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
370 389-90, 428
National Security Act (1947), US, 457-8 Nikkeiren (Japan Federation of Employers’
National Security Council (NSC), US, 144, Associations), 467, 470, 472
458, 468, 470, 475, 491, 499, 512-13; Nimitz, Chester, W., 11, 14, 22-4,
NSC-13/2, 391, 467-8, 470, 475, 491; 31-2, 36-7, 39, 122; ‘Nimitz
NSC-13/3, 475, 499, 512-13; NSC-49, Proclamation’, 32, 122
475; NSC-60/1, 501 national security nine-point stabilisation directive, 468-9. See
state, 476, 493 also Dodge and Economic Stabilisation
Nationality Law (Japan, 1950), 498; Programme.
revisions of, 528, 531 Nippon Lighthouse Foundation, 421
Native Americans (Diné), 18 Nippon Telegraph and Telephone
North Atlantic Treaty Organization, Corporation, 543
(NATO), 476 Nisei. See Japanese Americans.
Natural Resources Section (NRS), GHQ, Nishimura Takuma, 253
49, 141, 148, 188-90, 340-1, 380, Nishina Yoshio, 42, 179, 428
412, 545; Agricultural Division of, 49, Nishio Suehiro, 241, 261, 311-12, 322, 333,
190 467
Navy, US, Department of, 206-10; Nitobe Inaz6, 355
Occupied Areas Section of, 203, 206; Nitze, Paul, 475, 500
schools of Military Government, 158, ‘No regrets for My Youth’ (Waga seishun ni kui
182-3, 206 nashi) (film), 398
Neff, Nelson, B,, 192, 418, 420 Nomonhan (Khalkhin Gol), xxxi, xoxxiv, 15,
Nehru, Jawaharlal, 133 83
neighbourhood associations (tonari-gumi), Nomura combine, 334. See zaibatsu.
xxxvii, 296, 301, 304, 380, 426 Nomura Kichisaburé, 8
Nelson, George, A., 159, 282 non-belligerency, 281, 286
Nelson, John, M., 185, 367 non-tariff barriers (NTB), 542
Nemuro (Hokkaido), 82, 88, 124 Norman, E. Herbert, 7, 150, 152-3, 239,
Netherlands (Holland), xxxii, xxxv, 58, 98, 273, 308, 446
109, 170, 251, 254 Northcott, John, 133
Netherlands East Indies, xxxvi, xxviii, 10, Northcroft, Erima Harvey, 169-70, 248
14, 16, 36, 50, 109, 112, 254 Northern Territories, xxix, 81-2, 84, 87-8,
Neutrality Pact (Japan-Soviet Union), 35, 103, 124—5, 510, 512, 515-17; ethnic
82, 103, 221, 254 groups in, 87-8, 517; Etorofu (Iturup),
New Deal, 7-8, 169, 324, 334 82, 87, 124-5; Habomais, 82, 87—9, 124;
New Dealers, 154, 156, 162, 175-6, 213, Kunashiri (Kunashir), 82, 87-9, 124—5;
228, 295, 308, 310, 335 Shikotan, 82, 87, 124, 516-17; Soviet-
 Index 739

Japanese differences over, 516=17 Office of the Comptroller General, GHQ,

Norviel, John, W., 602 140, 1738
Nosaka Sanzd, 261, 288, 478 Office of the General Procurement Agent
Nozaki Hirofumi, 119 (GPA), GHQ, 141
nuclear weapons, 476, 506-7, 509, 526; Office of Naval Intelligence (OND, US,
nuclear testing, 368, 389, 428, 476, 506, 214; Psychological Warfare Section,
555 214
Nugent, Donald, R., 181-3, 243, 317, 365, Office of the Political Adviser (POLAD),
370, 378, 446, 481-2, 497 GHQ, 141-2, 146, 204, 226, 239-40,
Nullification of Obnoxious Laws, See Civil 244, 340-1
Liberties Directive, Office of Strategic Services (OSS), US, 208,
Nuremberg Trials, 169, 243, 246-7 297, 382, 435-6, 458
Office of War Information (OWD, US, 181,
O'Brien, John, W. A, 142, 179 183-5, 208, 382, 395, 458
Obuchi Keiz6, 523, 540, 547, 558 Ogasawara Islands, (Boning), xxix, 24,
Occupation, xix, xx, xxvilexlili, 41, 51, 54, 29-31, 36, 96, 98, 120-1, 123-4, 387,
61-4, 67, 72-3, 75, 93-6, 124, 126, 501-2, 504, 514, 516, 526, 538; delayed
218, 232-4, 308, 314, 393, 403-4, 497, repatriation of islanders, 121; Iwo Jima,
517-18, 530; aims of, 41, 54, 308, 814; xxix, 24, 27, 29-31, 39, 121; Marianas-
banning of General Strike as curning Bonins Command, 121; placed under
point in, 320; British opposition to direct military rule, 30, 120-1, 124
military occupation, 218; Communist Ogawa Kikumatsu, 400
containment, 51; continuities and Ogura Takekazu, 343-4
discontinuities, xli-xlill; conservative Ohara Institute for Social Research, 273
resistance ¢o, 516; contribucion of Ohashi Takeo, 479, 484, 493
Japanese civilians to xxix; cost of (borne Ohira Masayoshi, 549
by Japan), 126, 388; culcural Ohlson, Virginia, M,, 191
imperialism, xx; and direct rule in oil, 518
Okinawa, 120-3, 442; ‘divided’ Okazaki Katsuo, 52, 62-3, 113, 505
Occupation, 124; dual structure of xxvii; Okinawa, xxii, xxix, xxx, 24-5, 27, 31-7,
exclusion of Allies from substantive role 39, 48, 52-3, 56, 93, 110, 113, 120-3,
in, 96-9, 100-3, 134; failure co eliminate 127, 129, 137, 148, 153, 166, 192, 206,
racism in, 435; Gls behaviour during, 216, 221-2, 284, 435, 437, 440-45, 462,
67, 723; and indirect rule on main 500-2, 510, 512, 515, 518, 520, 524-5,
islands, xxix, 614, 297; Japanese 535-6, 538; bases in, 441-2, 445, 475,
actitudes cowards, xxv, xxvi, xl; legacies 500, 513, 524, 535; absence of purge in,
of, xxiii, xxiv; legal basis for, 2324; living 442; as Cold War strategic ‘lynchpin’,
as ‘neorcolonial overlords’ during, 73, 75; 443, 512-13; direct military rule in,
minorities fail co benefit from, xxi, xl, 120-3, 442, 444; extraterritorial status of
497, 530 ‘occupation control’, 393; US military in, 524; forced repatriation,
prohibition of strikes in ‘vital areas’ to, 110; Gl erimes in, 524—5; Tejima, 52;
312; reforms of, xxexxili, x9evi, .90Kkx—xli, invasion of, 31—5; Japanese anti-militarise
xlii, 4034, 455, 528, 552, 554; relative sentiment not extending to Okinawa,
benevolence of, xxi; Soviet occupation of 524; and loss of land under US
the Kurils, 81-90; subject of censorship, occupation, 441, 51314, 524; military
xxvi, 67, 151, 371, 387-8; troop strength government in, 441-2; reversion of to
during, 126; uneven benefits of, xxi; and Japan, 153, 4434, 518; unpopularity of
unresolved territorial issues concerning, US military in, 441-2, 512-14, 523-5;
51718; zonal proposal concerning and USCAR, 51314; war casualties,
(JWPC, 385), 93-6 34-5
O'Donnell, Agnes, O., 602 Okita Saburd, 308—9
740 Index

