An Inoffensive Rearmament (28 page)

“Ambiguous” is perhaps the best word that can be used to describe the NPR in its formative days. I have already indicated that initially only a few Americans and the topmost leaders of the Japanese government really knew the true purpose of the organization. General MacArthur and the American Advisory Group conceived a broad general blueprint for the development of the force into an army, but this vague plan depended upon many uncertain factors: world opinion, Japanese reaction, availability of American weapons, and Prime Minister Yoshida's mood. On the Japanese side, violent political forces pulled the cabinet and the government first in one direction then another. The Socialist Party and the splinter groups on the left held the government's feet close to the fire, demolishing all the proposals for rearmament of the nation by raising the prohibition against war and war potential. Accordingly, officially and legally, Yoshida had no choice but to maintain that the NPR was a police force. Even as the organization was being equipped with artillery and tanks, government spokesmen steadfastly denied that Japan was rearming.

In every country of the world, governments officially deny what may be an obvious fact in order to avoid diplomatic embarrassments. But in Japan, the leaders of Yoshida's administration, on the matter of the NPR, had to lie through their teeth to their own people and to their friends and opposition in the Diet. This created many critical and embarrassing situations in the country.

In the public double-talk that was so much a part of the history of Japanese rearmament, I was especially sympathetic with the role that Mitoru Eguchi, deputy director general of the NPR, played. An experienced governmental official, Eguchi participated in these political encounters as becomes a professional, never losing his equilibrium or fine sense of humor. After each interrogation, on returning to headquarters, he would come down to my office to advise me of the questions he had been asked and how he had answered them.

I gathered from these meetings that although the Communist Party members of the Diet were often obnoxious in their queries, neither Eguchi nor the government was disturbed by what the Communist Party said or did. The left Socialist Party, however, enjoying a strong following among the people and forming the core of the opposition, forced the government to run for cover every time its members began to ask questions about the NPR. With Socialists maintaining that the NPR was an army, established in violation of the constitution, their questions invariably generated unfavorable publicity in the press for the government. Typical of these encounters was an interrogation of Eguchi in a Diet hearing about a year after the organization of the NPR.

On that occasion, a Socialist Party member of the Diet was obviously looking for headlines. With Eguchi in the witness chair, he began, “According to the newspapers, the NPR is now armed with bazookas. If that is so, the NPR is an army. Why is it then camouflaging as a police organization and using the name of a police reserve? You are only trying to fool the people of Japan.”

Eguchi responded with the official Japanese government position: “The NPR is a police reserve. It was established to assist and support the nation's police reserve. It is organized into units and equipped with weapons to provide necessary support for the police.”

But the Socialist interrogating was not to be shaken off the trail so easily. “If that is so, why don't you teach the members of the NPR so-called police spirit which the others policemen are receiving? Why doesn't the NPR send men to the Police College [Keisatsu Gakkō]?”

Eguchi continued his well-drilled answers, prepared with the care and logic of a politician in the United States. “The NPR, as a police reserve, is not responsible for supervising traffic or census taking. It is trained to operate in units. Therefore, it is not necessary to send individual NPR men to the police college for individual training as policemen.”

As the questioning proceeded, it developed that the Socialist Party member of the Diet was a citizen of the town of Takada in Niigata Prefecture. The NPR at that time was negotiating with local authorities there for the release of a tract of land that had been a former artillery range. Referring to these negotiations, the Socialist addressed himself to Eguchi: “I have been advised that your camp commander of Camp Takada has approached our local administration office and requested release of the former imperial army artillery training areas there. The camp commander said he needed the land in the very near future for artillery practice. Is the NPR going to have artillery?”

At the time he recounted the incident to me, Eguchi admitted with a smile that the question floored him, and for a while, he didn't know how to answer. Finally, he told the Diet committee that the camp commander was obviously not well informed or he was exaggerating the situation in order to make a good case for his request. The fact was, Eguchi informed his interrogator, no one in NPR Headquarters knew for sure whether the police reserve was to be armed with artillery. The key words in his answer were, of course, the words “for sure.”

At this point, the Socialist broke in: “Well, if the NPR is not getting artillery, it has no need for an artillery range and I'm going to tell the local administrator in Takada not to release the training area to the NPR.”

“No, don't do that,” cried out Eguchi. “The NPR truly needs additional training areas.” Everyone in the hearing room laughed. No one was fooling all the people.

While these maneuvers were going on in the Diet, GHQ and the American Advisory Group were urgently pressing the Japanese government to expand its embryo army and to rewrite the defense ordinance to provide for a more effective military organization. By the end of 1951, the NPR had developed to the stage where we thought that it was ready to be equipped with artillery and tanks. The official statements of the prime minister, however, created some doubts about the government's willingness to expose itself to further criticism from the opposition by accepting such obvious military weapons. Indeed, a police force armed with artillery and tanks would be an odd police organization even in Japan. Accordingly, it was suggested that I feel out Mr. Masuhara and General Hayashi on the question of equipping the force with these heavy weapons.

A favorable opportunity presented itself during a social call I made on the director general one evening in his private railroad car while he was on an inspection
visit in Hokkaidō. As we were all concerned about the constitutional question, I asked Mr. Masuhara and General Hayashi whether they thought that the constitution would have to be amended before the NPR could be converted and expanded into a modern military force.

Mr. Masuhara had not the slightest doubt. “Japan,” he said, “can build an army, navy, and an air force without any need to change the constitution.” Then more cautiously he added, “But, politically it would be more desirable to revise the constitution so that we could have the Japanese people behind our program.”

