Marxist History and Postwar Japanese Nationalism

Marxist History and Postwar Japanese Nationalism

This book explores the historical writings of postwar Japanese Marxists – who were, and who continue to be, surprisingly numerous in the Japanese academic world. It shows how they developed, through historical writing, ideas of “radical nationalism,” which accepted presupposed ideas of Japan’s “ethnic homogeneity,” whilst creating a sphere of radical political action against the state, the American Occupation and global capital. By comparing prewar and postwar Marxist historiography, Gayle shows that in the postwar period ideas were much more elaborate and greater emphasis was placed on national education and social mobilization. Finally, he shows how these early postwar discourses have made their way into contemporary ethnic nationalism and historical revisionism in Japan today. The book’s rich and interesting analysis will appeal not just to historians of Japan, but also to those interested in nationalism and Marxism more generally. Curtis Anderson Gayle has done graduate work at both Sophia University and Kyoto University, and specializes in modern Japanese intellectual history, nationalism, and international relations. His publications include “Progressive Representations of the Nation: Early Postwar Japan and Beyond,” in the Social Science Japan Journal.

Marxist History and Postwar Japanese Nationalism

Curtis Anderson Gayle

For Toshihide, Mutsuko, Motoe, and Kaori First published 2003 by RoutledgeCurzon 11 New Fetter Lane, London EC4P 4EE Simultaneously published in the USA and Canada by RoutledgeCurzon 29 West 35th Street, New York, NY 10001 This edition published in the Taylor & Francis e-Library, 2003. RoutledgeCurzon is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group © 2003 Curtis Anderson Gayle All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Gayle, Curtis Anderson, 1963Marxist history and postwar Japanese nationalism / Curtis Anderson Gayle. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references amd index. 1. Japan–Historiography. 2. Marxian historiography–Japan. 3. Historians–Japan. 4. Nationalism–Japan. I. Title DS834.7 .G39 2002 952'.007'2–dc21 2002075118 ISBN 0-203-21777-2 Master e-book ISBN

ISBN 0-203-27340-0 (Adobe eReader Format) ISBN 0–415–29739–7 (Print Edition)

Contents

Acknowledgments 1 National imagery and international Marxism

vii 1

2 Marxist history and the ethnic nation during the 1930s

21

3 Rebuilding Marxist history and rethinking the nation, 1945–1948

40

4 Marxist history’s search for new ground, 1948–1950

62

5 Marxist history and the “minzoku faction”: Tôma Seita, Matsumoto Shinpachirô, and Ishimoda Shô

85

6 Minzoku ishiki and modernization: Eguchi Bokurô, Suzuki Shirô, Inoue Kiyoshi, and Tôyama Shigeki

106

7 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism

124

8 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism

145

Notes Bibliography Index

166 185 194

Acknowledgments

This book began at Kyoto University as a comparison of two early postwar ideas of “healthy nationalism” on the Left: Maruyama Masao’s Kenzen na Kokuminshugi and the Historical Science Society’s Kenzen na Minzokushugi. Its subsequent completion in Baltimore, and the book that has followed from it, could not have been possible without the inspiration of Kevin Doak. In addition, Tom Gill has also been very kind (and patient) in helping bring this initial comparison into an article for the Social Science Japan Journal. Very special thanks must also go to Sandra Wilson for encouraging me to pursue in book format with RoutledgeCurzon several major themes that emerged from this previous work, and for making sure to nudge me at every step along the way. My appreciation as well to Jerry Eades, Stephen Large, and Brian McVeigh for giving me new suggestions and advice on issues connected to the development of this project. I am also deeply indebted to two anonymous reviewers for this book and for related articles and submissions with SSJJ and the International History Review. Their useful comments and criticisms helped to put things into perspective. In addition, I thank Peter Sowden at RoutledgeCurzon for his support, and I acknowledge my sincere appreciation to Swales & Willis, at the Innovation Centre in Exeter, for their patient help in the production process of this book. I would also like to acknowledge the long friendship I have shared with Patrick A. Heelan S.J., and the moral support he has given to me since my undergraduate days as his student in continental philosophy at Stony Brook. My heartfelt thanks also to Mojtaba Sadria for the many provocative discussions we have had on Japan and the world, and to Wallace Schneider for helping keep things in focus on my research trips to New York and Boston. The Library of Congress in Washington has been an oasis for finding primary materials. I would especially like to thank Yoko Akiba and Mitsuko Anders of the Asian Reading Room for their tireless cooperation amidst my repeated trips to DC over the past several years. The libraries at Kyoto University, Sophia University, and Harvard University have also been very helpful, as has the library at Johns Hopkins, which I have depended upon incessantly while living in Baltimore. Both in New York and Hokkaidô, there are family members to also be acknowledged. I am grateful to my mother for supporting my original decision to live in Japan back in 1989. Although my father is not here to see the product of what I did

viii Acknowledgments during those years in Tokyo and Kyoto, I would like to express my debt to him for showing me what it means to think critically. To Toshihide and Mutsuko in Tomakomai, my sincere appreciation for over a decade of unconditional support to a prodigal son. Finally, my personal and professional acknowledgment to my wife, the contemporary historian Motoe Sasaki-Gayle, for her superhuman sense of patience and determination in making sure this book came to be.

1

National imagery and international Marxism

Marxist history and national imagery in postwar Japan During the early postwar period Marxist history in Japan played a key role in developing the political nationalism of the Left. Nowhere was this plainer to see than in the writings of historians such as Ishimoda Shô, Matsumoto Shinpachirô, Tôma Seita, Inoue Kiyoshi, Tôyama Shigeki, Uehara Senroku, Eguchi Bokurô and Suzuki Shirô. Amidst the dramatic changes taking place during the early 1950s in Japan, and in East Asia, Marxist historians would confront what they saw as an imminent threat to Japanese culture and the Japanese people by taking up the cause of the “nation.” As part of this socio-political mission, they developed histories that could be mobilized against what they held to be the antagonists of progressive social change, namely, the Japanese state and the American Occupation. In fact, as far as many Marxist historians were concerned, the Occupation did not come to a close in 1952. On the contrary, the formal end of the Occupation signaled a deepening of Japan’s “colonization” under the postwar system of capitalism and American hegemony, or imperialism. In response to this deepening crisis, Marxist historians during the early and mid-1950s set their sights upon promoting a “national awakening” (minzoku jikaku) of the people. The idea of the nation (minzoku) and ethnic national culture (minzoku bunka) were to be the primary instruments through which historians would attempt to enlighten the people about the American presence and its policies in East Asia, so as to push forward the goal of a socialist revolution in Japan. As a result, however, historians would put aside the independent existence of the parts of the nation that did not substantiate the idea of national identity and cultural homogeneity. In effect, one of the consequences of this project would be to insulate both Japanese history and politics from heterogenizing social issues related to local histories, minority rights, and questions of gender. Indeed, Ishimoda and his colleagues were convinced that the Japanese nation could best lay claim to a new domain of political resistance by demarcating cultural authenticity in terms of national history and an elaborate cultural past. In their estimation, the impetus for dramatic social and political change would have to spring out from within a collective national consciousness (minzoku ishiki) of a cultural nation yearning to free itself from the deleterious influences of external manipulation and internal coercion.

2 National imagery and international Marxism This process of “national liberation” for a future Japanese nation (one devoid of class differences and free from the influence of capitalism) was for Marxist historians also essential to the establishing of Japan’s postwar place in Asia. As Tôyama Shigeki, himself central to the debate over history during the early 1950s, surmised in 1968, the national question (minzoku no mondai) in early postwar Japan was “extremely political” in nature. This was because it provided a means for Japanese historians and thinkers to respond to dramatic changes such as Indian independence in 1947, revolution in China in 1949, the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950, as well as burgeoning anti-colonial movements and postcolonial nationhood in Asia. Such events were really critical turning points, Tôyama continues, in that they helped to make Marxist historians more sensitive to “the historical necessity of linking Asian nationalism with social revolution,” even within the space of Japan itself.1 Put differently, the changing political landscape in Asia would make clear to Marxist historians the value of eliding Japanese history with the modern tradition of Asian liberation nationalism. On the one hand, Maruyama Masao, a historian of Japanese political thought and contemporary of Tôyama, was at this very moment claiming progressive forms of the nation in Japan could not readily be conceived within the historical context of Asian liberation nationalism. In 1950, Maruyama sought make the case for a working separation between Asian nationalism and any viable sense of national identity in postwar Japan.2 In contradistinction to this outlook, however, a good number of Marxist historians attempted to make sense of ancient and modern Japanese history in terms expressly linked to the nationalism of Mao Zedong and the successful 1949 People’s Revolution in China. Herein lies one of the most palpable ironies of Marxist history during this period: the postwar futurepresent in Japan would be made to elide with the national histories of peoples who had just themselves been freed from the yoke of Japanese imperialism and colonization. The way in which Marxist historians went about making this political irony historically workable involved establishing a form of cultural representation that was tied to the politics of the present and the future. Marxist history would attempt to define and to mediate Japan’s own struggle for “national liberation” by the public against all remnants of the prewar past, including feudalism, capitalism, the incomplete revolution of the Meiji era, and the ultra-nationalism that rose to consume the polity from the mid-1930s. This involved carving out a space that was in visceral opposition to the prewar machinations of Japanese ethnic nationalism such as nationalism based on the ideology of “blood,” and the imperial expansion of the state for economic and political gain. Marxist historians did, nevertheless, also delimit and underwrite their own sphere of social action for the postwar based upon the “common cultural characteristics” of the ethnic nation. In this way, they held that so long as national character could be defined as something historical the nation could be ontologically distinct from the state. Indeed, “ethnic national culture” was to be constructed in terms that distinguished it from prewar versions of minzokushugi, or ethnic nationalism. Moreover, this fundamental distinction between the ethnic nationalism of the past and the possibility of a “healthy

National imagery and international Marxism 3 nationalism” in the present would become the foundation upon which historians propounded the logic of Japanese liberation. One institutional means through which this effort was orchestrated could be found in the Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai, which can be translated into English as the Historical Science Society (hereafter: the “Society”).3 Although a loosely-knit association of historians without any formal affiliation to the Japan Communist Party, the early postwar Society sought to shape a new kind of history in the aftermath of the war, and served as an organized forum through which many Marxist historians expressed both their hopes and frustrations. First established in 1932, the Society struggled to find a niche in opposition to state-centric views of history (kokka shikan) during the prewar. During the early postwar and the early 1950s, owing in no small measure to the efforts of Ishimoda and his colleagues, the Society was able to establish working principles for a new postwar historical science that could lead the way toward progressive social change. Many of its influential members during the early 1950s shared with the Japan Communist Party the overall goal of “bringing history to the people.” In particular, the postwar principles of the Society, first spelled out in 1946, were ultimately to be invoked in bringing about a “transformation in social consciousness.” As such, the Society represented a basic component of what would come by 1950 to be the beginnings of the project of national awakening within postwar historiography and social politics. One excellent example of this collective strategy can be found in Ishimoda’s 1952 Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken (The Discovery of History and the Nation4) which boldly heralded the project of national awakening as a completely new phenomenon in Japanese historiography and social politics. As will be shown in chapters to follow, Ishimoda’s appeal sought to carve out a sense of the nation – based upon the postwar principles of historical science as laid out by the Society – that had been absent from prewar historiography and prewar Marxism. Yet, it was also true that a number of historians within the prewar Society, particularly during the mid-1930s, had developed strikingly similar discourses of the Japanese ethnic nation to those which Ishimoda would later proclaim to be a completely new phenomena in Japan. In fact, Marxist historians such as Hayakawa Jirô, Tosaka Jun, and Matsubara Hiroshi took aim at the very conflation of minzoku/state, blood/nation, and history/imperial system that Ishimoda would also come to oppose. It would therefore seem only logical to expect at least a few postwar historians to have picked up on this most useful of prewar traditions within Marxist historiography and the critique of prewar Japanese imperialism during the mid-1930s. From this perspective, then, it may be helpful to introduce some of these prewar discourses and put forward the initial question of why postwar historians would feel so compelled to present their approach to the nation as virtually unprecedented in Japanese historiography. At the same time, however, it is not at all necessary to write off the postwar dismissal of prewar Marxist histories of the nation as the product of a collective “amnesia” toward the prewar, rooted in trauma over the loss of empire. Rather, it may be more useful to ask whether there may have been some practical reasons for the forgetting of progressive versions of prewar ethnic nationalism.

4 National imagery and international Marxism In fact, both prewar and postwar interpretations of the nation in Marxist history were to a significant extent based upon Joseph Stalin’s seven-point theory of the ethnic nation as a historical construct – what will be referred to in this book as “historical constructionism.” In his 1913 Marxism and the National Question, Stalin defined the nation as a “historically constituted, stable community of people, formed on the basis of a common language, territory, economic life, and psychological make-up manifested in a common culture.”5 Stalin ostensibly sought to provide a political context for the “co-existence” of different nationalities under the Soviet state, to unite “the workers of all nationalities of Russia into single, integral collective bodies” and then into “a single party.” As Stalin’s own definition suggests, however, while the nation is “historically constituted” it also exists as an ontologically and psychologically “stable community of people.”6 Indeed Marxist historians would appropriate this notion of cultural stability within historical constructionism in order to provide an account of the nation grounded upon conceptions of a stable racial (jinshu) community existing in one form or another throughout Japanese history. Thus, even though the development of cultural identity was to be narrated as something historical (and thus contingent), it was also framed by Japanese historians within racial attributes that ultimately gave shape to the nation, its culture, and its people. This idea would ultimately provide the veil of legitimacy from which to ground socio-political change within the metanarratives of cultural homogeneity and ethnic national identity. Needless to say, however, given the historical and social conditions of early postwar Japan, neither the assumptions of cultural homogeneity nor the protestations of cultural colonization would seem to have been legitimate. Not only had Japan just lost its own empire and its former colonies, but the notion of ethnic homogeneity as the route by which to map the “subaltern” history of the Japanese nation ignored the human legacy of Japanese colonialism that remained within its very social and geographical borders.7 In fact, the period in which radical historians declared the colonization of the postwar minzoku to both an illegitimate state and to American imperialism was also a time during which some 2.4 million Koreans were to remain in Japan and to become a de facto part of postwar society. Nevertheless, the trope of the ethnic nation would take precedence over the idea of class as the most important aspect of historical change. That is to say, Marxist historians sought to render the present as a moment pregnant with the possibility to reconsolidate national agency (i.e., the social and political forces capable of bringing about historical change). Conversely, however, far less attention was afforded to the aspirations and dreams of the working class and elements of society whose identities did not conform to the ultimate racial and ethnic criteria of the nation, and thus to national colonization and liberation. In one sense, the perceived predicament of economic, social, cultural, political, and military colonization would be for these historians something shared by all living in Japan. At the same time, however, the privilege of liberation would be envisioned only in terms set out within the ethnic nation and its national pasts. As this suggests, the social politics of the nation were linked to a very selfconscious form of cultural essentialism. Yet, this raises the question of what we are to make of different forms of essentialism. For instance, Ephraim Nimni has praised

National imagery and international Marxism 5 socialist theories of nationhood for being able to “conceptualize the national community as a developmental process” that rejects any notions of national character based upon “metaphysical essentialism,”8 an extreme example of the latter being prewar Japanese ultra-nationalism. Nimni also credits socialist ideas of national existence (e.g., Stalin’s conception of the nation) as having the advantage of being based upon the “historically specific characteristics of national communities.”9 This would be akin to historical constructionism and specifically the belief that postwar Japan, to embrace pacifism as ardently as did militarism in the prewar, would require some form of healthy nationalism. The latter could therefore be based upon a kind of cultural essentialism more progressive and historically contingent than prewar ultra-nationalism. This would become, in effect, the kind of essentialism that mediates culture with historical development. In more contemporary terms, a variant of this perspective can also be found in Gayatri Spivak’s notion of “strategic essentialism.”10 By this, Spivak is referring to an imagined cultural essentialism that can be utilized to create a mobile and flexible form of human identity that does not monopolize existential or individual consciousness, nor dictate any specific political positions. When taken in the context of imagining ethnicity as the primary means by which to engage in social and political change, however, strategic essentialism does indeed risk asserting the identity of ethnicity and culture in terms directly linked to the sphere of politics. This is particularly so when strategic essentialism is used in the construction of “national essence” that, while opposed to the totalizing discourses and the politics of “metaphysical essentialism,” makes racial and ethnic identity the domain in which history and agency are represented. Put simply, the essentialism of Marxist history in early postwar Japan illustrates the difficulties with isolating presumptions of “cultural identity” from deliberate choices of “cultural performance.” We see this same issue raised in Ien Ang’s reading of strategic essentialism, where the central question to be asked has two permutations: narratives of the nation can be “ontological” statements for a “politics of identity based on uninterrogated assumptions of naturally shared interests,” and thus amount to a form of “ontological essentialism.” By contrast, they can also relate more to the “performative” usefulness of identity to help “constitute new kinds of subjects” based upon shared interests. That is, Ang asks whether the essentialism behind specific narratives of the nation is utilized to “enable,” or to “oppress,” the people.11 In answer to this query, it will be demonstrated that historical constructionism in early postwar Japan was unable to conceptualize the “performative” aspects of cultural essentialism apart from a more fundamental politics of racial ontology. In this sense, the project of national awakening does fit what Harry Harootunian has called the postwar revival of “the response of Japanese modernists to the culture of capitalism of the interwar period,” predicated to “undefiled spirit made to stand as a sign of genuine nativism.” Like their contemporary Raymond Williams (not to mention many in the Communist Party Historians’ Group in Great Britain), the Society’s rejection of bourgeois modernism also reveals their collective stance as “modernists against modernity.”12 Looked at differently, the concern of historians like Ishimoda with workers, the weak, and those on the margins of Japanese society, was belied by a far stronger

6 National imagery and international Marxism impulse to imagine Japanese cultural essentialism as the very basis for social conscience and political activity. Although many Marxist historians would argue for an approach stressing everyday life, history from the bottom up, and even the constant revaluation of values, the meta-narrative of progressive minzokushugi and national awakening sought to express everyday life and conflicting identities within an evacuated space of cultural homogeneity. As such, both the living of history and the politics of the ethnic nation were absolved from taking up any of the disjunctured and fractured realities ubiquitous to early postwar Japan. For the nation was designated something “historical” and thus a safe mode of transporting identity onto the field of political resistance and social change. On the one hand, the upheavals facing Japanese society during the late 1940s and early 1950s contributed much to the desire to unify mass resistance against the state and the Occupation. Yet, in seeking to separate the cultural existence of the nation from the problem of the state, so that national culture might be made into an autonomous force to shape history, much was also left behind. With the momentum of cultural unity and the belief that this was also a “pre-political” form of identity, there was no need to focus upon political institutions, civil society, or even the question of how to articulate Japanese citizenship within the drive toward socialism. Most of all, the construction of the nation within Marxist history sought to bring closure to the prewar Japanese national past and the problem of nationalism in modern Japan. To this end, it sought to establish a different kind of nation that could negate prewar Japanese racism through a progressive form of ethnic and racial purity. That this “new” form of ethnic, and indeed racial, purity was crafted during the early 1950s only reinforces the point that Japanese progressive intellectuals – Marxist historians especially – sought to construct a kind of identity that could be completely dissociated from culturalist discourses of the prewar and wartime. The impact of this could even be felt within movements such as the Kokuminteki Rekishigaku Undô, or Movement for a People’s History, of the early and mid-1950s. Indeed, it was through such people’s movements that historical constructionism could become a discourse of radical social action against the state. In this way, historical constructionism was to become the conceptual hearth for the entire national awakening movement of the early to mid-1950s, even though it would be in decline by the time of the Hungarian Incident in 1956. These considerations alone merit examination of early postwar Marxist history as a vital set of discourses of modern nationalism in Japan. The relevance of this period to modern Japanese history, however, does not end during the late 1950s. In fact, the political nationalism and cultural essentialism of the Left during this period established some important ideological positions that would be carried forward into subsequent discourses of ethnic nationalism against the state. Even though the project of national awakening would begin to wear thin by the late 1950s, the basic conviction of the need to find a better way to represent the postwar nation apart form those things that had polluted it continues to this day. Looked at in this way, the development of Marxist history in the aftermath of World War II can serve as one possible starting point from which to plot the coordinates of similar narratives within neo-nationalism in contemporary Japan.

National imagery and international Marxism 7 Like their earlier versions, these more recent forms of cultural essentialism, based upon the ethnic nation, also seek to “emancipate” the Japanese minzoku from “spiritual apathy,” bourgeois modernity, monopoly capitalism, “Western civilization,” the ubiquitous contemporary bunka no mondai, as well as much of the prewar and wartime past. Although these more contemporary versions of ethnic nationalism against the state have come from the New Right, by the 1990s they also began to appear in more seemingly “moderate” and “common-sense” vernacular histories associated with the now influential Liberal School of History. The journey through the early postwar to a contemporary synthesis must begin, however, by going back to locate the epistemological foundation upon which early postwar nationalism was erected. For it is not enough to merely introduce early postwar narratives of the ethnic nation as having been developed in bold opposition to past conceptions of “bourgeois” (i.e., nation-state based) nationalism, fascism, and statism. More concretely, the cultural essentialism and national imagery of the Left was also created in specific opposition to the postwar Japanese state, its institutions, politics, and worldview. In other words, the opposition politics of Marxist history, while an important dimension in its own rite to early postwar political history, do not tell the entire story. For the resistance and opposition of the Left, especially during this period, had to have some kind of ideological ballast and mode of organization through which to make their appeals to the public. This they found in the idea that the political authority of the state could be legitimately challenged through the principle that it was ordinary people, expressed in terms of the Japanese ethnic nation, that had the sole right to make postwar history. In this regard, Kevin Doak has shown quite cogently that historians such as Ishimoda devoted themselves to a form of opposition politics based upon the perceived legitimacy of the cultural nation articulated as representing the interests of ordinary people over those of the postwar state.13 In its quest to understand Marxist history in early postwar Japan from the vantage point of modern nationalism, furthermore, this study will take the position that histories based upon anti-state, ethnic nationalism do indeed count as national histories. To this extent, it will take exception to the view that national history needs to be defined in terms of ideologies that support the nation-state. For contemporary historians of European national histories such as Stefan Berger et al., on the other hand, nationalism as represented in historical discourse would seem to be preoccupied mostly with the business of legitimizing the modern nation-state. In this view, the modern writing of national histories in Germany, Italy, France, and Britain represents a two-centuries’ old project to “legitimate the nation-state,” both in terms of “substantialising it as the ‘natural’ principle of political organization,” and in making the nation-state the “subject and object of historical development.” Although the authors do pay homage to the potential history and politics of “left-wing nationalisms” for “mass mobilization,” they nevertheless defer to an examination of the “establishment history” that has served to support the construction of various nation-states in Europe.14 Their basic approach – and the ease with which they dismiss nationalisms of the Left as attempts at national history – most likely stems from the conviction that left-wing nationalisms assume an

8 National imagery and international Marxism antithetical position toward the nation-state and instead gravitate towards socialist internationalism.15 As such, the construction of national identity through national history can best be understood through its acceptance of the modern nation-state amidst the pressures of regional integration, on the one hand, and international forces tugging at the nation-state, on the other. In this interpretation, the link between national history and politics lies in the former’s concern with how the nation-state is portrayed in relation to the individual, society, and the people. In so far as national history seeks to provide a history of the nation, however, there are good grounds for including the “ethnic imagination” of Marxist history within this domain. Commentators on modern nationalism such as Walker Connor, to take one example, have shown that the historical definitions of “nation” and “state” need not be considered identical. Connor’s contention is that there has been a historical elision of these two concepts, but that it is possible to trace the independent, though coordinate, existence of each. At the same time, however, Connor also maintains that for Japan and Germany, where the nation is ethnically “homogeneous,” the nation’s historical relationship to the state has remained one of singularity and continuity.16 In effect, then, while Connor supports the theoretical and historical principle of nationalism against the state, in historical practice he excludes this possibility within nation-states like Germany and Japan. This is, of course, a problem since his approach reduces the issue of national homogeneity to a somewhat demographic and seemingly objective question of whether or not the nation is “really” composed exclusively of one particular racial or ethnic group. Connor, therefore, while acknowledging the historical complexity of modern nationalism, at the same time fails to leave room open for the possibility that national discourses can themselves be instrumentalized for political purposes against the state. Yet, what if the homogeneity and “racial continuity” of the Japanese nation could be imagined as the very means by which to demarcate the boundaries of a civil war between those who represent the progressive nation and those who represent the reactionary state? This is exactly the overall argument made by Ôguma Eiji, who contends that radical historians like Ishimoda saw themselves as progenitors of a “healthy ethnic nationalism” (kenzen na minzokushugi) or “radical nationalism” (kakushin nashonarizumu).17 “Ethnic national pride,” as Ôguma surmises, was a way for such historians to render the populist ideas of “jinmin” and “minshu” into the more culturalist discourse of the ethnic nation. As such, it was also imbued with the central notion of political resistance to what were seen as the major threats to the unity and constancy of the minzoku, namely, the emperor, capitalism, American geopolitics, and the coercive power of the modern bourgeois state.18 This was also the gist of an important argument made by one of Ishimoda’s colleagues during the early 1950s, the historian Uehara Senroku. Uehara maintained that “in order to locate the [Japanese] ethnic nation as a form of resistance to the emperor and state power,” it would first be necessary to “separate patriotic consciousness toward the state or bureaucracy, from the general ethnic consciousness of being Japanese.”19 This was because the true “history of the Japanese ethnicnation” was both separate from and older than that of the imperial system or the modern state.20 A healthy sense of the nation, therefore, would need to be defined

National imagery and international Marxism 9 and established precisely through its spatial and temporal distance from the state. As Uehara saw it, the modern state in Japan had not done cultural or social justice to the nation. This was not just an issue for the working classes but for all potential members of the new ethnic nation, namely, all Japanese. Naturally, the postwar corruption of the state, its domestic policies, and its international commitments, were made the explicit target of Uehara and his colleagues. For so long as the bureaucracy and political establishment could be held responsible for all the unrest that befell Japan during the late 1940s and 1950s, national imagery could be invoked by virtue of its very difference and distance from the realm of mundane politics and political institutions. It was also in this sense that the postwar state became the de facto successor to, at least in the minds of these historians, much of the political authoritarianism of the prewar era. Stepping back for a moment, we can also see that the notion of an opposition politics based upon the cultural nation could easily leave us high and dry at Connor’s supposition of cultural homogeneity and a “primordialist” sense of the nation. That is, in taking up the imaging of the nation as a form of social politics, Marxist historians’ impulse to the nation shouldn’t imply that there necessarily was any kind of “primordial” space of the nation from within which Ishimoda and his colleagues merely worked. This would, in effect, be to simulate the approach that will be examined and critiqued in this book, and would be to concur that in times of tumult, conceptions of national fraternity can take the place of (a radical) democratic politics and political institutions.21 The idea of the nation invoked by early postwar Marxist historians, to the contrary, was really one of only a myriad of vehicles (others possibilities include the old haunts of class, region, gender, and multi-nodal identity) through which to image a new social and political order in Japan. On the other hand, it also cannot be denied that the construction of the ethnic nation against the state represented a qualified response to (but not a wholesale rejection of) modernity, one that has indeed left its imprimatur upon a large portion of modern Japanese history. It thus cannot be so easily dismissed as merely a politics of immediacy limited only to the early 1950s, as will be shown in the final chapter. Contemporary theories of nationalism also present another problem that needs to be addressed, most notably the myth that nationalism in Japan ordinarily operates as a top-down phenomenon. As Yoshino Kôsaku has shown, approaches to cultural nationalism, in particular, have all too often concentrated upon “the political process of ideological manipulation and mobilization” such that “elites produce nationalist myth and ideology and impose them upon obedient subjects of the state.”22 By extension, then, these approaches Yoshino critiques would also suppose the opposition politics of Marxist history to be something in the category of “antinationalist.” To be certain, this mistaken belief that cultural nationalism acts mainly through a process of ideological manipulation by the state was in fact the very image of the prewar and wartime past within which Marxist historians envisioned their alternative form of national resistance. Nevertheless, their valiant efforts bring home the very point that cultural essentialism was not to be carved out by the state and levied upon the nation. Instead, the mobilization of the ethnic nation toward

10 National imagery and international Marxism national awakening was to come from intellectuals and movements arrayed in the counter-formation of popular history where myth could be infused into new “revolutionary traditions,” even though the ultimate goal of these traditions was cultural homogenization. Interestingly, the history of such forms of opposition politics and cultural essentialism has by and large been ignored in studies of postwar Japanese nationalism. Contemporary political thought and history that have acknowledged the appeal to nationalism by the Left in postwar Japan have tended to focus upon later thinkers and movements, particularly those responding to the 1960 revision of the United States–Japan Security Treaty. Conversely, there has also been a tendency to recognize as nationalist thought those ideologies that seek to strengthen the state. This comes partially from the assumption that nationalism in postwar Japan has been primarily a “right-wing” phenomenon and that in Japan, especially as far as nationalist discourse has been concerned, the state and nation have been coterminous. As a result, then, nationalism of the Left is often seen less as nationalism, per se, and more as a barometer of how far social and political movements could resist cooptation by the state in the name of social justice.23 The notion that resistance to the state could be based upon a form of nationalism does not enter into the equation. Even those postwar studies that do acknowledge the role of the Left’s nationalism, nevertheless treat it as merely anti-Americanism and thus allow it to dissolve into the more seductive landscape of postwar right-wing nationalism without establishing any linkage between both sides of the political spectrum.24 In addition, many have overlooked the role of ethnic nationalism on both the Left and the Right as a critique of the state and postwar political institutions.25 Yet, throughout the postwar period there has been a steady stream of anti-state, ethnic nationalism on both the Left and the Right; Marxist historians during the early 1950s represent merely one case study of this phenomenon. Furthermore, although nationalism of the Left in postwar Japan is beginning to be recognized, it is also necessary to point out how this relates to the goals of internationalism and pacifism that characterized Marxist history and progressive thought. For the most part, the early postwar ideals of pacifism and internationalism on the Left have often been construed merely in terms of a form of political resistance that sought an alternative to the reactionary politics and the militant ultranationalism of the prewar. The flip side to this is that the more treacherous terrain of cultural essentialism has often been taken as the sole property of right-wing nationalism. As a result, movements and discourses on the Left have seldom been taken up as constructions of cultural essentialism. This has also made it difficult to suggest any affirmative historical relationship between cultural essentialism on the one hand, and progressive ideals like peace and internationalism, on the other hand. Of course, the welding of the Japan Culture Theory to Nakasone Yasuhiro’s Kokusaika policy during the 1980s suggests that cultural essentialism can work well with more aggressive and right-wing forms of political nationalism. It will be shown, however, that during the early 1950s the cultural essentialism embedded within Marxist history actually also supported a loose framework for cooperation among Asian nations to achieve a new form of internationalism (kokusaishugi).

National imagery and international Marxism 11 This strongly implies that the Left’s goal of internationalism did not forsake cultural essentialism, an important demystification that suggests Marxist history during this period may be able to take us into a more complex and textured understanding of both nationalism and cultural essentialism in modern Japan. This is important since, as Kenneth Pyle once noted, “the development of nationalism is surely one of the major organizing themes of modern Japanese history.”26 Some recent work by Japanese historians has begun to touch upon these themes from a number of different angles. As already noted, Ôguma Eiji correctly ascribes to the Historical Science Society the imaging and implementing of a “radical nationalism” in order to establish the “unification of the revolutionary subject” of the ethnic nation, and thereby resist the postwar state in Japan.”27 That is, Ôguma basically argues that the anti-state nationalism of Marxist historians during the early postwar period sought to unify the Japanese ethnic nation across class lines, so as to develop a form of “national awakening” that could lead to national unity for social and political change. Likewise, Kawamoto Takashi links this quest for revolution and resistance, in for example Marxist historians’ calls for national awakening, to a sense of Japanese identity that could serve as the lynchpin to a larger quest for the “formation of a [new] vision for world history.”28 Furthermore, historians such as Amino Yoshihiko have noted that the Society’s approach to national awakening was sundered between those who focused on the nation as the historical product of a long trajectory of development (“minzoku faction”), and those who approached the idea of national growth through modernization (“international faction”).29 To these, Ugai Masashi adds that while historians like Tôyama Shigeki focused upon how Japan was forced to endure “economic and political dependency” at the hands of the West, others like Inoue Kiyoshi took Japan’s resistance as a catalyst for early modern national awakening.30 Perhaps the most important twist to this debate, in the end, was the way Marxist history was used to highlight the perceived postwar need to recreate the initial spirit of popular awakening that had emerged in tandem with the Meiji Restoration. Nevertheless, there has also been a tendency, especially among recent critiques of the Society by Japanese historians, to lean heavily toward representations of their internationalism at the expense of looking to how this was predicated upon assumptions of cultural essentialism. For example, in 1997 the Japanese journal Rekishi Hyôron published a special edition on the Society, adding a much needed burst of critical discourse to the debate. Therein, Nakabayashi Takayuki argued that many of the historians in the early postwar Society can best be understood as having responded to the regional political upheavals in China and Korea during the late 1940s. In particular, he claims that they sought a new “world consciousness” based upon exposing the global problem of “unequal development.”31 In the same vein, Ozawa Hirotaka notes that historians in the early postwar Society sought to “reconsider” the concept of international relations itself, and especially to “escape modern power politics that has taken the nation-state as its base.” In a mode similar to that of contemporary cultural studies, he notes, they rejected the nation state in favor of “praising a people’s revolution.”32 While these appraisals are right on the mark, they only tell half the story. The question remains as to what specific function and purpose cultural essentialism

12 National imagery and international Marxism played within the larger vision of Asian internationalism. In fact, even studies that do acknowledge the “anti-state nationalism” at work in early postwar Marxist history, nevertheless do not explain how their nationalism and internationalism were interrelated parts to a larger whole. Neither do they tell us how Marxist history in effect elided Japanese history into the modern tradition of Asian liberation nationalism. Perhaps the one exception to this is Kevin Doak’s overview of the early postwar Society, its historical significance, and even its link to present day Japanese nationalism.33 In particular, Doak has provided an invaluable theoretical approach from which to look further into how Marxist history deserves to be read in terms of a political history of postwar Japanese nationalism. Such a political history must look more closely at why prewar “national awakening” was forgotten in the early postwar period, how national history was developed on the Left during the late 1940s, and how this history perceived the relationship between Japan and Asia. Finally, early postwar national awakening also merits a comparison with neonationalism in Japan for perhaps a much more controversial reason. For whatever dangers the recent Liberal School of History portends for Japanese democracy and internationalism in Asia, and these are indeed legion, its views may not be as ideologically “revisionist” as they are currently thought to be.

