The Search for a New Order

Intellectuals and Fascism in Prewar Japan

William Miles Fletcher III

• Publisher: The University of North Carolina Press
• Year: 2016
• Print ISBN: 9780807896648, 9780807815144
• eBook ISBN: 9781469620749
• Topic: Histoire
• Subtopic: Histoire de l'Asie

Fletcher explains how three writers--Ryu Shintaro, Royama Masamichi, and Miki Kiyoshi--who were supporters of democratic socialism became ideologues for the East Asian bloc ideal that rationalized Japan's dominance of Asia after 1937, and he demonstrates how and why they designed the New Order movement of 1940. He concludes that the advocacy of fascism was a reasoned effort to respond to the ills of industrialization and the challenges of mobilization for war.

Originally published in 1982.

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Chapter 1. Politics and Intellectuals in Prewar Japan

The 1930s in Japan are usually seen as a “dark valley” of domestic oppression and foreign aggression, but, in fact, many responsible Japanese viewed this era as one of unique opportunity, a time to effect important changes both at home and in Asia.¹ Although studies of Japan’s diplomacy during this period abound, few scholars have attempted to explain the complicated internal dynamics that produced the nation’s policies. In particular, the role and influence of popular and politically active intellectuals have received little attention.

This neglect is all the more surprising given the participation of many well-known intellectuals in the Shōwa Research Association (Shōwa kenkyūkai), a brain trust for Prince Konoe Fumimaro, the dominant political personality in Japan during the late 1930s. As premier in 1938, Konoe declared the establishment of a new order in Asia, a concept that soon evolved into the vision of the Greater East Asian Coprosperity Sphere. Two years later, Konoe launched the domestic New Order Movement as a radical reform of the parliamentary system and the market economy and as a program of mobilization for war.

When Konoe asked his academic and journalistic advisers to draft plans for the new order, the Shōwa Research Association responded by proposing sweeping changes in the political structure established by the Meiji Constitution of 1889. That constitution had granted the Diet the authority to pass judgment on government legislation and had made the military Supreme Command independent of the civilian cabinet. Japanese citizens had the right to vote directly for representatives in the Diet, and through elections, political parties had emerged to dominate that body. The association recommended the concentration of authority to make national policies in a “planning organ” that would not be responsible to the elected Diet. This body, in turn, was to supervise a “national organization” that would function as a comprehensive mass party. The proposed reforms would reduce the power of the existing political parties, build popular support for the planning organ, and coordinate the policies of the civilian government and the military. If the New Order Movement succeeded, the government would assume responsibility for centralized economic planning through corporate groups and the national organization would replace the Diet as the main conduit of communication between the masses and the government.

The leaders of the Shōwa Research Association in 1940 thus attempted to guide the premier of Japan in the building of a political system patterned after European fascism, that is, the Italian corporate state and Nazi economic policies. Three intellectuals were especially enthusiastic about this vision: Rōyama Masamichi (1895–1980), Ryū Shintarō (1900–1967), and Miki Kiyoshi (1895–1945).² By advocating a single mass party, state economic control based on corporative organizations, and inculcation of a national service ethic, these men devised a fascist movement that was neither antimodern nor promodern.³ It was a radical challenge to the established political and economic systems, and it failed.⁴ By investigating the intellectuals’ motives and the reasons for their adoption of fascist ideas, it is possible to explain the appeal of fascist ideology and a phenomenon that has plagued Japanese scholars since 1945—the relatively little protest by eminent Japanese writers against their government’s policies during the 1930s.⁵

The writings of Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki helped provide the intellectual framework that enabled prominent intellectuals to support the ideology of the Greater East Asian Coprosperity Sphere and a fascist new order in Japan. These writers illuminate a more general pattern of thought and behavior of activist intellectuals during the transition from the 1920s, when political parties controlled the Japanese cabinet and attempts to cooperate with the Western powers shaped Japanese diplomacy, to the jingoism and attacks on parliamentary government that marked the 1930s.

