Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan (155 page)
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Authors: Herbert P. Bix
Tags: #General, #History, #Biography & Autobiography, #Military, #World War II
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s the fifth month of occupation came in with the new year, 1946, the Japanese nation seemed to be torn in half. On the one hand demobilized veterans and displaced civilians continued to be repatriated from the Asian continent; millions remained homeless; food rationing had broken down; and black markets were flourishing everywhere. Farmers had begun political struggles for the democratization of local village government. Land reform had not yet begun, but tenants and small owner-cultivators were demonstrating their grievances against the landlord classâa social pillar of the prewar monarchy ever since Meiji. On the other hand the confusion and demoralization so noticeable earlier were starting to give way to intellectual ferment and excitement. It appeared to many, not all of whom were leftists, that defeat and occupation might soon result in radical, thoroughgoing reform. Major institutional change was in the air and could be imminent.
On January 13, 1946, one Reginald Blyth, a teacher at the Peers' School who was also, informally, an adviser to GHQ's Civil Information and Education Section, sent Hirohito's Grand Chamberlain a letter. Taking cognizence of the near collapse of the food rationing system, Blyth proposed that the emperor counter this serious problem:
The Emperor alone has the chance toâ¦provide the emotional motive power for the proper distribution of food without a black mar
ket. He should make a trip round Japan, visit the coal mines and farming districts. He should listen to them, talk to them, ask them questions. On his return he should issue a statement concerning e. g. the hoarding of food, the necessity of sacrifices now, just as in war time. He should uncork some feeling, pull out the vox humana stop, and appeal to the Japanese to share their stocks.
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Hirohito began his travels to shore up the endangered status quo by means of “blessed visitations” (
gy
k), actively supported by MacArthur and his public relations advisers in GHQ, who wanted him to show that he was “really interested in the people.”
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On his part extreme awkwardness marked the initial encounters, and on the people's part, shock and uncertainty.
On March 26, 1946, journalist Mark Gayn met the touring emperor at a hospital for the war wounded in Takasaki City, Gumma prefecture. Hirohito was then in an early phase of being “humanized,” and wanting to help the process along, Gayn left this unforgettable description:
I had had a good look at the emperor, or “Charlie,” as we called him. He is a little man, about five feet two inches in height, in a badly cut gray striped suit, with trousers a couple of inches too short. He has a pronounced facial tic and his right shoulder twitches constantly. When he walks, he throws his right leg a little sideways, as if he has no control over it. He was obviously excited and ill at ease, and uncertain of what to do with his arms and hands.
At first, he shuffled past the men, stopping occasionally to read the charts. Then he apparently decided the moment called for a few words. He tried several questions, but they all seemed out of place. At last he settled on the simple “Where are you from?” He now walked from man to man, asked his question, and when the patient answered, the emperor said, “Ah, so!” He sounded as if he was surprised to learn that the man had come from Akita or Wakayama or the
Hokkaido. His voice was high-pitched, and as time passed it grew thinner and higher.
The irreverent Americans were now all waiting for the inhuman sound of “Ah, so,” and when it came they nudged each other, and laughed, and mimicked the sound. But the joke wore out. We could now see the emperor for what he was: a tired, pathetic little man, compelled to do a job distasteful to him, and trying desperately to control his disobedient voice and face and body. It was hot and hushed, and there were no sounds other than the emperor's shrill voice and the heavy breathing of his escorts.
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Soon, however, the people became accustomed to seeing the emperor traveling about in his “democratic,” ill-fitting business suit, giving mechanical responses, sometimes even smilingâbody movements that living gods were not supposed to make. Gradually popular enthusiasm grew, aided by loyalist officials acting as shills, and by GHQ and the censored Japanese press, which repeatedly magnified the significance of his travels. At one level the Imperial Household Ministry sought to reach out to the people during 1946 by distributing (with MacArthur's permission) money, land, buildings, and lumber for public purposes. At an entirely different level a new monarchy was in the process of being born in a country that had also changed its name from the very masculine “Great Imperial Japan” (
Dai Nippon teikoku
) to the more feminine “Japan” (
Nihon koku
).