Marxist history’s international context In addition to the historical complexities of early postwar Japan, Marxist history itself can hardly be taken as something cut and dried. Adopting a minimalist approach to Marxist history, we might loosely summarize its basic characteristics as follows: it usually contains some ideas as to the “base,” or economic foundation, as well as the “superstructure,” or political/cultural/ideological components of a given period.34 Often, the productive forces within a society (the stage of economic development a society has reached – e.g., feudalism, capitalism, or socialism) are assumed to determine social relations and social consciousness. For Marxist history, the key to understanding how history is made and moved (i.e., the “agency” for historical change) can often be found within the dynamics of class and class conflict. Put differently, the economic relations within a society are often seen as determining the kinds of classes that will exist. In modern or capitalist society, Marxist history often looks to how the working class, or proletariat, can finally become conscious of the possibility to become agents of history, and thereby bring about the transition to a post-capitalist society through revolution. Only through a clear consciousness of their historical role and potential to push history forward can the people, then, help to unify society and move it toward socialism. Of course, this minimalist definition requires a bit of modification to the circumstances that will become apparent in the examination of Marxist history in Japan. As already noted, historians like Ishimoda (not to mention Marxist historians in China, India, the Middle East and Africa) took exception to the idea that historical agency ultimately depended upon class. While true that they envisioned the people as instrumental to social revolution and unification, the idea of agency in modern history in much of Asia and the Third World has also depended upon the ideas of

National imagery and international Marxism 13 national liberation and national development. During the latter stages of colonization by empires and nations during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, revolutionary change came as much from a recognition of the need for cultural consolidation as from a purely class-based frustration at economic and political repression. As modern history in both China and Japan show in their own respective ways, the idea of revolution has been about much more than merely changing the economic base of production within society. It has also been a matter of providing identity driven explanations for historical change that have as their ultimate goal political and social autonomy. Indeed, historians like Ishimoda would make their appeal for radical social and political change by branding all other approaches to history in Japan as essentially ideologies of the prewar past that had failed to address the needs and desires of the people. Even Marxist history written during the prewar period would be taken to task by Ishimoda for its preoccupation with abstract issues that bore no relation to the economic, social, cultural, and political difficulties facing ordinary Japanese people. On the other hand, this approach to revolution and social autonomy was by no means limited to Asia, or to the Third World. As Michael Forman reminds us, it was right during this period that Stalin’s interpretation of imperialism “linked national liberation and socialism,” so that class struggle could in effect be transformed into “national struggle.”35 Marxist history, in other words, did not have to stick to class struggle as the motor or agency of historical development. Instead, the goal of socialist revolution could be defined within the syntax and temporality of national histories that superceded the primacy of economic relations. This is interesting since it does suggest that several decades before Althusser’s famous critique of the base-superstructure model, the issue of national liberation and identity had already made purely materialistic approaches to history somewhat obsolete.36 That is to say human consciousness and historical agency were not simply refracted moments of economic structure or social relations. Stalin’s theory of the nation, introduced above, had already made clear that the problem of class struggle could be solved through the realization that the “historical nation” could provide the solution to previous problems among antithetical classes. Thus, class-consciousness could not by itself mediate a correct and sufficient mode of social and political action; issues of culture, identity, and even historical particularity had to be considered. For Marxist history in early postwar Japan this meant that as much could be learned from Mao’s example of revolution in China as from Stalin’s. Marxist history during the early 1950s in Japan was set within narratives oriented towards something more than merely progressive change through didactic historical example; indeed, history was to be the only salvation for a nation and a people still caught up within the problems of the past. Yet, these problems of the past were to be compounded by the painful realities of the present, such as the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950 and the 1952 United States–Japan Security Treaty. The sense of impending doom and imminent crisis among Japanese Marxist historians, moreover, would lead to the conclusion that only history written in order to further the cause of social revolution could truly be called “scientific” and “objective.” In other words, there was to be a kind of reciprocal relationship between historical

14 National imagery and international Marxism representation and questions of politics. In this vein, as the British historian Harvey Kaye has pointed out, the late historian E.P. Thompson, “one of the great historians” and “radical figures of our time,” established a “vibrant and dynamic connection between his [own] historiography and his politics.” History and politics were far more than two separate, parallel spheres of action. For Thompson, they were instead “bound together in a critical and creative dialectic wherein his political commitments and involvements posed questions to the past.” Conversely, “his encounters and conversations with the past proposed arguments to the world in which he lived.”37 As Bill Schwarz notes in relation to the prewar and early postwar British Communist Party Historians’ Group, history always involved the “study of history as politics, fully grasping the measure to which conceptions of past have a hold on, and organize, contemporary memories and ideologies.”38 The idea of Marxist historiography as radical history also brings into focus human consciousness, class, and the historical transformation of social and material conditions. Here, the object of historical analysis lies not so much in interpreting the past and elucidating lessons for the present, as it does in the idea of historical change based upon human self-consciousness of material and social conditions, along with the willingness to shake up and transform those conditions. In Grumley’s words, this involves a “radically historicist conception of humanity,” based upon the premise that the “radical possibilities” of the oppressed depend upon achieving the “historical maturity of the proletariat.”39 As Georg Iggers points out in his appraisal of Thompson’s 1964 The Making of the English Working Class, Marxist history seeks “approaches that yield understanding of the qualitative elements that make up a culture” such as “literature, art, folklore, symbolism,”40 and not merely class alone. Likewise, it is also true that “issues in the textual sphere of understanding cannot be divorced from substantive questions of politics, ethics, and right reason.” That is, historical critique need not give up “any claim of distinguishing between reason and rhetoric, knowledge and power.”41 Indeed, the focus upon human agency and cultural identities in early postwar British and Japanese radical history involved the historical imagination and an expanded, rather syncretic, notion of class. In early postwar Japan, in particular, this meant that only a dramatic transformation in the consciousness and agency of the people could enable them to realize and take charge of their own destiny. This neo-Marxist approach, especially taken in the context of national liberation and the national question, however, can also be the source of its own blatant contradictions. For example, Ishimoda not only made the case for agency in terms of national history, but as well within the realm of human desire. He was to argue that history should take into account the passions, motivations, and demands of popular consciousness. On the one hand, his basic notion of (re)inventing the nation as minzoku agency based explicitly upon the realm of human “desire,” was something quite ahead of its time. That is, Ishimoda saw history as something more than objective and scientific, but as something that contained a fair measure of Jouissance. History was to be more than just politics – it was to be a form of postmodern politics and the liberation from ordained time and space. Nevertheless, the liberating character of this history from below also supported what Perry Anderson

National imagery and international Marxism 15 has critiqued as a radicalized sense of “collective agency” in which “collective projects of social transformation” are linked up with “systematic efforts to understand the process of past and present, to produce a premeditated future.”42 In other words, the trope of “national awakening” designated a way in which to free the pent up desires and longings of the early postwar masses for liberation and autonomy in everyday life. Nevertheless, Japanese Marxist historians’ contention was that this could only happen in terms of the collective liberation of desire expressed in terms of a desire for one form identity above all others. It goes without saying that this kind of representation of national agency in Japanese history was incompatible with orthodox Marxism’s now infamous Asiatic Mode of Production Theses.43 In one sense, as Germaine Hoston surmises, the Asiatic Mode of Production was a quintessential example of an Orientalist discourse that had eventually to be “ravaged cruelly” for the “well being of all humankind,”44 and in particular the well-being of Chinese and Japanese historiography. On the other hand, just such a turning point was made possible for Marxist historians in Japan by, among other things, the 1949 People’s Revolution in China. This was because Mao’s China had succeeded in becoming an independent socialist nation. The success of Chinese liberation nationalism in Asia also provided Japanese historians with a new way to re-evaluate the relationship between China and Japan, illustrating where Japanese historiography in the prewar had parted company from the radical trajectory of national liberation that could be seen in China. For instance, Ishimoda himself noted that the Bolshevik Revolution had spawned the development of communist parties in China in 1921, and in Japan the following year. Likewise, Marxism in China and Japan were to be transformed from a “bourgeois theory” into a more practical and proletarian movement rooted in historiography.45 At the same time, however, Ishimoda contended that prewar Japanese Marxism had overlooked the importance of revolution and national liberation. Instead, it merely focused upon “academic” matters divorced from issues of real history, the actual conditions of the working class, and the struggle of China to break free from Japanese imperialism and attain national unification.46 Here the historical contrast between China and Japan becomes crucial. According to Ishimoda, during the mid- to late 1920s, the Chinese Communist Party took up the Asiatic Mode of Production Theses to find out why the 1911 revolution had failed to produce the right conditions for the transition to socialism. For Ishimoda, China’s own analysis of how the Asiatic Mode of Production in China had created obstacles to a true revolution was the start of a new debate among academics in not only China, but also in the Soviet Union, Germany, and Japan.47 While this did slightly influence Japanese Marxists, Ishimoda surmised, theirs was to be a historiography far different from China’s. Even though they were to apply historical materialism to an analysis of the Meiji Restoration, and even to ancient Japan, their approach was not bound up with the lifestyles and the political mobilization of the Japanese people in the prewar era.48 This was because prewar Japan not only lacked a “correct” understanding of Marxist history as a call to social action by historians, but it had also been at a complete loss to realize the value of “socialist national consciousness” in achieving this objective. It was only in the aftermath of the war,

16 National imagery and international Marxism Ishimoda declared, that “historians of Oriental history” in Japan would be able to appreciate “the tradition of the progress of the ethnic nation in China” and the possibility for all Asia to be given a voice. Like Chinese historians of the 1930s and 1940s, therefore, Japanese historians would need to “reveal the history of the resistance of Asian peoples” against “imperial rule,” and emphasize the “significance of both the Russian and Chinese revolutions to Asian history.”49 In fact, from the mid- to late 1940s, Marxist history in Japan would take as its model Chinese national liberation and Chinese historiography (during and after Japanese imperialism). In this regard, Edward Q. Wang’s overview of Chinese historiography in the prewar and early postwar periods does suggest that the practice of Marxism had become an “interpretive, hermeneutic process, in which the temporal distance between the Marxist text and China’s historical experience became recognized” in order to circumscribe Soviet influence. In other words, Chinese history was reinterpreted and narrated as something that could “make sense of the present” social and political conditions that existed within China. 50 Quite intentionally, then, Stalin’s texts on the historical construction of the nation helped Chinese historians to characterize the specific historical experience of the Chinese people in a way not all that dissimilar from what Ishimoda and his colleagues were attempting in early postwar Japan. The important point to keep in mind here is that everyday existence was rendered through the idea that the people wanted, above all else, national independence. The history of the present, then, would attempt to bring about the awakening of the people to a sense of nation, and thus to the possibility to finally become conscious and active agents of historical change to shape the future. Since this project was also an attempt to render Japanese history and the future in terms of Asian liberation nationalism and a new form of Asian internationalism, Japanese historians would see themselves as involved in a process of worldwide historical change. By the early 1950s, this concern would take the form of searching for ways Japan could contribute to the overturning of “world history” that was seen as having been a “history of the West.”51 Put differently, the idea of the Asiatic Mode of Production for Ishimoda represented not as much a stumbling block to the writing and living of Asian history and agency as did the system of Western modernization that had buttressed capitalism and imperialism. For in order to build upon the example of China, Ishimoda and many members of the Society were convinced that their histories would have to operate within two different, but complementary, moments: namely, a “deconstructionist moment” as well as a “constructionist moment.” Conscious of the fact that radical history in Japan could provide an excellent example of Marxist historiography that was not derivative of European modernity, Ishimoda and other historians were confronted with the dilemma of how to work within the constructionist framework of Marxist history. In other words, even though Stalin’s historical constructionism was seen as indispensable for national awakening and liberation, this constructionist moment would have to be emerge from within a revaluation of world history, Western imperialism, and the Asiatic Mode of Production. In particular, Stalin’s historical constructionism would be adopted within a larger critique of the discourse of a

National imagery and international Marxism 17 “Hegelian” (or “bourgeois”) modernity that had served as the wellspring for Western civilization. From within this critique of Western civilization, then, historical constructionism could be utilized to narrate Japanese history in terms of the contemporary deconstruction of world history led by China, and to a lesser extent India. Deconstruction was to therefore lead to reconstruction. As this suggests, the acceptance of China as a historical and political model took aim less at Marx and the Asiatic Theses, and far more at what were seen as the two pillars of “Western civilization”: ancient Greek civilization and the Orientalism of Hegel.52 As many in the Society saw it, postwar Asia was now afforded the opportunity to develop forms of national cohesion and international cooperation no longer subject to the “civilization” of bourgeois modernity, imperialism, and war. The roots of this civilization of old, Ishimoda and others maintained, lay in the “worldliness” (sekaisei) of Greek culture, and its subsequent ideological influence over European civilization and imperialism. With its emphasis upon civilized/ barbarian, ancient Greece also provided the archetype for many of the later Orientalist discourses that would permeate thinkers like Hegel, Ishimoda insisted.53 Hegel had reaffirmed ancient Greece’s distinction of civilized/barbarian in the notion that Asia was uncivilized and thus had absolutely nothing constructive nor concrete to contribute to world history and politics.54 As a kind of “static history,” the history of Asia was for Hegel something inferior to Western history and civilization. Moreover, according to Ishimoda, Hegel was to support the logical continuation of ancient Greek civilization and the apogee of bourgeois nationalism (i.e., the Prussian bureaucratic state), which developed its own form of internationalism (i.e., cosmopolitanism and imperialism as the story of Western progress). Through this logic, moreover, Ishimoda would find ideological continuity stretching all the way from ancient Greece through Hegel, and eventually to the modern revolutions in France, Britain, and America. The question for Marxist historians to take up, then, was how to reconstruct Japanese history to go beyond the shifting landscape of world history after the war, and arrive at a historical practice that could be “Asian” while also acting as a vector for Japanese collective identity and political mobilization. Ironically, members of the Society like Ishimoda would see in Hegel’s own notion of the “cunning [or irony] of history” the metaphor which best captured this changing landscape during the late 1940s and early 1950s: Ishimoda theorized that postwar Japanese history would have to deconstruct the “Hegelian telos” of Western progress and civilization in order to reinscribe itself within a narrative of Asian national liberation. In other words, just as the deconstructive moment of liberation for China had opened the way for new versions of world history based upon Marxism in Asia, so Japan would have to follow suit. In fact, as will be shown in some of the chapters below, the idea of national awakening looked to the ways in which Chinese historians and intellectuals during the 1930s had educated the public in the most remote of regions, by way of stories, poetry, allegories, heroic tales, and myths. The parallelism between interwar China and early postwar Japan would develop gradually during the late 1940s, and the notion that Japan was itself, in the postwar, a colonized nation fighting a war against America would take hold. This paradigm

18 National imagery and international Marxism would begin in 1947 with the appearance of the Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front (Minzoku Minshu Tôitsu Sensen) in the Japan Communist Party, and its resistance to what it saw as the colonization of Japan by American capital, social policy, and geopolitical interests within East Asia. The National Front was important since it was used to help mobilize students and workers in the name of cultural identity and integrity, not merely in terms of social justice. As this suggests, the initial acceptance of the ideals of the Occupation on the Left in 1945 would several years hence start slowly giving way to a pronounced sense of frustration. By the end of the decade, narratives of cultural colonization and national awakening would make their way into culturalist discourse and finally into Marxist history. This book will, therefore, also take into consideration some of the prewar precursors to the postwar debate, touched upon briefly above, as well as the development of Marxist history during the late 1940s. The emphasis throughout will be upon how Marxist historians constructed narratives of national identity and, ultimately, what the significance of these was toward postwar Japanese nationalism in general. In other words, this book will treat discourses of the nation in terms of what they can tell us about the history of postwar Japanese nationalism, and how historians put forward national histories that were inevitably part of a larger political and social project. As such, it will focus primarily upon how historians, and certain thinkers, attempted to forge their own responses to the perceived crises of the early 1950s. Chapter 2 will look at the debate over progressive forms of ethnic nationalism, during the mid-1930s, among several members of the Historical Science Society. Focusing upon the Yuibutsuron Kenkyûkai (Materialist Study Group), this chapter will propose an explanation as to why the early postwar Society ignored these almost identical prewar discourses. It will suggest that the prewar debate represented a response to specific events during the 1930s that cannot simply be grafted onto the postwar period. Instead, prewar discourses, based upon Stalin’s historical constructionism, must be taken as forms of resistance by Marxist historians to expanded interpretations of the ethnic nation used in Japan’s colonial policy of cultural assimilation. Historians such as Hayakawa Jirô, Tosaka Jun, and Matsubara Hiroshi defined the Japanese minzoku as a historically developed and bounded construct so that culture, history, and politics could be defined within the limits of a minimalist conception of the nation. Chapter 3 traces both the rebirth of Marxist history from 1945, including the founding principles of the postwar Society, and the rehabilitation of the progressive idea of minzoku on the Left by the Japan Communist Party. Between 1945 and 1948, Marxist historians in the Historical Science Society and the JCP basically supported the view that the American Occupation would help facilitate a two-stage process of revolution. This chapter will show how, by 1948, the JCP turned more toward a Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front, and how this was brought into the realm of cultural critique through Takeuchi Yoshimi’s linking of a progressive sense of the Japanese minzoku to Chinese liberation. The chapter will also show that, nevertheless, Marxist history during this phase sought more to integrate Japan into the “basic laws of world history” than to reinvent world history.

National imagery and international Marxism 19 Chapter 4 will take up Marxist history-in-transition between 1948 and 1950, examining the phase in between shifts within the JCP and the complete turn within historical discourse toward arguments of complex colonization. This chapter will also look at some important events that helped push forward the agenda of minzoku bunka and minzoku ishiki within Marxist history by late 1950. These include the outbreak of the Korean War, the Comintern Critique of Japanese Marxism, and the publication of Stalin’s 1950 Concerning Marxism in Linguistics. It shall consider the “critique of modernism” among historians, and the impact of Chinese revolution upon the debate in Japan. It will also take into consideration how discourses of anti-state nationalism developed on the Right during this period, and why they were not as collectively influential as those on the Left. Chapter 5 will begin the close examination of history written from the perspective of the ethnic nation and ethnic national culture. After noting an important division among major historians within the Society, the chapter will take up socalled minzoku faction historians such as Ishimoda, Tôma Seita, and Matsumoto Shinpachirô. As historians of premodern Japan, they focused upon the development of a premodern “germ” to ethnic consciousness and how, through the methodology of historical constructionism, postwar progressive ethnic nationalism could provide the solution to the present day problem of Japanese colonization. Chapter 6 will bring out the other side of the debate within the Society: historians of modern Japan such as Hani Gorô, Inoue Kiyoshi, and Eguchi Bokurô looked to the Meiji Restoration as the founding moment of minzoku ishiki in Japanese history. They asserted that pre-capitalist forms of ethnic national identity were nothing more than the consolidation of the masses by a “despotic system.” On the other hand, after showing how the two sides’ narratives differed, this chapter will also go on to show that some historians from both groups within the Society shared the sub-text of racial unity behind the idea of the ethnic nation. Chapter 7 will take up the coordinated efforts of both groups of historians to achieve a minzoku jikaku, or national awakening, through the education and mobilization of the people. It will also focus upon how national history became part of a strategy for Asian internationalism based upon the liberation of Japan and all of Asia from neo-colonialism. This chapter will look as well to how the “socialist nation,” to be realized in Japan through revolution, was seen as part of a particularly Asian form of world history and international relations. Attention will also be given to how some Marxist historians sought to achieve these ends through the Kokuminteki Rekishigaku Undô during the early to mid-1950s. In conclusion, Chapter 8 discusses the decline of Marxist history from the late 1950s, as well as some of the social and political implications of the discourse of national awakening. It also traces the subsequent shift in postwar ethnic nationalism against the state to the New Right from the late 1960s, and takes up the phenomenon of neo-nationalism in present day Japan. The chapter will establish an important thematic and epistemological link within postwar nationalism to the national awakening of the 1950s, the New Right, and the contemporary revisionism of the Liberal School of History. This analysis will not only include a summary of common themes linking these postwar streams of nationalism, but will also note the

20 National imagery and international Marxism specificities to historical revisionism and neo-nationalism in Japan today. Looking beyond the early postwar, this chapter will integrate Marxist history of the 1950s into the larger postwar context. The conclusion will, therefore, provide the basis for a broader understanding of cultural essentialism and ethnic nationalism as a phenomenon that illustrates the need to go beyond distinctions of “progressive” and “conservative” in evaluating the continued importance of nationalism in contemporary Japan.

2

Marxist history and the ethnic nation during the 1930s

Why should this investigation of early postwar Marxist history begin by looking at the early 1930s? Perhaps the best answer to this initial question lies in the interesting fact that early postwar histories of the Japanese ethnic nation would announce and anoint themselves as being something completely “new” in Japanese historiography and society. Not only was this presentation somewhat historically mistaken, however, it also downplayed the role of Marxist history within both modern Japanese nationalism and political resistance on the Left. The kind of “anti-state,” yet essentialist, interpretations to national identity that were introduced in the previous chapter were by no means relegated to one corner of modern Japanese history – the early 1950s. Rather, the idea of ethnic nationalism, or minzokushugi, as a progressive space from which to critique the state and its policies, can be found throughout Japanese modernity. The use of historical constructionism in this endeavor, nevertheless, does represent a particularly interesting example of such ideas, and can be seen in strikingly similar form during both the early 1930s and the early 1950s. This chapter will focus upon the issue of whether or not it is possible to fully counter the claims of the early postwar Society – namely, that their own version of historical constructionism had no precedent or presence during the prewar period. At the same time, however, it is also necessary to assume that similarities between prewar and postwar versions of historical constructionism by Marxist historians each had their respective historical and political contexts. Even though some of the ideas put forth in each of these periods may seem similar, there is every reason to suppose that they represent two distinct moments in views of the nation and modes of political resistance to the state. It is also true that these prewar discourses will be useful in comparison with the national awakening movement of the early 1950s. In particular, they may help to illustrate the different social meaning associated with what was seen as a time of opportunity and national homogeneity for Japan in the aftermath of empire. In short, while prewar historical constructionism did serve as an important theoretical wellspring for the early postwar, it would also be brought into a new set of conditions for social action and into new images of national homogeneity devoid of imperial contradictions. In assuming that there were very pragmatic reasons for anointing postwar “national awakening” as something completely new to Japanese history, this

22 Marxist history during the 1930s approach will provide an alternative to the often accepted (though never investigated) claim that there was a general mood of “amnesia” with the termination of the war. This refers to a general intellectual mood of disorientation and aporia in Japan over the loss of empire, legitimacy, and history itself, even for many of progressive stripes. The trauma over loss, and in the case of progressive minds the guilt over what had transpired during Japan’s colonization of Asia, in effect produced a collective amnesia. Following this hypothesis, it is possible to explain the utter silence by early postwar Marxist historians toward prewar historical constructionism in terms of what Tomiyama Ichirô has called the postwar “forgetting of a [multi-ethnic] territorial consciousness that had accompanied [Japan’s prewar] expansion into the East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere.” 1 In the aftermath of colonization and war, then, public memory became more inclined toward a collective forgetting of the painful experiences of the past such as the colonial encounter between Japan and Asia and, conversely, the role of Asia in Japanese modernization. By extension, then, Marxist approaches to the nation based upon historical constructionism, with their self-serving critiques of Japanese imperialism and multi-ethnic forms of nationhood, were part of this slippage into collective oblivion after the war. Although the “mass amnesia” idea does not shed light on more rational reasons for inaugurating this early postwar project as something unknown in Japanese discourse, Tomiyama’s position does touch upon a related issue of significant import. The postwar era would be accompanied by public memory that presumed Japan had made the transition from an imperial state with multi-ethnic forms of nationhood and “assimilation,” to a postcolonial nation state that had shed off ethnic diversity and racial tension along with its imperial past. As such, the entire frame of reference for the nation (minzoku) would be something different between prewar and postwar, as would the relationship of intellectuals to the sphere of social action. As discourses of the ethnic nation, therefore, it would be reasonable to concur with Ishimoda and his early postwar colleagues as to the newness of their approach. However, by shifting the focus away from amnesia toward the notion of the transition from empire to postwar nation-state, it becomes possible to ask what purpose may have been served by severing any ties to identical approaches during the prewar. The key to explaining the approach of postwar national awakening as it relates to this stream of prewar Marxist historiography, lies instead in asking what it might have been about prewar Marxist history (and historical constructionism in particular) that was ill-suited to the demands and requirements of the early postwar. What was it about prewar Marxist history of the ethnic nation that could not be applied to the challenges and opportunities of the early postwar?

The Historical Science Society and the “Materialist Study Group” debate of the mid-1930s The Historical Science Society was founded in December 1932 by a group of historians including Hayakawa Jirô, Izu Kimio, Tamura Eitarô, and Mishima Hajime. During its inception in the early 1930s, the Society reflected a somewhat

Marxist history during the 1930s 23 eclectic and diverse array of viewpoints within the discipline of historiography. Reflecting upon the Society’s birth, the contemporary historian Nishikawa Masao surmises that its establishment represented not so much an ideological shift to the Left in Japanese historiography, but more of a generational change on the historiographical landscape. Specifically, he agues that the founding members of the Society were not as much intent upon providing an organized critique of an “emperorcentric view of history” (kôkoku shikan) as they were interested in bringing forth a “new historiography” that would befit them as a new generation of young academics.2 Looking back on the Society in commemoration of its fortieth anniversary in 1972, however, Eguchi Bokurô declared that the Society was indeed founded by young historians seeking to institutionalize progressive views of history. They especially sought to provide a forum in which alternatives to the dominant “emperor-centric view of history” could be proffered.3 In this account, the establishment of the Society, though not linked directly to any political parties or organizations, did represent an organized and coordinated move toward historical approaches and themes critical of imperial histories, especially those based upon the myth of the Kokutai, or emperor-centered polity of the Japanese nation. The latter were represented by figures in imperial history such as Mikami Sanji, Kuroita Katsumi, Tsuji Zennosuke, and Hiraizumi Kiyoshi.4 By contrast, Eguchi notes, many historians within the newly established Society sought to resist both the state and state-centric histories, in a way reminiscent of China’s resistance to Japanese imperialism, through a National Liberation Front that integrated the idea of the nation with social revolution.5 Eguchi’s point is especially noteworthy since it also suggests that as far back as the early 1930s progressive historians in Japan were already looking to China as an important paradigm for their own resistance to Japanese imperialism and statism. Nonetheless, it would not really be until the late 1940s that China would emerge within Japanese Marxist history as a historical space emancipated from the chains of the Asiatic Mode of Production. Seen in broader terms, the formation of the Historical Science Society in December 1932 signaled both the advent of a new generation of historians and historiography, as well as the ascent of Marxist ideas critical of the imperial system within intellectual circles in Japan. There was, in other words, a generational as well as an ideological component behind the formation of the Society. In particular, the need was seen to develop a form of historical scholarship based upon a “scientific” critique of modern Japanese capitalism and the imperial system, in effect building upon the contradictory, yet substantial, foundations of Marxism in Japan from the 1920s. While there were a variety of methodological foci and analyses by its historians, moreover, one common denominator could be found in the attempt to interpret and apply Marxist-influenced ideas to Asia. On the one hand, these included seemingly innocuous and arcane issues like the militaryindustrial complex during the Bakumatsu era, monopoly capitalism during the early Meiji period, and class and status during feudalism. At the same time, however, they also encompassed such themes as land reform and agricultural issues in ancient Korea, as well as observations of Japanese colonial rule in Manchuria, issues

24 Marxist history during the 1930s directly related to the policies of the Japanese state and its colonization of East Asia. One important dimension to the wide array of Marxist historiographies being written from the early 1930s was the effort by some historians to elucidate what were seen as some of the historical characteristics of Japanese capitalist development. For instance, just a couple of years prior to the establishment of the Society, the Symposium on Marxism (Markusushugi Kôza) attempted to show how the imperial system had contributed to the specific character and problems associated with Japanese capitalism. Like the subsequent Symposium on the Historical Development of Japanese Capitalism (Nihon Shihonshugi Hattasushi no Kôza) of 1932, these critiques served from the early 1930s to “lay the groundwork for the systematic application of the Marxist theory of the state to Japan’s imperial system.”6 This scientific critique of Japanese capitalism, furthermore, sought to demystify the modern Japanese state in terms of what it saw as the more unique and idiosyncratic attributes of Japanese capitalism at home, and within the context of Japanese imperialism. As tensions in China escalated during the early 1930s, historians became increasingly concerned with understanding how Japanese capitalism and modernization could be transformed, and what had made Japanese society rather different from other industrialized countries. For Marxist historians, it was equally clear that Japan had to be distinguished from both Western Europe and from Asia. In particular, the specific development of Japanese capitalism was seen as a point of contrast between Japan (which had modernized) and China and India (which had been far less successful in reaching a semi-advanced stage of capitalism).7 Applied to an analysis of the Japanese imperial system, for instance, this meant that the emperor could be seen as an example of “Asian despotism,” an idea that reinforced Japan’s place within Marx’s idea of a “static Orient” in the Asiatic Mode of Production Theses. On the other hand, the fact that Meiji Japan had restored the political power of the imperial system and had layered it onto modern capitalism, meant that Japanese capitalism had its own historical particularities which could not be understood through the idea of the “static Orient” alone. Moreover, it was from this belief that Japanese capitalism contained its own exceptional set of historical conditions that some Marxist historians saw it necessary to examine more closely just how to conceptualize Japanese modernization. As Germaine Hoston surmises, Marxist historians such as Hayakawa Jirô and Hani Gorô approached modern Japanese history in terms of the need for a two-stage revolution. For if “Asiatic remnants of feudalism and absolutism were not destroyed through bourgeois democratic revolution,” then the “proletarian revolution” they envisioned taking place in its aftermath would not come to fruition.8 Actually, this distinction between two forms of revolution raises the important point that prewar Marxism was anything but monolithic. In fact, as far back as the early 1920s, when Marxism first became an important social science and intellectual tool in Japan, there had existed a split among progressive positions over how to problematize and accomplish the shared goal of revolution within the context of Japanese history and society. The Rôno faction favored a direct proletarian

Marxist history during the 1930s 25 revolution in the belief that the Meiji Restoration had been a bourgeois or modern revolution, much like that occurring in France or the United States during the eighteenth century, in that it brought an end to feudalism. This view held that the Japanese working class and the proletariat would need to form a mass movement that could create a socialist revolution and end Japanese imperialism and capitalism. During the 1930s, however, this position would lead its adherents further away from the Soviet Union and the ideas of Joseph Stalin.9 In contrast, some Marxist historians such as Hani Gorô and Hayakawa Jirô were to help develop the Kôza faction position that Japan would first need to create a modern revolution since there still remained significant vestiges of feudal society within Japan. This led to the adoption by Kôza faction historians of what has come to be known as the Theses of 1932, which held that in order for a true socialist revolution to take place in Japan, it would first be necessary to have a modern democratic revolution.10 According to this approach, then, the Meiji Restoration had not eliminated feudalism as modern European revolutions had done. Behind the dissent over how to historically characterize revolution as an issue for Japan, there lay the beginnings of the belief that history could offer one way through which to provide a scientific analysis of the many problems facing Japanese society, its political system, and the state. Marxist history could facilitate a realistic and objective look at what had gone wrong in Japanese modernity and why both the monarchy and a system of feudal social relations had lingered on even after the Meiji Restoration. The anti-imperial history of the Society was, no doubt, seen in part as offering a set of explanations as to what was historically “unique” about Japanese society, in particular an imperial system that continued to preside over a semi-feudal society. Although Japan was modernized, this modernization was presided over by an emperor who was able to maintain both religious authority and political power. For Marxist historians, then, emperor-centric views of history were little more than instruments of the state and the imperial quest for expansion and control. The idiosyncrasies of Japanese capitalism, especially for Marxist historians in the Kôza faction, would need to be placed within a more coherent approach to ideas of the people and the conviction that the peoples of East Asia deserved to be given back their own cultures and nations. It would thus be necessary to represent the nation in ways that could counter imperial history, and serve the larger cause of a two-stage revolution toward socialism. In fact, from the late 1920s, certain Marxist thinkers and historians in Japan would seek to develop the idea of the ethnic nation (minzoku) as just such a counterwork to the capitalist and imperialist state. The scientific critique of the emperor and the state would come from a decentered notion of the nation put forth in terms separate from political organization centered upon the imperial myth, Japanese capitalism, and what was seen as military/bureaucratic rule over the people. Put differently, the revolutions that needed to sweep Japanese society once and for all out of feudalism and toward a post-capitalist form of politics and social organization would be articulated in terms of the criteria of the ethnic nation. For it was the ethnic nation, an idea which assumed the autonomy of the people from the Japanese state, that could afford the means and energy for revolution.