Okiyama Hikaru, 364 peace movement, 287, 473, 494, 506-9,

Okura combine, 334. See zaibatsu. 555; annual rallies of in Hiroshima and
Olander, Oscar, G., 297 Nagasaki, 506-7; commitment of to
“Old Guard’ (Old Order), 62, 116, 162, 235, Article Nine, 507; and emphasis on non-
240, 263, 281, 295, 304-5, 321, 392, violence, non-alignment and abolition of
488, 491, 493-5, 516, 547 nuclear weapons, 506, 509; and failure of
Oliver, Douglas, L., 513 to prevent Japan-US Security Treaty,
Omae Toshikazu, 52-3, 166 Korean War and economic reorientation
Omotokyo, 374 from China to South East Asia, 509; four
Ono Bamboku, 467 ‘peace principles’ of, 507; May Day
one-party rule, 538-9 independence rally (1952), 494-5, 509;
Onekotan. See Kuril Islands. Occupation attempt to suppress move-
Onishi Takijird, 28, 56 ment as Communist-inspired, 506;
Oppler, Alfred, C., 158, 160-1, 171-2, 185, opposition of to terms of peace settle-
330, 450, 484—5, 498 ment, 507; and permanent Japanese
Ordinance Review Committee, 493 neutrality, 490, 500-2; as representing
Organisation Control Ordinance (1949) the views of the majority of Japanese,
(Cabinet Order no. 64), 479, 481, 484, 509. See also citizens’ movements, grass
493 roots.
orphans. See homeless children. ‘peace party’, Japan, 220-2
Orr, Mark, T., 183, 207, 353, 356, 359, 369 peace preservation laws, xxxix, 172, 211,
Osaka, 26, 94-5, 193, 393, 411, 416, 418, 238, 296, 342, 446
454, 463, 495 peace settlement, xxv, 86, 109, 126, 132-3,
Oshita Katsumasa, 535 136, 152-3, 232, 234, 381, 387, 443,
Osmena, Sergio, 28 468, 475, 485, 490, 499-515, 557; and
Ota Kaoru, 494 absence of post-colonial settlement for
Ota Masahide, 524, 535 Japan’s Korean minority as result of, 510;
Ota Tenrei, 432-3 and agreement that Japan would renounce
Ouchi Hyoe, 274, 308-10, 507 sovereignty over southern Sakhalin and
“Outer Mongolia’ (Mongolian People’s the Kuril Islands as part of, 504; and
Republic), xxxi, 50, 84 British and Japanese support for Peoples
Ozaki Hotsumi, 244, 398 Republic of China to represent China in,
Ozawa Jisaburd, 23 503; and Commonwealth fear of Japanese
rearmament and insistence upon Japanese
Pacific Ocean Areas (POA), 11, 15, 110 reparations and defence pact with US,
Pacific War, 8-47, 81-7, 202, 257, 347, 502-3; and Congressional reluctance to
384 sign treaty barring Japanese recognition
Pacific War Council, 11 of Taiwan, 504; and continued foreign
Pakenham, Compton, 459, 500 occupation of Okinawa and Northern
Pal, Radhabinod, B., 170-1, 247-50, 254 Territories as result of, 510, 514—5; and
Panyushkin, Alexander, S., 469 denial of Japanese aspirations for
‘paper bombs’, 19-20 permanent neutrality as result of,
Paramusir. See Kuril Islands. 490, 500-2; and Dulles offer to support
Parent-Teacher Associations (PTAs), 367 Soviet claims to southern Sakhalin and
parties (political) xxxii, xxiii, 260-2 Kuril Islands if USSR joined the peace
Passin, Herbert, 187, 446 conference, 504, 514-15; and extra-
Patrick, Lord, 248 territorial status of US military as result of,
Patriotic Industrial Association (Sanpd), 311 505-6; and Hirohito’s offer to support US
Pauley, Edwin, W., 109, 143, 175 desire for bases and Japanese rearmament
Pauley Mission, 142, 179, 459; report of, in return for further lifting of purge
109, 143 restraints on militarists, 500—1; and Japan-
 Index 741

Taiwan bilateral treaty, 506; and Korean 164, 208, 240, 270, 295-9, 301, 305,
non-participation in, 510-11; and 312-13, 317, 414, 447, 449, 452, 458-9,
postponement of settlement of territorial 463, 465, 468, 471, 473, 497, 508, 532,
disputes as result of, 510, 514-15; and 537, 546, 556; local autonomous
refusal of Burma, India and Yugoslavia to police forces, 298, 302; local municipal
attend conference, 504; and refusal of police, 299, 303, 537; Metropolitan Police
Soviet Union, Poland, Czechoslovakia to Mission, 143, 297-8; National Rural
sign treaty, 504, 515; Soviet opposition to Police, 298-9; Rural Policy Planning
US bases in Japan, 504; Status of Forces Commission, 143; Taira police station
Agreement, 502, 504-6, 523-4; terms of, seizure, 472; Takasaki police strike, 297;
501, 504; war compensation and repara- ‘thought police’, xxxix, 165, 181, 238,
tions, 504, 557; and US engineering of 296, 325, 479; Tokyo Metropolitan
perpetual Japanese-Soviet animosity over Police, 148, 317; Tokyo Metropolitan
territorial issues as result of, 515-17; and Police Board, 313
US insistence that Peace Treaty be in return Police Duties Execution Law (1948),
for agreement to allow US bases in Japan 299
indefinitely, 500-2; and ‘Yoshida letter’, Police Law (1947), 297-301; amendment
505. See also security treaty. (1954) recentralising the National Rural
Peake, Cyrus, H., 159 Police, 537
Pearl Harbor, xxx, xxxv, 8, 10, 59, 137, 236, Political Funds Control Law, 540
256, 476 political prisoners, 150, 152, 163, 181, 206,
Peers School, 237, 368 211, 227, 238-9, 244, 311, 399
Peleliu, 27 Pollack, George, F, 423
Pelzel, John, 182 pollution, industrial, 553
Pence; TL, 203 Ponomarey, Demitry, G., 86
Penfield, James, K., 209 Poole, Richard, A., 153, 159, 282, 526
Pentagon, 126, 255, 282, 286, 442, 459, popular sovereignty, 281-2
475, 489, 504, 512-13, 523-4 Port Arthur, 50, 82-4
People’s Cooperative Party (PCP), 264-5, Port Moresby, 15
295, 321-2, 331 Postwar Programs Committee (PWC), State
“The People’s Enemy’, 397 Department, 205, 209, 348
Peoples Liberation Army (China), 252 Potsdam Conference, 22, 36-7, 40, 61, 131,
People’s National Language Alliance 214-20, 222
(Kokumin no Kokugo Renmei), 287 Potsdam Proclamation (26 July 1945), xxvii,
People’s Volunteer Corps Law (1945), 39 41-2, 46, 52-3, 58, 62-4, 68, 81, 84, 96,
Percival, Arthur, B., 10, 58 98, 104, 109, 112, 116, 122-4, 214-20,
Personnel Advisory Mission (US), 305-6 222-7, 230, 232-4, 238, 243, 266, 276,
Petroleum Advisory Group (PAG), G-4, 140, 292, 350, 358, 373-4, 382, 405, 475;
269. See also General Staff/G-4, GHQ. British modifications to, 217—18, 283
Philippines, xxxvi, xxxviii, 3-4, 10, 14-16, Potsdam Executive Decrees, 316, 450, 487,
18, 21, 24, 26-9, 35, 37, 48, 53, 58, 98, 493
109, 113, 122, 170, 177, 206, 208, poverty, 431-2, 438
248-9, 251, 253, 274, 286, 377, 410, Prange, Gordon, W., 165
475, 502, 504, 512; Baguio, 253; delayed prefectural governors, 212, 296, 299, 301,
repatriation of Japanese troops in, 113; 303
Filipinas, 254; under Japanese occupation, press (publications) and radio codes, 211,
16-17; Leyte, 16, 25-9, 53, 221; 238, 317, 371, 3846, 551; SCAP
Lingayen Bay, 16, 28; Luzon, 16, 28, memoranda concerning, 1945, 385
221; Mindanao, 3, 27, 29. See also Manila preventive medicine, 405-6
Poland, 271 Preventive Vaccine Law (1948), 412
police xxxix, xlii, 99, 143, 148, 154, 162, price controls, 208, 312
742 Index