General Hayashi smiled his approval, adding optimistically, “We will change the constitution in the summer.” He didn't say what summer.

I then posed the question that motivated my visit. “Mr. Masuhara,” I asked, “if we were to give artillery, right now, to the NPR, would you anticipate any unfavorable reaction?”

The director general made no attempt to conceal his pleasure, and General Hayashi beamed. Both answered together that there would be no unfavorable reaction. Mr. Masuhara waxed enthusiastically, “We are waiting anxiously for your 105 and 155 artillery.” Then he asked excitedly, “Do you think the NPR can have tanks soon?”

I said yes, and the staff applauded. But I wanted to make sure the government had no objections. “What about your government?” I asked. “What will Mr. Yoshida say about artillery and tanks?”

Mr. Masuhara's response was immediate: “I talked with the prime minister only a few days ago and advised him that the Americans might equip the NPR with artillery and tanks in the near future. He answered, ‘Then that's good.”'

Then, with everyone laughing, the director general asked, “When are we going to get some jets?” It was quite obvious that the NPR was ready for rearmament.

By the spring of 1952, everyone in Japan was talking about rearmament. All over the country, roundtable discussions and open panel forums were being held on the radio and in public assemblies. The opinions of former army and navy officers were given wide coverage. The views expressed ranged from hope and peace and order through an international police force to traditional dependence upon national arms and salvation through the emperor. The discussions and debates were cleverly reinforced by rumors circulated to support the views of the contending groups.

The specter of international communism played its customary frightening role. In the days of monolithic communism, Russia was the enemy of Japan, as it had been in the eyes of the Japanese people for several generations. Now reports were heard on the debating platforms that Russia was bolstering its forces in Far East Asia. There were rumors that Russian air force and airborne units were being deployed on Kamchatka, Sakhalin, and the Kurile Islands. According to those who said they knew, the Russians were preparing for the invasion of Japan. With the United States committed in Korea, immediate, massive rearmament was the only hope for Japan.

Those who opposed rearmament argued, on the other hand, that Japanese military forces would become the mercenaries and tools of the United States. The Socialists and other leftists contended that after the peace treaty, the NPR would be rapidly equipped with heavy weapons of war and would be dispatched to help the American forces in Korea. An unfortunate comment by Mr. ōhashi, state minister in charge of the NPR, suggesting the possibility of extending the term of service of soldiers completing their tours of duty unleashed furious attacks in the press. Despite repeated denials by the government, the opposition charged that the Liberal Party planned to re-establish the reserve system so that NPR members could be bound for life service and for eventual duty overseas.

While the public listened to the arguments and debated the rearmament issue, Prime Minister Yoshida steadfastly refused to acknowledge in his statements to the press and in the Diet that the NPR was an army. “Our present policy,” he insisted, “remains unchanged—not to rearm ourselves.”

As the weeks went by and the newspapers continued to feature stories of the proposed expansion of the NPR and speculated on the plan of the government to convert the present organization into a National Safety Force with a Defense Agency, or Bōeichō, in July 1954, the prime minister's insistence that Japan was not rearming seemed meaningless. When leaks began to appear in the press that the NPR was being equipped with artillery, tanks, and aircraft, the opposition in the Diet could no longer be contained. The constitutional question plagued the prime minister wherever he appeared. Finally, finding his position politically intolerable, Yoshida apparently decided to make a clean breast of the whole matter. On March 6, 1952, while testifying for the proposed expansion of the NPR before the Upper House Budget Committee, the prime minister declared that the constitution did not outlaw “war potential for self-defense.” He insisted that “Article
9 of the constitution bans war potential for settling international disputes but not war potential for self-defense. We must do our utmost towards preparing to defend our country against those threatening our independence.”

His statement was greeted with a howl of protests in the Diet and in the press. The loudest and sharpest criticism, as could be expected, came from the left-wing Socialists, who charged, “Up to now the government has hoodwinked the people on rearmament by using the expression, ‘gradual increase of self-defense power.' It has now quit falsifying the issue with words and disclosed its true intention to rearm. This certainly violates the war-renouncing provision of the Constitution.”

The new justice minister, Tokutarō Kimura, in an effort to soften the criticism, complicated the problem by insisting that when Yoshida talked about “war potential (
senryoku
),” he did not mean “war potential” as used in Article 9 of the constitution. This explanation convinced no one, and the prime minister did not help his case any by declaring, “Since the government holds that rearmament will not be undertaken, I do not think it necessary to amend the constitution.”

As a result of this exchange of sophisticated views in the Diet, the newspapers enjoyed a field day interpreting and explaining what Yoshida said and what he meant. The opposition was merciless. Having painted himself into an impossible political corner, Yoshida asked for permission to amend his statement before the committee. This only infuriated the opposition, which insisted on restudying the stenographic notes of the committee hearing before listening to an explanation from the prime minister.

Four days after his initial testimony on “war potential,” Yoshida appeared again before the Upper House Budget Committee. In correcting his previous statement, the prime minister now admitted that even “war potential for self-defense” amounted to rearmament and so requires a constitutional amendment. Clarifying his views, he reasoned cautiously: “When Japan gains strength, acquires enough economic assets and foreign powers acknowledge Japan's right to self-defense we may then resort to a referendum for constitutional revision in order to possess fighting potentiality.”

The explanation left the nation precisely where it had been before the hassle in the Diet began. Japan remained in a kind of twilight zone of rearmament. The prime minister had acknowledged that the constitution would have to be revised
before the nation could acquire “fighting potentiality,” but the NPR, in the meantime, continued to be equipped with artillery, tanks, and aircraft.