Stefano von Loë
Born in 1886, Nakano Seigō grew up in the city of Fukuoka in Kyushu. His father, a former samurai of the Kuroda feudal domain, had lost his stipend in the course of the Meiji reforms and began operating a pawnshop. Profitable at first, the business went through a difficult period and eventually went bankrupt while Nakano was still at university. Throughout his life, he would downplay his father’s real occupation and instead stress his more prestigious samurai origins (on Nakano’s life and career, see Muro 1999; Oates 1985; Nakano 1988; Najita 1971).
In middle school Nakano’s gift for Chinese studies was recognized by his teacher, who introduced him to the teachings of Wang Yang-ming (1472–1528), a Confucian philosopher often embraced by dissenters as his stress on the unity of knowledge and action implied the right—and even duty—to act against perceived injustices. This ideal was to form the philosophical foundations of Nakano’s political thinking. From middle school, Nakano proceeded to the Shūyūkan High School—the former feudal domain school (hankō) and to this day the most prestigious high school in Fukuoka Prefecture. There, Nakano excelled not only in the humanities but also in kendo and especially judo, which he would practice successfully throughout his life—even after failed surgery had necessitated the amputation of his leg.
Nakano’s youth in Fukuoka also defined his basic political views. In the turbulent years of the Meiji Restoration, the Kuroda feudal domain had sided with the Tokugawa forces, and, as a result, Fukuoka-born men with political ambitions found access to positions in the newly founded Meiji government difficult. Frustration over this reality found expression in political protest. Many former samurai from Fukuoka joined the samurai uprisings of the early Meiji years (most notably the Satsuma Rebellion under Saigō Takamori, 1877) and became active in the People’s Rights Movement, most notably the Genyōsha (see I:3). While Nakano never formally joined the Genyōsha, throughout his life he idolized Saigō Takamori and other rebels and never lost contact with Tōyama Mitsuru and other Genyōsha leaders. Raised in this atmosphere, Nakano absorbed a strong antiestablishment attitude that in his younger years had been directed mainly against the genrō (elder statesmen) from the former Satsuma and Chōshū domains and their hanbatsu (clique) politics but was later directed against military and bureaucratic cliques at home and the Anglo-Saxon imperialist powers internationally. The romantic vision of revolution that Nakano adopted in his youth was to remain an integral part of his intellectual makeup—and whenever there was an uprising, rebellion, or revolution, his heart would side with the rebels.
Nakano’s original intention had been to pursue a military career, but a leg injury made this impossible. Instead, he enrolled at Waseda University, where he read political science. As a student, Nakano made his first contacts with Chinese revolutionaries in exile in Tokyo. While interest in Chinese affairs and a desire to learn Chinese were part of Nakano’s motivation, his primary motive was financial. Following the failure of his father’s business, the entire Nakano family had moved to Tokyo, and, in order to support them, Nakano opened a boarding house for wealthy Chinese students. The income from this venture enabled Nakano to complete his studies, support his parents and three siblings, and even to travel to Manchuria during his vacations in 1908. He graduated in 1909 with a senior thesis on China.
Following graduation, Nakano became a journalist, first briefly at the Nichi Nichi Shinbun and later at the more prestigious Asahi Shinbun, where he soon made a name for himself with his outspoken political commentaries. Many of the articles that Nakano published during his writing career were so popular that they were subsequently republished as books, earning him both fame and money. This success, however, bred arrogance in Nakano and envy among his colleagues, leading to Nakano’s isolation at the newspaper.
In 1911, together with Inukai Tsuyoshi (1855–1932) and Tōyama, Nakano traveled to China to cover the Chinese revolution for the Asahi. Unlike many of his contemporaries, he supported the Chinese Revolution in his dispatches on the grounds that it was a popular rising against a corrupt regime.
The Japanese government’s failure to support the Chinese Revolution and the outcome of events there greatly disappointed Nakano. Back in Japan, perhaps because he was affected by the death of the Meiji Emperor, Nakano returned to a project that he had started before leaving for China—a study of the People’s Rights Movement in the Meiji period. In a series of articles under this title, Nakano argued that the Meiji Restoration was still unfinished and that the task of its completion had been left to future generations. He had just finished the series in 1912 when Japan’s political world was shaken by the Taishō political crisis, when an upsurge of popular protest known as the “Movement to Protect the Constitution” forced the resignation of the third Katsura Tarō cabinet.