26 Marxist history during the 1930s Thus, it was during the late 1920s that social activists and thinkers like Ôyama Ikuo would begin to approach the development of Japanese capitalism through the development of the ethnic nation. Ôyama was not only a participant in the Symposium on Marxism during this period, but had earlier studied in Germany and been active in the development of Taishô democracy. Ôyama would flee Japan after the Manchurian Incident in 1931 and live in exile in the United States until 1947 (after which he would again come to influence the debate on the ethnic nation in the early postwar period). Before doing so, however, he sought to develop an idea of national community that assumed a “theoretical distinction between the socialist nation (minzoku) and the capitalist state.” Taking the view that nations were the product of historical development, Ôyama drew upon Stalin’s notion that a “correct” form of national existence would include attention to the liberation of the ethnic nation from the state. Borrowing from Otto Bauer, Ôyama saw in the idea of the ethnic nation a new way to approach economic and political analysis.11 Indeed, Otto Bauer had been quite concerned with developing two distinct ideas he saw as necessary for Austrian social democracy in the aftermath of empire and revolution: “community” and “national character.” By the former, Bauer referred not to a sense of shared destiny, or “ontological sameness,” but instead to the “shared experience of living the same fate through ongoing communication and interaction.” This was based upon a “constantly recurring process of identity formation in which the historical conditions of the struggle for existence were mediated through shared culture and heredity.”12 In addition, Bauer’s idea of “national character” would take “nationality” not in terms of the nation-state or political community, but in terms of a national community that was to be distinguished from modern nationalism of nation-states and empires.13 This important development in prewar Japanese and European Marxism not only represented a means to counter imperial or statist histories, but also presented a more democratic alternative to the rise of national essentialism tied to more fascist approaches seen in Japan, as well as in Germany and Austria. For Ôyama, and the Marxist historians to follow during the mid 1930s, progressive conceptions of nationality, community, and national character were no doubt also put forward in conscious distinction to the cultural essentialism of theorists like Watsuji Tetsurô.14 For Watsuji, the national character and sense of community among the Japanese people was not based upon everyday life or history, so much as climactic and geographic considerations. History was only important in so far as it directly shaped the history of Japan’s unique climate, culture, and people. Watsuji’s framework basically suggested a holistic and inescapable connection of the cultural nation to the state, empire, and imperial system. It sought also to rationalize these within designations of cultural uniqueness that overtly determined political community, political consciousness, and social forms of organization. Within international Marxism during this period, however, Bauer’s was not the only approach to the national question, or the problem of how to articulate national autonomy in the context of social democracy, communism, and socialism. As already noted in the previous chapter, Stalin’s definition of the nation represented a seminal influence upon Marxist historians in both the prewar and early postwar

Marxist history during the 1930s 27 periods in Japan. It will also be recalled that Stalin’s historical constructionism stressed historical constitution based upon common language, territory, economic life, and psychological make up manifested in a common culture. On the one hand, both Bauer and Stalin envisioned the nation in terms opposed to fascism and cultural essentialism rooted in any kind of “ontological” existence. On the other hand, Bauer’s idea of “national culture” did take into account the idea of “multinationality” within a national territory. For Bauer, then, the idea of the nation did support a kind of “free association of persons as the basis for a common political and social life,” rather than an absolute and exclusionary “link between nationality, territoriality, and state.” In other words, in Bauer’s post-imperial Austria there was to be a “voluntary association of persons within a larger federal state.”15 Marxist historians in Japan during the 1930s, on the contrary, would have to face the reality of a national existence that was increasingly positioned within a form of statism that supported Asian colonization and amalgamation. Unlike post-imperial Austria, therefore, conceptions of the nation could not support any kind of “multinationality” principle within a federation of East Asian states. For this was part of the very pretext under which the Japanese state and emperor had subjugated its neighbors. To the contrary, the questions of revolution and the nation would have to be broached in terms of progressive forms of nationhood that stressed the immutable link between language, culture, and national territory. The “historical nation” of the Japanese people, like other East Asian peoples, could only be correctly expressed in terms of a socialist minzoku kokka, or ethnic national state on the road to achieving socialism through a series of revolutions. As a result, both Ôyama and Marxist historians such as Hayakawa Jirô, Matsubara Hiroshi, and Tosaka Jun, felt themselves much closer to Stalin’s perspective on the nation, than to that given by Bauer. Of course, in the Soviet Union Stalin’s historical constructionism was supposed (theoretically, at least) to help achieve the “coexistence” of different nationalities. The Historical Science Society and the Studies in Materialism (Yuibutsuron Kenkyû) forum would serve as the vehicle for Hayakawa, Matsubara, Tosaka, and other historians to vent their ideas of Stalin’s historical constructionism. Matsubara’s 1935 article “Minzoku no Kiso Gainen ni tsuite” (On the Basic Concept of the Nation), and his “Minzokuron Chissetsu” (Preface to the Debate on the Nation) of the following year, set this process in motion.16 It was no coincidence that these two forums were initiated just after the Manchurian Crisis between Japan and China. Indeed, both of the above organizations were anti-fascist, and sought to locate within historiography a means to express alternative versions of political community rooted in different forms of cultural existence. Although Matsubara Hiroshi and Hayakawa Jirô were to initiate this dialogue in 1935, it was to be picked up by historians like Tosaka Jun, Izu Kimio, Ohta Takeo, and Hirokawa Ko. In fact, not only was Matsubara influenced by Stalin’s 1913 Marxism and the National Question,17 but during this period he was also working on a Japanese translation of Rajani Palme Dutt’s On Fascism.18 Among other things, Dutt was a supporter of national liberation for India and a leading figure in the Communist Party of Great Britain. Indeed, both Dutt and Matsubara shared an appreciation for Stalin’s emphasis upon Marxism as a discourse of national liberation.

28 Marxist history during the 1930s Matsubara began this debate with his “Minzoku no Kiso Gainen ni oite” (On the Basic Principle of the Ethnic Nation). Here, he contrasted the “ordinary” (tsûjô) sense of the nation in modern Japanese discourse with a new revolutionary sense of nationhood that need not be tied to the imperial state. He argued that since the Meiji era, Japan had known the concept of the nation only in terms of bourgeois ideas and racial hierarchies through the amalgam of kokumin, or civic nation, based upon its fusion with the modern state, and the latter’s role in Japan’s expansion into East Asia. According to Matsubara, the essentialist notion of Japanese ethnicity (Yamato Minzoku) had supported the idea of the nation as something unchanging, even transcendental, and as being an integral part of the imperial system and the state.19 In response, he suggested it was necessary to take up Stalin’s position that the nation (minzoku) need not be conceived in terms of racial or tribal community, but instead as one “type of human community” that was “historically constructed.” Indeed, he also asserted that as one type of “community” (kyôdôtai), this sense of the ethnic nation could be distinguished from the German idea of race (jinshu/ Rassen) and that of tribe (shuzoku/Stamme).20 Matsubara had, therefore, also set his sights upon Nazi German ideology as one example of an ontologically essentialist, and thus “unscientific,” appropriation of national community. Against these privileged representations of Japanese culture, Matsubara sought to develop the means to construct principles of both nationality and scientific objectivity. He maintained that the nation owed its existence to the development of specific communal and national characteristics that could be empirically verified independently of ideology or politics. According to Matsubara, Japan’s feudal era had witnessed the development of “common economic lifestyles,” so that a (pre)national community was able to build the social and cultural structures required to enter capitalism and the concrete formation of an “ethnic national culture” (minzokuteki bunka).21 The progression of history toward capitalism, and eventually socialism, had brought with it the emergence of distinct and concrete cultural particularities and national character. Historical agency was thus connected to this historically constructed sense of identity, as well as to the process of social and historical progression. In addition, Matsubara seems to have supported the idea that the ethnic nation existed before society had reached beyond the feudal stage of development. For example, he suggested that Stalin’s approach to the ethnic nation was based upon a certain randomness of historical development, insofar as the specific content and character of development did not depend upon ideology, determinism, or the dictates of the state. In other words, the premodern existence of the Japanese ethnic nation could be distinguished from other accounts of national life in that it supported historical ethnicity over race. History was seen as something random, and by extension free and unfettered of racial ideas rooted in blood-lineage, or a metaphysical link between racial characteristics and the imperial system, which had been proposed by Watsuji. Matsubara also hinted that non-Marxist versions of history, state-centric histories for instance, were in fact imprinted within ontologies of racial criteria ordained through the influences of climate, blood, and national metaphysics. Hayakawa Jirô’s 1936 “Nihon Minzoku no Keisei Katei” (The Formation of the Japanese Ethnic Nation) deepened and modified some of Matsubara’s ideas, while

Marxist history during the 1930s 29 also providing a more elaborate and overarching look at historical constructionism applied to Japanese history. A founding member of the Society in 1932, Hayakawa came to express a position on the nation and history that would directly foreground Ishimoda’s monumental Discovery of History and the Nation some sixteen years hence. More so than Matsubara, Hayakawa’s analysis represented an intricate account of how ethnic national consciousness developed through different stages of Japanese history that sought to describe the complexity of national consciousness.22 The nation, in Japanese history, was not only an objective entity whose development and characteristics could be empirically verified, it could also be traced in terms of factors such as politics, consciousness, and ideology. These were no longer peripheral to historical progress and development, with an economic base serving to provide the true locomotive to historical change. Instead, the “unique” social and political circumstances facing Japan could be expressed within dimensions often seen in Marxist theory as “superstructural.” In this sense, Hayakawa was a contemporary of Antonio Gramsci and the latter’s belief that Italian national unification against fascism involved elements of culture, ideology, and “hegemony” that transcended hard-edged splits between economic base and ideological superstructure.23 Nevertheless, there were also some serious problems in Hayakawa’s rendition of Japanese history that would be reproduced in early postwar discourses of the nation by other Marxist historians. These problems raise serious questions as to how far Japanese appropriations of historical constructionism would go to eliminate the “ontological” essentialism they so decried in state-centric histories and theories of the family state. On the question of race, for example, Hayakawa claimed that nations like Japan had developed from a unitary “race” and common blood ancestry. The net result was that the historical development in Japan of a common language, culture, economic mores, and territory had produced a different “national type” (minzokugata) than could be found in places like America. From the perspective of historical development of the ethnic nation, Hayakawa went on to assert that consciousness of a common ethnic national identity in Japan needed to take into consideration the incontestable fact that the Japanese (nihonjin) belonged to a unitary, blood-related group.24 In this view, the racial quality of historical development and national agency was to be described as a composite moment based upon the homogenizing of a racial admixture in Japan from China and Korea over one thousand years past. Through cultural and racial hybridity that ultimately produced an “indigenous” form of cultural homogenization, then, the ethic nation had over one thousand years before already become a single racial unit. Through the subsequent development and “unification” of economic mores, territory, language, and culture, Japanese ethnic national culture, or minzoku bunka, had emerged during Japanese feudalism, Hayakawa surmised.25 Therefore, it is possible to find the first instance of what would become the crucible of Japanese historical constructionism, and its resistance to statist histories and imperialism, by Marxist historians of the mid-1930s. That is, Hayakawa gives us one early example of the conviction that racial homogeneity could be a progressive concept so long as it belonged to narratives of “historical” and “populist”

30 Marxist history during the 1930s development that divorced themselves from imperialism and the modern state. In a manner of speaking, then, the ideology of race meant one thing when it became dogma for the family state, imperial ideology, and expansionism. It became something much more acceptable when it was incorporated into histories of how national development and consciousness belonged to the people, rather than to the state. Indeed, this position most likely found a good deal of theoretical legitimacy from Stalin’s assertion that the nation, when taken as a “historically constituted community of people,”26 in effect lost any connotations of “race” or “tribe.” For the latter could only relate to bourgeois ideologies of nationalism based upon false beliefs in the imperial myth and Shinto nativism, for example. In other words, so long as it was made part of the moving machinery of historical constructionism, the idea of race could play a part in the historical development of the nation. In fact, the principle of racial continuity could even become something dynamic, contingent, and therefore ideologically acceptable. Since the nation represented something ordained not by the state or its institutions, but instead something shaped as merely one contingent form of human community, it was seen by Hayakawa as the antithesis of approaches to history that stressed cultural and political communities based upon the ideology of shared “blood.” Instead, the historical idea of race would allow it to become a kind of dependent variable within the larger narrative of ethnic national history, all juxtaposed against the capitalist state. The ethnic nation, so long as it could be expressed in historical constructionism, could respond to statism and political ideology with notions of progress, resistance, and flexible contingency. Hayakawa also maintained that the development and emergence of a pronounced consciousness of ethnic national community and identity helped to prepare the way for the historical transition to Japanese feudalism, and subsequently, to capitalism. In particular, he examined the process through which Japanese tribal society (shizoku shakai) had long ago dissolved, come to be replaced by the direct predecessors of the sense of minzoku in feudalism, and finally developed into a fully formed nation with the advent of capitalism.27 Moreover, he also surmised that consciousness of collective national identity had influenced the development of Japanese history in the ancient, feudal, and capitalist (modern) periods. As already noted, Hayakawa held that the formation of the nation and development of capitalism did not necessarily always go hand in hand. To back up this hypothesis, Hawakawa maintained that while the roots of capitalism lay in the feudal period, the origin of the nation was situated in a process of historical development that had begun much earlier. Fundamentally, Hayakawa asserted that there were periods in Japanese history when, owing to political, social and economic conditions, the function and development of ethnic national consciousness was able to leap beyond the corresponding stage of the relations of production and historical development. In fact, he argued that during the Bakumatsu period, the beginnings of modern production and social relations were not the immediate result of any change in economic structure, per se. Rather, the entry into a capitalist stage of national development had been precipitated and caused by a swelling in ethnic national consciousness among the

Marxist history during the 1930s 31 people owing to the appearance of foreign powers.28 Conversely, there were also periods during which ethnic consciousness ebbed, corresponding to times when there was relative peace between Japan and foreign countries, as in the feudal period. Hayakawa thus saw collective ethnic national consciousness as integral to, yet still flexible in relation with, the process of historical development – both in terms of the formation of common cultural characteristics and the development of relations of production. In effect, Hayakawa added a new aspect to the agency or ability of the people to produce historical change, by putting political consciousness within the domain of the people, rather than economic conditions, on the one hand, or the modern state, on the other. By extension, then, revolution in Japan depended upon activating and utilizing the power of ordinary people (via ethnic national consciousness) to produce social change toward new forms of social organizations. From this approach, Hayakawa also thought it necessary to consider how “national essentialism” (kokusuishugi) had facilitated the unique combination of monopoly capital and imperial expansion in modern Japanese history. One of Hayakawa’s primary concerns in his critique of Japanese imperial ideology and modernity, however, was justifying the idea of a new Japan reconstructed within the spatial borders of the historical ethnic nation. Thus, he noted that it would be worthwhile to pursue not only Japan’s “German-style” transformation to a capitalist state with a fully formed nation protecting state-driven development, but as well to interrogate the emergence of the subsequent “imperialistic” (teikokushugiteki na) national idea in Japan since the Meiji period. Here, Hayakawa’s suggestion was rooted in the belief that the development of Japanese imperialism owed its existence to statist forms of ethnic nationalism and “discourses of national essence” (kokusuiron). The idea of a timeless national essence was not only a problem for Japan, therefore, but had also become a major thorn in the side of East Asia. For Hayakawa, then, although monopoly capital may have been the instrument through which Japan expanded into East Asia, the politics and ideology of national essence were also an integral part of this project.29 Furthermore, it was also during this same year of 1936 that Matsubara’s and Hayakawa’s venture into the scientific and historical construction of the ethnic nation and ethnic national culture, touched off further debate among a number of Marxist historians. Immediately following the publication of Matsubara’s and Hayakawa’s articles, in late 1936 the journal Yuibutsuron Kenkyû took up Marxist representations of the ethnic nation, or “national question.”30 This subsequent discussion of how to represent the idea of minzoku began with no less of a figure than Tosaka Jun, an important intellectual in prewar Japanese Marxism. After providing an elaborate series of designations from German into Japanese regarding concepts such as Volk, state, and people, Tosaka surmised that the idea of the civic nation (kokumin) should be separated from that of the ethnic nation. This was because the former referred specifically to one’s “membership” in the state, while the latter, in contradistinction, designated something that could be defined and considered in terms not dependent upon preassigned forms of political community. Picking up on Stalin’s historical constructionism and Hayakawa’s insertions of race within it, Tosaka proposed the idea that the nation should be seen as an empirical

32 Marxist history during the 1930s “category” rooted in “social relations,” and as therefore something different from the ideas of both race and tribe.31 Tosaka thus assumed, by placing the notion of minzoku within Stalin’s basic notion of historical constructionism and texturing it with the notion of “social relations” associated with historical development, the idea of the ethnic nation could escape many of the pejorative connotations of racial extremism common to fascism. Likewise, by setting the idea of the nation apart from the state, while defining the civic-nation in terms of the “imperial nation-state,” Tosaka was also able to couch the issue of the nation as something ontologically discreet from the capitalist state. This was in line with Bauer’s critique of capitalism and Ôyama’s late 1920s interpretation of that critique. Lending his voice and ideas to this debate, Izu Kimio, another founding member of the prewar Society, followed up on some of these points by examining the history of music, a topic seemingly unrelated to the perils of Japanese imperialism. In particular, he argued that the history of Renaissance music in Europe provided a good (and “non political”) example of how the development of “national music” (kokumin ongaku) represented the forced assimilation of different kinds of “ethnic music” (minzoku ongaku). The emergence of national music from the sixteenth century in Europe, Izu maintained, in fact mirrored the much larger project of “national unification” (kokuminteki tôitsu) through bourgeois revolution. The thrust of Izu’s elliptical argument was that various peoples had historically been forcibly incorporated into the political amalgam of “kokumin” in order to unify the feudal state in the direction of capitalist development, as stronger peoples conquered and subjugated weaker ones into their own territories.32 Like others in this prewar debate such as Hirokawa Ko, Izu borrowed from Lenin and from Stalin the idea of a “germ,” or “seed,” of the ethnic nation during the pre-capitalist stages of historical development.33 Yet, Izu’s chief interest lay in the belief that the colonial (or later-imperialist) stage of capitalism in world history was at the center of the national question in his own day. It was therefore essential for colonized and subjugated peoples to achieve independence from culturalist ideologies such as assimilation, and from the political control of minorities by colonizing states. From this field of concern, moreover, Izu concluded that the autonomous “historical character” of ethnic nations needed to be contrasted with the “ahistorical amalgam” of diverse peoples into the designation of “civic-nation” in, for example, Italian and German fascism. However, Izu also directly included Japan in his analysis by lamenting the fact that it had suppressed ethnic music in both Korea and Taiwan, substituting it with Japanese style songs and military music. This practice he contrasted with the Soviet Union’s policy of encouraging Ukrainian minzoku ongaku, and by extension the “emancipation” and “cultural independence” of Soviet peoples in the spirit of coexistence and equality.34 Here, the idea of national autonomy, expressed in terms of cultural independence, served as an oblique critique of fascism, imperialism, and multi-ethnic forms of statehood. In contrast to this forced amalgamation of peoples into empires and imperial cultures, the Soviet Union had clearly demonstrated Stalin’s principle of the “co-existence of different peoples” within a socialist state that had gone beyond the need for either modern nationalism or imperialism.

Marxist history during the 1930s 33 Utsumi Takashi joined this discussion by adding that we need to look at the problem of the ethnic nation as more or less a conflict between two fundamentally different ontologies of, and approaches to, the notion of national community. Basically, Utsumi took aim at what may be called the “bourgeois” sense of national consciousness, which presupposed a conception of society that is “fixed and eternal.” According to Utsumi, this approach also assumed that what are really mutable and developmental factors – language, lifestyles, and political systems – exist in fixed relations to one another and are therefore “objective” constructs linked to “tribal” consciousness and ultimately to nativist conceptions of ethnic nationalism. Utsumi maintained that this approach ignored the role of history in taking both the capitalist system and the dominant minzoku (in a multi-ethnic, bourgeois/kokumin state) as possessing temporal “eternality” and spatial boundlessness.35 Marxist approaches to history, in contrast, should seek to replace “objective” factors like blood with “historical” and “process oriented” phenomena. Utusmi’s approach also showed how the development of the ethnic nation was not an “inevitable” by-product of capitalism, but was instead interwoven with historical processes that resulted in the emergence, and often the political subjugation, of individual peoples to the larger enterprise of capitalism.36 As should be obvious by now, historians like Utsumi and Tosaka not only drew upon Stalin’s notion of the nation as a historical construct, but also added to historical constructionist ideas their own views on national liberation and imperialism. For example, Utsumi noted that the national question had historically begun with the transition to imperialism and the subsequent domination of one minzoku by another. He also added to Tosaka’s account of how imperialism meant the subjugation of weaker people’s by stronger ones, and the making into a political “other” of those peoples external to newly unified states, what may be seen as modern nationalism and internationalism, respectively. His analysis was similar to that of Tosaka’s in emphasizing the historical mission of people’s movements and movements for self-determination among colonized peoples. Such peoples and movements contributed to the ascendancy of a new kind of “internationalism” (kokusaishugi), as well as the decline of official nationalism (kokuminshugi). In Utsumi’s estimation, Germany, Italy, and Japan had made the national question a problem of national liberation from forced assimilation and political subjugation.37 The latter lay in visceral contrast to what was seen as the Soviet Union’s policies of “equality,” fairness, and reciprocity toward the coexistence of different nations and the “promotion” of a variety of ethnic cultures (minzoku bunka).38 No doubt, the debate on the ethnic nation in Japan during the mid 1930s also brought into focus a number of streams in international Marxism which would be reconsolidated in the aftermath of the war, picking up on the “national socialism” thrust of the Third International. In the aftermath of World War I and the break up of Imperial Russia and Germany, as well as the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Third International set the course of international Marxism away from international cooperation among labor or working classes, and more toward theories of the nation. In particular, Marxism was to become part of a new emphasis upon national liberation from colonization among oppressed peoples. This translated into more

34 Marxist history during the 1930s concern over the role of ideology and consciousness, over class, within historical change, and reflected a pronounced concern with developing alternatives to fascism in Europe. Moreover, it also meant new conceptions of national identity and social change would be implemented in order to pave the way for alternatives to modern nationalism. Indeed, these very themes would come to play a central role in the later project of national awakening put forth by Ishimoda during the early 1950s: narratives of historical change would replace the trope of working class with that of “nation.” Just as within international Marxism, Marxist historians would see the “national project” as a “precondition for socialism.” The “struggle for national self-determination became the struggle for national liberation, and internationalism became associated with solidarity among ‘fraternal peoples.’” 39 This would, however, be accomplished through a dramatic turn in historical narrative toward depicting the postwar Japanese people as the object of external colonization.

Contextualizing 1930s progressive discourses of the ethnic nation The contemporary historian Hiroshi Bandô has taken note of the many similarities between this prewar Marxist discourse, and what would become the project of national awakening during the 1950s. In fact, Bandô has claimed that Matsubara’s and Hayakawa’s historiographies constituted a “legacy that could legitimately have been considered” by early postwar historians interested in taking up the same issues.40 The question to be asked, therefore, concerns why prewar Marxist discourses may have later been seen as useless, perhaps even harmful, to the postwar cause of national awakening and social revolution. Even though the circumstances in Japan and East Asia would be quite different between prewar and early postwar periods, it is also true that many of the same theoretical principles and arguments would be applied during both periods. Yet, the answer to this question lies less in how international Marxism or East Asian geopolitics were transformed after World War II, and more within how narratives of national liberation were positioned vis-à-vis the opportunity for revolution and social change. As viewed from the early postwar period in particular, prewar Japanese Marxism had basically failed to achieve any kind of bourgeois or socialist revolution. The historical constructionism of Stalin, for example, had been entirely ineffective in building a popular consensus against the Japanese state and the absorption of other peoples into Japanese fascism and ultra-nationalism. Indeed, from the mid 1930s, Japanese colonization of Taiwan and Korea was on the precipice of entering a more intense phase in its “assimilation policy” (dôka seisaku) aimed at making Koreans and Taiwanese imperial subjects (kôminka seisaku). Here we see one probable example of how the kokumin idea of multiethnicity, at least within the minds of historians like Izu, Ohta, and Utsumi, embodied a series of power relations that jeopardized the identities and cultures of minority peoples. Although the attempted effacement of the Korean language, for instance, and the fully extended might of Japan’s prewar “bunka tôgô seisaku,”41 or policy of cultural assimilation, would become pervasive by the late 1930s, during

Marxist history during the 1930s 35 the period in which these historians were writing such policies had already become influential. The fact that some of the historians examined above did compare the Soviet Union’s policy of encouraging Ukrainian cultural independence with Japanese suppression of ethnic culture in both Korea and Taiwan, suggests an important contrast. On the one hand, Japanese policies had absorbed and displaced other peoples by seeking to incorporate them into the imperial state. On the other hand, the Soviet Union had provided an example of “coexisting” peoples and national cultures within one socialist federation. Of course, the debate within Japan during this period, even among Marxist historians, was far from monolithic. Some Marxist historians such as Takahashi Sadanobu and Watanabe Yoshimichi, in sharp contrast to the historians examined above, were to support the proposition that Korea could become completely assimilated into the Japanese nation. As Ôguma Eiji has shown, a number of Marxist historians sought to build upon the ideas of anthropologists like Torii Ryuzô, who supported the notion that Koreans belonged to the same nation as Japanese (naichijin). In particular, these historians incorporated Marxist theory into Torii’s anthropological argument for the amalgamation (kongô) of the Japanese and Korean peoples.42 Although some Marxist historians did support this amalgamation of Koreans as Japanese imperial subjects (ostensibly to eradicate discrimination against Koreans), Matsubara and Hayakawa would likely have retorted that such policies robbed Korea of its cultural and political independence. It is reasonable to speculate that Matsubara, Hayakawa, Tosaka, and their colleagues were acutely aware that assimilation policies designed to eliminate racial distinctions only served the political ends of Japanese imperial policy, which in turn created a new de facto set of racial hierarchies. As Tessa Morris-Suzuki has argued, the idea of a “melting-pot image of Japanese origins meshed beautifully with colonial assimilationist policies” because if Japanproper had already “succeeded in melding together people from a wide range of racial and linguistic backgrounds,” it could also do so in its colonial territories. That is, behind assimilation policies in East Asia lay the idea that a policy of racial “hybridity” and “mixed origins” could help to support Japanese colonialism. In other words, the fate of East Asian peoples was to become absorbed into the syncretic idea of Yamato Minzoku.43 Indeed, it was most likely in response to these maximalist or assimilationist appropriations of the ethnic nation, that Tosaka, Hayakawa, and Matsubara proposed a version of the ethnic nation that was neither assimilationist nor statist. By removing the prewar state from their equation, the idea of hybridity that was originally affixed to state imperialism could be displaced by a version of the ethnic nation as both historical and built-upon racial homogeneity. As a result, members of the Yuibutsuron Kenkyû debate often focused during this period upon the inherent legitimacy of ethnic and cultural distinctions among Japan and other East Asian ethnic nations. If Japan, Taiwan, Korea, and China were each individuated according to their respective traditions the Japanese state’s hidden claim to racial superiority, based upon a Yamato Minzoku that alone could become the center of cultural advancement and assimilation,44 would be undercut.

36 Marxist history during the 1930s By introducing Stalin’s historical constructionism, Marxist historians opposed to assimilationist policies of the imperial state could implicitly justify the existence of a Korean nation separate from the Japanese nation, and at the bare minimum its right to linguistic and cultural autonomy. In utilizing historical constructionism they were also able to suggest a politically and culturally minimalist sense of the Japanese nation based upon a historiography of unitary ethnicity and historical time. This could serve to refute the more syncretic ideas of anthropologists and other historians who had advocated an extra-territorial absorption of peoples – not only in the materialist and ideological domain of imperial expansion, but as well within the field of cultural/national identity. In other words, Hayakawa and his colleagues sought to create a historical space that could fundamentally alter the ontology of national community within Japan, as well as in relation to other Asian peoples; the historical space belonging to the Japanese nation went as far as Hokkaidô and Okinawa, and no further. Thus, the recognition of Japan as a colonizing and overexpanding presence in Asia, both in terms of state-sponsored policies and cultural strategies, meant that first and foremost the Japanese minzoku would need to withdraw from Asia before national independence and coexistence could become a reality. As such, prewar representations of historical constructionism sought to conceptualize one possible alternative to bourgeois national consciousness (kokuminshugi) and imperialism since the Meiji era, as well as counter-strategies by other Marxist historians who wanted the nation to remain assimilationist. They were, therefore, quite different from the principles under which the national question was approached within the Soviet Union under Stalin. For Matsubara, Hayakawa, Izu, Tosaka, and like-minded historians participating in this debate during the mid 1930s, the (perhaps impossible) task was to create a conception of the Japanese nation based upon a minimalist space of ethnic national identity as revealed by history. Their tone suggested that they hoped some kind of minimalist sense of the ethnic nation could one day become the foundation for national coexistence (in whatever form that would assume) among the people’s of Japan, China, Korea, and Taiwan. Nevertheless, historical constructionism during the 1930s did little to make itself the basis of radical social action aimed at sweeping political change, even though a crisis of modernity, culture, and capitalism was indeed taking place at the time. Even though prewar historical constructionism served as a counter-discourse against Japanese imperialism, and what was seen as a subordinate form of multi-ethnic statehood, prewar historians were not able to initiate a social project through which to mobilize the ethnic nation in Japan. This meant that their assumptions of national homogeneity, based upon race, would not become the basis for mass political movements from below, nor made the lynchpin to social action and political culture. Looked at from the burning desire of the early 1950s to fuse history with politics and social revolution, therefore, earlier attempts to liberate the Japanese nation and its cousins in East Asia, must have seemed a fatally flawed, though well-intentioned, exercise in historical commentary. In fact, if we take Ishimoda at his word, it would seem that early postwar objections to Marxism and Marxist history of the 1930s were quite cut and dried. Ishimoda declared that postwar Marxist history, unlike its prewar predecessors,

Marxist history during the 1930s 37 would have to once and for all “reveal the history of the resistance of Asian nations” “against imperial rule” and to make clear the “significance of the Russian and Chinese revolutions to world history and the fate of Asian nations.”45 Prewar history had not been able to bring revolution to the people, nor to capitalize upon the momentum from revolution in the Soviet Union, and resistance to Japan within China. For, however bold the prewar discourses of historical constructionism were, they represented more of a theoretical debate and dialogue that did not purport nor succeed in changing the direction of national consciousness. For all intents and purposes, they remained impervious to the sphere of politics and social conscience. Although perhaps significant in reinforcing individual historian’s personal resistance to Japanese fascism and imperialism, the prewar advocacy of historical constructionism was not able to become the basis for a mass movement against state policies. Indeed, many Marxists and liberals during the 1930s engaged in tenkô, which refers to a kind of “conversion” for social and political, more than ideological, motivations. Translating this term as a “conversion that occurs under the pressure of state power,” the contemporary historian Tsurumi Shunsuke breaks the phenomenon down into two parts: the role of the state in coercing individuals and groups to “convert,” and the “response chosen by the individual or group.” As an example of the latter form of conversion, Tsurumi notes that in the aftermath of the Manchurian Incident in 1931, some on the Left found themselves at odds with popular opinion which had turned in the direction of support for Japan’s actions in China. Of the several reasons cited by Tsurumi for “conversion” during this period, two stand out: “regard for family” and “consciousness of membership in the Japanese nation.”46 These suggest that personal and professional safety in the face of rising militarism and fascism, along with growing reluctance to support theories and ideas that contradicted national essentialism based upon inclusion in the state, together constituted over half of the ostensible reasons for conversion. The coercion and pressure of the state upon Marxist historians and intellectuals, not to mention the Japan Communist Party, was especially harsh. For example, by 1938 the Materialist Study Group was forced to “voluntarily” disband. Subsequently, the Society’s journal, Rekishigaku Kenkyû, also ceased operations. None of the historians involved in the prewar debate over historical constructionism, however, “converted” to the cause of the state (Tosaka and Hawakawa actually would not live to see the conclusion of the war). At the same time, however, a number of intellectuals on the Left, such as Ôyama Ikuo and Nosaka Sanzô, were forced into exile until the war’s end. Some Marxist historians such as Hani Gorô refused to “convert” and were subsequently arrested, often numerous times. In 1935, moreover, the Central Committee of the JCP was disbanded, and many communists remaining were either imprisoned or fled the country.47 In this regard, it is likely that the failure of prewar Marxism and Marxists to effectively resist the encroachments of the state also lay partially behind the ease with which some of the prewar debates on the nation were swept under the rug. Although Marxist historians within the Society were not formally affiliated with the Japan Communist Party, it was certainly the case that historians like Hayakawa,

38 Marxist history during the 1930s Tosaka, and Matsubara shared much ideologically with the JCP. This was especially so regarding the “two-stage theory of revolution” supported by one wing of the JCP and the Kôza faction of historians that engaged in the Studies in Materialism debate. As Germaine Hoston notes, the imprisonment and subsequent “conversion” of JCP leaders away from Marxism and toward the state had by 1935 set in motion a “massive wave” of conversions “by Japanese Marxists to the ‘national cause.’” In fact, just as the Studies in Materialism debate was going on, the interests of the state were heavily engaged in creating “public unity in support of the war against China” such that “tenkô engulfed the Left and finally culminated in the collapse of the Japan Communist Party by 1935.”48 More precisely, Hoston maintains that it is necessary to classify “converts” on the Left into those who rejected Communism, and those few who sought to “adapt Marxism to the Japanese context by transforming it into a nationalist and statist variety of socialism.”49 Indeed, the defections of important JCP members like Sano Manabu and Nabeyama Sadachika suggested that it would be possible to water-down Marxist principles to make them fit the situation at hand. For instance, both insisted that the Japanese imperialist system expressed national unity and led to the eradication of class conflict. They upheld the idea of the “family-state,” headed by the emperor, and asserted that it did indeed have a “popular foundation” among the people. 50 Moreover, they decried the notion that there was any need for the liberation of Asian peoples from Japanese colonial rule. In the face of the threat from the West against Asian civilization, they both maintained, “the concepts of independence of colonies and national self-determination” were little more than “bourgeois concepts.” The peoples of nations like Korea and Taiwan would instead have to “merge” with Japan.51 Taking advantage of this, Ishimoda and his colleagues in the postwar Society could have turned the tables on the issue of prewar conversion by illustrating the relative independence of historical constructionism during the mid-1930s. In a manner of speaking, then, converts from the JCP such as Sano and Nabeyama, would have provided a fine contrast to the approaches of Hayakawa, Matsubara, Tosaka, and the rest. On the one hand, after his conversion, Sano argued that Marxism had failed to emphasize the role of the ethnic nation and had merely assumed the nation to be “separable” from the state and proposed a form of “socialism in one country” that would also embrace a kind of pan-Asianism, with Japan at the helm.52 In contrast, the discourses examined in this chapter, while assuming the racial homogeneity of the nation, did emphasize cultural autonomy for Asian peoples subjugated by Japan, and sought to retain a critique of the state through the existence of the ethnic nation. While scores of Marxists had converted by 1935, and even some Marxist historians and anthropologists had begun to support the “hybridity” of the Japanese nation, the historians examined in this chapter did in fact seek to develop critiques of capitalism, statism, and imperialism. Looked at in this way, it is indeed lamentable that within the postwar memory of the 1930s these discourses of resistance were left to drift into oblivion. By the time early postwar discourses on the Left made it to the point of national awakening during the early 1950s, however, the stage had already been set. No

Marxist history during the 1930s 39 longer an imperial power with any possibility of racial hybridity or an expansionist state, the postwar nation would claim to speak on behalf of its members through the frame of a post-imperial form of cultural homogeneity. The trope of the ethnic nation within historical constructionism would become the centerpiece for an entirely new narrative of “cultural colonization” that in effect put the nation on the receiving end of empire and imperium, at least as far as the national awakening movement was concerned. In the early postwar climate of “repentance” over the way many Marxists had changed their stripes during the prewar, it is also quite likely many on the Left were in no mood to justify the positions taken during the 1930s. For, on the whole, Marxist historians had supported cultural hybridity as much, if not more, than they had cultural and national autonomy vis-à-vis Asia.