Prime Minister's Office, 140, 153, 195, 197, public safety ordinances, 316, 464
299, 305, 424 Public Safety Section. See Civil Intelligence
Prison Law (1908), 537 Section (CIS).
prisoners of war (POWs), 42, 250-1, 253, public sector workers/unions, 325, 330,
556; Allied, 42, 250-1, 254, 556; 332-3, 480
American, 255, 378; Japanese, 86, 88, 103, Public Security Investigation Agency, 493
111, 165, 254; Asian, 251, 253-4, 556 Pulliam, Howard, E., 167, 298
private enterprise workers, 480 purges, xxxix, 49, 146, 154, 159, 162-3,
Private School Law (1949), 370 166-8, 235, 247, 262, 265, 295-7,
Privy Council, Japan, 35, 212, 222, 270 311-12, 338, 458, 468; economic purge,
‘production control’, 313-14, 316, 324, 160, 269, 330-7; education purge, 182,
397, 465-6, 471 269, 349-52; exceptions to purge, 267;
Progressive Party, 264, 452 labour purge, 148, 337; political purge,
propaganda, 185, 384 167, 267-70, 337; of public officials, 150,
prostitution, 67-71, 398, 432; ‘comfort 260, 265-70, 304, 306, 311-12, 350;
stations’, 67; “comfort women’ during the purge directive, 116, 211; Red Purge, xxii,
war, 69; officially sanctioned prostitution xl 1425 151,159) 07251747782
to protect ‘purity’ of well-to-do, 68; pan- 270, 314, 367-8, 391, 393, 399, 404,
pan, 69-71; Recreation and Amusement 460, 462, 476, 478, 480-5, 494; White
Associations (RAAs), 68—9, 71, ultra- Purge, 154, 159, 181, 204, 260, 262-3,
rightist racketeer involvement in, 71 313, 483, 491; victims of Red Purge, 483
psychological warfare (psywar), 18-20, 156, Putin, Vladimir, 517
493 Putnam, William, B., 167, 389-90
Psychological Warfare Branch, 18-20, 137, Pyle, Ernie, 73
182, 184, 384 P’yongyang, 85, 531-2
Psychological Warfare Section. See Office of
Naval Intelligence. Quebec Conferences, Quadrant (August
public assistance, 407 1943), 22; Octagon (September 1944),
Public Corporation Labour Relations Law 22S Sige 12k
(1947), 172 Quezon, Manuel, L., 4, 17
Public Health and Welfare Section (PH&W), Quigley, Harold, S., 156
GHQ, 49, 115, 141, 143, 148-9, 190-2, Quirino, Elpidio, 502
389, 405-8, 410, 412, 414-18, 422-3,
425-7, 431, 433-4, 446-9; Dental Rabaul (New Britain Island), 16, 251
Affairs Division, 416, Medical Services Radiation Effects Research Foundation. See
Division, 415; Narcotics Control Branch/ Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission.
Division, 416; Nursing Affairs Division, Rangoon, 10, 221
416; Social Security Division, 423; Rankin, J. L., 603
Veterinary Affairs Division, 416; Welfare rationing, 408
Division, 418 Rawlings, Bernard, H., 31
Public Information Office (PIO), GHQ, recession. See Economic Stabilisation
193-4, 317 Programme.
Public Law Forum (Koha Kenkyukai), 292 Reconstruction Finance Bank (RFB), 164,
Public Officials Pension Law (1953), 425 310, 467, 469, 471
public opinion polls, 257, 282 Red Army, 45, 51, 81, 85-6, 88-9
Public Relations Office (PRO), GHQ, 384; Red Cross, 191
Public Relations Section (PRS), GHQ, Red Purge. See purges
193 Reed, Eugene, M., 598
Public Safety Branch/Division, 163-5, 167, Reese, S. A., 603
297-8. See also General Staff/G-2. ‘reform bureaucrats’. See bureaucracy.
Public Safety Commissions, 299 Reischauer, Edwin, O., 152-3, 210, 524
 Index 743

Relief Law (1929), 407 Réling, Bert, V. A., 247-9, 254

religion, 182-3, 347, 371-81, 545; freedom romanisation of the Japanese language,
of, 183, 227, 377; separation of religion 359-61
from the state, xl, 183, 211, 375-6, Romulo, Carlos, P., 28-9, 475
379-81, 549-51; Tsu City and Mino’o romusha (forced labour), xxxviii
City cases, 550; undermining of Roosevelt, Franklin, D., xxxiv, 3-4, 10, 19,
religion/state separation principle by 22, 24, 37-8, 41, 44, 50, 83-5, 122,
official visits to Yasukuni Shrine for the 212-13, 382
war dead, 549-50. See also Christianity, Rosenthal, Joe, 30
Buddhism, Shinto. Roth, William, V., 184
Religions League of Japan, 374, 380-1 Rowell, Milo, E., 159, 274, 277-9, 302,
Religious Bodies Law (1939), 372 329
Religious Corporation Law (1951), 551 Royall, Kenneth, C., 103, 338, 458-9, 467
Religious Corporations Ordinance (1945), Rusk, Dean, 505-6
188, 376, 380-1 Russia. See Soviet Union
Religious Juridical Persons Law (1951), Russo-Japanese War (1904-5), 82-3
380 Ryder, Charles, W., 370
remilitarisation, xxii, xxiii, 286, 460-2, 468, Ryukyus Command (RYCOM), US/GHQ,
473, 475 485-501, 519, 522; disguised as 123, 127, 443
‘education orders’, 486; NSC-49 and Ryukyu Islands, xxix, 25, 31, 58, 96, 98,
Japan as forward US base, 475; opposition 106, 110, 120-4, 135, 148, 387, 416,
to, 286, 500-2, 524, 555-6. See also grass 435, 437, 440-2, 444, 501, 504, 512-14,
roots, Okinawa, peace movement, security 516, 524. See also Okinawa.
treaty/renewal.
Reno Plan (1943), 16 Sagami Bay, 54
reparations, xxxix, 100, 106, 108-9, 143, Saigon, 251
173, 196, 211, 307, 338, 387, 458-61, Saipan, 23-5, 158, 209. See also Marianas.
468, 475, 502 Saitd Kie, 186
Reparations Section (RS), GHQ, 195-6 Saito Yoshitsugu, 23
Reparations Technical Advisory Committee, Sakaguchi Yasuo, 312
195 Sakamoto, Thomas, J., 54, 58
repatriation, 106, 110-13, 125, 140, 406, Sakhalin, xxvi, xxix, xxx, 38, 46, 50-1, 81-2,
409-10, 412, 431, 448-9, 452; Japanese, 87-9, 111, 125, 501, 503-4, 514,
111-13, 121, 125; Koreans, 125, 448-50, 516-18; acquisition by Japan from Soviet
453, 496; Nisei, 110-11; Okinawans, Union of southern Sakhalin (1906), 82;
110 forgotten Koreans in, 125, 517-18;
Reports of General MacArthur, 165-6 repatriation of Japanese from, 111
‘reverse course’, xx—xxii, xli, 148, 151, 174, Sanbetsu Kaigi (Congress of Industrial
347, 394, 399, 404-5, 447, 458-60, Unions), 318, 323, 367, 466-7, 473
468-76, 493, 495, 516, 541 Sams, Crawford, FE, 7, 49, 190-2, 405, 407,
Rhee, Syngman, 510, 518 410, 412-13, 418, 422, 425-9, 433-4,
Rhineland (German), 4, 202, 232 446
Ridgeley, Dale, B., 191, 416 San Francisco Peace Conference (1951), 233,
Ridgeway, Mathew, B., 130, 139, 197, 503-4, 510-15
490-4 San Francisco Peace Treaty. See peace
Rizzo, Frank, 155-6, 158, 482, 491, 493 settlement
Roberts, C. G., 17 Sanger, Margaret, 433
Robertson, Horace, C. H., 133-4 sanitation, 190, 409-11, 414, 416, 426
Rockefeller, John, D., 144, 433 Sansom, George, 204, 206, 218, 275, 283,
Roest, Pieter, K., 49, 159-60, 195, 277 354, 361
Roh (Patriotic Labour Association), 311 Sapporo, 67, 439
744 Index