From the beginning Nakano had seen journalism, or writing in general, as a way of expressing his political views. This politicization of his position at the Asahi reached a climax during the Taishō political crisis, as Nakano virtually monopolized the political pages of the newspaper to attack the government. Already isolated within the Asahi, his arrogance cost him all his remaining support, and soon afterward the management dispatched him to Seoul, Korea (1913), to be followed by a year of study in Britain. Before his departure, Nakano married the daughter of Miyake Setsurei (1860–1945), editor in chief of the influential nationalistic monthly Nihon oyobi Nihonjin (Japan and the Japanese).
Nakano remained in Korea for nineteen months, writing articles critical of Japan’s heavy-handed colonial policy. He also traveled extensively throughout Korea and Manchuria. While in Korea he met Tokutomi Sohō (1863–1957; see I:28), with whom he formed a lifelong friendship. In 1915, Nakano traveled to Britain. It was during this trip that his pan-Asianist views acquired a strong anti-Western dimension (see Nakano’s description of the trip quoted here). Nakano’s stay in England disappointed him so much that he cut it short, retuning to Japan in 1916.
Back home, Nakano quit the Asahi and took up a post with the monthly Tōhō Jiron (Eastern Review), where in his editorials he supported the violent Rice Riots of 1918, the Russian October Revolution, and Chinese unification while opposing the Twenty-One Demands (1915) and the Siberian Intervention (1918). Among his most popular pieces was his highly critical coverage of the Paris Peace Conference of 1919, which helped increase the circulation of the magazine threefold.
It was at this time that Nakano joined various study groups and think tanks, such as the Tōhōkai (Eastern Society), the Rōsōkai (Old and Young Society), and the Kaizō Dōmei (Reconstruction League), an organization dedicated to liberal-style reform within the existing constitutional structure (e.g., universal suffrage and recognition of trade unions). He also made his first attempt at entering politics by running for a seat in the Diet in the general election of 1917. Though he failed on this occasion, Nakano would be successful in the following election of 1920—and thereafter was reelected continuously until his death in 1943.
With his election to the Diet, Nakano became financially secure. From 1920 onwards, he pursued the dual and mutually supportive career of journalist and Diet politician. He acted as editor in chief of several magazines and one newspaper, frequently contributing articles to other periodicals and newspapers. As in the past, he would travel frequently to Asia (mostly East Asia) and also to Europe, where in 1937 he met Mussolini and Hitler.
Counted among the younger generation of politicians advocating reform and national reconstruction, Nakano initially remained independent from the three established parties, joining instead the Independents’ Club (Mushozoku Kurabu) in 1921, which combined the following year with the Kokumintō (led by Inukai) to form the Kakushin Kurabu (Renovation Club). Realizing that in order to gain any position of power he would have to affiliate himself with one of the major parties, in 1924 he joined the Kenseikai (Association of Constitutional Politics) and specifically the faction headed by Adachi Kenzō (1864–1948), which was known for its interest in Chinese affairs and the fact that it did not include any imperial university graduates.
Entering the Kenseikai was a move closer to power, but it was also a move closer to the establishment and demanded some degree of conformity as a price. Still, more often than not, Nakano would take radical positions on issues such as universal manhood suffrage, relations with the Soviet Union (traveling there in late 1925), and especially the Peace Preservation Law (1925), which he strongly opposed. These radical views were sufficient to maintain Nakano’s rugged rebel image and made him the target of various right-wing thugs. Luckily, this was offset by Nakano’s dexterity with words and his powerful skills as an orator. These skills soon led to his appointment as head of the party’s propaganda section. When the Kenseikai transformed itself into the Rikken Minseitō in 1927, Nakano was responsible for drafting the party program.
Nakano gained his greatest fame, however, for taking on General Tanaka Giichi (1864–1929), head of the Seiyūkai and later prime minister. When, after the resignation of the Tanaka cabinet in 1929, the Minseitō’s Hamaguchi Osachi (1870–1930) formed a successor cabinet, Nakano had good grounds to hope that he would be rewarded with an important ministerial position. Instead he was offered only the position of parliamentary vice minister in the Ministry of Communications. Swallowing his disappointment, he accepted this post and over the next eighteen months spent long hours at the Ministry formulating plans for the privatization of the expanding telephone industry. By the time the plan was ready for submission to the cabinet in late 1930, Premier Hamaguchi had been shot and was replaced by Foreign Minister Shidehara Kijūrō (1872–1951), who shelved it. In protest, Nakano resigned.