3

Rebuilding Marxist history and rethinking the nation, 1945–1948

Marxist history in the aftermath of the war The inauguration of the postwar Society in January of 1946 represented for many historians a chance to develop historical approaches that were “scientific” and could help bridge the gap between Japanese history and world history. In particular, the goals and methods of the Society had to accommodate themselves to a completely different world from the prewar period. Imperialism was no longer the immediate concern; in its place, the historical obstacles to bourgeois democratic revolution in modern Japan would occupy a central role. Many of those pivotal to the resuscitation of the Society in 1946 and the reinstating of the Society’s journal, Rekishigaku Kenkyû, were active during the prewar period. For instance, historians like Hani Gorô had been involved in the 1932 Symposium on the Development of Japanese Capitalism, while others like Mishima Hajime had been instrumental in the founding of the original Society. Other important figures in the postwar start of the Society included historians active during the 1930s like Usami Seijiro. Additionally, historians such as Tôma Seita, Ishimoda Shô, Matsumoto Shinpachirô and Inoue Kiyoshi, central figures in the early 1950s debate on the role of minzoku in history, were present at the postwar (re)creation of the Society and Rekishigaku Kenkyû. One important principle spelled out for the first postwar edition of this journal in June 1946 included the determination to pursue history as an independent academic discipline based upon “scientific truth,” while paying careful attention to the correct relationship between historians and the people (jinmin). As part of the two-stage theory of revolution, then, the people were to be linked to the new struggle to achieve democracy and their proper place in world history. Historians were to play a central role in this process by developing history as a scientific discipline that could be conveyed to, and understood by, the public at large. Indeed, Bandô Hiroshi notes that Eguchi himself would later make reference to the “limited connection” between prewar Marxist historians and “mass movements” as one reason behind the subsequent rejection of the prewar “legacy.”1 In this regard, the postwar critique of prewar Japanese nationalism represented an early attempt by Marxist historians to make a “modern” and “scientific” form of history that, during the prewar, had not been able to withstand emperor-centric histories and the power of the state. Postwar historians would thus have to reverse the “unscientific”

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 41 character of Japanese history and build a “modern scientific” approach that emphasized the “activities and lives of the people.”2 This meant, first and foremost, that historians would have to insure that Japanese society and history could be brought to a point that was consistent with “democracy and world history.”3 It also meant, conversely, that the Society would have to reject “statism (kokkashijoshugi), national purity (kokusuishugi), militarism, feudalism, and warped ethnic nationalism (henkyô na minzokushugi).”4 Interestingly, even when Marxist historians would become disenchanted with bourgeois modernity from the late 1940s, they would nevertheless narrate this later shift as something essential to the original postwar goal of developing “historical science,” along with the contention that this had not been done satisfactorily in the prewar years. Both Marxist historians and leaders within the JCP partook of a rather paradoxical existence in the immediate aftermath of the war. Prewar Marxist historians who preferred to resist rather than to “convert,” such as Hani Gorô, were accorded the status of valiant warriors in the fight against prewar fascism and ultra-nationalism. In addition, many JCP leaders had either fled or been imprisoned during the 1930s, and their postwar return to Japanese society was met with much fanfare and accolade. These included Nosaka Sanzô, who, it will be recalled, fled to China in the early 1930s, Ôyama Ikuo, who returned from the United States in 1947, and Tokuda Kyûichi, an important figure in the JCP who had spent well over a decade in prison. In this sense, then, Marxist historians and leaders of the JCP alike were able to have unprecedented legitimacy as social reformers and activists.5 Indeed, it was to be a new “age of enlightenment” for historians and thinkers on the Left, as the movements and histories they organized became an important part of contemporary social life. This meant it would become socially acceptable to support Soviet Marxism, and Stalinism in particular. On the other hand, communist and Marxist thinkers, especially those who “converted” during the prewar period, helped insure that the general mood on the Left would be that of a “community of contrition” and remorse over their own inability to prevent what had happened in the prewar years.6 While the newfound social legitimacy of the Left would give them the ear of the general public more than in many times past, the sense of remorse over not having achieved a democratic revolution would oblige Marxist historians to focus upon what had gone wrong. In this vein, the early postwar JCP joined forces with groups on the Left such as the Democratic Scientists’ Association (Minshushugi Kagakusha Kyôkai). As will be shown in later chapters, this group would become, along with the Society, important to the People’s History Movement during the 1950s. The alliance between the JCP and this group from 1946, moreover, set its sights upon reconstructing a kind of ‘proletarian cultural movement’ for democratic change. Although these had existed in Japan from the late 1920s, the postwar alliance between the JCP and the Association focused especially upon rectifying the “flaws” in Japanese “scientific activity.” To do this, they united scholars, researchers, and intellectuals toward their goal of making “progressive traditions” for democratic culture and social change, including educational reform. Science and intellectual energy, in other words, would have to work for a democratic revolution and causes of the people.7

42 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 As Naohara Hiromichi notes, such movements began as early as one month after the end of World War II, and sought to unite thinkers, artists, scientists, educators, lawyers, and even politicians.8 Moreover, the establishment of such collaborations reflected both the sense of opportunity for “enlightenment,” as well as the sense of “contrition” over the prewar cooptation of both science and Marxist intellectuals. No longer would science be made to serve the emperor and imperial myth. Indeed, for the JCP and the Society, the pressing issue in the aftermath of the war related to the problem of the imperial system, and why it had to be done away with in order for a better relationship between progressive voices and the people to be realized. In this regard, in January 1946 Nosaka Sanzô, one of the leaders of the early postwar JCP, offered what he saw as the blueprint for tearing down the old system once and for all. First and foremost on the road from capitalism to socialism, he argued, was the Occupation’s breaking up of prewar monopoly capital in the aftermath of Japanese militarism. In addition to the social and economic reforms proposed by the Occupation, however, it would be up to the Japanese people to forge their own Democratic People’s Front to create a new party and system where labor could be in the vanguard of social change.9 Nosaka also argued that this process should aim first for a bourgeois democratic revolution which could overthrow the imperial system, as a precondition for eventual proletarian revolution, reiterating the 1932 Theses and Kôza faction two-stage theory of revolution for Japan. In Nosaka’s eyes, the “historical trend in world history” had moved away from imperialism and toward democracy.10 The “democratic revolution sweeping over the world” would help the “progressive bourgeoisie” to “complete the bourgeois-democratic revolution in Japan.” In other words, the “weakness of democratic elements in prewar Japan and the extensive ‘feudal remnants’ embedded within Japanese capitalism” could finally be overcome.11 As this suggests, for both the JCP and the Historical Science Society, the American Occupation represented a critical moment in the larger process of the transition from fascism to democracy worldwide. On the one hand, burgeoning national liberation movements in China, Asia, and the Third World were seen as building upon the respective prewar foundations of social resistance to fascism and colonialism. In particular, Asian liberation movements were heralded as the direct successors of wartime Minzoku Kaihô Sensen, or Ethnic-National Liberation Fronts, against imperial powers such as Japan. The end of the war and the victory of the Allies, of which the American Occupation was one key outcome, meant that in Asia it was becoming far easier for colonized peoples to achieve independence from Holland, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Nevertheless, at this nascent stage of postwar history, many on the Left did not see the issue for Japan as one of national liberation from fascism or colonialism. Instead, they saw it as a unique opportunity to free the Japanese people from their own past and from what they thought to be a semi-feudal social system. The Occupation was seen as something instrumental to this process of modernizing Japanese society and moving forward toward the future. For example, Nosaka credited the Allied victory of the previous year as having once and for all set the course of Japanese history out of the domain of fascism, and into the realm of future

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 43 possibilities for democracy. From this perspective, he surmised that the “stationing” of Allied forces in Japan had helped to insure its demilitarization and had also freed the people toward a realization that democracy was within their grasp. He also maintained that the Occupation, in fulfillment of the ideals of the Potsdam Declaration, represented the only way for Japan to democratize and the best chance for making the right social conditions for a democratic revolution to be initiated by a newly liberated people.12 In other words, while salvation could come from above with the Occupation and the onset of a new direction for Japan within world history, it would still be up to ordinary Japanese people to undertake the nuts and bolts of social change that could be permanent and lasting. In this sense, Nosaka in early 1946 shared with other influential JCP figures, such as Tokuda Kyûichi, the idea that the Occupation had basically “liberated the world from fascism and militarism,” and had specifically “opened the way for democratic revolution in Japan.”13 The postwar transition to “peaceful revolution,” then, would become an influential idea in these early years, along with the notion that it spoke to a particularly Japanese state of affairs in the aftermath of the war.14 A similar view could also be found in the Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai’s postwar inaugural meeting of June 1946, when it was officially proclaimed that, among other things, it was high time to look at Japanese history from the “standpoint of democracy and world history.”15 For China, however, it seemed that the transition underway was somewhat more dramatic and pronounced. From as early as May of 1946, the JCP’s Okamoto Shô intimated that developments in China made clear it was moving in the direction of revolution based on “world proletarian socialist culture.” Like Nosaka, Okamoto claimed that China’s former National Front against Japan had enabled postwar China to arrive at the creation of a “new democratic culture.” This included the development of “revolutionary national culture,” the “scientific appreciation of foreign culture,” the incorporation into Chinese national culture of “progressive” and “democratic” ways, and finally the “massification of culture” (taishuteki bunka) based upon peasants, who composed 90 per cent of China’s population.16 The gist of Okamoto’s argument was that Mao’s China had been able to fuse the idea of national culture (minzoku bunka) with revolution, in a form of “liberation nationalism” against Japanese imperialism. It is also clear that Okamoto saw Mao’s National Front as both a cultural and a political movement, dedicated to rebuilding the Chinese cultural nation from a position of revolutionary action and reform, based upon the role of the people. Interestingly, Okamoto’s interest in China was also indicative of an early strand within the JCP bent upon developing its own “cultural policy” in postwar Japan. Although it preceded by two years the Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front, the newly inaugurated Democratic Front was not completely oblivious to the idea of a “cultural problem” in 1946, although the didactic of Chinese resistance to imperialism was not as yet the modus vivendi for this concern. To take one example, Hirasawa Saburô argued that in contrast to the prewar cultural policy of “vandalizing” Japanese culture, and supporting an “ascientific view of history,” it was now time for a “movement for cultural creation” in literature, science, journalism, and theatre.17 Just one month hence, the JCP’s Miyamoto Shoji criticized prewar

44 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 “reactionary culture” based upon imperialist ideology, and stressed the need for the “complete freedom of cultural movements” for the sake of creating a new “democratic culture” in the historical context of postwar democratic revolution.18 In other words, by suggesting that the “culture problem” in Japan related to how it could fit within the spectrum of a “world proletarian cultural movement,” Hirasawa and Miyamoto suggested that postwar democracy would need to construct and position Japanese culture within world history and against the imperial system. Japanese culture could then be articulated as something both scientific and as part of “universal” modernity. On the other hand, there was also much derision of Chinese culture and history within the Society in 1946. As Yun Kon-cha notes in his overview of postwar Asia in Japanese historiography, some Marxist historians in Japan still clung to the Asiatic Mode or Production idea. In fact, both Ishimoda and Tôma would initially come out in favor of this view. For instance, Ishimoda’s 1946 Chuseiteki Sekai no Keisei (The Formation of the Mediaeval World) attempted to “depict the historical process of transformation from ancient to mediaeval society in Japan” in terms of developmental progress. Chinese society, by contrast, was taken as “static” and without agency or momentum. Similarly, Yun cites Tôma’s 1946 Tôyô no Kokka (Oriental States) to affirm the point that China and Asia were still often considered by Marxist historians to be mired within social structures that had inhibited their growth for centuries.19 When compared with the ideas of Okamoto, noted above, it becomes clear that there was no unanimity on the Left as to just what China represented for Japanese history, culture, and revolution. It was clear, however, that by 1946 the JCP and newly formed intellectual associations were already avidly pursuing the interrelated goals of abolishing the imperial system and creating a democratic revolution in Japan. The Party declared that it was the only political party willing to take up the war responsibility of the emperor.20 The JCP also officially declared the need for things such as eliminating the “despotic imperial system,” taking apart Japanese monopoly capital, punishing war criminals, and creating a democratic revolution as well as a people’s “democratic republic.”21 To this end, they asserted the need to create a mass movement based upon a “Tôitsu Sensen,” or Unification Front. This was also the time during which the JCP’s official journal Zen’ei, along with the Institute for the Study of Marxism Leninism, were born. In addition, organizations such as the Democratic Scientists’ Association (Minka) and other “democratic cultural movements” dedicated to “democratic revolution,” were founded.22 These incipient movements more or less shared Nosaka’s, Tokuda’s, and the JCP’s conviction that the Occupation offered the best opportunity for popular liberation based upon freedom and human rights, as laid out in the Potsdam Declaration. Yet, it was also the case that the emancipation of the people from their own prewar past, and their coming of age for democratic revolution, was seen as less a purely “cultural issue,” and more as a problem of how to make Japanese society less feudal and more democratic. Such would be Japan’s postwar duty to world history.23 These ideas guided the reconstruction of the postwar Society and were reflected in the February 1946 debate entitled Rekishi wa Tennôsei O do Miru ka? (How

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 45 does History View the Imperial System?). In keeping with one of the core principles of the postwar Society, this debate was undertaken in the belief that it would be necessary to establish a postwar policy for “historical science.” History would now have to be written from the standpoint of the people (jinmin), rather than from the emperor-centric view of history that had been influential in Japan since the Meiji period.24 As the inaugural postwar issue of Rekishigaku Kenkyû declared, the “synthesis of progressive historians” in the postwar Society meant that it was, for the first time, possible to pursue “free, scientific research” in the interests of developing a true “people’s history,” now the “most important issue in Japanese historiography.”25 The inauguration of the postwar journal, however, sought to highlight the “virginity” of this historical approach in Japan in the belief that only when history represented the lives and interests of the people through scientific inquiry, could it contribute to the growth of democratic culture and bourgeois revolution. During this period, such ideas were perhaps the most crucial principles that guided historians in their attack upon the prewar past. It was Inoue Kiyoshi who kicked off the debate, reproduced in the first issue of Rekishigaku Kenkyû of June 1946, with his article entitled “Tennôsei no Rekishi” (The History of the Imperial System). A historian who would come to play a key role in the development of national history during the early 1950s, Inoue here argued that the Japanese imperial system was not something that had continued unabated since the beginning of time. Instead, he maintained that the imperial system as we know it was an invention that had helped serve as the foundation for the restoration of the monarchy in 1868. Moreover, Inoue surmised that with the official role ordained by the Imperial Japanese Constitution in 1890, the imperial system was able to remove the seat of national sovereignty away from the people and make both the bureaucracy and the educational system subordinate to it.26 This approach touched upon several issues that Inoue considered crucial to early postwar historiography. He basically maintained that “far before the creation of the imperial system,” for at least the past four and a half millennia, the Japanese people had “enjoyed a democratic society with peace and freedom.”27 In suggesting a “democratic revolutionary tradition in the ‘people’s history’” which was against the imperial system, Inoue argued that it was through such a tradition, rather than through the ideological absolutism of the prewar Kokutai myth, that we should approach Japanese history “as a science.” From this stance, he surmised that history would now have to “exist in and with the people,” so that they could make “historical science” their own guiding principle.28 This idea was also expressed in Doi Takao’s 1946 “Nihonshi Saiken no Gutaiteki Hôshin” (Concrete Policies for the Reconstruction of Japanese History). Basically, Doi asserted that it was only a “modern science,” developed through a modern capitalist economy, that would allow history to move away from the prewar idea of the ethnic nation based upon myth, and towards historiography based upon the development of culture through “people’s activities and lifestyles.” Doi’s ultimate aim was to make Japanese history a vital “link” within the great chain of world history.29 For Inoue, furthermore, one way through which to highlight the problem of the people’s agency against the imperialism system lay in going back to the Meiji era.

46 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 This was because the Bakumatsu and early Meiji period illustrated both the possibilities, along with the difficulties, in the people’s struggle for agency and emancipation from authoritarian rule. Inoue maintained that in the Bakumatsu period it was by “the aid of the power of the people” that the bakufu could be overthrown, even though this was to be followed by a betrayal of the people’s will in the form of imperial restoration. By the early Meiji era, the will of the people began to express itself in the form of a people’s liberation movement from “feudal despotism” and the “feudal tyranny of the imperial system.”30 When the People’s Rights Movement of the Meiji period sought to “establish a people’s government,” however, the monarchy compromised only to the extent that it enshrined itself as a constitutional monarchy. Yet, the monarchy then proceeded to gradually repress the people’s struggle for democracy. The first chance to “reverse” this historical momentum, Inoue declared, was with the Occupation and Potsdam Declaration, since these had once and for all given agency and power to the Japanese people.31 Similarly, Hani Gorô’s “Nihon Rekishi no Tokushusei” (The Particularity of Japanese History), concurred with Inoue’s position that history must focus upon social issues and conditions as part of the movement towards bringing history to the people. Although Hani approached the issue of social change by looking at the relationship between the imperial system and revolution in Japanese history, he did not frame the question of the people’s agency through the idea of the ethnic nation. Rather, he did so in terms of how the unique attributes of Japanese history had actually often pre-empted the chances of revolution and revolt. Unlike Korea and much of East Asia, for example, the Japanese aristocracy had been able to prevent any kind of popular uprising in pre-feudal times by adjusting their own status. In the feudal period, elites were able to use the “continued existence of the emperor” in order to maintain a system of gradated repression. By Meiji, the idea of the imperial system as a necessary condition for social stability had become an instrumental pretext used to quell post-restoration popular movements.32 For Hani, therefore, just when economic and social development should have produced deep social change in Japan (by the standards of world history and conditions in East Asia), the elite used the imperial system to instead reconfigure and repackage policies that continued the tradition of “non-revolution” in Japan. In making such a claim, however, Hani’s position differed from Inoue’s in focusing more upon how there had not in fact been any viable tradition of social resistance and popular agency in Japanese history. Hani’s pessimism does seem only natural given the perceived need at the time to detach the present and future from the past, even Japanese history long before the Meiji Restoration. On the other hand, during this period Hani did support the need for history writing that could appreciate both the agency of the people (jinmin) as a driving social force for the future, and how this was being held in check by Japanese social structure and organization. In this respect, Hani’s position was not that far away from Ishimoda and Tôma, as will be noted below. As Tôyama Shigeki noted several decades later, Inoue’s perspective during these early years basically stemmed from the Society’s concern with making a new historical science that could claim autonomy from any corrupting or coopting

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 47 influences. In fact, Tôyama suggested that Inoue’s emphasis upon both a “people’s history” and a new “historical science” which belonged to the people, emerged in mid-1946 as a result of the declaration of new postwar Society principles. Taken more broadly, this meant historians would have to constantly keep in mind the issue of how to write history from “the perspective of the people.” On the other hand, historians would also have to position themselves directly within the masses and be aware of their own “social responsibility,” so that they could faithfully serve the people.33 No doubt, this latter idea was meant to dispel the image that historians within the Society were writing “academic” histories removed from the concerns of the masses; indeed, this was to become the crux of Ishimoda’s critique of prewar Marxist history. In addition, Tôyama also reminds us that historians like Inoue did not as yet problematize any “contradictions in Occupation policy.”34 That is, the initial policies and goals of the Occupation were seen as more or less congruent with the goals of a people’s history. Adding his voice to this 1946 debate within the Society over Japanese history and the imperial system was Izu Kimio (whose real name was Akagi Kensuke). A founding member of the prewar Society, Izu expressed his aspirations for a new history that would “follow the laws of history” and abolish the imperial system. In his “Tennôshugi no Kaikyuteki Kiso” (The Class-based Foundation of Emperor Ideology), Izu asserted his belief that the Occupation had made it possible for Japan to finally engage in democratization and to once and for all abolish “feudal militarism” and “monopoly capital.”35 Izu also noted, however, that even in the postwar period latent support for the imperial system remained a problem within Japanese society. As a result, he saw it necessary to create a “Democratic Front,”36 much like that which the JCP had created in 1946. Part of the reason Izu emphasized this kind of mass movement for social change can be found in his assertion that after the Manchurian Incident in 1931, the idea of democratic revolution in Japan had become completely taboo. Instead, worship of the emperor developed as the state and religion became fused. Emperor-centered ideology, subsequently, was incorporated into Japanese fascism and linked to beliefs in national purification, and the idea of family communalism as the basis of the state. Yet, it was ultimately, for Izu, the power of the bureaucracy, the military, and landowners, that had given the zaibatsu and monopoly capital the ability to push the state toward war in Asia and against democratic revolution.37 In his 1947 “Seijishi no Kadai” (The Tasks of Political History) Ishimoda took this debate further by locating the problem of Meiji and prewar Japanese historiography in its very lack of “independence” and “purity,” owing to the overwhelming presence of a state built around the “despotism” of the imperial system. Honing in on the postwar Society principle of a “free” and “scientific” historiography, Ishimoda asserted that history must at all costs avoid becoming embroiled within the mercurial whirlwind of social and political change, so that it might establish and retain its autonomy.38 Ishimoda maintained that the Meiji era did not bring forth the creative energies of an independent sphere of historical discourse that one would expect as an important universal phenomena associated with a bourgeois revolution. Conversely, the very fact that historical science could not finally enable a bourgeois

48 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 revolution in Japan implied that a people’s history was seen as something quite different from history that was subject to the intervention of “external” forces. In other words, the autonomy of historical science referred essentially to its distance from the state, and its proximity to the needs and interests of the masses. In this vein, Ishimoda also concluded that the postwar move toward a more independent “bourgeois history” had necessitated the turn toward “cultural history” and the lives of ordinary people, so as to make history completely safe from any politics from above.39 The idea of the people, it seemed, kept leading back to the idea of a populist, democratic culture as the way to insure greater autonomy from the state. Of course, there was anything but unanimity among major figures in the Society as to what specific treatments of historical issues best embodied these principles. For instance, both Ishimoda and Tôma Seita criticized the approach toward the imperial system taken by Hani Gorô. They saw Hani’s analysis as having strayed far too much in the direction of a personal attack upon the imperial system, which they thought contrary to the principles of developing scientific truth and historical science. In response to criticisms that their approach was unscientific and unenlightened, Hani, Inoue, and Suzuki Shirô retorted that a true “people’s history could not be written apart from the sphere of mass struggle and revolution,” which Ishimoda and Tôma had actually not fully supported. That is, they saw Ishimoda, Tôma, and the general direction of the Society to have wondered off into esoteric academic discourse and to have basically downplayed the role of history in the goal of social revolution.40 This difference of opinion, however, most likely stemmed from the divergent specializations of the two groups of historians – Ishimoda and Tôma in ancient Japanese history and Hani, Inoue and Suzuki in modern Japanese history. While the former group saw the latter as overly laden with emotional arguments against the imperial system, the other side saw its counterpart as too worried about an ancient past that bore little relevance to the current project of democratic revolution. Indeed, Tôma and Ishimoda did compose rather detailed histories that described the systematic oppression of the people by an ancient, draconian, and despotic system that had survived, and grown in Japan from ancient times. For example, Tôma’s 1946 Nihon Kodai Kokka (The Ancient Japanese State), attempted to do just this by narrating the imperial system in terms of its appearance within the context of ancient “slave society,” based upon the Kafuchô, or paternally based family system, in Asia.41 Likewise, Ishimoda’s Chuseiteki Sekai no Keisei (The Formation of the Mediaeval World), already mentioned in relation to its views toward China, also discussed how the process of class conflict between the bushi and the ancient slave system had led to the emergence of feudal social relations in Japan. Together, these two works helped to establish Marxist history as a base from which to historicize and rationalize the imperial system in terms of the development of “slave society,” and subject/ruler relations dating back from ancient Japanese history. In other words, the idea of scientific history was used to show that the imperial system had been an intricate part of the development of ancient and feudal social relations in Japan. In this sense, Hani and his colleagues were right about the pedantic nature of Ishimoda’s approach; Ishimoda had not as yet developed the

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 49 kind of impassioned plea – to make history work directly for drastic political change – that would come several years later. Yet, an interest in writing cultural histories of the people, along with a professional commitment to looking at ancient Japanese society, did find its way into Ishimoda’s and Tôma’s assumptions of the nation. Even though the basic notion of the people was expressed in terms of “jinmin,” rather than in the more culturally and ideologically explicit terms of “minzoku jikaku,” Tôma often did refer to the subject of his histories as “waga minzoku” (our nation).42 Put differently, the “scientific” history of the people was to an extent conceived as a history that was to be both populist and national in character. This brings to mind what Bill Schwartz has asserted in relation to the early postwar Communist Party Historians’ Group in Great Britain. Schwartz notes that from this very year, 1946, radical historians in the Group began focusing upon the idea of the nation from within more populist notions of the people. History was to be written in a “national-popular” voice that would help to connect it to “popular politics” and to the development of democratic culture.43 Looked at in this way, Tôma and Ishimoda were no doubt as committed to postwar change as were Hani and his colleagues. Of course, cultural essentialism was not as yet explicit within Marxist history in Japan, and the latent idea of the ethnic nation served as little more than an embellishment to the larger question of how to write a new people’s history. All of this was to begin changing, however, by 1947. It was during this year that the trope of ethnic national culture would be linked to the postwar principles of the Society, the attempt to make history scientific, and the interest in writing more cultural history. In particular, Japanese ethnic national culture (minzoku bunka) became one way of illustrating the syncretic idea of human civilization and world history. It could help show the convertibility and universality of different cultures through larger civilizational interactions during the past centuries and millennia. For example, Izu Kimio, in his Nihon Bunkashi Kenkyû (Research in Japanese Cultural History), noted that Japanese ethnic national culture needed to be seen as a historical product linked to the “productive capacity” of the Japanese nation. He thus chided prewar Japan for thinking only about world history in terms of how things Japanese were being forcibly made to obey things universal. That is, Izu asserted it would be necessary to consider how the laws and universality of world history have been incorporated into things Japanese.44 Izu’s main point was that even the most seemingly isolated cultures can be compared and held to a universal standard of progressive social stages. His contention was that progressive stages were scientifically verifiable, and would allow the “particularities of ethnic national culture” (minzoku bunka no ishitsu) to be understood in terms of universality and historical laws.45 As such, ethnic national culture did not develop as a wholly independent entity, but instead in conjunction with intercultural conflicts, influences, and exchanges. To illustrate this, Izu argued that ancient Greece, Han China, and Japan all formed their national cultures by integrating the most useful elements of other cultures with whom they had constantly come into contact. Therefore, the convertibility of culture and the universality of culture were tied together to support the theory that the development of all ethnic cultures followed the same universal

50 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 laws of exchange.46 Such laws could be found within the purview of the world history of ancient civilizations, leading up to and converging upon the present. The example of ancient Greece was especially important for Izu since it showed an instance in which one national culture actually became the creator of world culture or civilization. For Izu, ancient Greece actually illustrated the very interconnectedness of East and West, in that through commerce and colonization many facets of ancient Greece were able to make their way not only to the ancient West, but also to points as far away as India and China.47 Although Izu did note that by the Middle Ages East and West historically began to become more distinct civilizations, his approach differed markedly from subsequent postwar notions of Chinese (and Asian) civilization as the antithesis of Western imperialism (whose lineage, Ishimoda would later argue, stemmed from ancient Greek culture). Suffice it to say here that Izu’s approach highlighted his emphasis upon the character of Japanese society and course of Japanese history as equally compatible with the traditions of ancient Greece and China alike. Interestingly, Izu’s thesis on the role of Japanese ethnic national culture within world history was also based upon the assumption that Japan and Asia had been historically laden with the Asiatic Mode of Production. On the one hand, Izu surmised in his analysis of the structure of Japanese minzoku bunka that the Japanese ethnic nation was able to stimulate the development of Japanese society and culture by utilizing its geographic proximity to China and Korea. Through economic, human, cultural, and social relations with Asia, Japan was also able to benefit from the influence of Indian, Persian, Greek, and finally “modern Western culture.”48 On the other hand, one of the manifestations of the Asiatic Mode of Production within Japanese politics was the tendency for the aristocracy to monopolize useful elements of foreign cultures for their own gain, without disseminating these to ordinary people. Ironically, however, the people often became the chief protectors of the “independence” of their own culture against what they saw as influences of foreign cultures. That is, throughout Japanese history elites and the imperial system had maintained power through their monopoly on things like Chinese characters. This allowed the people to imagine their own specific conceptions of Japanese culture that actually supported the privileges of the aristocracy and imperial system. In this way, both the people and the aristocracy had historically prevented Japanese culture from becoming more a part of “world culture.”49 Izu’s work illustrated both some important considerations that had an impact upon the writing of history during the late 1940s, as well as ideas that would soon come under reproach. With regard to the former, Izu’s critique of the imperial system went even further than the debate of the previous year in expressing, through cultural history, the incompatibly of the imperial system and powerful central authority with social progress and enlightenment. Moreover, Izu also helped to establish the idea the people were rightful agents of social change, in his implicit contrast between premodern history and the new realities of the postwar years, where the domain of history and historical change was no longer the monopoly of the elite. It would also be the burden of postwar history to help establish a way for the Japanese people to understand their own cultural past in relation to its reflexive relationship with

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 51 world history and world culture, Izu argued. While this meant that the ethnic nation had now come to assume a more prominent sense of historical agency, the goals of revolution were still seen as basically compatible with the ideals of the Occupation. In other words, the trope of “ethnic national culture” had not yet become the basis for an anti-bourgeois and anti-colonial expression of agency within radical history. Indeed, Izu can be read as having furthered the belief that the Occupation represented a new moment of syncretic and universal “world history,” bringing into Japan a new “standard of civilization” for history, politics, and society. Many of these points were echoed in Hani’s Nihon Bunka no Sekaiteki Suijun (The World-Standard of Japanese Culture) and Izu’s Nihon Bunka O Mamoru (Protecting Japanese Culture). Arguing that Japan was the only nation (kokumin) in the modern world that had not had the experience of a genuine bourgeois or modern revolution, Hani asserted that in the example of the Renaissance we might find a prototype for the overcoming of feudal culture by modern culture. For Hani, the “revolutionary conflict” between feudal and modern culture during the Renaissance was relevant to the contemporary period in that both Europe and America had been able to advance in the direction of making a “civilization that asserts the liberation of the modern human being.”50 This was made possible by the transition in Europe from “ancient culture” based upon the “slave systems” and monarchies of Greece and Rome, toward the establishment of republics, and eventually modern democracies. However, Hani continued, in Japan there had existed no such examples of a critique toward feudal culture in the modern period, and no clear consciousness of the “revolutionary significance of modern culture.” Hani added that just as there was clearly an insufficient recognition of popular resistance to “despotic power” during Japan’s feudal period, so today there remained no substantial ideas among the people as to how to establish the “modern right of resistance.” There were additional problems in contemporary Japanese culture, Hani surmised. One such problem related to the fact that the vestiges of ancient Japanese society, such as the emperor, had not given way to modern forms of emancipation such as republicanism and democracy. Nor had they provided any tradition of mass resistance that had historically been crucial for the revolutions from the bottom up in Europe and America.51 In short, the basic problem of Japanese culture for Hani was that it had not historically developed into a genuine people’s culture. Like Izu, therefore, Hani saw the development of a people’s culture as a serious problem in the past and present, and maintained that bourgeois democratic culture could serve as a good starting point for rectifying the historical and political deficiencies that continued to plague Japan. In contrast to Inôue’s ideas that before the modern imperial system the Japanese people had enjoyed a democratic society, then, Izu and Hani, like Ishimoda and Tôma, saw the structure of Japanese society and the machinations of the state as having pre-empted popular agency and consciousness. Perhaps the most important assumption within this initial spurt of Marxist history was the notion that historians had not yet given up hope that the Occupation – in particular the ideals of the Potsdam Declaration – would help to solidify the making of a new scientific historiography. This was so even for seemingly anti-Occupation histories like Inoue’s 1947 “Kuni no Ayumi” Hihan (A Critique of “The Direction

52 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 of the Country”). Written in response to the first official postwar textbook in Japanese history, this work was commissioned by the Occupation in early 1946 and completed in October of the same year. Although the textbook’s authors included historians as progressive as Ienaga Saburô, Inoue’s 1947 critique charged that the textbook had neglected the role of the people in history and had worked against the establishing of fundamentals for a correct discipline of history in the postwar.52 Yet, it is seldom pointed out that Inoue’s critique was aimed less at the strategy and views of the Occupation, and more at the lack of preparation by the American educational groups visiting Japan who had shaped the recommendations for the textbook to the Occupation Authority.53 Perhaps the clearest example of continuing support for the Occupation’s idea of democracy could be found in Inoue’s linkage of the people’s history to democracy, and democracy to the Occupation and the Potsdam Declaration. For instance, he asserted that a “democratic perspective” rooted in “the people” was really the only standpoint from which history could be correctly understood.54 The environment from which this would all flow, postwar democracy, was envisioned by Inoue as existing within the principle of “historical creation” (rekishi sôzô). Inoue also contrasted prewar militarism, which could not allow any space for critique, and by extension, the independence of history, with the acknowledgement of freedom of critique under postwar democracy.55 In a manner of speaking, then, this followed much Marxist historiography between 1945 and mid-1947, in taking the position that a people’s history could express agency without explicitly resorting to the idea of revolution based upon an immediate transition to socialism. Even the idea of minzoku bunka that emerged during 1946 and 1947, represented the belief that a postwar democratic culture would need to serve as the footman for bourgeoisdemocratic revolution. In short, the idea of Japan as a cultural nation was not as yet made the basis of popular agency and linked directly with any incendiary political symbolism of social resistance. On the other hand, it would be fair to claim that the growing interest in forms of cultural representation such as minzoku bunka also signaled more than a hint of ambivalence over just what “democracy” and “world history” meant in postwar Japan.