sarin poisoning incident, 551 Senkaku (Daioyutai) Islands, 518

Sasagawa Rydichi, 247 Seoul, 5, 496, 518
Sasaki Sdichi, 259 Shanghai, 251
Sasaki Yasushi, 398 ‘shattering of the precious jewel’ (gyokusai),
Sata Ineko, 265 23
Sat6 Eisaku, 318, 478, 524, 539 Shavell, Henry, 598
Saté Naotake, 35, 45, 222-3 Shaw, Patrick, 102, 464
Sat6 Tadao, 395 Schenck, Hubert, G., 189, 343
Satd Tatsuo, 287-9, 291, 302, 437-8 Shepard, Whitfield, P., 193, 487
Satomi Kishio, 283 Sherman Anti-Trust Act (1890),
scandals, 539-40; ‘black mist’ scandal, 539; 334
Recruit scandal, 539 Shidehara Kijiir6, 116, 203, 237-41,
SCAPINs (SCAP Index), 11416, 124, 142, 258, 262-3, 266-7, 271-2, 279-81, 286,
228, 255, 267, 340-1, 448-9 309-11, 315, 331, 340-1, 351, 386, 423,
Schenk, Hubert, G., 189, 343 490
Schmitz, Bernard, A., 601 Shiga Yoshio, 240, 261
School Education Law. See education. Shigemitsu Mamoru, 35-6, 47, 58, 62-4,
School for Government of Occupied Areas, 245-6, 257-8, 385, 517; and
208 implementation of indirect Occupation
schools, 303, 348, 356 (6-3-3), 361-8, rule, 62—3; role in unsuccessful
438, 481; democratisation of, 348, 367; appeasement of the Soviet Union, 35-6
military training in, 348-50, 363; Shi’ikuma Saburo, 452
textbook reform, 183, 348, 356, 361-4 Shikoku, 205, 412
Schurcliff, Alice, W., 599 Shikotan Island. See Kuril Islands, Northern
Science Advisory Group, US, 143 Territories
Science Council of Japan, 179 Shimizu Ikutar6, 507
Scientific and Technical Advisory Shimoyama Sadanori, 472-3
Commission, 179 Shinohara Yoshio, 380
Scientific and Technical Division. See Shinté, xl, 371-2, 377-80, 549-50, 559;
Economic and Scientific Section. disestablisment of, 375, 548; Gokoku
Sebald, William, J., 100, 103, 150-1, 155, shrines, 372, 376, 550; Ise Shrines, 372,
443-4, 460, 464, 487, 495 374, 376, 381; Imperial regalia, 372; and
security treaty, Japan-US, 501-9, 540; militant nationalism, 372; National
bilateral administrative agreement of, Shintd, 374, 549; original Shinto, 374;
504—6; extent to which treaty was forced outlawing of in classrooms, 351; Sectarian
upon Japan, 503-6; Far East clause of, Shintd (Kyoha), 372; Shinto Directive
503-4; renewal of, 504, 517, 556; (1945), 181, 188, 211, 351, 375-7, 380,
socialists abandoning, opposition to, 540; 548; Shrine Board;, 372, 375-6; Shrine
Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA), 502, Shintd (Jinja), 372, 375; shrines: Meiji,
504—6, 523-4; strengthening of, 523; Nogi, Tog6, 374; “Sponsorship and
terms of, 503-4. See also peace settlement. Support of Shinto by Neighborhood
Seidensticker, Edward, G., 153 Associations’ (1946), 380
Seiyitkai (Friends of Democratic Shipping Control Authority for the Japanese
Government Party), 262 Merchant Marine (SCAJAP), 195
Sekai (journal), 391 Shirasu Jir6, 113, 139, 279-80, 317, 467,
self-defence, right of, 490 490, 497
Self-Defence Forces (SDF), 193, 291, 489, Shochiku Film Studio, 390, 398
522-3, 526, 541, 558 Shéda Michiko, 519, 521
Sendai, 207, 497 Shoemaker, James, 208
Sendai High Court, 551 Shériki Matsutar6, 313
Sendai telephone operators’ strike, 313 Shoup, Carl, S., 143; mission of, 144
 Index 745

