A History of Japan: From Stone Age to Superpower (54 page)

In the 1870s Japan was overwhelmingly an importer of manufactured goods (91 per cent of all imports, of which most were textiles) and an exporter of primary products (including raw silk, 42 per cent of total exports). By the First World War, just after the end of Meiji, this was reversed. By that stage more than 50 per cent of all imports were primary products, and around 90 per cent of all exports were manufactured goods (of which around half were textiles).
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Japan was so successful in promoting the cotton textile industry as a means of import substitution that by the end of the period it was able to export the product, even though Japanese-grown cotton itself was of poor quality and raw cotton
had to be imported. The key point is that value was added in Japan. It had become a processing nation.

Heavy industry also developed strongly towards the end of the period, partly in line with Japan’s military campaigns. The strategically important industry of shipbuilding was vigorously promoted during the last 15 years or so of Meiji. From the mid-1890s the government provided heavy subsidies for purchases of Japanese-built iron and steel ships. During that 15-year period shipping and shipbuilding together received a massive 75 per cent of all government subsidies.
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The iron and steel industry – which, like cotton textiles, relied heavily on imported raw material – was given a major boost by the government’s establishment of the Yawata works in North Ky
sh
in 1901. The plant was to produce over half of Japan’s domestic output of iron and steel through to the 1930s.

Throughout the Meiji period the government played an important guiding role in the economy, developing and maintaining relations with the business world, and offering assistance in areas it favoured and to those companies it favoured. The exact nature of that role is the subject of considerable debate, for the Meiji period just as it is for the present day.
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The government’s guidance may not always have been particularly helpful, for they certainly made mistakes and were not always consistent. Though they had goals, the path to achieving these was often far from smooth. Nevertheless, one thing was certain – the government was reluctant to leave economic development purely to market forces. It still is.

4.7   An Era Comes to an End

Emperor Mutsuhito died of diabetes on 30 July 1912. On his death he was given the name of the momentous period he had overseen, the age of ‘enlightened rule’. Japan’s ‘modern myths’ had given the emperor a central role in the prosperity of the nation, though in practice it is questionable how much he personally was involved in the achievements of the age.
⁸¹

Nevertheless, as a symbol of the age he was mourned on his passing. On the day of his funeral, 13 September, General Nogi Maresuke (1849–1912) even committed ritual disembowelment, in the idealised samurai tradition of
junshi
(following one’s lord in death). His wife Shizuko (1858–1912) also killed herself, following her own lord.
Junshi
had been banned for some time and there was some criticism of Nogi’s act as anachronistic, but in general the public were moved at this ultimate display of samurai spirit. As the novelist Tayama Katai (1872–1930) remarked in his memoirs, it was the same spirit that had been shown by those who had given their lives in battle for their country to help make Japan the great international nation it now was.
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Neither Emperor Meiji nor the achievements of Meiji Japan had been unreservedly admired by all. It was very rare – and a treasonable offence punishable by death – to criticise the emperor personally, but this had happened from time to time. In a famous poem of 1904, on the occasion of the Russo-Japanese War, the female poet Yosano Akiko (1878–1942) had publicly criticised him for cowardice in not going to the front himself.
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Most criticism, however, was not aimed at Emperor Meiji personally but rather took the form of reservations about what exactly had been achieved in his name. The most famous Meiji novelist, Natsume S
seki (1867–1916), felt that westernisation had introduced a cold type of egoism, and produced lonely individuals divorced from roots and kin. He also thought changes had all been made at too frenetic a pace for them to be properly digested. In a work of 1909,
Sore Kara
(And Then), when Japan was arguably at the peak of its international prestige, he wrote:
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Look at Japan .… She tries to force her way into the company of world class powers …. She is like a frog trying to grow as big as a cow. Of course, she will soon burst. This struggle affects you and me, and everybody else. Because of the pressure of the competition with the West, the Japanese have no time to relax …. No wonder they are all neurotics .… They think of nothing except themselves and their immediate needs. Look all over Japan, and you won’t find one square inch that is bright with hope. It is dark everywhere.

A less popular figure may have found himself in front of the authorities for expressing such views. Someone more informed about Japan’s own long history of self-interest may not even have formed quite the same views in the first place.