The (re)emergence of progressive discourses of the ethnic nation Within movements linked to the Japan Communist Party, as well as within culturalist discourse on Japan and China, the mid- to late 1940s witnessed the rehabilitation of the belief that the Japanese ethnic nation could be represented as the center of political change and historical agency. This was to be far more than a mere reconsolidation or redeployment of progressive senses of the nation against the state that were seen in mid-1930s historical constructionism. Indeed, the rising interest in finding expressions of resistance to the state, and even the Occupation, was to produce a set of socially and politically activist discourses that challenged the legitimacy of postwar reforms. Of course, the emergence of movements for a Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front, as well as the development

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 53 of culturalist discourses that lumped together the “evils” of the state, Occupation, bourgeois modernity, and the imperialist “West,” were important turning points in early postwar progressive politics and thought. In fact, these developments, to be taken up below, strongly suggest that issues to be raised by Marxist historians from late 1950 had their immediate political and ideological roots in the social uncertainty of the late 1940s. In other words, we cannot stick with Kojima Tsunehisa’s periodization of Marxist history that delineates a clean break of the years 1945–50 with those of 1950–5.56 The early postwar Japan Communist Party, perhaps even more so than Marxist historians within the Society, was from the outset aware of how prewar and wartime Marxism had failed the people. As noted at the end of the previous chapter, the legacy of “conversions” to state ideology from the early 1930s was clearly something that had marred the spirit and organization of prewar Marxism, communism, and socialism in Japan. Those not fleeing the country, or not imprisoned during the 1930s, nevertheless kept a rather low profile. As Robert Scalapino surmises, the “prewar legacy” to postwar Marxism in Japan included the fact that Marxists had been unable to “capture and use nationalism,” but instead were forced to fight it because it was a deadly weapon in the hands of their opponents.”57 Moreover, the re-emergence of progressive discourses of the ethnic nation during the late 1940s really represented a bridge between the Marxist histories discussed above, and the “historical turn” toward national awakening several years later. What seems like a wide leap between locating Japanese culture and history within the “laws of world history” and the 1950s concept of the ethnic nation actually marked more of a transitional phase. Most notably, the reconstruction of the trope of minzoku as a form of opposition politics, and the creation of culturalist discourses comparing Japan with China, would help prepare the way for nationalism of the Left. Within the bigger picture, however, social unrest in 1947 and 1948 would serve as a turning point through which the narrative of ethnic national cohesion became part of social praxis and political resistance by workers, students, intellectuals, and even within some segments of the Japan Communist Party organization. There would be no automatic transition toward “capturing and using nationalism” during the late 1940s. The best place to begin is in late 1947, where we can locate the rumblings of an unofficial turn within the JCP. During the Sixth Japan Communist Party Conference a series of working principles were formulated with the aim of countering the imminent dangers of a prolonged occupation as well as the “remilitarization” of Japan. As part of the new strategy to bring a quick end to the occupation, a select committee at the conference stressed the importance of forming a struggle for the purpose of “national independence” (minzoku dokuritsu). This development reflected a growing sentiment within the JCP that the Potsdam Declaration was being used by America so that it could better link up with reactionary elements in the Japanese establishment.58 In particular, within the JCP, sentiment began to build for the notion that the people had to be liberated from the impurities of the Occupation’s idea of democracy. To be certain, it was not until early/mid-1948 that the JCP would inaugurate a Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front against the Occupation, and several Marxist historians would distance themselves

54 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 from the initial idea of bourgeois revolution in their critique of modernism. On the other hand, the year 1947 was clearly a turning point in so far as it marked the beginning of the United States containment policy toward the Soviet Union in East Asia. As a result, the onset of the Cold War and the consequent changes in policy led to the perception that the Occupation had forsaken the ideals of the Potsdam Declaration, and that it was high time to move toward a policy of national independence. Indeed, in early 1948, high-level American officials could declare that Japan should become an impenetrable “wall” against Soviet totalitarianism. To make matters worse, US Secretary of State Dean Acheson had even asserted that communism was no longer welcome in Japan. Linked to these developments were also a series of domestic events that helped precipitate the articulation of national independence as a form of political resistance. For example, the 1946 May Day demonstrations in Tokyo, often referred to as Food May Day, highlighted the social insecurities associated with both defeat in the war and the economic rebuilding of Japan. In particular, inflation was beginning to both limit access to food and also to provide a rationale for workers to strike, the latter adding fuel to the fire so to speak. Interestingly, during the 1946 May Day demonstrations that drew upwards of half a million protesters, resolutions were proclaimed declaring “opposition to conservative and reactionary government,” and support for the “immediate establishment of a democratic people’s government” (minshu jinmin seifu).59 In fact, by late 1946 revised amendments to the proposed postwar Japanese constitution had made it clear that the imperial system would remain in the postwar, though declawed of its more “despotic” qualities and tamed into a bourgeois monarchy. By late 1946 Nosaka Sanzô, who had by now become a member of parliament for the JCP, in response to debates over Article 9 of the proposed constitution declared that in order to secure the independence of the Japanese people it would be necessary to insure Japan’s neutrality. Nosaka and many in the JCP, however, were to become sorely disappointed with the ambiguity of the proposed constitution, and especially article 9. Furthermore, the tinder-box for imagining and utilizing the notion of minzoku as a trope through which to harness political resistance and create social unity among workers and the people would be ignited in March of 1948, during what has come to be known as The March Struggle (Sangatsu Tôsô). The center of this struggle between the Occupation and organized labor along with the Japan Communist Party, and thus the subsequent move toward a collective idea of resistance in terms of a Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front, lay an unlikely catalyst: the National Postwar Workers’ Union (Zenshin Rôdô Kumiai). Amidst inflation and a weakening economy that saw the entry of the Ashida Cabinet in March 1948, the relationship between the Occupation and mass movements on the Left, including the party organization of the JCP, had become strained. Yet, it would not be until that summer that the Occupation would take the extreme step of making it illegal for public employees to strike. Nonetheless, the stage had already been set for a series of confrontations that resulted in the articulation of a new National Front that linked the ethnic nation to political resistance and more dramatic social change.

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 55 In February of 1948, the JCP’s Central Committee had declared the social and political circumstances facing Japan to require nothing less than a Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front. A they saw it, it was high time for the people (minzoku) to re-establish their independence from the Occupation and from a corrupt state. This basic position was repeated and reinforced by the Central Committee in March.60 Looked at from a different angle, the denial of the right of workers to strike was seen as part of a systematic and rising wave of state oppression at the behest of what had now become a “colonizing power.” This indicates, moreover, that there was growing doubt about earlier claims that the Occupation and postwar democracy represented the true emancipation of feudal Japan toward a new consciousness of agency and world history. Earlier confidence in postwar democracy came under fire from the JCP and social movements on the Left that had already begun to articulate the idea of the people in terms of an ethnic nation united against what was increasingly seen as an unwelcome interloper in Japanese history. Indeed, the 1948 March Struggle, led by the National Postwar Workers’ Union, helped to solidify this notion of the ethnic nation against the Occupation. On the one hand, the Occupation Authority did stop a nationwide strike from taking place. On the other hand, in early March and early April, the Union was, in various regions throughout Japan, able to initiate a series of strikes that could not be stopped, even though they went against the explicit commands of the Occupation. It was this success by the labor movement and the JCP that gave further impetus to the idea of political action framed in terms of national resistance, liberation, and independence. Social and political opposition to official policy symbolized a proletarian catharsis from all that was now threatening to bring Japan back into an authoritarian past: unfettered capitalism, state control, social repression, and Cold War geopolitics. The invocation of the image of minzoku was coming to represent not only an implicit, though not yet fully formulated, rejection of the state and the bourgeois sphere of economic influence. It also suggested and furthered the idea that social revolution would have to give up the hopes it had originally placed in the Occupation. Instead, some would attempt to use the very existence of the postwar state and the Occupation as a compelling and urgent way to establish the economic, political and cultural independence of the postwar nation. Perhaps the most important and noteworthy domain in which the idea of the ethnic nation came to stand for the protection of what was inherently the right of the people, can be found in the inauguration of the Society for the Protection of Japanese Culture. Formed in May 1948, this Society included the JCP, JSP, National Postwar Workers’ Union, National Railroad Workers’ Union, anarchist groups, and represented a collaboration among a total of fifty different organizations.61 One interesting aspect of this movement was that it contained historians like Izu Kimio, who were during this period also advocating the idea that Japanese history and agency could be expressed in terms of ethnic national culture, as noted above. Moreover, just as mass political resistance was being imagined and articulated in terms of national independence, many unions and parties on the Left began to express the idea of ethnic national culture as a defense against the return of fascism and the emergence of the Cold War. Ironically, this approach would also help to

56 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 reverse Izu’s paradigm of the cultural convertibility of Japan in world history: the “colonization” of Japan would bring with it the notion that Asian forms of the nation were fundamentally different from those of ancient Greek, European, and American culture. Modernism would thus become seen as something culturally divisive and would become a major fault-line between the ideas of liberation and oppression. The full-fledged attack within the JCP on modernism, building upon the ground already made fertile by eclectic movements such as the Society for the Protection of Japanese Culture, would emerge by mid-1948. For instance, the JCP’s journal Zen’ei came out front and center to affirm the value in cultural movements of political resistance aimed at specific social change. In particular, Kurahara Korehito’s article “Bunka Katsudô ni saishite” (On Cultural Activism) affirmed the field of “cultural struggle” to be something reciprocally and intimately linked to economic and political resistance. However, the “ultimate goal” of such struggle for the JCP was seen as something much more than merely using culture for political or economic ends. Instead, it was none other than the “construction of an advanced form of popular minzoku bunka”62 and the securing of the “independence” of Japanese ethnic-national culture from capitalism and its reactive interpretations of culture.63 As this suggests, the notion of ethnic-national culture had begun to provide an important springboard for the JCP’s attack on modernism and support for “cultural unification” in both Japan and China. This was by virtue of the fact that it could be used to contrast “decadent” notions of culture with more populist versions focused upon resisting postwar capitalism and democracy, these now seen as incestuously tied to state power and American geopolitics.64 On the one hand, as J. Victor Koschmann points out, this critique of bourgeois modernity reflected a perceived need to boost the ideas of “class structure” and “proletarian leadership” within the JCP, away from more bourgeois notions of “subjectivity.”65 However, the movement gaining steam here to ground social action through both class-consciousness and proletarian agency was also expressed through the articulation of a uniquely Japanese form of existence, i.e., in the cultural specificity of the ethnic nation. Earlier ideas in the JCP of “bourgeois-democratic revolution” in other words, were gradually coming to be supplanted by the idea of linking class conflict to popular agency through a specific trope of cultural autonomy and social unification. Nevertheless, at this stage there was still little specific theoretical formulation as to how the Japanese people were capable of changing their social structure. The JCP’s idea of the Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front merely took the notion of culture as something basically belonging to the people, rather than to race, ethnicity, social structure, or history, per se. As such, there was as yet little formulation of how this reconfigured notion of political resistance through minzoku bunka related to the national question, the realm of history, and the construction of ethnic identity through assumptions of racial homogeneity. Likewise, the veiled attack upon American imperialism was not yet official JCP or Society policy, even though some had already declared the need for “the complete independence of Japan.”66 By the middle of 1948, however, the JCP, labor unions, and students, were to proclaim a new era of “democratic activism” pointed toward “the complete

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 57 independence of the ethnic nation” from the authority of the Occupation, which they now saw as an illegitimate occupying force. Organizations such as the National Railway Workers’ Union, in July of 1948, released their Declaration of Martial Law against what they saw as a series of policies, instituted by the Occupation and supported by the Japanese government, aimed at dissolving and neutralizing the rights of workers.67 Chief among these was the official banning in July 1948 of the right of public employees to strike. As a result, by the end of July the National Postwar Workers’ Union issued its own Declaration of Martial Law, introducing themes which would soon make their way into the discourse of Takeuchi Yoshimi and radical historians of the Society. For instance, they called for an “awakening” to the “historical mission” of protecting the postwar constitution against remilitarization and the reappearance of “militarism,” in order to “protect the independence of the ethnic nation.” In the eyes of groups like the National Postwar Workers’ Union, the Japanese people were facing a huge “crisis” of “reactionary” repression that threatened to completely stifle the Japanese labor movement. Such groups argued vociferously that the repression from the Occupation and the Japanese state would not stop there, however. In fact, it represented a “first step in the direction of the enslavement of the ethnic nation.”68 Simultaneously, the Japan Communist Party officially declared one of its goals to be the “overthrowing of fascism” in order to aim for the “independence of the ethnic nation.” Within the next several weeks, moreover, the slogan of “national independence” was to begin resonating and being reproduced on the local level, nationwide, including the provocative and subsequently influential idea that the nation was being “colonized by the introduction of foreign currencies.” The Occupation’s official move away from earlier commitments to demilitarization had, in effect, sparked on mass movements to redefine the mission of protecting democracy in Japan, this time through the more recalcitrant idea that the public were virtual “colonial subjects.” 69 Koschmann is also quite correct in noting that the “new nationalism” of the Japan Communist Party would reach those who were otherwise at odds with the JCP. In particular, the scholar of Chinese culture, Takeuchi Yoshimi, would pick up on the unofficial changes within the JCP to “draw a relationship between submerged, potentially progressive tendencies in the Japanese Volk and the forms of nationalism apparent in the Chinese revolution and comparable Asian movements.”70 Without a doubt, the “gradual turn towards nationalism on the Communist Left” and away from the “Occupation’s bourgeois-liberal approach to democratic revolution,” would find in Mao’s China a perfect example of national independence from bourgeois modernism.71 As a point of fact, Takeuchi’s comparison of Japan and China would in effect help historians make the leap toward taking China as the paradigm for postwar reform, and away from versions of Chinese history as a history of stagnation and non-development, as found earlier in Ishimoda and Tôma. In his 1948 “Kindai to wa nani Ka?” (What is Modernity?), Takeuchi would lay out a blueprint for a new version of modernity based upon a non-Western or Asian alternative to Hegel and what he saw as the specific ideologies of Western civilization. According to Takeuchi, European modernity had been based upon the liberation of the individual from feudalism, the birth of free capital, and the

58 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 establishment of the independent and equal individual. History teaches us however, Takeuchi continued, that in the European historical context of the development of modernity self-protection could only be assured through a continuous process of self-renewal and expansion, leading to the development of capitalist expansion into America and Asia based on the idea of historical progress. Dialectically speaking, since elements such as progress, expansion, and self-renewal were all tied together in the development of modernity in Europe, it was inevitable that Europe invade Asia. Takeuchi also argued that even though Europe had admired Asia since antiquity, the “modern spirit” necessitated the conquering of the “other” for the very purpose of materially and psychologically reaffirming the identity and integrity of European modernity. This historical process also entailed the narrative of the “progression of world history” and the “victory of reason,” disseminating its paradigm in areas such as religion, education, market ideology, and missionary zeal.72 By extension, then, the Occupation and bourgeois modernity represented the final moment in this epic progression. Takeuchi hypothesized that the “resistance of the Orient” to this appropriation of the modern spirit was an equally necessary moment in the continued development of world history. The seeming completion of modernity, in particular its dissemination to the Orient, brought to the surface some of the inherent contradictions in world history by the late nineteenth century, and soon thereafter helped to undo Europe and its central idea of modernity. For instance, Takeuchi asserted that the first contradiction, that of capital as a material foundation for society, was rejected by Russia in the early twentieth century. Similarly, European colonies began to seek independence and thereby “overcome” the domain of European laws and lemmas; last but not least, the Orient’s resistance to European modernity brought with it the birth of “non European” things.73 By contrast, however, late nineteenth century Japan was to locate itself squarely within the trajectory and dialectic of advanced/ backward nations, and the European narrative of modernity and world history, rather than to “resist” it. Japan’s response to the West and its appropriation of modernity engendered two interlocking historical narratives: Japan as backward when compared to the West, and Japan as advanced when seen in the context of the rest of Asia and its own drive toward an authoritarian, top down, mode of modernization.74 Japan had put itself in this discourse of advanced/backward relative to both the West and to Asia. This involved, according to Takeuchi, taking Japanese history out from within the domain of the Orient, as well as creating a new historical narrative to explain why the rest of Asia had not followed suit. For Takeuchi, the nineteenth century Chinese literary figure and nationalist Lu Xun was an important focal point in the comparison of Japan and China. According to Takeuchi, Lu was able to genuinely “resist” the West and thereby develop an authentic form of subjective consciousness and revolution. Takeuchi also brought the discussion to a comparison of Chinese and Japanese modernity, including the sphere of modern literature. Setting the parameters for this exposition, Takeuchi argued that Japan was neither within the Orient, nor within the West. In contrast to Chinese, and indeed “Oriental” forms of resistance, Japan had not been able to resist the historical narratives and epistemology of the West, and was

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 59 therefore no longer a part of the Orient. Neither was it interested in its own “self-preservation,” in contrast to European modernity, since Japan’s literature, scholarship, and notion of modernity all became thoroughly “degenerate.”75 This could be seen in the fact that Japan merely substituted one idea or ideology for another, gliding effortlessly from liberalism to totalitarianism, totalitarianism to communism, and Stalin to Mao, Mao to De Gaul. It did not, that is, have the ingenuity to evaluate and refine specific ideas when they came up against contradictions, as Europe had. Therefore, Takeuchi concluded that much in Meiji Japan represented less “progress” in the European sense, and more a mindless, frenetic kind of “slavery to progress.”76 Interestingly, Takeuchi used this latter phrase during the same period that labor movements, as noted above, were decrying the “enslavement” and “colonization” of the minzoku in postwar Japan, a theme of paramount importance to the subsequent radical history to be written. Furthermore, for Takeuchi this idea of slavery was also to be an important point of comparison between Japan and China. Using Lu Xun as a paradigm for Chinese modernity and agency, Takeuchi cited Lu’s argument that both master and slave are really cast within the same discourse: even though the slave becomes master, this does not mean he becomes free. The rigid mentality of a slave–master mode of thought could be seen in Japan’s “catch-up” mentality toward Europe during the Meiji period, and in the inferiority complex upon which this was based. Ultimately, Japan was trapped within the either/or mindset that came with the grand narrative of modernity, it had for all intents and purposes relinquished any sense of resistance to Europe and European modernity.77 From within the prison of the historical trajectory of progress, Japan could designate other Oriental countries as backward, since they seemed to be caught up within the mentality of a dispirited and colonized China. For prewar Japanese literary figures, and the nation as a whole, China was the one that seemed to have given up any hint of resistance to Europe. In point of historical fact, Takeuchi surmised, a figure such as Lu Xun could only have appeared under the social conditions of fierce resistance to European modernity. Going back to an observation that was to influence Ishimoda and radical historians several years hence, Takeuchi argued that Lu Xun was active during a period in which European and Japanese progressive historians had declared Asia to be static. Not only could Japan at that time not have produced its own Lu Xun, Takeuchi exclaimed, it could not even understand the historical significance for Asia of Lu because the Meiji tradition of civilization and progress had remained strong during the 1920s.78 For Takeuchi, furthermore, the character of China and Japan from the late nineteenth century could be distinguished by “conversion” vs. “tenkô.” Lu Xun, and China’s encounter with the West, did shake up things. Yet, this was part of an inward “conversion” which allowed figures like Lu to retain their sense of self and agency. Chinese literature, and society as a whole, although faced with severe trials and tribulations brought on by Europe, and eventual colonization from many different fronts, was able to change itself from within, and thus produce a genuine social revolution. On the other hand, Japanese literature and society relied upon a false sense of conversion, “tenkô,” which brought

60 Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 on nothing more than a series of epi-phenomenal changes from one ideology or belief to the next. This was because Japan was not able to experience an inner conversion to develop a sense of self and agency.79 These differences between Japan and China, once more, represented “structural” differences that permeated each culture according to Takeuchi. For Takeuchi, Japan’s singularity and uniqueness, particularly when compared to China and the Orient as a whole, stood out in several dimensions. In trying to answer the question of why Japan alone could not ontologically resist the West, Takeuchi claimed that only from within an “individuality” or inner subjectivity, could nations truly offer resistance. For example, in Russia resistance to Europe and the bourgeois or capitalist idea was based upon the individual typified in Lenin and Engels, in China, by Sun Yat-Sen and Lu Xun, and by Gandhi and Tagore in India. By distinction, Japan’s utter lack of “individuality,” a “structural particularity of Japanese culture,” also meant that it could not develop the kind of resistance that had taken hold in Russia and Asia. Yet, this was true not only of Meiji material culture and modernization imposed from above by Europe and America, but also for Japan’s experience with Confucianism during the Edo period, since Edo popular culture was a derivative of Chinese Ming culture.80 Although India and China had each come to a realization of ethnic national consciousness as the subject of national resistance and liberation, postwar Japan remained caught in the narrative of bourgeois modernity originally imposed upon it by the West. Takeuchi basically set the issue of Japanese agency up against national liberation movements and “socialist nations” in order to suggest that postwar Japan was in dire need of a change in historical consciousness. In linking the retention of “individuality” and “productive culture” with the idea of minzoku, or the ethnic nation, Takeuchi helped change the discourse on the ethnic nation so that it no longer was something completely taboo among progressive intellectuals. For Takeuchi, China had established the crucial idea of national identity as given through the historical progression of the ethnic nation, setting up the epistemological foundation upon which radical history would be written. He also saw in Mao’s liberation nationalism the “ethnic nationalization of Marxism” in a particularly Chinese historical and political context. By arguing that Mao’s founding of the People’s Republic of China was above all the “complete independence of the ethnic nation,”81 Takeuchi hoped this notion of national liberation could be extended to Japan and all of Asia. At the same time, Takeuchi also held that Japan had done little more than liberate the nation in terms of master/slave narratives affixed to European modernity, the civic nation, and Enlightenment thought. For the discourse of the “Orient” was at heart the discourse of the West. Secondly, Takeuchi heralded the linking of socialist revolution and the ethnic nation in China as a social and political instrument by which to resist world history, the latter seen in terms of Hegel’s dialectic of master/slave. This was to become an essential theme within early postwar radical history, and would lay the ground for Ishimoda’s pronouncement that the end of the war had revealed “the cruelty of the historical dialectic” between China and Japan, as Japan would have to learn from China in the postwar.82 Although Hegel was to thus become the subject of a decadent

Rebuilding Marxist history, 1945–1948 61 world history to be overturned, then, Ishimoda and others saw no problem in borrowing from Hegel’s logic to illustrate the ironies of the current relationship between China and Japan. As Lawrence Olson indicates, furthermore, Takeuchi’s article “struck a sympathetic note among some idealistic intellectuals searching in the postwar ruins for a self-respecting and ideologically congenial alternative to the bankrupt emperor-centered nationalism of the past.”83 This alternative form of nationalism would, moreover, appropriate the idea of minzoku, and China’s historical importance, in the construction and elaboration of a national history that sought to build upon progressive representations of national consciousness and identity during the late 1940s. In becoming an imperial power in the Meiji period, Takeuchi’s Japan had forfeited the very essence of what it was to be Asian. To regain true ethnic national culture, then, the Chinese example would have to become the prototype and link to appropriations of minzoku bunka. In this regard, Nakagawa Ikuro notes that Takeuchi’s work, particularly during this period, assumed a posture of “romanticism” towards the understanding of the ethnic nation through a kind of selfconsciousness which was held to be uniquely Asian, as well as through his appropriation of this understanding toward China.84 As Maruyama Noboru surmises, Takeuchi’s fascination with Lu Xun actually began during the early 1940s, at a time when the Japan Romantic School was already well established through figures such as Yasuda Yojurô.85 This should come as no surprise. For Takeuchi’s representation of Chinese agency, and his suggestions for the formation of postwar Japanese agency during the late 1940s, looked to a romanticized and somewhat idealized notion of minzoku as the panacea to Japan’s cultural and historical predicament. It would eventually become the task of historians involved in the project of national awakening to temper this romanticism, via historical constructionism, with the principles of historical science set forth by the postwar Society.

4

Marxist history’s search for new ground, 1948–1950

Between 1948 and late 1950, Ishimoda, Tôma, Inoue, Izu, and Eguchi would come to feel the effects of both the mobilization of national culture by the JCP and Takeuchi’s critique of bourgeois modernity. During the final years of the decade, however, there would still be no clear consensus about how Japanese historiography should modify its original tone. This situation mirrored what had happened during the late 1940s within the JCP. For there was even within the Communist Party no definitive position on just what was objectionable in the Occupation and the idea of a peaceful revolution. Still seeking redemption for what they saw as the sins of prewar Japanese historiography and Marxism, radical historians continued to develop the idea of a people’s history that had as its central goal a bourgeois democratic revolution. Their concerns lay less in direct political action against the Occupation, and more with trying to locate an ideological middle ground for Japanese history that could take the idea of ethnic nation and somehow reconcile it with the world history of bourgeois modernity. As the end of the decade drew near, however, moderation would become increasingly difficult. By mid-1949, influential figures within the JCP, such as Tokuda Kyûichi, would declare that the Japanese ethnic nation had now entered a virtual and complete “state of enslavement” at the hands of the postwar bourgeois Japanese state and “foreign capital.”1 Indeed, this position would gradually work its way into the Society even before 1950. Secondly, the legitimacy of the Democratic EthnicNational Unification Front would become even firmer as Occupation policies became more and more oriented toward economic recovery, and social control, within the context of American containment policy and the growing fears over Cold War policy on the Korean Peninsula and in East Asia. Thirdly, the success of Mao’s People’s Revolution and the subsequent establishment of the People’s Republic of China, in May of 1949, only served to underscore Takeuchi’s contrast between Chinese and Japanese modernity. In addition, it demonstrated that historians could be useful in bringing about proletarian revolution. Looked at from this vantage point, then, it might have seemed only a matter of time before Marxist historians would seek to appropriate the idea of Chinese cultural resistance to colonization in the name of a similar kind of liberation for Japan. In this regard, some historians within the Society attempted to come to terms with what was now seen as the imminent crisis facing postwar capitalism and

Marxist history, 1948–1950 63 democracy. They would do this by attempting to reconcile two necessary extremes: the cultural and historical particularities of the Japanese ethnic nation, on the one hand, and the “basic laws of world history,” on the other. During this period, a number of historians would also utilize the now rehabilitated notion of minzoku as a medium through which to question the relevance of modernity and democracy in Japan. Moreover, through the revamped idea of the ethnic nation as a progressive and potentially historical phenomenon, they would move the idea of a people’s history further away from class-based notions of jinmin, and more toward the culturalist discourse of minzoku bunka. As they saw it, for the cultural nation to achieve genuine democracy, it would be necessary to first understand how Japanese ethnic national culture had been created through a long process of cross-fertilization with other major cultures in world history. As this suggests, however, the notion of the ethnic nation was not yet completely incompatible with postwar reforms, a two-stage theory of revolution, the Occupation, or the “laws of world history” that all of these had come to symbolize. In this sense, it was somewhat of a continuation of historical argumentation developed since 1945 within the Society, and partially reaffirmed Izu’s perspective on the convertibility of world cultures and civilizations vis-à-vis Japan.