Showa Denko scandal, 164-5, 331, 333, 58, 81, 86-7, 89; 93-4, 96-8, 100-1,
467, 539 111-12, 123-5, 140, 165, 170, 214-15,
Shumshu. See Kuril Islands. 219-22, 243, 252, 255, 269, 271, 281,
Siberia, 81, 83, 103, 111-12 284, 291, 315, 333, 457, 475-6, 504,
Singapore, xxxvii, 10-11, 31, 58, 112, 251 506, 516-17, 546; entry into war against
Sino-Japanese War (1894-5), 347, 392, 397 Japan, 45, 254; Far Eastern Forces of, 86;
Sino-Soviet Treaty of Friendship, Alliance Japanese POWs in, 86, 88, 111-12; and
and Mutual Assistance (1950), 476 Kuril Islands, 81-90, 123-5, 515; Pacific
Sirota Gordon, Beate, 60, 129, 160, 162, Fleet of, 45, 85, 87; war crimes trials, 252,
185, 277-8, 289, 329-30, 526; and role 255; World War Two, 257. See also Yalta.
in protecting the rights of women and Special Committee on Revision of the
children in postwar Constitution, 160 Imperial Constitution (Diet Lower
Sixth Army (US), 14, 27-9, 37, 48, 61, 117, House), 289
126, 190, 208, 358. See also GHQ/ Special Higher Police (Thought Police,
AFPAC, GHQ/SWPA. Tokko Keisatsu). See police.
Sledge, Eugene, B., 21 Special Investigation Bureau (SIB), 483, 493.
Small, B. E., 603 See Attorney General.
Smith, Bradford, 183, 395, 399 ‘special procurements’, 483, 485-7
Smith, Meade, M., 177, 325 Special Staff. See General Headquarters,
‘social dumping’, 307 Supreme Commander for the Allied
Social Education Law (1949), 367, 370 Powers (GHQ/SCAP).
social security, 143, 405, 423-5; US Social Special Survey Committee. See Foreign
Security Mission, 143, 424 Ministry.
Social Security Deliberation Council, 423-4 Spellman, Francis, 379
Socialist Party. See Japan Socialist Party Spinks, Charles, N., 151, 153, 482
Sodomei (Japan Federation of Labour), 261, Spruance, Raymond, A., 23, 31
318, 323, 333 Stalin, Joseph, V., 22, 36-7, 40-1, 45-6,
Sodomei Preparatory Council, 311 51, 83-4, 86, 93, 122, 124, 215, 217,
Sohyo (Japan General Council of Trade 219 (Yalta, 84)
Unions), 177, 261, 324, 493-5, 543 Stanchfield, Paul, 325, 332
Solomon Islands, 10, 13-16, 22, 129, Stander, Golda, G., 177, 325-6, 483
Bougainville, 16, 22, 129; Guadalcanal, State Department, 8, 60, 84-6, 96-7,
15, 129 99-102, 105, 109, 122-3, 126, 141,
Sone Eki, 376 148-50, 153, 160, 172, 183, 186, 201-2,
Sorge, Richard, 244, 398, 479 204-6, 208-10, 213-14, 216, 218,
Southeast Asia, xxxvi, 121, 133, 201, 214, 225-6, 230, 240, 244, 258, 333, 335,
221, 461, 541; as export and raw material 340, 348-9, 351, 354, 356, 360-1, 382,
market for Japan, 461; importance in 391, 395-6, 435, 440, 443-4, 457, 461,
Japan’s economic recovery, 541; import- 468, 477, 484, 495, 500, 513; Far Eastern
ance of in elevating Japan’s strategic value Division of, 202-3, 210, 226, 374, 459;
as Free World ally, 541; as Cold War International Labour Division of, 209;
domino, 542; perceived threat of Indo- and Kuril Islands, 84—5; and opposition to
Chinese liberation to Japanese stability, zonal occupation, 96; Policy Planning
541 Staff, 75, 248, 444, 458, 475, 555; and
South Manchurian Railway, 50 support for return of Okinawa to Japan,
Southwest Pacific Army (SWPA). See 122
General Headquarters of the Southwest State-War-Navy Coordinating Committee
Pacific Area (GHQ/SWPA). (SWNCC), US, 64, 93, 96-7, 105,
Soviet-German Non-Aggression Pact (1939), 209-14, 336, 348-9, 458; and Imperial
xxxi, xxii institution (SWNCC-55/7, 209), 210,
Soviet Union, xxxi, xxxii, 10, 45-6, 49-51, 258; ‘Initial Post-Surrender Policy
746 Index

Relating to Japan’, (SWNCC-150), 54, 216-17, 225-6. See also State-War-Navy

61, 63-4, 98-9, 104—5, 156, 205, 210, Coordinating Committee/SWNCC-150.
212, 226-8, 233-4, 240, 282, 307, 334, Supreme Commander for the Allied Powers,
340, 349-50, 373-4; and occupation (SCAP), xxvii, xli, xliii, 3-4, 48, 58, 63,
of Korea, 64; ‘Positive Policy for 93, 96, 105, 107, 113, 116, 137, 139,
Reorientation of Japanese’ (SWNCC- 142, 146, 149, 227-9, 231-4, 238, 240,
162D), 436; and reform of Japanese 258-61, 263, 267, 272, 274, 279-80,
government (SWNCC-228), 210, 274, 305-6, 315-17, 377-8, 452-4, 463,
276-7, 280, 282, 436; Subcommittee for 493. See also General Headquarters,
the Far East (SFE), 209-12, 217, 225-8, Supreme Commander for the Allied
230, 255, 349, 353, 360, 383 Powers (GHQ/SCAP), MacArthur,
Statistics and Reports Section (SRS), GHQ, Ridgeway.
141, 196; (or Civil Historical Section), Supreme Council for the Direction of the
196 War, Japan, 24, 35-6, 222
Status of Forces Agreement (SOFA) (1960). Supreme Court (Japan), 483, 535, 549-50,
See peace settlement, security treaty. 558
steel, 486 Supreme Court (US), 251, 253
Steiner, Kurt, 171—2, 185, 330, 484 surrender of Japan, 46-8, 52-3, 56-62,
Stettinus, Edward, R., 210, 217 71-2, 85, 87, 98, 106, 132, 140, 214-15,
Stevens, Bill, 129 220-5, 232, 385; absence of Imperial
Stimson, Henry, L., 103, 213, 215-17, 224; family from surrender ceremony, 59;
Stimson Memorandum, 215-17 attempt to shift blame from Emperor, 60;
Stoddard, George, 143, 352-4, 356-8, British revisions to Allied demands
365-6. See also Education Mission. concerning, 217—19; ceremony of, 48,
Stone, Margaret, 185 57-60, 428; General Order No., 1, 52-3,
Strike, Clifford, S., 143, 459; mission and 58, 85, 106; Grew’s proposed reinter-
report of, 143, 460 pretation of unconditional surrender,
strikes, 284, 297, 312-13, 317, 325, 368, 214-15; Hirohito’s surrender broadcast
390, 392-3, 442, 470-1 46-7, 53, 56; initial fears of Japanese
student movement, 352, 368. See also attacks on Gls as result of, 71-2; Instru-
Zengakuren. ment of Surrender, 47, 52-3, 59, 87, 98,
Subcommittee for the Far East. See State- 132; Japanese efforts to promote ambi-
War-Navy Coordinating Committee guity over totality of Japan’s capitulation
(SWNCC). 46-7, 60-2, 229-31, 233-4, 385;
‘subordinate independence’, xxiii, 504 Japanese lack of contrition, 60; Soviet
Subversive Activities Prevention Law (1952), seizure of southern Kuril Islands after
172, 493, 511-12, 551 signing of surrender documents, 87;
Suehiro Izutar6, 241, 311, 325 surrender without bloodshed, 56-7;
Sugamo Prison, 244, 246, 253 unconditional surrender of Japan, 22, 41,
Suiheisha (Leveling Society) (1922), 446-7. 202, 205, 210, 214-15, 218-19, 231-2,
See also Burakumin. 385; ultra-rightist backlash against, 56-7.
Suizu Mitsuru, 87 See also Potsdam Proclamation.
Sukarno, xxxvi Sutherland, Richard, K., 11,49, 52, 63-5, 139
Sullivan, John, E, 185 Suzuki Aiko, 186
Sullivan, Philip, 209, 484 Suzuki Bunji, 241
Sumatra. See Indonesia. Suzuki Kantar6, xxxvi, 35, 47, 56, 219-20,
Sumitomo combine, 334—5; Sumitomo 222-6, 230, 246, 372
Chemical, 529. See zaibatsu. Suzuki Mosabur6, 261, 333
‘Summary of US Initial Post-Defeat Policy Suzuki Tadakatsu, 61-2, 113
Relating to Japan’, Civil Affairs Division Suzuki Tomin, 313
(CAD), US War Department, 210-13, Suzuki Yasuz6, 273
 Index 747