This event marked the end of his attempts to gain political influence within the established political structure and the beginnings of a transformation that was to last until roughly 1935, when Nakano would take a position closely resembling European-style fascism. During this period, Nakano moved closer to the army (particularly to Ishiwara Kanji, one of the architects of the Manchurian Incident; see II:22) and experimented with new methods of mass-based political mobilization.
The first step in this process was Nakano’s breakaway from the Minseitō at the end of 1931. The deeper motivation for this move was a disagreement over matters of policy. While the Minseitō leaders still upheld the principles of laissez-faire economics, Nakano was convinced of the futility of these policies in dealing with the consequences of the Great Depression and demanded a strong interventionist policy by the state. He similarly argued for a hard line in foreign affairs, lavishing high praise on the architects of the Manchurian Incident. To these ends he demanded the creation of a strong government. It was when the attempt to create such a government by forming a coalition between the Seiyūkai and the Minseitō failed that Nakano and other members of the Adachi faction left the Minseitō in protest.
During 1932 this group set out to form an independent political party named the Kokumin Dōmei (National League). Although officially headed by Adachi Kenzō, Nakano drafted the party’s program (emphasizing international justice and economic controls) and decided that party members should wear uniforms and armbands similar to those worn by European fascists. From the beginning, other party members’ enthusiasm for mass mobilization was lukewarm (Adachi refused to wear a uniform on the grounds that it looked silly), and when the sense of crisis in Japan eased in early 1933, the Kokumin Dōmei soon ran out of steam. Nakano remained a member for another two years, resigning in 1935 in protest over Adachi’s decision to support the Okada Keisuke cabinet.
After leaving the Kokumin Dōmei, Nakano set out to form a mass-based protofascist party on his own. To this end he transformed the Tōhōkai think tank (the members of which included Waseda University’s Professor Sugimori Kōjirō (1881–1968), China expert and former Japanese ambassador to Germany Honda Kumatarō (1874–1948), and General Ishiwara Kanji (1889–1949; see II:22) into a political party and turned the monthly magazine Gakan (Our Views) into the party’s organ under the name Tōtairiku (Eastern Continent). After Nakano’s meetings with Mussolini and Hitler in 1937–1938, the Tōhōkai’s fascist tendencies received even more emphasis—members wore uniforms, a youth organization was founded, and mass rallies were organized, eventually attracting over 100,000 people. Party membership increased dramatically, partly through organic growth but also by absorbing labor and farmer unions; the process came to a halt only when the party was dissolved in 1940 and incorporated into the Imperial Rule Assistance Association (IRAA).
Ideologically, Nakano’s position also underwent an important shift. If previously he had advocated domestic reform as a precondition for dealing with international problems, in the second half of the 1930s this order was reversed. Now he saw the reconstruction of the international order—if necessary, by military force—as a means by which Japan’s domestic structure could be reformed. War and the mobilization of the masses that this necessitated was the process by which the Japanese people, together with their continental Asian brethren, were to be emancipated. This fundamental shift was reflected in Nakano’s advocacy of an economic bloc—initially including only Japan, Manchuria, and China but eventually all of East Asia—but also in his pressing for a rapprochement with Nazi Germany and fascist Italy, with the goal of forming an anti–status quo camp consisting of the “have-nots” in opposition to the “haves”—the Anglo-Saxon powers.
It was against this background that Nakano tried to promote the Tōhōkai as the nucleus of a national party that Prince Konoe Fumimaro (see I:32) sought to create to mobilize Japan for the war effort in 1939–1940 and that eventually led to the creation of the IRAA in 1940. Despite some spectacular successes (party membership topped 22,000 in 1941, and many of the policies that Nakano had advocated, such as the southern advance or the forming of an alliance with Germany and Italy, were implemented), Nakano’s hopes that Konoe would use the Tōhōkai as a means of mobilizing and transforming Japan from below remained unrealized. Konoe did not bring Nakano into his cabinet, offering him instead a position in the IRAA. Aware that the IRAA lacked the political character that he had hoped for, serving only as a channel to communicate the will of the government to the people, Nakano resigned from the IRAA board of directors and revived the Tōhōkai as a cultural society in March 1941.
This marked the beginning of the final phase of his life, characterized by opposition to General Tōjō Hideki (1884–1948), prime minister from 1941 to 1944. If Nakano had previously advocated economic controls, he opposed them now that they were being implemented by the bureaucracy. Likewise Nakano also came to oppose Tōjō’s conduct of the war. He had advocated the advance of Japan into Southeast Asia, arguing that while the European colonial powers were busy fighting Germany, their Asian colonies were ripe for the picking. Nakano’s argument, however, had been premised on the assumption that the United States could be kept out of the conflict, an assumption rendered meaningless by the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941.