The didactic of Mao’s China and ambivalence toward postwar democracy One place to begin looking at this period of subtle transition within Marixst history can be found in interpretations of the idea of democracy. Interestingly, during almost the same period that some in the JCP were questioning their original faith in the Occupation and peaceful revolution, Marxist historians were also beginning to declare, in Rekishigaku Kenkyû, that there should no longer be any doubt about the urgency of direct social action. For instance, Ichikawa Yonehiko’s review “Minshushugi no Rekishiteki Hatten” (The Historical Development of Democracy), noted that historical events such as the “perfecting” of democracy in the USSR in 1917, along with the postwar phenomenon of decolonization in Asia, had produced the possibility for a new form of democracy. Although Ichikawa’s specific focus was the Soviet Union, the upshot of his argument was that the idea of democracy in the postwar would have to be considered within the context of Japan’s relationship to Asia, rather than purely in terms of a bourgeois revolution. As China and other Asian nations in search of liberation from colonial rule were making clear, any democracy which hoped to put power in the hands of the people (jinmin) would first have to think about liberating them from capitalism, imperialism, and Western influence.2 This was the start of a seminal cleft between the ideal of social democracy, and the historical reality of postwar reforms under the banner of democratic change, as some in the Society saw it. It should also be noted that here Ichikawa was taking aim at a history textbook just authorized by the Ministry of Education, entitled Minshushugi (Democracy).3 For him, this textbook was especially problematic since it took the incorrect ideological step of pitting “Soviet democracy” against the “global” trend of

64 Marxist history, 1948–1950 democratization. In other words, the Occupation’s view of democracy had relegated the universal idea of democratic society to a political and ideological particular by making the notion of “bourgeois democracy” the standard-bearer for democratic ideals. The specific danger in this way of thinking, for Ichikawa, was that it in effect (de)rationalized Soviet democracy right out of the historical trajectory of “democratic development,” and put it squarely into the domain of “totalitarianism.”4 In response to this Cold War notion that only American style (bourgeois) democracy could represent the ideal of democracy, then, Ichikawa retorted that it was in fact the proletarian form of social democracy, crystallized in the Soviet Union, which could save Japan and Asia. True universal democracy could only be legitimate if it ignored the role of the bourgeoisie in favor of putting the proletariat at the heart of a new democratic society.5 In essence, Ichikawa maintained that democracy in postwar Japan would need to come to terms with the distinction between the Western history of bourgeois democracy on the one hand, and the socialist history of liberation and emancipation, on the other. In addition, by linking Japan with Asian liberation nationalism, Ichikawa was also helping support the premise that democracy and culture in postwar Japan would have to root itself in a cultural tradition of Asian subjugation and emancipation at the hands of external colonization. Democracy was no longer merely a political question, therefore, it had also become a historical and ideological point of contention. Looked at more closely, several conclusions can be gleaned from Ichikawa’s response to Cold War ideology. First, his analysis presumed that the future of Japanese society depended upon the establishing of a new form of democracy based upon a reconsideration of world history. The idea of democracy and world history, whose ultimate goal was the liberation of the Japanese people, could no longer take for granted the services of bourgeois democracy to insure a smooth transition from prewar fascism to the postwar goal of a socialist society in Japan. This was because there was no longer a working partnership between bourgeois democracy and the proletariat, as borne out by what Ichikawa critiqued as the false separation of “general” democratic development from that seen in the Soviet Union, China, and most of Asia. Furthermore, Ichikawa’s argument here echoed the conclusions of Takeuchi’s critique of modernity, and perhaps to a lesser extent those of the JCP – the time had come for a direct transition to the penultimate stage of democracy, led by the proletariat rather than the bourgeoisie. Yet, Ichikawa’s historical challenge to the notion of postwar democracy that had been accepted by the Society since 1945 did not take the unequivocal step of advocating an immediate proletarian revolution in Japan. Instead, Ichikawa sought to point out what he considered to have been a dangerous penchant in postwar history to equate American-inspired democracy with the progression of world history. Before deciding upon how democracy could be developed within world history, he contended, it would first be necessary to define the kind of nation that was desired, and in what ways Japanese history could be conceived as part of the larger pageant of world history. From the same sense of crisis and the possibility of a historical transformation in the present, historians focused upon establishing the idea that Japanese popular agency could indeed be found throughout the history of the Japanese minzoku. Within

Marxist history, 1948–1950 65 this emerging debate over whether Japanese democracy should hold on to earlier paradigms of world history or focus more upon the need for socialist revolution through ethnic national unity, the issues of popular agency and culture would become crucial. For example, in 1949 the Historical Section of the Association of Democratic Scientists (Minka) and the Society collaborated on Nihon no Rekishi (The History of Japan). Authored collectively by Ishimoda, Izu, Inoue, Eguchi, Tôma, Tôyama, Mishima Hajime, and Matsumoto Shinpachirô, this textbook went further than Inoue’s 1946 “‘Kuni no Ayumi’ Hihan.” In particular, it sought to make explicit the “democratic tradition of the Japanese people (minzoku)” up through the present, so as to highlight Japan’s longstanding “democratic and progressive” tradition of popular resistance to the imperial system, the state, and unwanted interference in everyday life.6 The contributions to this volume more or less concurred with the notion that progressive change and agency could be uncovered in Japanese history by examining the realm of “social life.”7 Influenced by the Society’s principles and Ishimoda’s call for a new “cultural history” of Japan, the authors sought to go beyond the position that productive forces or economic considerations alone could drive history. Instead, it would now be necessary to focus upon epochal moments of transition that defined past periods of upheaval, based on the idea that it was the people who would ultimately determine how such moments of transition played out. Their approach also sought to integrate the idea of popular agency with more sophisticated forms of cultural argumentation. This involved suggesting that the history of Japan’s syncretic encounters with other cultures and civilizations might be thought of as the product of popular will and agency, rather than merely the result of elite power games.8 If the Japanese ethnic nation could be rendered in terms of ordinary society and popular influence in shaping the direction and cultural content of historical change, it would be possible to link the history of the ethnic nation in Japan to the larger, and more convertible, space of world history. In other words, the original ideals of the Occupation, coupled with the history of resistance by popular agency, would be enough to support a rationale for social change and democracy in the postwar. It was thus no longer necessary to conceptualize democratic and popular agency either in terms of the specific policies or machinations of Occupation politics. Eguchi would add a twist to this interpretation, however, in his protestations over the shape of popular agency in the postwar present. This can be seen in his 1949 “Rekishigaku ni okeru Kindaishugi no Hihan” (A Historiographical Critique of Modernism). Here, Eguchi asserted that progressive ideals like democracy could easily become the basis for “reactionary movements” as much as they could “revolutionary” ones, if not grasped in practical terms and instead taken piecemeal to fit ideological purposes.9 This warning was based upon Eguchi’s fears that “bourgeois” notions of social stability, and the belief in the middle class mediation of class interests and state power, were not only jeopardizing the chances for postwar democratic revolution, but actually masked the real possibility of a return to fascism. Put differently, popular agency and the goal of revolution could be watered-down and dampened by concerns with immediate “social stability” or “super classlessness,” because these attributes actually led to the reification and stagnation of the

66 Marxist history, 1948–1950 “middle class” within postwar Japanese society.10 Eguchi held that the success of postwar democracy needed to be measured not by the extent to which the middle class achieved social stability, but instead by the “contours and waves of class conflict instigated and controlled by the people.”11 If the middle class became reified into a source of social stability and legitimacy for the state, it would in effect become the harbinger of a new form of “super-classness” that could lull them into siding with authority and reactionary forces disguised as progressive ones.12 Eguchi also intimated that the American Occupation’s (and in particular the Reverse Course’s) emphasis on economic growth and social stability as the pillar of Japanese democracy, also threatened to create just such middle-class apathy. The logic behind this critique of postwar society was that it would indeed be up to the people, both the middle class and the proletariat, to be conscious of the changing realities of history. Thus, he cautioned against assumptions that the middle class could act in postwar democracy as a kind of “social foundation” upon which bureaucratic power could be legitimized. This would only lead to reactive, not revolutionary, change in Japan. His warnings can be read as an attempt to uncover some possible contradictions within Japanese society amidst uncertainty, by the end of 1948, over the ability of postwar democracy to achieve the bourgeois revolution that many Marxists had originally set as their objective. Granted, democracy, like modernism, had been heralded as a progressive idea for the transition from capitalism to socialism. However, under the conditions of what Eguchi saw as the possibility of a return of fascism in Japan, the middle class would have to take a fresh (and critical) look at the suitability of even a provisional stage of capitalism in the postwar period.13 If the middle class were to move toward the idea of social stability, class equilibrium, and the strategy of realizing socialism without making a revolutionary leap of faith, Eguchi maintained, they would only be lending their support to reactionary, conservative, and indeed fascist, elements that had remained in postwar society. These warnings would be echoed by Moscow in just one year’s time: the Comintern Critique of the JCP (to be discussed below) charged that the spirit of revolutionary change in postwar Japan was in danger of becoming coopted by reactionary ideology and politics. As if to emphasize this concern with the problems in Japanese society, the 1949 Annual Meeting of the Historical Science Society decided to take up the theme of the “basic contradictions” within different societies, in order to “illuminate the basic laws of world history.” The 1949 Annual Report of the Society focused in particular on how the “unique” attributes and development of various peoples (minzoku) could actually help illustrate the universal laws of history. One step in this direction could be seen in the Society’s move to do away with the divisions of “Japanese history,” “Oriental history,” and “Western history.” To further the goal of a “scientific” approach to history, again in keeping with the ideals of the postwar Society, these distinctions would be replaced by a breaking down of history into the areas of “ancient,” “premodern” and “modern.”14 On the general level of world history, the substituting of temporal distinctions for spatial ones was undertaken in the hope of facilitating a better correspondence of common historical laws spanning different nations and regions. Behind this new configuration, however, lay one problem: as

Marxist history, 1948–1950 67 Takeuchi had shown just one year earlier, the postwar advance of China toward revolution meant that Japanese history could not be properly contextualized or spatialized without reference to developments underway in China. Indeed, the 1949 Annual Report clearly stated that one important contradiction in world history concerned how to “bridge the gap” between Japan and China through an understanding of “scientific history,” so as to offer a common national “resistance” against Western imperialism. Undertaken in cooperation with the Historical Section of the Association of Democratic Scientists (Minka), this approach to history represented a conscious attempt by the Society to come to terms with events in both Asia and Japan. The overall theme of examining some of the basic contradictions in world history was in fact a response to the creation by the Occupation of a Committee for the Investigation of Un-Japanese Activities (Hinichi Katsudô Iiinkai) in 1949 to limit the activity of the JCP.15 This no doubt also helped to reinforce the belief among many Marxist historians that a new form of fascism was taking root in postwar Japan. At the same time, however, Mao’s China had just made the transition to Socialism. Historians had to only look to the now reversed relationship between China and Japan (with the former now at a more advanced stage than the latter) to realize that world history, even history within its neighboring precincts, represented a space of painful contradictions and twists of fate. Indeed, in March of 1949 both liberal and Marxist intellectuals joined forces in putting forth a “Declaration by Japanese Scientists Concerning War and Peace.”16 Many of these points were drawn together in Kanda Shohachihei’s “Shihonshugishakai no Ippanteki Kiki ni tsuite” (On the General Crisis in Capitalist Society), an important contribution to the Society’s 1949 Annual Report. Kanda’s position turned out to be quite consequential in terms of how Marxist historians would soon come to perceive American hegemony, and in particular the Occupation. Kanda asserted that as the “only huge capitalist country” left, the United States was at the center of a drive to turn back the People’s Revolution in China and obstruct national unification in Korea.17 In addition, Kanda warned that the Japanese people were themselves facing a crisis of independence at the hands of US monopoly capital, the inflationary fiscal policies of the Yoshida Administration, and the “remilitarization” of Japan in Asia.18 For Kanda, therefore, epochal changes in China and the institutionalization of superpower confrontation on the Korean Peninsula were inherently linked to domestic changes in Occupation policy. This created an environment in which postwar democracy became akin to “Americanism,” and in which the authority and politics of the Occupation came to be seen as a form of neocolonialism. As many in the Society saw it, the net result of these social and political transformations was that societies and peoples living under American influence had become immersed in the contradictions of world history as it was shaping up during the late 1940s. However, for Kanda the crisis of capitalism in world history was nowhere more severe than in postwar Japan. Nowhere was there more of a need to bring about a “people’s revolution” from the mounting crisis.19 This could also be seen in Kanda’s call for making the people the “subjective basis” for radical change away from “state monopoly capitalism” and toward revolution.20 Through

68 Marxist history, 1948–1950 a realization of present day contradictions in Japanese capitalism – and their relation to larger events within East Asia – problems within Japanese society could be transformed into potential opportunities.21 Kanda’s contribution to the 1949 Annual Report of the Society was also important since it followed Ichikawa’s lead in using the US–Soviet rivalry (along with socialist revolution in China) to bifurcate Western and Asian civilizations. Although Kanda argued that revolution in China was an important step in the direction of “world revolution” and the “anti imperialist” and “anti feudal” struggle,22 he also asserted that the “crisis of capitalism” in Japan could only be solved by linking revolution in Japan to socialist revolution in Asia. Confirming this position, the Report added that for Japan and Asia the “direction of world history” had been irreversibly transformed with the establishment of a new socialist state in China.23 Furthermore, Kanda also framed the question of postwar Japanese democracy within this new episteme by suggesting that the “democratic ethnic-national revolution” (minshu minzoku kakumei) in China had cast a “great” and “absolute” political influence upon all Asian peoples, Japan included. China’s historical example served as a “notebook” for both a “theory of national liberation for colonial peoples” as well as a “strategic battleplan” for how to wage a successful National Front.24 Put differently, Mao’s China could lead the way for a new world history since it had been successful in overcoming the last of its “internal contradictions,” to finally liberate the nation from the shackles of colonial and bourgeois domination. It reflected what Ishimoda, in 1952, would declare to all historians as the importance of “making clear the significance of the Russian and Chinese revolutions to world history and the fate of Asian nations.”25 Another early example of this implied dialectical irony between Japan and China can be found in Okamoto Saburô’s “Kônichi Minzoku Tôtisu Sensen no Keisei Katei” (The Development of China’s Ethnic-National Unification Front). Even though Okamoto didn’t equivocate the prewar colonization of China with the postwar “colonization” of Japan to the extent Ishimôda would in 1952, his elaborate account of the birth and conclusion of Mao’s Ethnic-National Unification Front against Japan reads like a blueprint for Asian liberation nationalism. In particular, Okamoto felt that the strategies and overall logic of prewar and wartime resistance in China to Japanese imperialism provided an excellent didactic for peoples wishing to “resist imperialism for the sake of peace and freedom.” Okamoto lauded Mao’s long campaign of resistance that sought to unify the Chinese nation (minzoku) through the “expulsion of large capitalists, landowners, the military, and the bureaucracy,” and to eradicate all Chinese dependency upon “foreign capital” in order to create a “democratic state.” For Okamoto, moreover, this strategy could serve Japan as well: “the Japanese people can now look forward” to a similar “free and peaceful independent state,” like the one that had just come to fruition on the mainland.26 The message here was that only through struggle and fierce resistance could the contradictions be overcome that were plaguing Japanese society. To prove this point, he argued the National Front in prewar China included an all-important “counter war” (kôsen) against Japan and Japanese bellicosity.27 The 1937 National

Marxist history, 1948–1950 69 Front of the Chinese Communist Party reconsolidated and fortified “national liberation troops” (kokumin kakumei gun) comprised of workers, farmers and petit bourgeoisie, banding together to create a “fundamental revolutionary force” for national liberation and unification.28 However, Okamoto also surmised that the arduous, but necessary, process of liberating and rebuilding the Chinese nation through this struggle depended upon the conscious goal of uniting all Chinese – regardless of class – into a new form of social and political organization that would eliminate “internal contradictions” such as class divisions. Only through internal unification, then, could the process of national self-consciousness (what would soon come to be known as “national awakening”) and the independent socialist nation emerge. The subtle, but perceptible, changes toward the ideas of democracy and revolution represented by these perspectives also had a direct effect upon the way agency in Japanese history was perceived. As already pointed out, Marxist history between 1946 and 1948 had more or less concurred on the subject of Japanese society and history as having been, at least up until the Meiji era, if not until 1945, stuck within a “static” form of society when compared to Europe and America. Not only had Izu described the unfulfilled and frustrated agency of the people in Japan from ancient times, but he, along with Ishimoda, Tôma, Hani, and a host of other historians, went on to support the idea of an ancient Japanese “despotic” slave system.29 Their contention was that Japanese society had remained in a semi-feudal state of development, an especially recalcitrant historical example of how the Asiatic Mode of Production Theses could not yet be fully discounted or disqualified. This position, in turn, gave legitimacy to the idea that Japanese society in the postwar would first need to reach a bourgeois revolution. Yet, the situation was now changing: the overturning of China’s seeming “backwardness,” by 1949, suggested that Asian nations could lay the specter of the Asiatic Mode of Production to rest. This is one more reason why some historians within the Society were already coming to see China’s example as even more relevant to them than that of the Soviet Union. As framed in the 1949 Annual Report of the Society, China’s successful transition to socialism offered Japan a way to remedy the social contradictions and general crisis of Japanese capitalism, which had become an important historical and political issue within the Society, at the end of the decade.30 It should thus be no surprise that the Society’s Annual Report of the following year, 1950, voiced considerable skepticism toward approaching modern history from a comparative perspective based upon the normative value of bourgeois modernism. On the other hand, it is quite interesting that as late as 1950 Ishimoda would hold onto the idea that Japanese history would need to be sized up in relation to bourgeois modernity and the historical modernization of Western Europe. In contrast to Ishimoda, however, other historians declared that Japan’s view of the “laws of world history” could no longer be rooted in the idea that bourgeois modernity represented the norm. Hori Toshikazu argued that sizing up Japan’s or China’s progress through “Western” notions of historical development would in effect put the imprimatur of the Asiatic Mode of Production upon important features of popular agency and national culture. Eguchi joined this debate by adding

70 Marxist history, 1948–1950 that Japanese prewar imperialism, like that in Russia and Germany, were developmentally “exceptionalist” and thus could not be simply reduced to standards associated with “modern bourgeois revolution.”31 Likewise, other historians claimed that the issue of state power could not simply be treated through the “modernization-driven” nomenclature of “feudal” and “modern.” At the 1950 Annual Historical Science Society Meeting, Suzuki Shirô, to take one example, maintained that the problem of state power had to be approached in terms of Japan’s “dependency” upon “American imperialism.” Suzuki maintained that just as postwar China had overcome the problem of bourgeois modernity, Japan had become “enslaved” to a form of imperialism that took advantage of both its over-zealousness toward bourgeois revolution, and its recalcitrant problem of a feudal and regressive social structure. The fact that the imperial system had evolved from a “semi feudal absolute form of state power,” to that of a “bourgeois monarchy” in the postwar period, only reinforced the complex nature of how state power could be configured against the people in the name of democracy.32 In sum, the 1950 report hinted that to solve this problem of entrenched state power, it would be necessary to develop a dynamic and populist sense of agency that could appeal to the notion of Asian forms of progress and liberation. Clearly, then, there was no longer any question as to the relevance of the Asiatic Mode of Production for Japan and Asia, at least as far as the demands of the futurepresent were concerned. Instead, Asian particularity framed as cultural stagnation was coming to be replaced by a “new” mode of explanation regarding the history and relationship between China and Japan, and Japan and Asia. Thus, the issue of state-power for the Historical Science Society spoke not only to the problem of the postwar state and democracy, but to the whole problem of modern hegemony, imperialism, and monopoly capital. Indeed, it was becoming painfully clear to many Marxist historians that the people’s history they had so desired since the reconsolidation of the Society, would have to represent popular agency in terms of cultural archetypes. The transition to socialism, in other words, would need to become a matter of cultural and political unification of the ethnic nation. It was in this vein that Ôyama Ikuo, who had during the late 1920s developed a constructionist idea of the Japanese ethnic nation against the bourgeois state, declared a new “minzoku concept” that could be used in this very quest for national independence. Ôyama contested that the “crisis of the ethnic nation” facing Japan was indicative of the growing threat to world peace brought on by the Cold War, and American geopolitics in particular. He also realized, however, that it would be crucial to distinguish the postwar progressive sense of the ethnic nation from prewar ideas of minzokushugi, or ethnic nationalism. For Ôyama, the implications of national independence in the postwar were the very opposite of what had been purported by prewar and wartime ethnic nationalism of the past. The chief point of contrast between prewar and postwar notions of the ethnic nation lay in the fact that the postwar “concept of the nation” (minzoku gainen) could serve the ultimate goal of world peace. Prewar Japanese minzokushugi, like prewar German imperialism, by contrast, had engaged in a kind of politics that subordinated one people to another in the larger interests of the fascist state.33 The

Marxist history, 1948–1950 71 postwar sense of the nation, however, was diametrically opposed to colonialism and imperialism since it represented a way through which nations could liberate themselves from foreign domination and influence. More precisely, cooperation “among the progressive masses (taishû)” within different nations (minzoku) was seen not only as part of national independence, but also as the essential foundation for world peace.34 All of this is quite striking, looking back for a moment, given the fact that Ôyama himself was one of the important forerunners of historical constructionism during the mid-1930s, as noted in Chapter 2. Ôyama could very well have taken his own contributions to the prewar debate as the very examples through which to contrast prewar ethnic nationalism with this “new” form of the nation designed to release colonized peoples from political subjugation. Indeed, he could have provided a spatial contrast between different discourses during the early and mid-1930s, to illustrate the point that progressive ethnic nationalism was not all that foreign or unknown to Japanese intellectuals. On the other hand, as has already been argued, the prewar history of progressive ethnic nationalism was hardly anything to be proud of, at least as far as the early postwar Left was concerned. In these endeavors, Ôyama clearly was not alone. Furthermore, it is also possible to argue that Ôyama’s views were not quite as daring and bold as others contributing to the 1949 and 1950 Annual Reports of the Society. For instance, although he did argue that any continued US presence in Japan after the signing of a peace treaty would go against the spirit of national independence, he also noted that the Occupation had on the whole been a positive influence in Japan. Nevertheless, Ôyama also maintained that Japan would have to find a way to achieve “economic and political independence” from America, just as America had itself engaged in a “colonial war of independence” against Great Britain.35 Indeed, Ôyama framed the national question for Japan in terms of economic and political independence for the people. He even articulated this goal through a narrative of national independence from colonial rule, placing the existence of national space and time within the same (future-oriented) historical trajectory as that of China, Korea, and Southeast Asia. This was to mark a distinct turning point in how Marxist historians approached the example of Chinese revolution and history as it related to Japan. In one sense, it represented the culmination of what Takeuchi Yoshimi had several years prior described as the “historical necessity” of Japanese modernity, a distinctly “non-bourgeois” and “non-Western” modernity, to proceed down the post-colonial, revolutionary path of Mao’s China. By the end of the decade, in short, the foundations were being set for the cultural essentialism of a more determined form of national history, one ensconced within a rather Sino-centric notion of Asian civilization.

Marxist history and the new nation As the 1949 and 1950 Annual Reports of the Society and Ôyama’s reconstructed idea of the ethnic nation suggest, by mid-1950 several important Marxist historians had already declared the ethnic nation to be a legitimate form of cultural expression for the people’s agency in history. In the historical context of late 1950 and early

72 Marxist history, 1948–1950 1951, as will be discussed below, the “new concept” of the ethnic nation would become the centerpiece of radical history. In particular, progressive notions of minzokushugi would come to serve as the backbone for discourses of nationalism and internationalism. Ôyama’s conception of the ethnic nation helped all of this to come about by raising the question of how to define and problematize progressive nationalism, while simultaneously keeping in focus how prewar ethnic nationalism was the very antithesis of its conception and instrumentalization in the postwar period. One early example of how other Marxist historians were beginning to catch onto this conception of the ethnic nation can be found in Tôyama Shigeki’s 1950 “Futatsu no Nashonarizumu no Taikô” (The Conflict Between Two Nationalisms). Here, Tôyama argued that the historical contrast between “progressive” and “reactive” (i.e., postwar and prewar) forms of minzokushugi could help articulate the need for historians in general to construct a new “nationalism of the people” to resolve the socially unsettling problem of “political class warfare” in Japan. For Tôyama, moreover, this new nationalism was not to be confused with “patriotism.”36 While patriotism and statism would only assist in the unwelcome return of “ultranationalism,” a new nationalism for Japan would have to be based upon the “popular revolutionary energy” of the ideals of freedom, independence, and peace.37 Tôyama also exclaimed that this new nationalism would have to represent the interests of the people based upon the idea that the practical goals of postwar history and revolution were incompatible with a “modernist view of history,” even though the latter had come to dominate much postwar liberal scholarship.38 In this regard, he followed somewhat in the footsteps of Izu’s earlier critique of Japanese modernity and the problem of agency for social change. Moreover, here we can also see that Tôyama came to share Takeuchi’s view that even though modern nationalism had begun in Europe with modern bourgeois revolutions, both China and Japan shared the same “Oriental” destiny in having experienced a qualitatively different kind of modernization from the West. Of course, for Tôyama and Takeuchi this late-developing Oriental form of modernization needed to be distinguished from bourgeois modernity. Yet, like Takeuchi, Tôyama realized that the relationship between Japan and China had been shaken up – China had shown itself able to successfully develop a progressive ethnicnational consciousness through its struggle against Japanese imperialism.39 More specifically, Tôyama argued that from the Bakumatsu era, both Japan and China shared basically the same space of colonization at the hands of Western capitalism. In sharing the same “non-Western” experience of modernization, both Japan and China had to confront the potential loss of national autonomy at the hands of Western capitalism and forced-modernization. Tôyama also maintained this new Japanese nationalism could unite Japan with its neighbors by establishing the “revolutionary tradition” of Asian nationalism, now spearheaded by China. Thus, by taking up the history of Japanese imperialism as one moment within a larger narrative of mutual responses by both China and Japan to the West, Tôyama was able to define a new concept of progressive ethnic nationalism. He did so, however, not in terms of the history between Japan and China, per se, but more fundamentally as the product of Western expansionism, capitalism, and

Marxist history, 1948–1950 73 provocation. The fact that Japan and China chose to deal with this provocation differently did not change their basic affinity toward one another. Just as Japanese imperialism had in the prewar become the defining moment for the development of Chinese liberation or progressive nationalism, so in the postwar Chinese progressive nationalism could become the exemplar and stimulus for the dawn of a new progressive nationalism in Japan. Darker parts of Japan’s aggression in China, then, could be replaced by praise for Chinese resistance, while the latter could become the raison d’etre for placing Japan back within an Asian or Oriental history against the West.40 In this vein, Tôyama also attempted to emphasize the fact that prior to Japanese imperialism in Asia, Japan, China, and Korea had attempted to forge an alliance of progressive social movements. To take one specific example, Tôyama claimed that during the Meiji era, movements in Japan such as the People’s Rights Movement sought to develop a new internationalism by first constructing a viable form of revolutionary nationalism. This was to be based upon an alliance, between the national populaces (minzoku minshu) of Japan and Korea, who were set upon achieving a democratic revolution in their nations as a prelude for international cooperation against Western imperialism in East Asia. Under the brunt of Western imperialism, according to Tôyama, progressive voices within the Japanese, Korean, and Chinese people saw the need to bring about a revolutionary awakening to the realization of a “common destiny.”41 Since Japan, China, and Korea shared the same historical roots and socio-political challenges, it was only natural for progressive nationalism among them to seek national revolutionary unity in tandem with international (East Asian) cooperation. However, as Tôyama lamented, with the turn toward war against China in 1895, Japanese capitalism would develop more in the direction of statism and ultra-nationalism. Naturally, Tôyama did here acknowledge the tragedy of the wartime Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere imposed by Japan upon Asia. Yet, he also maintained that the mistaken policies of prewar Japan were, nevertheless, based upon the conviction that Japan’s fate was inevitably linked to East Asia. Most of all, Tôyama concluded his argument by voicing optimism about the ability of Japanese nationalism to come up to par with the revolutionary spirit that had developed among East Asian nations, ironically, at the hands of Japanese imperialism. Actually, it was through this sanguine view of Japanese progressive nationalism, not to mention the critique of bourgeois modernity and liberal intellectuals, that Tôyama did venture into new ideological territory as a historian. For it was in this very year of 1950 that the liberal intellectual Maruyama Masao declared Asian nationalism to have a bright future: under Japanese colonization, that is, China and Korea had been able to “fuse social revolution with nationalism” as a form of opposition politics. In so doing, the peoples of these countries were able to rid their societies of feudal social relations. As a result, postwar Asian nationalism had the kind of revolutionary energy that semi-feudal Japanese society was incapable of without first having a modern revolution.42 Maruyama’s conclusion, however, was that even a bourgeois revolution in postwar Japan would be a longterm process, and he thus separated any future form of Japanese nationalism from

74 Marxist history, 1948–1950 Asian liberation nationalism. By contrast, however, Tôyama argued for “correct political leadership” in Japan that could in fact harness all the populist energies that had formerly been mobilized by the state in the service of ultra-nationalism. This would enable the Japanese nation to again participate in, and become one important “wing” of, Asian nationalism.43 In other words, the postwar Japanese nation would need to reclaim the revolutionary energy that had been sucked up by “nationalism from above.” This energy would instead need to be harnessed for the purpose of social revolution, reconsolidating national consciousness, and reintegrating the Japanese minzoku back into the spatial designation of “Asia” and the “Orient.” These aspirations and prescriptions were based upon Tôyama’s belief that there was cause for optimism in the objective of removing the “reactionary tradition” of statism and ultra-nationalism that had during the prewar obfuscated a populist recognition of Japanese national consciousness and internationalism in Asia. “Tomorrow’s progressive victory” would come, he argued, through the spirit of resistance that supported a “nationalism from below,” and that galvanized the energy of the people in ways that would smash any lingering elements of the old, reactionary nationalism.44 In this way, Tôyama believed that nationalism from below, the only legitimate form of progressive nationalism, could erase the artificial boundaries that had been set up during Japan’s modernization, causing Japan’s isolation from, and then domination of, Asia. In contradistinction, however, Maruyama Masao summarily dismissed this possibility by exclaiming that any viable postwar sense of progressive nationalism would have to inspire a “sense of mission” as compelling as prewar ultra-nationalism, in order for social revolution in Japan to actually take place.45 Tôyama was not alone in seeking to in effect prove Maruyama’s hypothesis wrong. Eguchi Bokurô’s 1950 “Rekishi ni okeru Nashonarizumu no Hatten” (The Development of Nationalism in History) took up the national question, yet this time within a discourse of comparative nationalism in world history. Eguchi first identified three different historical manifestations of nationalism in the modern era, each of which represented a different manifestation of the historical development of modern society in world history. The first of these, kokuminshugi, marked the nationalism of “mature capitalism” heralded by the French Revolution. Yet, this was to be “short lived” in that “modern capitalist wars” such as the Napoleonic Wars were soon to bring about a series of “reactions” to the external pressures of capitalist development in places like Germany and Russia. In other words, the possibilities of a “democratic nationalism” inaugurated with the French Revolution soon gave way to a more reactionary form of nationalism akin to kokkashugi, or statism. Subsequently, the national question was to manifest itself in the transition to imperialism and the emergence of “dependent” and “oppressed” peoples, who sought to rebel against this through liberation nationalism.46 On the one hand, the end of European empires after World War I meant that liberation nationalism was already making headway over reactionary nationalism. Yet, Eguchi also argued that attempts by the West to legitimize the “national self-determination” of peoples really sought to submerge the problem of the ethnic nation within an imperial discourse. Like the debates of the mid-1930s, the influence of Lenin’s theories on

Marxist history, 1948–1950 75 imperialism, as well as the national liberation Marxism of the Third International, are clearly evident here.47 Even more so than Tôyama, however, Eguchi was convinced that Japan, and the world for that matter, was now facing a severe crisis whose outcome could very well be global war brought on by the confrontation between capitalism and socialism. In response to the outbreak of the Korean War, in 1950, and increasing social tensions at home, Eguchi theorized that the Cold War had come to involve not only the direct participants, but also those peoples historically subjugated to “European modernity,” such as Asia, Africa, and Eastern Europe. Although this spoke to the phenomenon of liberation nationalism in such places, for Eguchi all of the major problems in international society were intimately bound up with the problem of the ethnic nation. This could be seen, he argued, in the movements for autonomy in various regions and contexts; Southeast Asia, Greece, Yugoslavia and even in East Germany. Taken in terms of world history, these represented important developments in the struggle between bourgeois, or reactionary, nationalism, and that of peoples in India, China, Korea and Yugoslavia, who sought the “autonomy of the ethnic nation.”48 As this suggests, the basic distinction between reactive and progressive nationalisms was based upon that between imperialist statism and national revolution by peoples seeking liberation. Like Tôyama, Eguchi basically approached the question of world history in terms of the dynamics of imperialist nationalism, on the one hand, and a counter-culture of liberation nationalism on the other. Like Tôyama, as well as Takeuchi for that matter, Eguchi also included Japan within the historical possibility of liberation nationalism, based upon a clear and conscious rejection of bourgeois modernity and imperialism. It was from such a stance that Eguchi approached the problem of postwar Japanese nationalism. In fact, a progressive – and by extension, a healthy and correct – form of national consciousness could not be conceived as either a problem of modernity or a problem of Japanese history on its own. Rather, it was to be seen as a problem of the minzoku and their liberation from postwar imperialism and the bourgeois state. Thus, Japanese nationalism would have to be depicted as both a response to the particular historical conditions that the nation was facing, and as an inseparable link in the narrative of Asian peoples seeking national independence and entry into a post-colonial phase of social growth, political freedom, and international cooperation. Therefore, while he thought prewar Japan to have engaged in a “reactionary” and “ahistorical” form of bourgeois nationalism, and ultranationalism, he also surmised that events in Asia demonstrated that the national question should be expressed through the conflict between progressive and reactionary nationalisms.49 This also meant that although the problem of the ethnic nation had developed in tandem with the establishment of capitalism, its resolution held the potential to transform the objective historical conditions related to the development of world capitalism. For example, Eguchi suggested that throughout (modern) history, when “reactive nationalism” had posed a threat or crisis to various peoples, the will of the people was able to resist and check its expansion and dominion. The possibility of a resurgent and reactive nationalism in the postwar, then, could only be dealt with,

76 Marxist history, 1948–1950 Eguchi surmised, if the public were made more conscious of the crisis of the ethnic nation, in Japan, Asia, and other oppressed regions. In other words, the crisis Japan was facing represented not just a problem of the laws of world history, but instead a geopolitical, historical, and ideological conflagration, out from within which progressive nationalism could boldly move to unite international society. As already suggested, members of the Society like Eguchi saw this crisis as similar to that which befell Japan and China one century before. As will also be shown in Chapter 6, it would be the duty of Marxist historians, both Eguchi and Tôyama held, to help make sure the response this time around was based upon the revolutionary aspirations of popular consciousness, rather than the reactionary interests of geopolitics or statist ideology. Behind these developments within Marxist history were, to be certain, a host of dramatic historical and political changes. First and foremost, the outbreak of the Korean War in May of 1950 marked a point of no return in the Marxist critique of postwar democracy, the Occupation, and the question of peace in Asia. American polices became equated with imperialism and expansionism in ways not possible several years earlier. On the one hand, the explosion of hostilities between North and South Korea represented the swift and complete transition to another “wartime economy,” whose machinations were dictated by the United States. For Marxist historians and the JCP, this transition also brought with it new policies aimed at stifling labor movements, student movements, and intellectual resistance. This, in turn, spurred on vociferous and broad-based responses from progressive intellectuals and historians, as well as workers and unions. At the same time, however, the specter of the American military again at war in East Asia was seen within the Japanese Left as the harbinger of an all-out war in the region. This was because both the outbreak of war, as well as the intimate involvement of Japan within it, were seen as the direct result (if not design) of American policy in East Asia. Not only would the interests, identity, and future of Japan be sacrificed, it was feared, but the war in Korea would also cement the domination of Asia under the military machine of American hegemony and the power of global capitalism. Given the fact that during the late 1940s many Asian liberation movements had made progress in the goal of revolution and independence, the Korean War for some actually represented a major step backward in returning part of Asia right back to colonial domination and sacrifice for the sake of major powers. As a result, Eguchi, Tôyama and soon many other Marxist historians, saw the danger of an immanent recolonization of Asia and, for Japan, the re-emergence of the kind of imperialist threat that had existed just before the Meiji period. Although India had been liberated in 1947, and liberation movements were already well underway in places such as Indonesia, Malaysia, and the Philippines, the Korean War threatened to undermine the unity and momentum that was seen as essential to the progress and fruition of progressive nationalism. Indeed, progressive nationalism was seen as part of a larger shake up in world history toward the overcoming of prewar (imperialist) racism and colonialism, and the establishing in Asia of a “cultural buffer zone” from both Western imperialism and Soviet internationalism. The Korean War was inimical to this historical process of national liberation based upon