A careful reading of the published works of these writers reveals much continuity in their ideas from 1920 to 1940 and the absence of sudden changes or “apostasy.” Moreover, their ideas were rationally conceived and were certainly critical of the basic principles of the parliamentary system.⁶ The participation of these men in a fascist movement was due to their professional position as academics and journalists in Japanese society, their own definition of their goals, and their basic intellectual orientation.

One problem for Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki was the conflict between their desire to influence national policies and their distance from centers of political power. Their status as members of a tiny elite of highly educated Japanese made this isolation particularly frustrating.⁷ Previously, scholars had played an important role in the building of modern Japan. After the Meiji Restoration of 1868, the government had eagerly accepted the services of writers who were knowledgeable about the West, and these men had had a great impact on national policies. Then, the introduction of civil service examinations in the late nineteenth century began to rigidify career paths and to reduce the accessibility of noncareer personnel to official posts, and the separation of civil and bureaucratic intellectuals became much sharper. As “civil” intellectuals, such as writers, scholars, and journalists, were further estranged from the political establishment, they lost interest in political problems.⁸ Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki, however, were different. Perhaps as a result of their experiences with activism on college campuses during the early 1920s, each of them had become intensely concerned with contemporary political and economic issues.⁹ Their dilemma was to find a means to end their isolation and get the attention of policymakers, a search which led first to a flirtation with the incipient socialist movement and then to an infatuation with fascist ideology in the Shōwa Research Association.

In any society intellectuals who want direct political impact, either as advisers to national leaders or as public officials, must often appeal to those who hold political power and therefore must adapt to the basic policies of a government. To a great extent, these intellectuals risk sacrificing much of their independence of thought in exchange for the chance to affect national policies.¹⁰ In the 1930s, Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki became convinced that as proponents of fascist ideas, they could appeal to policymakers and direct the nation toward utopia.

These writers sought to influence government policies because they believed that the faults of contemporary party politics and free-market economics demanded radical reforms. Their main fear was that clashes among different interest groups—between political parties and between unions and capitalists—would weaken Japan. Each of the three had the conviction that he should help create a new society that would be less contentious, more just, and more efficiently administered. As they observed the rise of union activity and the apparent ineptitude of the parties, they strengthened in this belief, thus forming the basis for cooperation in the Shōwa Research Association.

The basic intellectual orientation of Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki also helped to determine their attraction to fascism. First, like many Japanese intellectuals since 1868, they were determined to keep abreast of the latest trends in the West, and they defined their main task as interpreting and adapting Western ideas and policies. One striking characteristic of their writings is the lack of reference to Japan’s own intellectual past; their works are almost all concerned with European writers or the policies of European nations. For these men fascist ideology in the 1930s was simply one more set of Western ideas to digest, as they had guild socialism and Marxism in the 1920s. They believed that one’s ideas should be eclectic and change in response to new problems and new blueprints for utopia.

Rather than defend the notion of individual rights, these men supported the use of the power of the state to carry out reforms. This mirrored one of the major developments in twentieth-century politics—the growing reliance on a central state bureaucracy to solve social problems and to intervene in the economy. This trend was especially prominent in Germany and Italy, where it was linked to a desire to prevent social conflict and to build national strength. During the late nineteenth century the German government, under Bismarck’s leadership, enacted welfare legislation for industrial workers to forestall social unrest. The requirements of mobilization for World War I brought the first attempts to impose a planned economy on German industry.¹¹ After the defeat of Germany a strong Social Democratic party demanded national legislation to establish workers’ councils to help manage factories, and some prominent officials advocated a corporatist collective economy which would force private companies into special cartels that would cooperate with state planners in achieving national goals.¹² Although this scheme failed, the Nazis later drew on it for their own domestic economic policies. Coming to power in the wake of severe labor disturbances, Mussolini’s fascist regime in Italy sought to bring both industrialists and workers under national control through the creation of state-sponsored “corporations.”¹³

Meanwhile, Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki witnessed increased attempts by the Japanese government to extend the authority of the state bureaucracy. These efforts included new programs to inculcate the population with nationalistic values, laws to limit freedom of speech, measures to regulate the economy, and finally mobilization for war against China. The organization of the state, the process of formulating policy, and the proper scope of the state’s authority became crucial issues to these writers. As they considered national political and economic reforms, they saw in the state-directed corporatist programs of Germany and Italy viable models that Japan might emulate.