Swing, Joseph, M., 28, 439 Third World migrant labour, 531-2;
Swope, Guy J., 157-9, 303-5, 332 undocumented migrants and labour
abuses, 532
Taft-Hartley Act (US), 477 Thomas, C. FE, 598
Taisho democracy, 401 Thompson, Polly, 422
Taiwan. See Formosa. Thompson, Warren, S., 433
Takahashi Nobuko, 330 Thorpe, Elliott, R., 149, 162-4, 248, 379,
Takahashi Sei’ichird, 365 382-4
Takamatsu (Crown Prince), 56, 71 Three Non-Nuclear Principles, 524, 526
Takano Iwasaburé, 261, 273, 398 Tilton, Cecil, G., 49, 158-9, 207, 209,
Takano Minoru, 261, 312, 333, 301-3
494 Time (magazine), 403
Takarazuka, 73 Tinian, 25, 42, 129
Takase Sdtard 481 Tobata Seiichi, 342
Takayanagi Kenzo, 244, 247 Toda Teiz6, 365
Takeshima, 518 Togo Shigenori, xxxvii, 36, 222-3, 225,
Takigawa Yukitoki, 268, 398 245-6, 257
Tan, S. H., 291 Toguri, Iva (Tokyo Rose), 253
Tanaka Kakuei, 539 Tohata Shird, 340
Tanaka K6taré, 145, 351, 358-9, 483 Toh6d Motion Pictures Studios (Kinuta),
Tanaka Makiko, 559 116, 390, 397-8, 465-7; Toho
Tanaka Sumiko, 186, 329 struggle and suppression of, 465-7; US
Tanino Setsu, 326, 330 Eighth Army involvement in, 116
Tansey, Patrick, H., 196 Tojo Hideki, xxxii—xxxiy, 8, 15, 23-4, 60,
Tarawa. See Gilbert Islands. 166, 169, 221, 235-6, 243-6, 256-9,
taxation, 496 261-3, 489; blamed for defeat in order to
teachers, 313, 333, 350, 356-7, 361, 371, exonerate Hirohito, 258-9; resignation of
411, 546; ban on political activities of, 546 Cabinet, 24
Teheran Conference (November 1943), 22, Tokuda Kyaichi, 240, 261, 296, 311, 315
45, 83, 122 Tokugawa Shogunate (Bakufu), 81, 121,
Tench, Charles, P., 53 446
Tenri Honmichi, 374 Tokyo, xxvii, xxxi, 3, 29, 52-7, 73, 127,
Tenrikyo, 372 130, 155, 194, 224, 233, 299,
Tenth Army, US, 31-2, 34, 37, 40, 127; 314, 352, 418, 430, 496, 501, 518;
XXIV Corps, 31 firebombings of, 26-7, 57, 215; Tokyo
Teramoto Késaku, 325-6, 483 Bay, 39, 52, 54-5, 57, 121
Terasaki Hidenari, 137, 259, 443-4 Tokyo Board of Education, 547
Territorial Subcommittee (TS), US State Tokyo Charter, 168, 244-5, 247
Department, 83, 202-4 Tokyo District Court, 465, 546, 554
territorial boundaries (Japan), 81-7, 202, Tokyo University, 272, 308, 355, 364,
205, 210, 511-18 367-8, 398, 426-7; and continuing
terrorist attacks on US, xxv, 523-4, 560 domination of civil service and other
Textbook Review Council, 546; and elite professions, 367; and Institute of
censorship of texts, 546 Infectious Diseases, 426
textbooks, 182, 348, 350-1, 356-7, 360-4, ‘Tollbooth’, Operation (CIC), 168, 463
370, 453, 545-8; blacking out of Toma Jiigo, 442
(suminuri kyokasho), 361-3, 375; Toseiha (Control Fraction), xxxiv, 24, 221
certification of, 182, 364, 546-8; Kuni no Toshiba Corporation, 119, 318, 470-1;
ayumi (Our Nation’s Progress), 453, 546 dispute in (1946), 119
Thailand, xxxviii, 11, 208 Toshiba Rolling Stock, 314
Theatre Missile Defence (TMD), 523 tosuiken. See Emperor.
748 Index

Townsend, Willard, 323 UN Unified Command, Korea, 192, 482,

Toyd Gései factory, 314 487, 491
Toyoda Soemu, 223 UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights
trade unions, xxxii, 142, 168, 176, 211, (1948), 499, 507
241, 279, 296, 309-14, 319, 324, 333, unemployment, 76, 310, 470-4, 484-6; as
459, 464, 466, 470, 472, 476-7, 484, 543; result of Dodge Line, 470-4, 481-6;
Kyéto (Joint Struggle Committee of Public brought down by Korean war, 486
Employees Unions), 319-20, 323; Unemployment Insurance Law (1947), 327,
membership of, 312, 321, surveillance of, 424
168 Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (USSR).
Trainor, Joseph, C., 187, 480 See Soviet Union.
‘The ‘Tragedy of Japan’, (Nihon no higeki), unions. See trade unions.
389, 396 Unit 731, xix, 252, 254-6, 546, 557;
Trident Conference (Washington, May atrocities of, 254-6, 547, 557
1943), 21 United Nations, 10-11, 22, 146, 234,
Truman, Harry, S., 3, 5-7, 22, 38, 40-2, 246-7, 287, 499, 501, 504, 552; Charter
44—5, 59, 64, 85—6, 93, 96, 103, 105, of, 234, 501, 504; and Dumbarton
109, 123, 130, 149, 155, 164, 169, 192, Oaks Conference, 10-11; General
213-17, 219, 224, 228, 231-2, 354, 428, Assembly of, 552; origins of, 10; Security
457-8, 468, 473, 476-7, 482, 490-1, Council of (and Korean War), 482; UN
499, 501, 505-6, 555, and dismissal of San Francisco Conference (1945), 499;
MacArthur, 139; strained relations with Universal Declaration of Human Rights
MacArthur, 6-7, 105; Truman Doctrine, of (1948), 507; war crimes commission
457 of, 257
‘Tsuda College for Women, 356, 367 United States, xxxi, xxii, xxv, 8, 11, 41, 58,
Tsuji Masanobu, 559, 611 (Note 17) 64, 81, 86, 94-5, 97-8, 100, 122, 136,
‘Tsukahara, ‘Taro (‘Tom’), 19, 156-7, 241 170, 214, 221, 232, 236, 243, 251, 272,
‘Tsukamoto, Walter, 167 357, 364, 378, 502-6
‘Tsuru Shigeto, 308-10, 507 United States Army Forces in the Far East
Tsutsumi Fusaki, 86-8 (USAFFE), 4, 8, 11, 14, 17
United States Army Air Forces (USAAF),
Ueda Shunkichi, 220, 478-9, 481 20th Air Force, 25; XXI Bomber
Uemura Tamaki, 378 Command, 25-6, 30
Veno (Tokyo), 56 United States Army and Navy Manual of
“Ulera’ intercepts, 38 Military Government and Civil Affairs,
ultra-nationalists, 56, 196, 267, 313, 347-8, 201-2
350, 374, 387, 491, 545; rehabilitation of, United States Army Forces in the Mid-Pacific
491, 611 (Note 17) (AFMIDPAC), 37, 137
Umezu Yoshijiré, 58, 221, 223, 245 United States Army Forces in the Pacific
UN Convention on the Elimination of All (AFPAC), See GHQ/AFPAC,
Forms of Discrimination Against United States Army Forces in the West-
Women, Japan’s ratification of (1985), Pacific (AFWESPAC), 37, 137, 195
527 United States Army Military Government
UN Convention on the Rights of the Child, in Korea (USAMGIK), 149, 153, 182,
Japan’s ratification of (1994), 527 191
UN Convention Relating to the Status of universal suffrage, 329
Refugees, Japan’s ratification of (1982), universities, 366-8, 481
511; 527 University of the Air, 548
UN Human Rights Committee, 527, University of Virginia School of Military
531 Government. See Military Government
UN Relief and Rehabilitation Agency, 143 schools
 Index 749