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The court officials who planned the tourâ
gane Masujirand KatSusumuâstressed that it was “his majesty's idea,” and cited the precedent of Meiji's grand progresses of the period from 1872 to 1885. This analogy was misleading. Emperor Meiji had toured in a time of crisis marked by violent disturbances and political agitation that posed a danger to the emerging monarchy. His tours were part of the larger process of making his presence known among the people and establishing his authority as a wielder of real powerâsetting
up, in short, the hard and impersonal relationship between emperor and subject that marked his reign.
In contrast Hirohito himself described his intention as therapeutic. He wanted to “comfort the people in their suffering” and to “encourage their efforts at reconstruction.” He believed (as Kinoshita's diary entry of March 31, 1946, reveals) that he could go around the entire country quickly and complete his task in a single year. He wanted to forestall possible republican sentiment by reversing and softening the harshness of the earlier emperor-people relationship, and thus make the monarchy more popular and “democratic.” Of course, in comparing Hirohito's travels with Meiji's, it should not be forgotten that there would not have been any tours without MacArthur's strong support.
The early tours took place when GHQ had ended national rituals in honor of the war dead by ordering the emperor, on April 30, 1946, to stop visiting or sending envoys to Yasukuni Shrine. As the tours gradually caught the public imagination, Hirohito and his staff grasped the possibilities they offered not only for demonstrating his popularity, and thus his usefulness to General Headquarters and the Far Eastern Commission, but also for regaining some of his lost authority. Indifference to the emperor had become common in urban areas where people were caught up in the everyday struggle for food and shelter. But among many segments of the public the old sense of awe and trust in the emperor remained, complicated by feelings of pity and sympathy for him as a person who, having lost the war, now needed the protection of MacArthur.
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Also, having disavowed myths about his divinity and exposed himself to the glare of democracy under conditions of relative freedom of expression, neither he nor his entourage could easily control his growing audiences.
In early October 1946 Hirohito had his third, carefully rehearsed meeting with MacArthur. He began by thanking the general for his generous food assistance during May, after which he brought up the
“bad feeling” toward Japan in the United States compared to the friendly feelings that existed within GHQ. MacArthur answered that, with “reeducation,” American public opinion would improve. Smiling, he added, “I always tell American visitors that the emperor is the most democratic person [here], but none of them believe me.” MacArthur mentioned the new peace constitution; Hirohito cited the troubled international situation and expressed fear that Japan might be endanged. MacArthur predicted that someday the world would praise the new constitution and in a century Japan would be “the moral leader of the world.” Hirohito then expressed his worries about labor unrest. The Japanese as a people, he claimed, had a low level of education and “lack a sense of religion.” MacArthur told him not to worry: “[T]he healthy nature of the Japanese is manifested in their love and respect for you, [now] just as in the past.” At the end of the meeting MacArthur encouraged him to continue his tours.
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On this and other occasions during 1946, Hirohito confided to MacArthur that the Japanese people were like children. They “lacked calmness” and were “blind followers,” always ready to imitate examples from abroad. He said the same thing to Inada and Kinoshita, who took down his secret account of the war. Privately he added that because of the revised constitution, “defeat was better for the nation than if we had become extremely militaristic as a result of victory.”
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Eager to cast defeat in a hopeful light, Hirohito repeatedly told the nation's highest leaders what they already knew: defeat in war could have a positive outcome provided they cooperate with the enemy and facilitate moderate reform. Remember, he cautioned them at his summer residence in Hayama on the first anniversary of the surrender, “This is not the first time Japan has lost a war. Long ago [in the seventh century
A.D
.] we dispatched troops to Korea and withdrew them after having been defeated in the battle at Hakusukinoe. Thereafter we made many reforms and they became a turning point for developing Japanese culture.”
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