But it was understandable that an era of such massive change would bring about a degree of uncertainty, disorientation, anxiety, and a feeling of helplessness at being caught up in something beyond one’s control. Self-parodying of Japan’s westernised modernisation was not uncommon. A number of popular songs of the day also contained negative sentiment.
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And it is clear there was almost a public readiness to express anger over government failure to gain adequate rewards for military victories, or to make sufficient progress in undoing the unequal treaties. Such readiness suggests tension and frustration, but at the same time intense national pride.

Despite the unmistakable reservations and pessimism, it was national pride and optimism that formed the prevailing view as the era came to an end. Tayama Katai positively gushed with nationalistic pride when, on the occasion of the emperor’s death, he thought back over the achievements of the Meiji period:
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Who could fail to be moved to tears by the illustrious life of His Majesty Emperor Meiji, ‘Mutsuhito the Great’, Lord of the Restoration, who despite being raised in adversity surmounted all manner of obstacles and perils to lead Japan to the state of wonderful international nationhood it enjoys today?

…. I had participated in the war with Russia as a member of a photography unit. I saw an awesome display of the Emperor’s august and virtuous power as it spread afar. I positively leapt for joy when I saw the Rising Sun flag flying from the enemy strongholds at Chin-chou and Nanshan, and realised how the blood in my veins too was Japanese blood. Ideologically I am a free-thinker, but my spirit is that of a Japanese nationalist ….

And now … our dear, beloved, gracious Emperor Meiji, our strength and support, was dead!

Divine though they may be, even emperors die. The question now was what would become of the nation. Would it be content with its achievements and enter a phase of consolidation? Or would S
seki’s fabled frog continue to grow and finally burst?

Review of Part Four

Japan entered the Meiji period in a state of considerable uncertainty. It was not clear whether the imperial restoration would succeed, or even whether foreigners would try to take over the country. Fortunately the foreigners did not seem interested in invading, at least for the moment, and the boy-emperor was not troublesome. The young samurai who led the coup in his name were able to consolidate their control of the government and bring a certain stability to the country beneath all the changes.

Their aim was to build up a strong nation that could match and even perhaps eventually outdo the west. To start with it was important to make the western powers take Japan seriously, at least seriously enough for them to be deterred from any possible later thoughts of colonisation and for them to undo the humiliating treaties of the late Tokugawa period. This meant modernisation, which in turn meant a great deal of westernisation – a process which would not only help win recognition from the west but, if done judiciously, would enable Japan to adopt the strengths of the western powers in order to make itself stronger and more competitive.

It was not just a question of learning from the west, however, for in some cases these modern nation-builders appear to have been mindful of useful policies from Japan’s own past.

Early reforms undertaken by the new government included the relocation of the imperial capital with a view to centralising power, and to the same end the nationalisation of feudal domains to replace them with prefectures. The restrictive feudal class system was abolished, including the samurai class from which the government leaders themselves came. This was not done without creating some dissatisfaction, which came to a head in the Satsuma Rebellion of 1877. At the same time, removal of samurai traditionalists as a result of the rebellion made it easier to modernise along western lines.

To win recognition by the western powers it was particularly important to follow a number of potentially risky paths. These included being receptive to Christianity, adopting western economic and political institutions, and demonstrating military might. Opening the nation to Christianity proved less of a risk than had been feared, because it simply did not appeal to most Japanese even when they were exposed to it. In the economy, with the help of western advisers and technology, and a good measure of ‘Japanese-style’ government guidance and support, Japan was able to capitalise on its existing strengths and become a significant economic power in a very short space of time. By the end of the period it was established as a processing nation with a developing heavy industrial sector.

Political westernisation proved more difficult, and had to be pursued with great caution. Reforms were made with an impressive outward show of democracy, especially the establishing of a new constitution and a parliament, but these were invariably counter-balanced by curbs and checks. The cabinet of oligarchs remained ‘transcendental’ – a law unto itself – and freedoms were very much within limits. Individuals excited by western ideas of self-help and survival of the fittest were encouraged to achieve not only in their own right, but at the same time in the greater cause of national prosperity. Through indoctrination centred on the emperor and state, embodied in the
Imperial Rescript on Education
and school texts, self-help became nationalistic successism, as the energies of the newly liberated and rather disoriented population were harnessed and directed to national ends.