Urup. See Kuril Islands. wages, 208, 308, 312, 486

US Advisory Committee on Labour in Japan. Wainwright, Jonathan, M., 9, 58
See Labour Advisory Committee Wajima Eiji, 495, 512
US Aid Counterpart Fund, 469 Wake Island, 10
US Army, 14-15, 40, 121, 130, 208, 215, Wakamatsu Yijird, 256
333, 382, 386, 435; Air Forces of Wakatsuma Sakae, 330
(USAAE), 9, 24; Army/Navy rivalry in the Walker, Gordon, 388
Pacific, 14-15; Chief of Staff of, 103; First Wallace, Henry, A., 396
Army of, 37; General Staff of, 216-17; Wanamaker, Pearl, A., 353
Intelligence of, 255; Military Government Wandell, William, H., 143, 424
in Korea of, 496; Services of Supply of Wang Ching Wei, xxx
(USASOS), 14, 163 Wardell, W. L., 603
US bio-war mission to Tokyo, 255 war crimes, xix, 171, 243, 262, 272, 280,
US Civil Administration of the Ryukyus 282, 389; Class A (crimes against peace),
(USCAR). See Okinawa, Ryukyus. 244-7, 256-8; Class B (violations of laws
US Cultural Science Mission, 143 of war), 245, 250-6, 556; Class C (crimes
US Far Eastern Air Force, 37, 40, 126 against humanity), 245, 247, 250-6, 556;
US Joint Chiefs of Staff. See Joint Chiefs of no full apology for, xix, 60-1; sanitisation
Staff. of in textbooks, 546-7
US Navy, 14-15, 121, 209, 382; US Naval war crimes trials, 41, 58, 235, 284, 295; of
Forces in the Far East, 110; US Pacific Class A suspects, 169, 243-50, 256-8,
Fleet, 8, 14, 36-7, 257; US Third Fleet, 468; of Class B and C suspects, 245,
410 250-6; Emperor exempt from, 243-4,
US Social Security Mission (1947), 424-5; 249, 256-60; popular attitudes towards,
Wandel Report, 425 250; See also International Military
US Strategic Bombing Survey, 188, 428 Tribunal for the Far East (IMTFE).
Ushijima Mitsuru, 31, 33-4 war criminals, xxxix, 41, 150, 163, 168, 171,
Uzawa Somei, 244 196, 206, 211-12, 223, 253, 256, 313,
316, 387, 426-7, 549
vaccines. See disease. War Department, US, 128, 137, 156, 163,
Valentine, Louis, T., 297 191, 206-7, 209-10, 212, 226, 354, 360,
Vasilevsky, Aleksander, M., 85-6, 93 382, 395, 428
venereal disease; venereal disease clinics; war guilt, 390, 396, 398-9; “Now It Can
Venereal Disease Control Law (1948), Be Told’, 398; ‘Now It Can Be told
432 Truth Box’, 399; “The Patriot’s Hour’,
Versailles Conference (1919), 220, 248, 399
499 War Ministry, Japan, 107
Vernan, Raymond, 174 war orphans. See homeless children.
veterans, Japanese, 253, 407, 412, 420, war responsibility, 555; restitution to victims
425; benefits of, 253; GHQ ban on of Japanese aggression, 556-9
veterans’ benefits, 425; Law for War ‘war termination costs’, 388
Invalids and Families of the War Dead Ward, Eric, 342
(1952), 425; Public Officials’ Pension Ware, Stella, 601
Law (1953), 425 Wartime Casualties Care Law (1942),
veterinary reforms, 415 431
Vietnam, xxxvili, 254, 475 Washington, DC, 8, 10-11, 137, 209, 224,
Vietnam War, 475, 524, 539, 542 227-8, 230, 233, 243, 277, 285, 338,
Vincent, John, C., 202, 209, 226, 374-5 340, 500-1, 504, 526
Vining, Elizabeth, G., 379 Watanabe Michiko, 329
Von Aduard, Lewe, 246 Wavell, Archibald, 11
“Way of the Subject’ (Shinmin no michi), 357
Wada Hiro’o, 308-10, 333, 340-3 Webb, William, E, 170, 244, 247-9, 256
750 Index

Wedemeyer, Albert, B., 59 militarist and ultra-nationalist purge and

Weed, Ethel, B., 128-9, 185-6, 241, 265, police decentralisation, 162, 167, 267,
327-8, 330; ‘Weed’s Girls’, 185-6, 265, 298; and protection of Unit 731 war
278-9, 328-9 crimes suspects, 255; and responsibility for
Welch, George, P., 194 Red Purge, 462, 482-3; rivalry with
welfare, xliii, 115, 191, 405-9, 432, 552-4 Whitney and Government Section, 146,
Welfare, Ministry of, 308-9, 311-12, 324— 154, 298; and Showa Denko scandal, 165;
7, 329, 406-7, 412, 414-15, 418, 420-4, and support for Old Guard, 162, 243,
426, 429, 434, 447-8, 453, 479, 512, 248, 255, 468; and suppression of
537; addition of Public Health, Medical criticism of Emperor, 243, 389-90; and
Affairs and Preventive Medicine Bureaux surveillance of Japan Communist Party
to, 414; and establishment of child welfare and Koreans, 165, 482-3
committees, centres and bureaux, 420; Wilson, Elizabeth, 467
Labour Policy Bureau of, 309, 311; wiretapping law (1999), 537
Labour Standards Bureau of, 329; Social women, xxxix, xl, xlii, 60, 115, 137, 160,
Affairs Bureau of, 309, 407-8, 418, 420; 163-4, 185-7, 241, 266, 270, 277,
Social Security Bureau of, 423 299-300, 304, 315, 321, 325, 328, 354,
Wellington, 11, 136, 502 356, 366, 386, 397-9, 423, 432, 438,
Welsh, Edward, C., 163, 174-5, 335, 337-8, 498, 511, 527-30; constitutional rights of,
461 160; continuing discrimination against,
Wheeler, Herbert, B., 138 527-9; contribution of to Occupation,
Wheeler, S. W., 174 xxix; enfranchisement of, xxxix, 538;
Whitney, Courtney, 5, 7, 14, 17, 49, 54, 71, Japanese/GHQ collaboration in
102-3, 139, 144, 146, 154, 156, 163, furthering rights of, 115; movement of,
240, 263, 267, 274, 277-84, 286, 288, 178, 241, 277-8, 329, 471; rights of, xl,
291, 298, 305, 332, 343, 438, 467, 479, xlii, 185-7, 289, 326, 328-30, 473;
482-4, 491, 496 suffrage of, 265; Women’s Information
Wildes, Harry, 160, 277 Officer, 185, 328
Williams, Justin, Jr, 49, 115, 157, 165, 286, women in uniform, 127-9, 185-6, 191; as
338-9, 370 members of MG teams, 128; Women
Williamson, Mark, B., 49, 189 Accepted for Voluntary Emergency Service
Williamson, Maude, 601 (WAVES), 127-8, 186; Women’s Army
Willoughby, Charles, A., 7, 11, 21, 52-3, Corps (WACs), 127-8, 185, 191
146, 154—5, 157, 161-7, 184, 192, 194, Women’s and Minors’ Bureau (WMB). See
243, 248, 255, 259, 267, 298, 314, 317, Labour Ministry.
389-90, 462, 467, 482-3, 489, women’s colleges. See education.
admiration for Mussolini and Franco, Women’s Democratic Club, 265, 330
161; and ATIS, 21, 166; and ‘Bataan Women’s Postwar Counter-Measures
Crowd’, 11, 194; and*clandestine Committee (Sengo Taisaku Fujin linkai),
employment of Imperial Army and police 241
officials in G-2, 53, 165-6, 259, 267, ‘Women of the Night’ (Yoru no onna-tachi)
488-9; creation of Domestic Subversion (film), 398
and Loyalty Desks in G-2, 164; and Woodard, William, P., 187-8, 375,
expansion of G-2 intelligence functions, 380
163—4; harassment and surveillance of Wordsworth, C. W., 167
liberals and New Dealers within GHQ, Workman’s Compensation Insurance Law
162-3, 184; and alleged kidnapping of (1947), 424
Kaji Wataru, 165; ‘my lovable fascist’, World Conference Against Atomic and
161; and North Korean flag incidents, 497; Hydrogen Bombs. See atomic bomb.
opposition to IMTFE, 248; opposition to World Health Organisation, 553
labour movement, 314, 317; opposition to Wunderlich, Herbert, J., 182-3
 Index 751