Marxist history, 1948–1950 77 socialist revolution at home, and a new framework for international reconciliation and cooperation within Asia that could replace prewar racism, colonialism, and the historical embarrassment of Japan’s colonization of Asia. In this regard, Marxist historians were also becoming concerned that China, the key to this whole vision for a new Asia, was itself being threatened by the Korean War. If the collective development and consciousness of minzoku agency in a national context were to grow and to reach out toward likeminded national liberation movements in Asia, the People’s Revolution in China would have to succeed in its ongoing task of building a socialist state. Although revolution had taken place in November of 1949, Chinese socialism was still a work in progress. The revolution in China, by virtue of not only its cultural and historical ties to Japan, but also by virtue of the fact that China was seen as the postwar flagship for a new Asian nationalism and internationalism, had signaled the beginning of tectonic change in Asia. Japan could either once again be completely consumed by fascism, and subsequently its people again mobilized against its neighbors through militarism, capitalism, and expansionism, or it could stake a claim to the future by developing its own form of progressive national consciousness. Yet, the war being waged in Korea was taking place right on China’s doorstep, and thus threatened to drag it into a direct confrontation with America. This was all the more so since the war was seen as being a pretext by the United States for eventually reaching China and reversing its newborn social revolution. To make matters worse, by 1951 the issue of postOccupation cooperation between America and Japan had also come to the fore. Perhaps one of the most articulate themes soon to be brought out by historians was the more radical idea that proletarian unification and liberation in Japan could not be complete, nor sufficient, until American economic, social, cultural, geopolitical, and military influence were thoroughly yoked off. Thus, the beginnings of both the Peace Treaty and the Security Treaty with the United States must have loomed like a giant elephant (or perhaps Trojan Horse) on the horizon. Another factor seminal to the historical turn of 1950 was the infamous Comintern Critique by Moscow, in January, of the postwar JCP.50 Basically, Moscow reprimanded the JCP for, among other things, supporting a policy of appeasement and co-existence with the American Occupation in the naïve hope that socialism in Japan could be realized and midwifed under bourgeois democratic rule. The Occupation, bourgeois revolution, and American inspired democracy, all to be achieved through peaceful change, had only strengthened the clasped hands of imperialism and statism. In the eyes of Moscow, the 1932 Theses and belief in a twostage theory of revolution had only helped American imperialism in the postwar period to engage in expansionism in East Asia and have its way with Japan. In this regard, the critique also took particular aim at what was referred to as the 1946 “Nosaka Theses,” which had espoused revolution in cooperation with the American Occupation and Japanese “parliamentary action.”51 Nosaka’s and the JCP’s policies of first making the JCP more “likeable” and acceptable to the masses, including the bourgeois middle class, had played right into the interests of the establishment in creating social stability, just as Eguchi had suggested in his critique of Japanese modernism in 1948. Of course, it has already been shown that since 1947 elements

78 Marxist history, 1948–1950 within the JCP had, in fact, been gradually moving in the direction of a change in policies vis-à-vis the Occupation, bourgeois modernity, and revolution. By 1948 the Nosaka Theses, in point of fact, had slowly begun to give way to the Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front. As such, the Comintern Critique seized only upon what it saw as sluggishness and ideological vacuousness within the JCP, while ignoring its more radical and mobilized elements. Nevertheless, the critique charged that the Japanese proletariat could not be moved into action to become the agents of social change so long as the immediate goal was bourgeois revolution and cooperation with the Occupation. Instead, the JCP would have to embark upon a strategy that was far more against the Occupation, and become more “militant” in its approach and tactics so as to get back in touch with the needs of workers and the people.52 Adding fuel to the fire, pressure from the Comintern upon the JCP was countered by pressure from the Occupation: in June 1950, just as the Korean War was breaking out, the Occupation ordered the suspension of the Japan Communist Party Newspaper Akahata.53 On the one hand, as J.P. Napier has pointed out, “the lack of unity of thought among Communist Party leaders was [actually] spotlighted by the Cominform criticism.”54 As early as 1950, in fact, the JCP had been divided into a centralist faction and an internationalist faction. While the former adhered to the belief that Japan should assume a position of neutrality in the Cold War and the conflict between capitalism and communism, the internationalist faction wanted the JCP to follow the Comintern Critique of Japanese communism and pursue an “all out attack” upon American imperialism.55 At the same time, however, the Comintern Critique did hit the JCP and the Society like a ton of bricks. In fact, the effects of the critique were so deep that it led to the 1951 Theses of the JCP. This completed what had already begun in 1947 – the official shift in party line toward “an inherently Chinese strategy of revolution for Japan.” Furthermore, the critique also helped historians to utilize the “Stalinist propensity to underline the difference between revolution in an imperialist country,” and revolution within the context of the oppressed historical conditions facing colonized peoples.56 The idea of the latter has already been shown within the turn toward progressive nationalism by historians like Eguchi and Tôyama, suggesting that they were indeed influenced by this gradual shift. For these historians, as for Ishimoda and his colleagues, all of this meant that revolution in Japan would become neither completely “bourgeois” nor completely “proletarian.” It would be necessary to achieve a revolution for the “independence” of the nation and the subsequent advancement toward socialism, rather than a bourgeois revolution to achieve the loss of “semi-feudal” elements in Japanese society. Like any crisis, this was a moment of both danger and opportunity in the eyes of radical historians. The dominant role of “bourgeois” history and discourse that had favored the designations of West/ruling class/capitalism/social oppression/cultural fragmentation, had, through the spread of socialism and its impact upon postwar Asian nationalism, brought forth the previously silenced domains of East/ proletariat/socialist relations of production/cultural unification. For historians in the Society, the re-introduction of Stalin’s historical constructionism would come to usher in a new moment in world history for Japan, one that would enable the

Marxist history, 1948–1950 79 people to internally transform their social relations and cultural identity. This would, at least in theory, provide the groundwork for a new form of nationalism, as well as internationalism, in postwar Japan. So long as this was presented through a form of legitimacy based upon its “externality” to Japanese history, it could form the basis of a new and revelatory moment within both Japanese Marxism and the history of the people. After all, liberation was something to come from without, and to be appropriated so as to become something eventually residing within. As Eguchi himself declared, the “liberation of the ethnic nation” had become, from the early twentieth century, a fundamental “objective of world history” and sine qua non for understanding the conditions for postwar historical objectivity.57 The beauty and elegance of Stalin’s theories on the national question, in particular the nation as a historical construct, lay in their ability to render world history in terms of Asian liberation, and therefore reinforce a direction for progressive Japanese nationalism that had already started to take hold. Perhaps the only difficulty would be in finding ways to facilitate this new sense of popular agency within Japan. The rather uncertain political circumstances facing Japan in the midst of the Korean War meant that there was somewhat of a gap between inevitable historical change, on the one hand, and the crisis in Japan and East Asia, on the other. For even though postcolonial and liberation nationalisms had become prominent in China and India, suggesting a strong momentum towards sea change in Asia, there was also apprehension, especially within Japan, that the Korean War could set back such transformations. In other words, behind the sense of crisis on the Japanese Left was a genuine fear over whether or not Mao’s China – and the changes in world history as they came about in Asia, would be lasting ones. The solution to this problem for Ishimoda and his colleagues was to take Maruyama Masao at his word. In effect, they had accepted Maruyama’s view that any viable postwar Japanese nationalism would have to be propelled by the dictates of a “mission” with the kind of fortitude seen in prewar ultra-nationalism. Indeed, this sense of mission for the postwar years would be articulated as nothing less than a “national awakening” by the Japanese people to the colonization of their nation by illegitimate forms of political community and authority such as the state, bourgeois modernity, and most of all, American imperialism. It was a project they hoped could instill Japanese society with the kind of revolutionary energy that had unified China. Japan could once again become reborn as a “virgin” through the purity of its ethnic nation. Thus, even though both prewar and early postwar versions of historical constructionism would support the same root idea of ethnic and racial homogeneity, the construction of the nation would be envisioned as something quite unprecedented. Indeed, Ishimoda, as well as Eguchi, Tôyama and others within the Society, would, during the early 1950s, put forward the claim that postwar Japanese colonization and enslavement by America necessitated the kind of political resistance and revolution that had been stimulated, ironically, in prewar Asia by Japan’s own imperialism. Although this paradigm had been evolving from 1947, the case for radical social action would now be made within historical constructionism and the attempt to bring history even closer to the people in the goal of revolution. Now,

80 Marxist history, 1948–1950 however, historians were ready to erase the spatial and temporal differences between Japanese and Asian nationalism, and in this context narrate Japan as a kind of “normal nation” in Asia which, on one level at least, partook of a shared history and politics of subjugation. Put differently, historical constructionism would provide a way for history to both reach down into the heart and soul of the Japanese people – and their desire for change – and would also reach out to build bridges between Japan and East Asia. The “liberation” of Japan was thus seen as part of the denouement, and final installment, of Western imperialism in Asia and as one more voice added to the chorus of national liberation struggles that had originally begun during the prewar period.

The new paradigm and the Right These struggles for liberation, and even the eliding of the ethnic nation into Asian nationalism, were not confined to the Left alone. Indeed, the swelling tide of antistate nationalism in the Communist Party and within the Society would be matched during the late 1940s and early 1950s by developments within the right wing of Japanese nationalism. In particular, student groups and political organizations would push forward their own agenda for postwar reform. One interesting example of the latter was the Minzoku Shinsei Undô (Movement for the Rebirth of the Ethnic Nation). The hyperbolic rhetoric of this group, especially regarding the end of history, seemed quite far afield from what was happening on the Left. For instance, the movement claimed that human civilization was at the brink of apocalypse, and accordingly depicted a scenario in which spiritualism would save humankind from the horrors of self-destruction.58 The perfection of history through world socialism, and the co-existence of socialist nations, was replaced by a rather millennial approach to the postwar period. On the other hand, given what had happened at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, let alone the emergence of the Cold War in East Asia, the group’s approach to history was not as far-fetched as it might have otherwise seemed. Although their historical telos was quite different from that of Marxist historians or groups on the Left, however, there were also some very noteworthy similarities. The Minzoku Shinsei Undô in fact criticized prewar interpretations of ethic nationalism in Japan and even repudiated Nazism’s approach to the ethnic nation in terms of “blood.” The prewar state in Japan and Germany had used the name of the ethnic nation in ways counter to humanity and to the idea of the ethnic nation as something which belonged to “world history.” Using Marxist-loaded allusions, the group asserted that modernization had brought about the dislocation of the human community in its local and communal spaces, and had indeed caused the “alienation” of individuals and society. The modern state and political centralization of the ethnic nation had taken away its self-determination and the ethical responsibility of individuals to the ethnic nation. As a solution, the group supported the idea of “historical approaches to the ethnic nation” that could resist the corrupting influence of the bureaucracy and state power. These would also entail a kind of spiritual revolution that would unite each community and nation internally.59

Marxist history, 1948–1950 81 There are a number of other interesting similarities between this approach and what would soon become the project of national awakening on the Left. First and foremost, the group’s justification of the ethnic nation as an important agency in world history contained an implicit contradiction: the Japanese minzoku, like any other, was seen as something that had developed over a long period of history. This meant, in one sense, that it could be distinguished from prewar ethnic nationalism, the family-state, and most of all the idea of “blood.” No doubt, the latter term conjured up not only the specter of prewar ultra-nationalism, but also the metaphor of “dying for the emperor.” Put differently, if it was important for the Left to frame their own debate over the ethnic nation as the very converse of prewar nationalism, it was infinitely more important for the Right to do the same thing. For while the Left did have its “contrition” over prewar defection and “conversion,” it nevertheless could stand its ground as a force for social change and ride upon a tide of popular legitimacy. Student groups and political organizations on the Right, however, were drenched in stigmata from the past that was far more powerful than that associated with their counterparts. In another sense, the Minzoku Shinsei Undô’s approach also represented an attempt to ground an “organic” conception of the ethnic nation within historical logic. For example, the movement held that the ethnic nation in Japan, as elsewhere, would have to be realized through the “historical consciousness” of the people. Yet, they also sought to imagine the ontology of the ethnic nation as something that had continued from ancient times in an essentially unchanged form.60 In addition, they linked the idea of “humanism” and even a kind of utopianism, with the escape of the ethnic nation from modernization and modernity, as well as what had become “American imperialism.”61 Similarly, other right-wing nationalist groups, such as the Kyôwato, argued that the remilitarization of Japan would only perpetuate the colonization of the ethnic nation. In addition, they rejected capitalism in favor of “democratic control through a people’s organization,” along with an end to “exploitation by preserving a rich cultural life for all the people by utilizing all excess productive power.”62 Like their counterparts on the Left, furthermore, they looked to China and Asian internationalism as an alternative to cooperation with the United States.63 In this sense, ethnic nationalism was used to support both nationalism and internationalism. The Nihon Kakumei Kikuhata Dôshikai (Chrysanthemum Flag Association) also demonstrates the fact that there was much commonality between the Left and the Right during the early 1950s. Even though the Fukushima faction of this group was virulently anti-Communist, it did have many things in common with the JCP and with members of the Society who were their contemporaries. For instance, the group advocated the restoration of “independent sovereignty of the Japanese nation,”64 implying rather strongly that the minzoku had entered a state of semi-colonization. Perhaps even more startlingly similar to the goals of the Left was their advocacy of an “eternally neutral Japan,” the move toward a “classless society by means of a peaceful, noble revolutionary movement,” and the working toward “world peace.”65 Likewise, the Shinsei Nihon Kokumin Dômei (New Life Japan People’s League) also sought many of the same things, including a “spiritual revolution,” along with

82 Marxist history, 1948–1950 “complete peace and independence.” As a “reform movement” focused on “the people,” the group sought to fight the “imminent crisis” of the early 1950s.66 Although the development of the early postwar Right is a major topic in its own rite, suffice it to say here that it is difficult to ascribe many of its positions during this period merely to anti-communism or even anti-Americanism. Not only did it draw upon the same utopian ideas found in communism and socialism, but it also shared the Left’s critique of American imperialism even while it sought the former’s destruction. In terms of their internationalism, moreover, both sides opposed American and Soviet influence in Asia. In fact, the key to what does unite Right and Left during the early 1950s lies more in the impulse on both sides to resist what are seen as “material” forms of power by summoning more “culturalist” and “spiritualist” ideas of national composition in the world system. Groups such as the Junkoku Seinen Tai (The National Martyrs’ Youth Corps) were against the “aggressive poisonous monopoly capitalists” and the “ruling classes of the postwar period”67 as much as were Eguchi, Tôyama, and many in the Society. Indeed, within modern Japan ethnic nationalism against the state has come from both sides of the political spectrum. They have, moreover, often been united in a shared pursuit: the critique of “material” forms of social and political power, seen as socially “alienating,” in favor of “cultural” and “spiritual” forms of nationalism and internationalism. In fact, the ethnic nationalism of the early postwar Right stressed to a considerable extent this critique of Western capitalism in the name of “world peace.” As far as Japan and Asia were concerned, the “history of the ethnic nation,” and its historical traditions, could be contrasted with the series of invasions by “advanced capitalist countries” and their attempts to push capitalism upon Asia. Some on the Right even claimed that the “contradictions and faults of capitalism” had moved history forward toward a new age of socialism in the postwar.68 As part of this plan, the Occupation sought to make the Japanese economy a “dependency” of the United States, and stopped in mid-stream its original plans for democratizing Japan and creating a society based upon principles of peace.69 This led to the creation of social systems and institutions, such as education and the postwar constitution that had blighted the “spirit” of the ethnic nation in Japan.70 All of this suggests that even the Right felt compelled to appeal to the “historical” and “peaceful” ethnic nation in order to legitimize its agenda. There was also much that divided the Left and Right of the early 1950s. These differences speak not only to the politics of social organization, but also to the impact of their discourses upon early postwar society. In terms of public memory, it is certain that the Right had much to overcome. Though the emperor remained as a “symbol” of the nation, he also stood out in public consciousness as the most palpable effigy of prewar Japan, in spite of the fact that the Tokyo trials had absolved the emperor from the sins of the past. Once more, the specter of militarism and expansion continued to be associated with the Right, as much as with American imperialism and the Korean War. Indeed, this is exactly why many political organizations and student movements on the early postwar Right felt it imperative to stake their own claims to progressive issues such as “historical” approaches to

Marxist history, 1948–1950 83 ethnic nationalism, as well as utopian-sounding versions of democracy and internationalism. Since they did not have Marxism to cushion their appeals to the ethnic nation, the Right often relied upon framing their nationalism and internationalism within a language of democracy that resembled some of the arguments on the Left in the immediate aftermath of the war. Without the usage of democratic imagery vis-à-vis Japan, and utopian themes vis-à-vis its worldview, the Right would have not been able to make even the limited headway that it had during the early 1950s. Writing in 1960, Ivan Morris surmised that “so far as the post-war period is concerned, the organized right-wing movement has until now had virtually no effect on shaping the course of things in Japan.”71 Morris basically raised two sets of problems that explain why the Right was ineffectual, at least until 1960. On the one hand, much of the early postwar Right had been “isolated into local groups, having limited spheres of influence and cut off” from the public and from “other like-thinking elements.” To make matters worse, many of these splintered and fragmented groups also had a “seeming aloofness from the everyday economic concerns of the people.”72 As a result, many such groups were not able to either capture the imagination of the public or garner public support. This of course made it quite difficult for them to exist as “mass movements.”73 Within many of these groups there were also structural problems, such as the prevalent oyabun-kobun relationships that prized internal loyalties over winning the confidence of those to whom they addressed their message.74 Beyond the inner-dynamics of the early postwar Right, however, lay a more fundamental issue. The Left had more of a legitimate claim to the ethnic nation and to its instrumentalization as a form of political resistance. In spite of harsh policies against it by the Yoshida Administration and the Occupation, the Left retained much of its appeal and, while somewhat divided, its claims to be the collective voice of social reform and national integrity as well. As the advent of crisis by the early 1950s transformed the sense of “enlightenment” that had existed earlier into one of “urgency” and direct action, the JCP and historians within the Society would seek to build recognition for their project of national awakening. Left-wing student movements such as the Zengakuren, as Ivan Morris reminds us, had a “spontaneous appeal” to students interested in social change.75 The Left, moreover, was able to “monopolize reformist sentiment” by focusing upon inequality and the problem of the state.76 By extension, then, the claim to nationalism on the Left, because it was couched within a legitimate claim to social reform, did have a far more profound impact upon the intellectual mood and public sentiment during the 1950s than did right-wing nationalism. The call to national awakening based upon the agency of the people would have far more resonance than the call to loyalty to the emperor, even though both sets of arguments were garbed in matching discursive attire. As will be shown in later chapters, the appeal to national awakening included organized, broad-based movements such as the Movement for a People’s History. Indeed, such movements had been a hallmark of the early postwar Left from 1945, no matter how much they were internally divided. The modern tradition of

84 Marxist history, 1948–1950 resistance to the corruption of the state and capitalism, in the name of an ethnic national past, would be given a solid boost by what was to transpire between 1948 and 1955. As such, it is probably not much of an exaggeration to hypothesize that right-wing movements during this period did represent a collective “reaction to the overwhelming influence of the left.”77 On the other hand, this would all change with the decline of the Left by the late 1950s and the undeniable success of economic growth in Japan during the following decade. For the moment, however, Japanese nationalism, as a popular movement, was clearly being defined by discourses that rejected the emperor as much as they did American imperialism.

5

Marxist history and the “minzoku faction” Tôma Seita, Matsumoto Shinpachirô, and Ishimoda Shô

The future-present through the ancient past Although some Marxist historians had already broached the idea of the ethnic nation as a new meta-narrative for postwar history, not until the 1951 Annual Report of the Society, entitled Rekishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai (officially translated as “Nationality in History”),1 would it become a compelling historiographical issue. As the English language translation indicates, the notion of the ethnic nation had become something not just politically important – in that it sought a more direct way to represent the agency of the people in Japanese history. The idea of “the people” had come to signal not only a kind of revolutionary energy and missionary zeal, but also the notion that historical agency could be expressed in terms of Volk, nation, and race. Indeed, for the historian of pre-modern Japan Matsumoto Shinpachirô, professional interest in this new conception of the nation had mandated nothing less than a historiographical expedition into “How to Preserve the Cultural Achievements of the [Japanese] Race.”2 This could also be seen in Ishimoda’s attempts to establish a fundamental union of the notions of “jinmin,” (proletariat/ people) “minshu,” (masses) and “minzoku” (ethnic nation).3 In this sense, the creation of a new “national-popular”4 would enable Marxist historians to construct forms of cultural identity that they thought could work directly for sweeping social and political change. Presumptions of racial homogeneity, and their link to a discourse of proletarian, cultural and national identity, would be charged with the burden of making history a living, social, and indeed political, form of knowledge that could empower resistance and revolution. The sense of historical opportunity and political confusion from which these attempts sprang, however, also produced a fair amount of diversity among different groups of historians. On the one hand, it did seem that the Japan Communist Party had assumed a firm stance toward a number of important issues. Indignation over the outbreak of the Korean War helped bring the JCP to a formal denunciation of American policy. For example, the October 1951 Fifth Party Congress of the JCP made official a new set of principles that stated Japan was now a “colony and dependency of the United States,” and that this new reality affected all facets of ordinary life, including “industry, agriculture, commerce, and culture.” To remedy this situation, furthermore, the JCP declared a strategy aimed at creating a “Democratic

86 The “minzoku faction” Revolution for Ethnic National Independence” (Minzoku Kaihô Minshu Kakumei),5 a more direct and overt form of popular front than even the Democratic EthnicNational Unification Front that had been declared during the late 1940s. The fact that this denunciation had now been legitimized by the JCP meant that the discourse of Japan as a potential “postcolonial nation” was given official sanction in progressive politics. No doubt, such developments were important factors behind the official turn in the Society by 1951. Although a stinging feeling of both crisis and opportunity had helped complete the historical turn of major historians within the Society by mid-1951, rivalries such as those seen earlier between Hani and Inoue, on the one hand, and Ishimoda and Tôma, on the other, did not go away. In fact, the contemporary Japanese historian Amino Yoshihiko, a pupil of Ishimoda and witness to the development of the Society during the early 1950s, has claimed that the 1951 Annual Meeting actually gave birth to an even more pronounced schism among major figures within the Society. Two different factions of historians had become apparent: the “minzoku faction” and the “international faction” (the latter will be referred to, hereafter, as the “modernization faction”). Other contemporary historians such as Kanda Fumito have concurred with Amino that the 1951 Annual Meeting of the Society did help highlight basic differences in methodology toward the minzoku no mondai by each group.6 Members of the former group, such as Ishimoda, Tôma, and Matsumoto, concentrated upon showing how the Japanese ethnic nation was formed over the course of a long historical process. In contradistinction, the modernization faction, made up of figures like Inoue, Eguchi, Tôyama, and Suzuki Shirô, depicted the ethnic nation in Japan as having been shaped through the contemporary modernization process, the development of capitalism, and the subsequent rise of Western colonialism.7 Major historians central to the minzoku faction, in particular Tôma, Ishimoda, and Matsumoto, argued that the history of the Japanese ethnic nation was first and foremost a pre-capitalist phenomenon. Interestingly, their collective notion of a pre-modern “germ” (hôga/minzokutai) that predated modern ethnic national consciousness and capitalism strikes one as quite similar to what Anthony Smith has termed a prototype for modern nationalism and a sense of nation in the form of the “ethnie.”8 This latter idea can also be seen in Smith’s recent emphasis on the importance of separating the concept of the nation from that of the state, cultural identity from modernization, and nationalism from capitalism, in the belief that “nations are historically embedded in premodern ethnic ties, memories and heritages.”9 Smith’s definition of the nation even comes close to the historical constructionist definition that was to be embraced by Ishimoda and his colleagues. For example, he notes that “[b]y a ‘nation’ I mean a named human population sharing an historic territory, common myths and memories, a mass, public culture, a single economy and common rights and duties for all members.”10 As will become clear in this chapter, Tôma, Ishimoda, and Matsumoto shared this basic idea about the premodern ethnic nation and viewed the Japanese nation as having been rooted in cultural, social, and economic development taking place over the course of several millennia. This is precisely why it was imperative for them to look not only

The “minzoku faction” 87 at modern Japan, but also at the premodern roots of the ethnic nation deep in Japan’s past. Of course, the comparison between Smith’s approach and that of the minzoku faction should not be taken too far – each had different conceptions of historical processes and the socio-political significance of national development to their overall hypotheses. Within the Society of the early 1950s, moreover, both factions of Marxist historians assumed that the original postwar principles of the Society, in particular the commitment to historical science, remained valid. Stalin’s historical constructionism was invoked for the very reason that it represented something consistent with the goal of historical science and the notion of making history work for the people. Furthermore, by framing historical constructionism within the postwar commitment to historical science, historians could build upon Ôyama’s distinction between “unhealthy” and “healthy” forms of ethnic nationalism that in turn reinforced the fundamental opposition of prewar past and postwar future-present. In other words, the association of the ethnic nation with premodern Japanese history could easily have been linked to what had already been condemned as “extrahistorical” notions of minzoku that had become an engine for prewar ultranationalism and had, likewise, shared an interest in ancient Japanese history and myth. From this basic distinction between past and present, however, it would become possible to depict the premodern origins of the Japanese nation so as to illustrate the larger point that “nationality in history” was a phenomenon that now adhered to the “scientific” laws of historical development. As far as Tôma was concerned, the use of Stalin’s historical constructionism allowed the ancient formation of the Japanese ethnic nation to be depicted as a process whose roots grew out of the “regional culture” and politics of ancient China and East Asia in general. On the one hand, for Tôma it was crystal clear that the idea of the ethnic nation would need to be problematized in terms of Stalin’s definition of minzoku as representing “a definite community of psychological characteristics which appears from within linguistic, territorial, economic, and cultural commonalities.”11 Yet, Tôma also realized that Stalin’s 1950 Concerning Marxism in Linguistics12 represented something new and improved over Stalin’s prewar historical constructionism, as seen, we might add, during the days of Marxist historians like Matsubara, Hayakawa, and Tosaka. In particular, Tôma maintained that Stalin’s new text developed a more detailed and elaborate conception of the ethnic nation as an integral part of the development of world history. Tôma’s 1951 Nihon Minzoku no Keisei (The Formation of the Japanese Nation), for example, stressed the importance of looking at the Japanese nation within both world history and regional cultures. In discussing the way in which the idea of the ethnic nation should be approached, then, Tôma sought to expand upon themes already developed by Tôyama Shigeki and Eguchi Bokurô. These included the necessity of a “correct” understanding of the idea of the nation in terms of a progressive rendering of minzoku, and the idea that linking Japan to Chinese and East Asian history was an essential part of this process. Tôma began by arguing that it was imperative to look behind the modern idea of the nation to the existence of both the “germ” and the Volk-like forms of social

88 The “minzoku faction” organization and identity. According to Tôma, it was during the “primitive” and subsequent “ancient” stages of development, where the transition from clan and to tribal existence occurred, that this “germ” (hôga) of the ethnic nation began to emerge. By the time feudal social organization had taken root, it had evolved to the level of Volk or Narodnik. As this latter distinction suggests, moreover, it was also during the feudal period that the development of the ethnic nation branched out along two distinct axes: the emergence of the Volk represented the form of the nation that revolved around the development of regional commonality in the political sphere. On the other hand, the Narodnik form of premodern social identity depended upon the growth and role of the economic sphere to mediate people’s lives. These two types of organization would subsequently progress along two different historical trajectories: the latter form – a Narodnik or populist germ of the ethnic nation – progressed directly toward socialist relations of production and the development of a “socialist ethnic nation.” This could be seen in the Soviet Union, which went directly from feudalism to socialism. In the case of all other societies, by contrast, Tôma surmised that development occurred through a “structural transformation” and “sublimation” of the Volk, into a bourgeois sense of minzoku as represented in the modern nation-state. Yet, Tôma argued that only the communist and socialist forms of the nation would ultimately be able to dethrone the primacy of class society through a revolution that actually heralded a “new form of power,” led by the people.13 By extension, then, Tôma implied that the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917, and the establishment of the socialist nation in Russia, turned the national question into a potentially universal issue. On the one hand, before the appearance of the socialist nation through popular revolution, the development of the modern nation, and with it capitalism, imperialism, and chauvinistic ethnic nationalism, had come to define world history. The appearance of socialist nations, however, marked a turning point in the understanding of the idea of minzoku and the concrete picture of world history in that socialist nations were able to combine a healthy form of ethnic national consciousness with internationalism, in order to liberate colonialized and semicolonized peoples. That is, the Russian Revolution heralded the end of the old bourgeois idea of democratic revolution, popularized and romanticized by the French Revolution, and ushered in the possibility of a “new world revolution” based upon proletarian socialism and the liberation of colonized nations.14 Colonized peoples and modern bourgeois nations (via their proletariat) could alike share in the chance to achieve socialist revolution through a progressive consciousness of the ethnic nation. Put differently, Tôma’s lesson of world history was that it was necessary to follow Lenin’s move away from what Ephraim Nimni has called the “apocalyptic vision of the collapse of capitalism,” in the direction of supporting a more “voluntaristic understanding of political struggle.” In this way, the desires and “demands” of the people, as a nation, could be harnessed in the cause of revolution and emancipation.15 Tôma thought it important to place Japanese identity and history within a premodern, East Asian context that could isolate and reclaim “indigenous” regional tradition and culture, in order to show that contemporary political struggle (e.g.,

The “minzoku faction” 89 revolution) would have to first be grounded in historical recognition of cultural and national identity. Thus, he did not look to how Japanese minzoku bunka was shaped by the overlay of different civilizations that intersected in Japan, as Izu Kimio had done in 1948. To the contrary, Tôma emphasized the founding moment of the Japanese nation as reflexive primarily to historical developments within China and Korea; East Asian civilization was already something discrete, and separate from, the process of Western civilization and modernization. Thus, there was to be an ontological separation of the Japanese nation from any pre-modern influences of Western civilization. For example, Tôma located the “origin” and pre-modern existence of the Japanese ethnic nation in both the space of Japan’s interaction’s with East Asia, and in the diachronic time of a particularly “East Asian” cultural and social identity from within which Japan developed. That is, by arguing that the cultural roots of the Japanese minzoku were historically grounded in East Asia, Tôma sought to make the case that recognition of the Japanese, as Asians, was fundamental to a “correct” form of historical consciousness.16 The implication of this narrative was that the sense of East Asian national and cultural consciousness had been lost (or perhaps stolen) from the Japanese people as a result of forced modernization (and Westernization) from above. It was now, for Tôma, high time to reclaim this lost sense of identity so as to reach a more advanced stage of (socialist) growth in Japan. Tôma also declared that the formation of the Japanese nation was politically and culturally influenced by the existence of Chinese “ethnic national culture during ancient times,”17 and that, in effect, Japan owed a historical debt to China. It was during the first two centuries A.D., Tôma contended, that political transformations, such as the unification of the state in Han China, came to exert a considerable influence upon the politics and cultures of East Asia, including Japan. Here we see the first important point in Tôma’s narrative, viz., that Chinese ethnic national culture was the prime mover of social and cultural development in East Asia between the first and seventh centuries A.D. Yet, Tôma also pointed out that this was a period during which class struggle and severe political turmoil within China resulted in the attenuation of the power of the Han empire until the seventh century, when the Tang Dynasty was able to achieve a more lasting unification of the state. As a result, during much of the Tang era (from the first and second centuries A.D. until the seventh century) the Chinese monarchy and political system were weakened and somewhat divided. In other words, the apogee of its influence over Korea and Japan was thus also a period, ironically, of internal conflict and strife within China. The obvious logic behind this hypothesis is that Han China, like any empire, was engaged in exporting many of its own economic and social contradictions onto the landscape of East Asia. Once China’s influence over Japan and other East Asian peoples began to dramatically diminish, Japanese society was more able to move toward an independent nation and social unification.18 A second key point for Tôma was that the overall political and cultural influence of the Han empire on East Asia, during this period, in fact helped Japan and Korea to make the transition from “uncivilized to civilized” and from “classless to classstratified,” societies. This process in turn helped Japan further along the road toward