Following the Japanese defeats at Midway and Guadalcanal in 1942 and 1943, Nakano concluded that Japan had lost the war and should sue for peace. This brought him into head-on conflict with Premier Tōjō, who was determined to fight to the end. In the ensuing power struggle, Nakano was first prohibited from publishing, then from speaking in public, and was eventually arrested in October 1943, along with many Tōhōkai members. The night after his release, Nakano committed ritual suicide, seppuku, at his house. Despite efforts by the Tōjō government to limit numbers at his funeral, over 20,000 people turned out to pay their last respects.
Nakano’s Pan-Asianism was of a piece with his general views on society, characterized by a strong antiestablishment, at times even revolutionary element. In that sense Nakano was as much pan-Asian as he was anticolonial, with the notable exception of Japanese colonialism. The notion that when waging war in Asia, Japan was fighting not Asians but the Western colonial powers (especially Britain) formed an integral part of Nakano’s thinking from the Paris Peace Conference onwards. That being said, his position stands out in two important respects when compared to other Japanese pan-Asian thinkers.
First, Nakano’s pan-Asian views were based on a universal humanism and hence were free of explicit racism. Thus, he opposed “Anglo-Saxon” interference in Asian affairs because he saw it as the root of political and economic injustice, not because the “white race” was inferior to Asians. Likewise, he never embraced the notion that the superiority of the Yamato race could legitimize Japanese domination over other Asians. If Japan shouldered the mission to liberate Asia, this was because continental Asians were the equals of the Japanese, not because they were inferior. On various occasions Nakano criticized older pan-Asianists for their racism and hatred for all “white” nations. He contrasted these views with those of Sun Yat-sen (see II:5), who was free of racism and ready to make common cause with ostracized European nations against the imperial powers. This attitude exposed him to criticism from the Japanist rightists.
Second, the concept of the sacredness of the emperor and the imperial household, or the idea that sovereignty lay with the emperor—political notions fundamental to prewar Japan—were largely absent from Nakano’s thinking. Deprived of that foundation, related concepts, such as the belief in the invincibility of the Yamato spirit and the ideology of kokutai (national polity), never gained a foothold in his writings.
The first of the two texts translated here describes Nakano’s reactions to the impressions gained during his first trip to Europe (1915). It is typical of Nakano’s writings in its strong appeal to emotion and empathy with the oppressed peoples of Asia and the indignation born out of it. It is also typical in that, for all the pathos of his prose, Nakano remains sober and aloof from any notion of Japanese superiority. The second text is based on a speech delivered in the immediate aftermath of the attack on Pearl Harbor and published by the Tōhōkai. While explaining the pan-Asian ideas of the association, it shows the reverse side of Nakano’s indignation and resentment against the Western colonial powers—the exhilaration produced by Japan’s bold attack on them and the formidable prospects this seemed to open up.
Source 1 (translations from the Japanese original by Stefano von Loë)
Nakano Seigō, “Bōkoku no Sanga” (The Mountains and Rivers of a Fallen State), Sekai Seisaku to Kyokutō Seisaku (Global and Far Eastern Policy). Shiseidō Shoten, 1917, 326–328, 396–398.
Between our departure from Kobe and our arrival in Marseilles, all the countries we visited had been either destroyed or half destroyed. Moreover, the people of all those devastated countries all subscribe to the intellectual, emotional and cultural traditions of the colored races, while their masters, who have conquered and are now exploiting them, all belong to the white races, which are different from us and our forefathers and hold different religious beliefs. We hold no grudge against the white people and we openly accept their teachings without reluctance. However, just as they have a word called humanity, we too have a concept of humanism. If they really wanted to realize their lofty rhetoric, they would not permit any injustice based on race. Thus the account of my voyage to Europe has unexpectedly turned into a lyric poem condemning racial prejudice. . . .