European fascism intrigued the three men because they saw it as employing state power and the irrational emotion of nationalism in the service of rational political and economic reform. Although they held great aspirations for Prince Konoe, they overtly glorified neither a charismatic leader nor violence for its own sake. Fascism had great intellectual appeal because it promised a “new society.” The influence of fascism on these writers thus underscores an aspect of fascism as an intellectual movement that deserves more attention.¹⁴

Chapter 2. Striving for Social Reform

As intellectuals, Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki felt a special responsibility to confront and discover solutions to the major problems facing Japan. This attitude was common among writers of their day. By 1920 many Japanese intellectuals, survivors of the rigorous competition of the education system and possessors of specialized knowledge, had come to regard their position in society as an elite status, not just an occupation. Journalists, in particular, often believed their mission was to guide the masses.¹

Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki considered themselves members of Japan’s elite for good reason, because they had graduated from top universities. Rōyama and Miki graduated from Tokyo and Kyōto, respectively. The oldest and most prominent imperial universities, these institutions produced leaders for all sectors of Japanese society. For example, since the late nineteenth century attendance at the University of Tokyo had often been a stepping-stone to high government office. Ryū attended Hitotsubashi, a national institution that trained leaders for Japanese business. Moreover, each of the three men had studied with outstanding mentors: Rōyama with political scientist Yoshino Sakuzō, Miki with philosopher Nishida Kitarō, and Ryū with historian Miura Shinshichi. They had received the best education that Japan could offer, and they and their college classmates expected to become the future leaders of Japan.

The early careers of these three men showed great promise. After graduating from Tōdai in 1920, Rōyama continued his study of political science there and within seven years became a full professor. Miki too stayed at his alma mater for graduate study and compiled a brilliant record. His biographers are still mystified about the reasons for his departure in 1927. Some rumors suggest that an illicit love affair doomed his chances for an appointment at Kyōto; other rumors blame academic politics.² At any rate, he quickly became chief lecturer in philosophy at Hōsei University, a well-regarded private institution in Tokyo. After pursuing graduate work at Hitotsubashi from 1925 to 1928, Ryū left for Ōsaka, where he joined the Ohara Social Problems Research Institute (Ohara shakai mondai kenkyūjo), the most prestigious private research organization in Japan. Here he joined a staff of prominent liberal and socialist intellectuals, including Professor Takano Iwasaburō, the president of the institute; Professor Morito Tatsuo, who had been purged from the University of Tokyo because of his study of Western radical thought; and Kushida Tamizō, a star pupil of Kawakami Hajime, Japan’s first major interpreter of Marxism.

The first writings of Rōyama, Ryū, and Miki revealed a preoccupation with their role as elite intellectuals. Their constant reference to the problems of “intellectual elements,” the “intelligentsia,” the “intellectual class,” and “intellectuals” indicated their strong self-identity as members of a special group in society. They also feared that they would be cut off from significant influence. Miki, for example, openly lamented the “skepticism” prevalent among what he viewed as a demoralized intelligentsia during the 1920s and worried that his peers would retreat from dealing with complex contemporary economic and political problems.³ His hope, which Ryū and Rōyama shared, was that intellectuals could unite with the emerging proleta...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Preface
• 1. Politics and Intellectuals in Prewar Japan
• 2. Striving for Social Reform
• 3. Perceptions of Crisis
• 4. A Turn to the State
• 5. Confronting Fascism and Nationalism
• 6. The Early Years of the Shōwa Research Association
• 7. Designing a New Order
• 8. Political Mobilization
• 9. Intellectuals, Fascism, and the Quest for Power
• Notes
• Selected Bibliography
• Index