Yabe Teiji, 259 Whitney and Government Section, 139,

Yalta, 22, 37, 45, 50-1, 83-4, 123-4, 148, 154, 467; and the economy, 309,
515-16 469, 486; and efforts to outlaw the
Yagi Yoshinosuke, 341-2 Communist Party, 172, 482, 484-5; and
Yamaguchi Prefecture, 463, 481, 550 GHQ= ‘Go Home Quickly’, 142, 543;
Yamakawa Kikue, 265, 329 governments of, 319, 321, 325, 327-9,
Yamamoto Isoroku, xxxiv, xxxv, 15 331, 333; and harassment of leftists and
Yamamoto Satsuo, 390 progressives, 478-80; and interpretation
Yamamoto Sugi, 265 of Article Nine, xxii, 286, 490; and
Yamanashi Katsunoshin, 237, 284 Korean minority, 452, 497, 510; and land
Yamashita Tomoyuki, 10, 28, 221, reform, 340, 342; and local government,
251-3 303; and opposition to rearmament, 489,
Yamazaki Iwao, 236, 238 500-2; and opposition to six-three
Yamazaki Takeshi, 468 education reform, 365; and ‘peace party’,
Yanagi Muneyoshi, 355 24, 203-4, 220-2, 239, 262, 334; and
Yanagioka Takeshi, 87 police recentralisation, 298; and
Yasuda combine, 334-5. See also zaibatsu. preservation of Emperor, 237, 243, 358,
Yasuda Plan, 335-6 389, 478; and the purge, 266-9, 493; and
Yasukuni Shrine, 372-4, 376, 381, 549-50. relations with SCAR, 114—15, 139; and
See also Shinto. revision of electoral law to detriment of
Yeltsin, Boris, 517 women and third parties, 266; and
Yenan, 160, 261 support for representation at the Peace
Yokkaichi, 553 Conference by the People’s Republic of
Yokohama, xxvii, 53-7, 61, 63, 67, 73, China (PRC), 503; and union-busting at
113, 117, 126-8, 153-4, 208, 251, the Yomiuri newspaper company, 317;
384 Yoshida-Dulles agreement (1951), 514;
Yokohama War Crimes Tribunal, 245, 251-2 and ‘Yoshida Letter’, 505
Yokosuka, 54-5, 480 Yoshikawa Mitsusada, 479, 4814
Yokoyama Ichiré, 52 Yoshimi Shizue, 448
Yomiuri Shinbun (newspaper), 72, 184, 238, Young, Ralph, 143, 461
313, 317, 433, 473
Yomiuri disputes, 182, 313, 317-18, 397, Zacharias, Ellis, M., 214
484 zaibatsu (industrial-financial groups), xl,
Yonai Mitsumasa, 222-3 77, 109, 142 148, 261, 295, 307, 310,
Yonekubo Michisuke, 328 397, 469; dissolution of, xxxix, 142, 154,
Yoshida Shigeru, xx, xxii, 5, 24, 47, 58, 160, 173-5, 179, 227, 308-9, 334-9,
114-15, 139, 142, 148, 154, 172, 203, 345, 458-9, 461, 541; ‘new zarbatsw’,
220-1, 237, 239, 243, 262, 266-8, 288, 334; in Pacific War (narcotics trade),
295, 298, 303, 308-10, 317-18, 322, 416; Pauley Report recommendations
334, 340, 342, 358, 365, 389, 467-9, concerning, 109; reconstitution of, 458;
472, 478-80, 482, 484-6, 489-90, as source of Japanese imperialism, 203
493-4, 497, 500, 502-3, 505, 507, Zaryanoy, I. M., 170, 248
509-10, 512, 514, 519, 546; and attempt Zengakuren (All-Japan Federation of Student
to establish an Un-Japanese Activities SelfGoverning Associations), 368-9,
Committee in the Lower House of the 481
Diet, 479; and constitutional revision, Zenroren (National Labour Union Liaison
279, 283, 292; and denunciation of Council), 144, 323, 543
peace movement, 507; and distrust of Zhu Rongi, 550
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HISTORY

THE ALLIED OCCUPATION oF

Published to coincide with the 50th anniversary of the end of the American-led Allied occupation
of Japan (1945-52), The Allied Occupation of Japan (formerly titled Inside GHQ: The Allied
Occupation of Japan and Its Legacy) is a sweeping history of the revolutionary reforms that
transformed Japan and the remarkable men and women, American and Japanese, who imple-
mented them. _

“A superbly translated study of the legacy of the largely American postwar occupation of
Japan up to the present day.... This is in a class with John Dower’s prize-winning Embracing
Defeat.” —Publishers Weekly, starred review

“What is most impressive is that a Japanese author should have such a vivid understanding of
the relations among the Americans, and particularly of General Douglas MacArthur’s personal-
ity, along with a firm grasp of all the policy debates.” —Foreign Affairs

“This major contribution is accessible to the general reader with little or no background in
these important events.... Professor Takemae’s indispensable contribution is most welcome.”
—VMonthly Review

“ ..a masterful assessment of the US occupation of Japan and the impact and legacy of
occupation reforms....This book is a must for all who are interested in US—Japan relations and —
postwar Japanese history.” —Choice

TAKEMAE EIJI is a political scientist and Professor Emeritus, Tokyo Keizai University. He is
considered the doyen of Occupational scholarship in Japan.

Cover photograph: US National Archives

Cover design by Stefan Killen Design ISBN 0-8264- 1521-0

US $29.95

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