I have traveled thousands of miles since leaving my own country. From onboard ship in the middle of the ocean I look up at the clear moon, but whenever I go on land I see the traces of the rise and fall [of nations]. At times this is unbearably sad, at times unbearably delightful. When I see a people that shares my customs and beliefs, unable to walk on this earth in freedom, I cannot suppress secret tears of sympathy welling up inside me. However, when these, our cursed, colored relatives rise up, yearning for leadership from our quarter and hoping for our tide to rise, I cannot suppress a secret smile of satisfaction. What did I really see in Shanghai, Hong Kong, Singapore, Malaya, and further south in Colombo? What is the fate of the country that once produced someone like Confucius? What is the present state of affairs of the Malay people who once used to sleep peacefully in the shade of the trees? What has happened to the descendants of the people who brought Buddha into this world? They are the wheels on the road, while the passengers all have fair skin and blue eyes. Those in front of the car being whipped, and those covered with dust from its wheels, are all colored people like ourselves. I do not mean to criticize the white people, I simply wish to describe the situation of the weak. . . . What sins have the people of India—who won’t even eat meat—and the people of Malaya (who, enjoying the shade of the trees, have never known war) committed to deserve being reduced to their present condition? Alas, they are free of sin. Their only sin lies in the fact that they are weak. Representing the Powers, Bernhardi [German General Friedrich von Bernhardi (1849–1930), who wrote on geopolitical and military affairs prior to World War I and was notorious for his bellicose attitudes and writing style] once said that of all the sins in this world, the worst sin for a nation lies in being weak. They [i.e., the people of Asia] have truly come to this pass on account of their being weak. To whom can they appeal today? Only to that youthful empire in the East [i.e., Japan]. However, all it can do is take pity on them. When, taking pity, we walk amongst them, you feel as if even the people on the roadside are demanding that we provide them with comfort. If you stop to talk to the more ambitious amongst them, you will realize that they look up to us, that they want to learn from us and then rise up. . . . No need to worry! Being bullied by a strong person is a shame, but being idolized by a weak person is an honor. . . .
In centuries to come, the people of Buddha and the people of Confucius will either recover their former drive or—after having risen up and been defeated, having gone forward and then backward—they will be destroyed by oppression at the hands of the white people. . . .
In order to create a new paradise in the economic sphere and to do away with oppression by other races, we must bring the races of the East and the West to the same level. That mission rests upon our shoulders.
Source 2 (translations from the Japanese original by Stefano von Loë)
Nakano Seigō, “Kono Issen: Kokumin wa ika ni Tatakaubeki ka!” (This One War—How the People Should Fight!), Tōhōkai, Tokyo, January 1942, 13–16.
Now that we have entered a long-term war, how should Japan strengthen the Greater East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere and oppose the roundabout encroachment of Britain and America, while at the same time establishing a Greater Asia together with the other Asian peoples? (applause) Yes, gentlemen, through this single blow, the feelings of the East Asian people have changed. Although the Tōhōkai has previously held conferences bringing together the leaders of the East Asian people, as long as Japan was fighting solely against China the emotions of the East Asian people were disengaged. However, when the war we were fighting ceased being seen as a war against China and came to be seen as a war against Britain and America, its popularity among the East Asian peoples increased dramatically. The representative of Turkey, 93-year old Mr. Ibrahim [see I:19], Mr. Pratap from India [see II:9], Mr. Bose from India [see I:24], and the youth representatives from Indonesia, present here today—all these people experienced a surge of emotion which they would not have felt possible during our last conference. (applause) Their respect, trust and affection towards Japan has moved them in unexpected ways. (applause) . . . Through this single blow, Japan has already secured a victory in East Asia’s ideological war. (applause) She has captured the hearts of the East Asian people. One hundred years after the Opium War, on this deplorable centennial of British rule over Hong Kong, the cannons of the [Japanese] Imperial Army are fixed on Hong Kong, and the people of China, the people of India, and all the peoples of Asia are rising up spontaneously to shout their banzai! (applause) . . . Not only India, but also Iran and Iraq share Japan’s ambition and hope to escape the reactionary control exerted by Britain and America. (applause) Ideological warfare precedes military warfare. The ideological army is the advance guard of the Imperial Army and it has already attacked America’s foothold and lunged at Britain’s throat. . . . If Japan can gain control of the resources of Greater East Asia, its tin, its rubber, its iron, its manganese, its endless supply of foodstuffs, and—with a little patience—its petroleum wells also, then we can wage a long-term war for as long as we want. (applause) Then America will suffer an economic embargo at Japan’s hands. (applause) Then Britain will be deprived of her military supplies by Japan. (applause) If the Imperial Army can occupy the most strategic sites in Greater East Asia and defend them, then the mobilization of Asia’s resources comes within sight, does it not? (applause) . . . We are delighted. Once in ten years we can rejoice from the bottom of our hearts without a second thought. (applause and shouts) We can laugh out loud, can we not? (applause and shouts) Gentlemen, a man who cannot show anger when he is angry can only put on a bitter smile when he should be laughing out loud. Let us laugh happily (applause and shouts), because we deserve to laugh.