90 The “minzoku faction” the establishment of an independent, unified state.19 In particular, Tôma saw the initial expansion of the Han empire into Korea and Japan as resulting in the spread of “continental civilization” driven by the flow of ordinary people, not only by envoys representing the elite. The flow of Chinese cultural traditions into Japan included those things brought via Korea by ordinary people fleeing the subjugation of the peninsula by Han China.20 As proof of this hypothesis, Tôma cited the discovery of artifacts in Japan that had originally been made in Korea or Manchuria with materials originally taken from China,21 and traced their dissemination through an examination of artifacts and “individual technologies” found in Japan that dated back to the second and third centuries. Such findings were important for Tôma since they suggested there had in fact been a general “Eastward movement” of Chinese culture into Korea, and that Japan was to also feel the influence of China.22 The fluid situation in China, therefore, had an economic, cultural, social, and eventually political impact upon Korea and Japan, Tôma maintained. These effects could be felt within a variety of dimensions to life in Japan during the first few centuries of the first millennium. For instance, Tôma argued that as a result of the civilizing influences of China, the various nascent minzoku of East Asia were able to bring into their social, economic, and political lives many of the cultural influences of China, allowing them to become civilized peoples. This in turn helped the development and formation of ethnic cultures in East Asia, and the establishment of independent and unified states. To this end, Tôma surmised that during the Japanese Yayoi period, as more fixed lifestyles and local exchange economies developed within Japan, surplus production helped change society from a condition of self-sufficient economic relations to a much broader system of exchange economies. This in turn helped initiate greater contact and interaction between different communities as social relations gradually went beyond clanbased networks and developed into a more unified socio-economic and cultural system.23 By the middle of the Yayoi period the dialectic between “region” and “unification” was already underway. On the one hand, the development of simple technologies proceeded within the domain of various regions and social orders. At the same time, however, throughout the Japanese archipelago the overarching tendency toward cultural unification of the minzoku was gradually gaining steam. By taking into account common features and uses of certain tools from archaeological finds in various regions of Japan from this era, Tôma was basically able to claim that a prevailing sense of cultural unification co-existed and even interacted with the particularities of various regions. It was this very new sense of both regionality and the collective co-existence – as a unified “Yamato Culture” – that marked the first true signs of Japanese “minzoku bunka” and the possibility for a “unified ethnic state” (minzoku tôitsu kokka).24 Chief among these conditions driving social change was the appearance of “uneven development” within different regions of Japan.25 By the fourth century A.D., regional differences and disparities were helping to shape historical change, Tôma concluded. This was because it was from this period that class conflict first appeared in Japan, and subsequently became an important force driving political unification. The development of classes, furthermore, led to even greater degrees

The “minzoku faction” 91 of uneven development, in for example the emergence of a “system of slave labor.” These problems and contradictions soon resulted in political excesses, such as Japan’s invasion of Korea in the sixth century.26 All of this was important to the development of the Japanese minzoku, Tôma contested, since the creation of class society and class conflict in Japan signaled not only the emergence of a ruling class legitimized by a unified ethnic state, but also represented the transition from primitive to ancient society. It was only after this transition was underway, moreover, that the “germ” or “sprout” of the ethnic nation first began to appear as a unique political and cultural phenomenon independent of, yet not completely removed from, its East Asian roots. Indeed, Tôma’s account suggests that there had been a certain amount of ambivalence between Japan, Korea, and China. Japan’s relationship with China had actually helped facilitate the raising of its own civilization and culture. This in turn gave Japan enough room to develop socially and to reach the point of state unification. In fact, Tôma actually implied that both Japan and Korea were able to develop and maintain independent cultural identities, and even states, from as far back as the second century A.D. This was because centuries of political instability in China had given impetus to East Asian peoples to engage in “movements for independence” to begin to shape their own cultural and national identities. 27 Ultimately, the expansion of the Han empire and Chinese influence only served to illustrate the internal contradictions and weaknesses of the Tang Dynasty, and was actually a positive influence upon the development of Japanese social, economic, and cultural independence. As such, moreover, it also stood in stark contrast to the “decadent” influence of American imperialism in Tôma’s own day, and the political control which he saw as having been exercised over Japan by the United States. On the other hand, Tôma also asserted that political unification in Japan meant that Chinese culture was no longer needed among what had now become an independent people. Once the germ of a uniquely Japanese ethnic nation (solidified through political unification and the state) had taken root and grown, the cultural influence from across the sea came to have a rather negative impact upon the Japanese people. Of course, Tôma noted that from the seventh century or so onward, after the fall of the Tang Dynasty, the Japanese aristocracy were eager to bring to Japan many traditions from China. Yet, Tôma also maintained that Chinese culture during this period had become something completely different from Japanese culture, such that that the “foreign” things and ways of China were of little use to the Japanese people or to their way of life.28 Reading between the lines, we see here Tôma was inferring that even though the nobility sought to bring in Chinese culture for their own political advantage and class position, the “common culture” of Japan had already become something completely distinct from that of China. This was reinforced by the existence of an independent, unified state in Japan. Even though most of what Tôma described as the relationship between Japan and China followed the vector of Westward expansion, on a different level the narrative also suggests reciprocity between Japan and China. By spreading its civilization,

92 The “minzoku faction” China was able to provide Japan with the cultural and political means to effect its own independence from the Han empire. Owing to its internal weakness, the fact that the Chinese empire would provide the space, and some of the resources, through which Japan could develop its own distinct and autonomous ethnic nation, represented a crucial theme for Tôma. This was because it acknowledged the unequal relations between both sides, but at the same time made the case that this process became the actual catalyst for Japan to shape its own political and cultural life. In one sense, then, the independent existence of the Japanese premodern nation was attributed to the larger civilizational influences of China. In another sense, however, Tôma also presented this relationship between the Chinese empire and Japan as a moment in the ancient past that linked the development of Japan to the historical, political, cultural, and even material influences of Chinese civilization. Japan (like Korea) was the progeny of China to the extent that its early development could be located within the overarching traditions and politics of the mainland. Japan’s relations with China had given birth to the historical process by which it could grow and mature. From within the civilizational hearth of imperial China, then, the beginnings of the Japanese Volk had emerged to impart their own specific character with some of the higher civilization influences and traditions of China. This meant several things: first, Japan was from pre-classical times already an East Asian nation with historical and cultural roots in Chinese civilization. Secondly, negative external political events and circumstances could be turned into opportunities for social growth and national individuation. These lessons, furthermore, could be applied to contemporary history in that American hegemony, for Tôma a decidedly negative influence upon Japan, could nevertheless be utilized as an opportunity from which to spark a new stage of development, consciousness, and politics. In addition, there is here another subtle dimension to Tôma’s text. As will be shown in more detail at the conclusion of the following chapter, Tôma’s Nihon Minzoku no Keisei stated from the very outset that for the past two millennia Japan had its own unique “race” and racial characteristics that were at the center of national culture. It is unclear, however, if such racial features were taken as the product of political and cultural unification, or whether they had existed before the formation of an ethnic national “germ.” It is clear, nevertheless, that Tôma saw his own account of premodern Japanese history and culture as fundamentally different from any prewar renditions of culture or the nation, even though both sets of discourses assumed racial differences among civilizations, and also among different peoples within East Asia. These included prewar (and still stubbornly entrenched) ideologies of “statism” and “xenophobia.”29 The difference, for Tôma, lay in the idea that postwar racial distinctions would no longer be based upon East Asian political and regional hierarchies, as they had been during the prewar in the Japanese empire. Therefore, Tôma’s confidence in his approach sprang from the faith that a “historical” sense of the nation would make moot the politicization of racial issues. Since historical constructionism was something completely different from prewar romanticized and statist versions of ethnic nationalism, racial considerations could be linked to the minzoku no mondai without any concern for their suppositions of Japanese racial homogeneity.

The “minzoku faction” 93 Fellow historian Matsumoto Shinpachirô, like Tôma, maintained that a premodern form of ethnic identity could highlight the relevance of East Asia to postwar Japanese cultural identity. Utilizing Stalin’s definition of the minzoku as a historical construct, Matsumoto attempted to link his own interpretation of tradition to historical constructionism. In his “Kakumeiteki Dentô ni tsuite” (On the Idea of a Revolutionary Tradition), Matsumoto argued that Stalin’s interpretation of the ethnic nation as a historical product took the minzoku as an amalgam of progressive traditions that represented the evolving historical and psychological aspects of a people. The basic features of the nation such as language and common territory, were the building blocks for what Matsumoto called a “common, traditional way of thinking” among the people of a given nation.30 Moreover, for Matsumoto, this notion of tradition as a way of thinking rooted in the development of a people’s culture and the ethnic nation could be seen in the creative powers and aesthetic sensibilities that existed in Japan during the establishment of the mediaeval and feudal eras. The Genji and Heikei Monogatari and the Taiheiki, along with art forms such as Nô and Kyôgen, for example, attested to the creative powers and sense of identity in Japanese tradition unfettered by ideology or state power.31 By utilizing this past and bringing it up to date in the present Matsumoto also hoped to provide the grounds for a revitalization of ethnic national culture that emphasized the development of popular desire and agency through resistance, and, ultimately, revolution. Such was to be the true meaning of a new postwar “revolutionary tradition” that could overcome the “reactive traditions” of the economic and political establishment. This is precisely where East Asia and the premodern sense of the ethnic nation became critical. Japan’s interactions with China and Korea for Matsumoto, as for Tôma, illustrated that the process of national development in Japan could not be divorced from its historical and cultural existence within East Asia. For instance, Matsumoto argued that from ancient times, and into the Kamakura and Muromachi eras, a kind of “peaceful cultural exchange” with Chinese civilization helped the development of the ethnic nation, and especially the development of creative traditions, within Japan. This could be seen in the influence China had upon Japan in terms of Chinese characters, intellectual thought, as well as the arts, all leading to the enrichment and development of creativity and progressive traditions.32 More precisely, Matsumoto claimed that civilizational influences, commerce, and human interaction between Japan and China, ultimately led to the establishment of an indigenous “culture of peace” in Japan built not upon the state or ideology, but instead upon the lifestyles and desires of ordinary people. Much like Tôma, Matsumoto believed that this process of interaction between Japan and China, as well as Korea, took place just as the “ancestors” of the modern Japanese nation were making the transition from primitive to civilized society. In this way, Matsumoto contended that the strengthening of ethnic national culture through interaction with China and Korea enabled the people to gradually overcome “old society” and introduce a “new society.”33 The only major difference between Matsumoto and Tôma, perhaps, was that the latter had declared Chinese civilization an unwelcome visitor to Japan after the seventh century, while Matsumoto seems to have considerably extended the period of China’s benign cultural influence upon Japanese culture.

94 The “minzoku faction” Matsumoto also asserted that only by “rediscovering” and “reappraising” the East-Asian context to the formation of the Japanese ethnic nation, could the people find a wellspring from which to create new progressive traditions that built upon the premodern past within the social realities of the present. Indeed, Matsumoto held that only by “digging up” premodern Japanese traditions of the people would a postwar “national awakening” become possible.34 This was because he maintained that the lifestyles and culture of the people, in so far as they reflected their unique needs and desires, could also serve as virtual forms of “resistance” to dominant ideologies.35 In other words, a true “revolutionary culture” would need to build upon the traditions of the past and the ordinary lives and desires of the people. To this extent, Matsumoto thought the locomotive for the ethnic nation – the real mover of history – could be found not only in the realm of popular consciousness, but particularly within the realm of everyday life. Therefore, the awakening of the ethnic nation would have to speak to the desire for a kind of social change that could nevertheless harness and reappropriate the glories of Japan’s past. For this to happen, Matsumoto insisted, it would first be necessary for the Japanese to develop far deeper and broader “ethnic national traditions” and begin the struggle to resist American imperialism and the Japanese state.36 The most intriguing aspect of Matsumoto’s appraisal of such “revolutionary culture,” based upon the tradition of resistance and desires of the masses, can be found in his double-edged approach to the issue of American influence. For even though it was, in Matsumoto’s eyes, America that represented the biggest obstacle to the creation of new progressive traditions in Japan, it was also the same America whose history was to be held up as a didactic for Japan’s very struggle! Surprisingly, Matsumoto referred directly to the American Revolutionary War as an example of the kind of progressive tradition that, in postwar Japan, could be helpful in the fight for its own independence, much as Ôyama had argued just a couple of years earlier. Another irony here is that Matsumoto used the process of historical development to deconstruct ideas of national essentialism and “reactive traditions” based on notions of blood and the family state that had been central to prewar ethnic nationalism. However, in the process of doing so he also supported the intriguing notion that “authentic traditions,” which were historically classical, could in the same moment be politically revolutionary. In other words, the construction of history and tradition overturned aspects of reactionary culture, while reconfiguring and reconvening the notion of a national culture rooted in the people’s past and in their longstanding accomplishments as historical actors. This idea was especially interesting since many past glories from literature and the arts, for instance, were in fact possessions of the aristocracy and the samurai classes, and not the direct product of class warfare, per se. It was, however, Ishimoda’s 1952 Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken (The Discovery of History and the Nation) that best articulated why Stalin’s historical constructionism was suited to the task of reviving national history. Though virtually neglected in English-language studies of either Japanese nationalism or historiography, it stands out as a powerful statement of how radical historians envisioned the link between history and politics, and how they lamented over the failure of

The “minzoku faction” 95 prewar Japanese intellectuals to mobilize history for progressive social and political change. Like Tôma, Ishimoda believed that in order to confront the present “crisis of colonization” it would be necessary to replace the ideologies of modernism and cosmopolitanism with a strong sense of “ethnic national pride.”37 At the same time, however, Ishimoda was to take Stalin’s historical constructionism much further than had Tôma or Matsumoto. This he did by building upon the earlier postwar idea of a “history of the people” that could forcefully articulate the development of the Japanese nation as something indispensable to the future of Japan. As already noted, Stalin’s 1913 Marxism and the National Question was especially important to this task since it had defined the ethnic nation as a “historically constituted, stable community of people, formed on the basis of common language, territory, economic life, and psychological make-up manifested in a common culture.”38 For Ishimoda this approach was monumental in that it established the idea of the nation as a “category of social history”39 and thereby opened the way for the people to wrest the idea of minzoku away from bourgeois intellectuals and ruling classes. From this basic understanding of the nation, Ishimoda continued, it would become possible to reverse Japan’s present “path toward enslavement.”40 Of course, this meant that it would be imperative for historians and the people to reject any “extra-historical” interpretations of minzoku based upon the idea of “blood” in the service of ideologies of nativism and national purity, as seen for example in prewar Germany and Japanese imperialist racism.41 Thus, he contrasted Stalin’s historical constructionism with the prewar “system of a modern bourgeois” ethnic nation that was mistakenly held to be immutable and lasting.42 Yet, there was also the less obvious problem of how postwar society would come to understand the notion of democracy. Like other Marxist historians, Ishimoda had come to embrace the belief that liberal-oriented versions of revolution and democracy were hopelessly inadequate. For instance, he maintained that While it is necessary to fight against warped forms of history in the past in order to build a new form of historiography, it is also true that within historiography a conflict has emerged between two different ways of thinking. The bourgeois democrat position assumes that it is fine to see change in Japan solely in terms of a bourgeois democratic paradigm . . . [yet] pragmatic forms of historiography that focus upon bourgeois democratic revolution can contribute nothing to problems that are actually rooted in issues of national independence. These require instead a theoretical understanding of the national question.43 Here we can see Ishimoda’s concern with staking a claim to the postwar tradition of progressive politics and historiography. It would not be enough to oppose the state in the name of the nation and its national pasts. Neither would it suffice to merely construct histories that sought to enlighten the people so as to create a social “counterwork” to the imperial system and the dangers of the re-emergence of fascism in Japan. Instead, the project of making a people’s history would have to be linked to a distinctively “proletarian stance”44 that took into account Stalin’s definition of the nation and the dangers of ideological compromise. From

96 The “minzoku faction” this perspective, then, Ishimoda cautioned against “liberal” approaches to knowledge and social change that seemed “radical,” and even compatible with Marxist history, but were really quite “dangerous” substitutes.45 Ishimoda also insisted that the kind of change needed in Japan could only come from a deeper understanding of the relationship between capitalism and the development of the ethnic nation. For example, he argued that Stalin’s 1928 Leninism, unlike his 1913 thesis which had located the ethnic nation solely in the process of capitalist development, made the case for both a “separation” and a “continuation” of the ethnic nation between premodern and modern forms of development. This was important for Ishimoda, as it was for Tôma and Matsumoto, because it made clear that the “germ” of the nation existed far before the introduction of capitalism and modernization. From this perspective, Ishimoda joined Tôma in theorizing that the development of the bourgeois germ, the Volk, was a necessary step from which the minzoku would eventually develop into either a modern bourgeois state, or socialist nation.46 In fact, much like Tôma and Matsumoto, Ishimoda found Stalin’s 1950 thesis to have marked a new turning point in the idea that the existence and development of the nation preceded capitalism. Most importantly, Stalin’s 1950 approach had emphasized the view that the historical precursor of the capitalist ethnic nation was something more than just a stagnant or potential germ. To the contrary, the pre-capitalist stage of development – precursor to both the bourgeois and socialist forms of the nation – existed in the form of a subjective type of social organization endowed with agency similar to that found in the modern bourgeois and socialist stages of development.47 According to Ishimoda, Stalin’s postwar position was also important because it suggested that in the case of nations like Japan, which had become capitalist, the early form of the nation (the “germ” or Volk), represented the burgeoning “psychological community” of the nation. This pre-capitalist community endowed with a “common way of thinking and behaving,” in turn, helped push forward the appearance of the bourgeois nation during the late feudal period, until it finally developed into the bourgeois nation (i.e., the modern nationstate). In a more fundamental sense, however, the premodern existence of the ethnic nation was also important to Ishimoda since it helped buttress the idea that even before modernization, the ethnic nation had its own unique history, economy, and psychology. This would be necessary to support the idea that a historical link with the ancient and premodern past in Japan had just been “discovered,” and that this link could provide the social and political impetus for dramatic change. In this regard, Ishimoda quipped that early postwar historians such as himself were really “transitional beings” to facilitate the transformation from a bourgeois sense of identity to one based upon the socialist nation.48 In a manner of speaking, then, Ishimoda’s attempt to define progressive politics and historiography through the “discovery” of history and the nation sought to transform the social and geopolitical conditions of the early 1950s. Ishimoda took special exception to the proposed Peace Treaty between Japan and the United States, which he saw as cementing in place Japan’s postwar regression to a “dependent” and “enslaved” minzoku. This was because in agreeing to allow the US to maintain

The “minzoku faction” 97 a significant permanent military presence in Japan, the government had succumbed to America’s “imperialist policy” toward Asia.49 From late 1951, he called upon workers and farmers to form an alliance against both the Peace Treaty and the Security Treaty, based upon the argument that they were acceded to by “reactionary forces” within Japan and were designed to “enslave” the Japanese people and Japanese land.50 The logic behind Ishimoda’s (and the Society’s) appeal for resistance to these treaties lay in the belief that any comprehensive peace that excluded mainland China and the Soviet Union, especially one that favored America, would inscribe Japan within American policy in Asia and ensure the “invasion of China.”51 Here, again, many of the fears heightened as a result of the outbreak of the Korean War only reinforced the idea that Japan and all of Asia were in imminent danger. One of the particular complaints made by Ishimoda against the Yoshida Administration was that it had acquiesced to the continued American usage of military bases in Japan even after the Occupation was to formally end. In keeping with his constructionist definition of the nation, Ishimoda also contested that such actions inherently violated the “common linguistic” and cultural integrity of the Japanese people as a “unitary” minzoku and had also deprived farmers of much of their land.52 This animosity toward the state, and in particular the Yoshida Administration, can be seen in Ishimoda’s vivid account of the infamous 1952 May Day Incident. Of course, there were several “May Day” incidents, including the 1946 “Food May Day” demonstrations of 1947, as noted in Chapter 3. The 1952 May Day Incident, however, was to be something far more severe and cataclysmic for radical historians like Ishimoda, not to mention proletarian labor organizations and groups seeking social justice at the peak of the Korean War. On May 1, 1952, several thousand workers and students filled Hibiya Park in Tokyo. The object of their consternation and indignation was the continued occupation of Japan and the subsequent remilitarization under the auspices of what Ishimoda called the “fascist Japanese state.”53 As John Dower notes, this May Day rally came only three days after the US–Japan Peace Treaty came into effect. Interestingly, Dower also notes that one of the main slogans and rallying points for workers, students, and participants in this demonstration, was “oppose rearmament – fight for the independence of the race.”54 It should also be noted that the May Day demonstration was also part of a series of protests against the passage of measures such as the Habô Katsudô Boshi Hôan, or the Law on Preventing Violent Activities. In fact, Ishimoda cited this law as an example of “fascist rule” in Japan and the attempt to arrest and imprison all individuals and organizations that spoke out against the government or Occupation. The May Day protest of 1952 ended with the use of force by the authorities, and some twenty-odd protestors lost their lives; scores of their fellow demonstrators, not to mention many police officers, sustained injuries. It was as a result of this catastrophe, Ishimoda surmised, that a turning point had been reached in the struggle to make the masses aware of the crisis that had befallen the people in Japan. Ishimoda went so far as to declare the May Day Incident of 1952 to be the central event that would usher in the “beginning of a new chapter in postwar history.”55 For Ishimoda, the May Day Incident was for Japan something as significant as Bloody

98 The “minzoku faction” Sunday had been for Russia, or the May Fourth Movement had been for China. This was because the sense of outrage by the public and the energy for mass resistance to state oppression demonstrated by the protestors signaled a fundamental change in how the people would relate to the state. The incident had proven to Ishimoda that the public was serious about achieving “national liberation” from a corrupt regime. The realization of the crisis at hand also represented a sea change in consciousness from a moment of “enslavement” to a moment of emancipation. In fact, the apocalyptic and millennial tone in which Ishimoda described the significance of this event also suggested that the Japanese people could move from being victims in the postwar crisis, to becoming the vanguard for social change in Asia: We stand at the crossroads of deciding which way Europe and Asia will proceed, either toward war or toward peace. It goes without saying that Germany and Japan are decisive players in this matter because they are heading toward remilitarization, bringing with it the specter of a Third World War. However, we can also take heart in the fact that there is within Japan a massive people’s movement seeking to prevent this. In this regard, the May Day Incident this year not only signaled a new stage in postwar Japanese history, but also a force capable of thrusting Asia into a new stage of history.56 This transformation to a new stage in the conceptualization and expression of Asian history also meant a change in the notion of “world history.” Both would now have to take into account the views of those peoples struggling for liberation and recognition of their “correct place,” how such struggles produced “socialist nations” (shakaishugiteki kokka) and how these helped support mutual relations based upon co-existence and cooperation.57 As Takeuchi had suggested several years earlier, world history, with Asia as the new center of a different kind of progress and enlightenment, would have to move away from the Hegelian (and Marxist) notion of a “static Orient” that had grounded the modern (Western) understanding of world history.58 In this sense, historians like Ishimoda, along with Tôma and Matsumoto, among others, thought it imperative to argue that the ethnic nation in Japan was an ancient historical entity whose past, present, and future could not be subsumed into metaphysical or ideological traps like the Asiatic Mode of Production. The new principle of historical science, with the Society’s interpretation of Stalin’s historical constructionism taking the lead, would instead work to explain the phenomenon of liberation nationalism in Asia as a process of transformation within the designation and space of “world history” itself.

The problem of ethnic national consciousness in Japanese modernity Interestingly, in the preface to Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken Ishimoda confided that his personal “discovery” of the Japanese nation represented a way for him to express his “own discovery of history.”59 As this suggests, for Ishimoda the idea of

The “minzoku faction” 99 history and agency, articulated through historical constructionism, had opened up a new domain of historiography; one in which the march of history could be rendered through the trope of collective identity as well as the agency of popular resistance and consciousness. Yet, in this discovery of history and the nation it would not be enough to simply contrast and juxtapose past and present, or to portray pre-1945 Japanese historians as mere dupes of the establishment, or as victims of larger historical forces beyond their control. Rather, the attempts by prewar Japanese activists, historians, and thinkers – professing to be engaged in the writing and making of their own histories, would have to be contrasted with what Ishimoda saw as the successful development of historical science and radical action in prewar China. This involved demonstrating how Chinese resistance to Japanese imperialism brought with it the possibility for collective identity organized through historical and scientific objectivity, and where exactly even the most progressive and enlightened of historians in Japan had failed to conceive and articulate Japanese ethnic national consciousness. Ishimoda believed that only by illustrating how enlightened minds had nevertheless failed to grasp the realities of Japanese imperialism in Asia, could the importance of national consciousness, and ultimately a national awakening, be properly understood in the postwar period. The narrative through which Ishimoda chose to illustrate the problems of minzoku bunka and minzoku ishiki in prewar Japan, however, did not take Marxist historians of the 1920s or 1930s as its primary subject. Although prewar Marxism was fatally flawed, Ishimoda also maintained that the introduction of Marxism into Japan after World War I did not fundamentally change the skewed character of Japanese historiography and thought. To be certain, prewar Marxism was to be flogged: Ishimoda asserted that Japanese Marxism had been little more than an “academic discourse (gakusetsu) which emphasized only the economic aspects of social development” and thus could not go beyond, for instance, the “bourgeois historiography” and class-warfare emphasis of post-revolutionary France.60 Ishimoda also took prewar Japanese Marxism to task for not aggressively supporting the liberation of the proletariat, and for not sufficiently resisting the rising tides of “reactionary nationalism” and ethnic nationalism.”61 Clearly, postwar radical history would have to be distinguished from prewar attempts to develop Marxist history, since the latter were not “radical histories” in any sense of the word – even perhaps those that had supported Stalin’s historical constructionism. Faring slightly better than prewar Marxists, in Ishimoda’s historical sketch, were the progressive historians and thinkers of the Meiji period. On the one hand, Ishimoda argued that enlightenment thinkers such as Fukuzawa Yukichi and liberals like Taguchi Kikuchi, accurately “depicted the forward movement of society and culture” in an age of “enlightenment,” and stood as true representatives of the “reform and progress of the nation.” This was because Meiji enlightenment thinkers were able to develop objective and scientific historical approaches in accord with “modern Western historiographical methods,” in effect making Japanese historiography and thought more “academic.”62 On the other hand, Ishimoda also lamented that the modernizing and transforming of history was to go far beyond the “healthy” domain within which it had originally been conceived by progressive

100 The “minzoku faction” thinkers of the early Meiji period like Fukuzawa and Taguchi. With Japan’s victory in the Sino–Japanese War of 1895 and the Russo–Japanese War of 1905, it had ascended to the ranks of a “civilized country.” Japanese thinkers and historians, however, would build their discourses of “Oriental historiography” not upon an egalitarian alliance with Asian peoples, but instead upon a heartless “academic” perspective that was “without principle and without thought.” Not only would the struggles of various Asian peoples for liberation from Japanese and Western imperialism be ignored, then, but Japanese historians of the Orient actually became “imperialist scholars” and Orientalists who assumed a position of dominance toward the peoples of the Orient. In this vein, Ishimoda took Japanese historians and thinkers to task for “importing all the main currents of Western historiography,” especially those that placed Asia on the lower end of the timeline of “historical progress.”63 As if to escape from what he saw as the anti-Asian and anti-proletarian character of late Meiji Japanese historiography, Ishimoda attempted to find counter-examples from the Meiji period. In particular, he looked at the Hokkaidô-born poet and socialist Ishikawa Takuboku. For Ishimoda, Takuboku had captured the cultural spirit of a national consciousness that rejected “naturalistic and extra-historical” representations of the Japanese ethnic nation,64 as well as ideas of late Meiji patriotism (aikokushugi) and ethnic nationalism based upon an “extra-historical Gemeinschaft” (chôrekishiteki kyôdôtai), that was all to be mobilized for Japan’s colonization of Asia.65 This was crucial since it meant that Takuboku’s idea of minzoku went against the grain of colonial ideologies of racial hierarchy and exceptionalism that were driving both Western and Japanese imperialism, and their “imperialist historians.” In particular, through the media of traditional Japanese song (Tanka) and poetry, Takuboku was able to convey his deep love of both his native place and the entire Japanese ethnic nation.66 During a period when the intelligentsia were unable to comprehend Marxism and Leninism, and as a result were “withdrawn from the masses,” Ishimoda asserted, Takuboku fought against the power of the ruling class for the sake of the liberation of the Japanese nation. Moreover, his notion of the minzoku spurned the “despotic imperial state” in favor of the Japanese sokoku (literally, “ancestral land”), a quasi-ideal Japanese state endogenous to the ethnic nation, and residing indelibly within the spirit and history of the minzoku. For Takuboku, in other words, the ethnic nation and all its accoutrements had to first and foremost be set apart from the Meiji state. This suggested that for Ishimoda, Takuboku’s chief virtue was in having realized the potential of the Japanese people to strive for a state that could do justice to the historical and cultural integrity of the ethnic nation; indeed, such a state was to soon be created in the Soviet Union. Ishimoda’s reading of Takuboku also stressed the specific importance of poetry, allegory, myth, and narrative in expressing this spirit of minzoku and sokoku. Through his exploration of some of Takuboku’s poetry, Ishimoda concluded that Takuboku’s genius was in having conceptualized and realized a concrete means for resisting the temptations of cosmopolitanism and the winds of imperialism. This point is especially intriguing since Ishimoda himself was most certainly fascinated

The “minzoku faction” 101 by China’s struggle against Japanese colonization during the 1930s. For example, Ishimoda emphasized the role of storytelling, traditional song, and myth, in structuring national identity based upon native region and homeland; poets, storytellers, and even students, devoted themselves to “learning the lessons of past Chinese liberation movements” in the fight against Japanese imperialism.67 In other words, it becomes possible to read Ishimoda’s Takuboku as an early example of a progressive thinker who sought to resist the imperial Japanese state in the name of the minzoku and sokoku. For this was also just what Chinese raconteurs, radicals, students, and local historians had done during the 1930s so as to provide a counterwork to Japanese imperialism in their depictions of a lost identity that needed to be reclaimed. Ishimoda’s implicit comparison between China and Japan becomes even more apparent given the fact that he claimed Takuboku’s poetry and his conception of the ethnic nation took aim at a Japanese state that was merely simulating in Asia the conquest of “American monopoly-capital and world imperialism.”68 On the other hand, Ishimoda also surmised that Takuboku was somewhat of a lone voice in the wilderness, and was, moreover, unable to formally systematize his intuitive sense of the Japanese ethnic nation or sokoku. To be certain, Takuboku served as an example of how some minds did express a politically prescient and enlightened sense of the ethnic nation. At the same time, however, he could not escape Ishimoda’s more general critique of Meiji and prewar and historians, especially their inability to develop scientific conceptions of the history and the nation. For poets like Takuboku, as well as historians and intellectuals not unfamiliar with more formalized and logical methodologies, therefore, the historical sense of minzoku as a social media for resistance to imperialism and state ideology was far from complete. This fits in well with Ishimoda’s thesis that while Chinese intellectuals, historians, and students during the prewar period were able to overcome the many contradictions driving Japanese imperialism, their Japanese counterparts had utterly failed to resist the state. This includes even the most enlightened Japanese historians and intellectuals, who were unable to articulate and organize any lasting sense of the ethnic nation as a form of political resistance, according to Ishimoda. The critique of Japanese progressive visions of the ethnic nation can be seen even more clearly in Ishimoda’s reading of the late Meiji socialist and anarchist Kôtoku Shusui. In his bold resistance to Japanese expansionism, patriotism and ethnic nationalism, Kôtoku represented for Ishimoda a revolutionary thinker and political activist who should have drawn the admiration of all Japanese.69 Kôtoku, according to Ishimoda, was an interesting figure since he became witness to the desires and ambitions of colonized peoples to gain their own independence and remain free from domination by either the West or Japan. In his associations with Chinese and other Asian thinkers who came to the metropole of Tokyo, Kôtoku came to understand and appreciate the revolutionary spirit of resistance to imperialism and its place within a new stage of “world revolution.”70 Far more so than Ishikawa Takuboku, therefore, Kôtoku realized the evils of Japanese imperialism in Asia and, conversely, the strong desires for liberation and independence that this had generated. Kôtoku did not have to go to Asia to see the struggle for self-liberation and the forms of defiance against Japan in China. Rather,

102 The “minzoku faction” progressive voices from around the empire, resonating within Tokyo, would enlighten Kôtoku as to the problems of desire, liberation, and autonomy, according to Ishimoda. Unfortunately, it was this very mode of communication that also helped create a somewhat idyllic and unrealistic idea of Asian liberation for Kôtoku, as Ishimoda saw it. On the one hand, Kôtoku was indeed inspired by revolutionaries and their accounts of liberation movements in China and India, leading him to espouse the international union of various Asian peoples. On the other hand, Ishimoda argued that Kôtoku sought the amalgamation of socialism and cosmopolitanism as the basis for such a union, without first focusing upon the more fundamental question of how to complete the internal unification of each Asian minzoku through socialist revolution. This misunderstanding, for Ishimoda, spoke to the very heart of prewar Asian nationalism and internationalism since it revealed a basic problem plaguing Japanese radical thinkers and intellectuals, namely, the entrenched habitus of an “imperialist revolutionary thinking about China and Asia.” 71 Put differently, Ishimoda’s Kôtoku emphasized Asian liberation from Japanese imperialism, without considering the need to first build up each distinct minzoku as an independent historical and political entity. For Ishimoda, this oversight reflected not only the temptations of the day (in particular, “bourgeois cosmopolitanism”) but also the “prejudice” of even progressive Japanese intellectuals as to the ability of China and India to build their own distinct social revolutions and national communities. In the end, Kôtoku’s flawed understanding of how to achieve Asian liberation was argued to have been the product of his personal associations with Chinese revolutionaries in Japan, and especially their idea of an “anarchist revolution” against the Ching Dynasty. As a result, Japanese socialist thinkers during the late Meiji period overstressed the role of liberation from imperialism, without focusing upon the actual process leading up to it.72 As this summary suggests, Ishimoda’s view of prewar Japan at heart maintained that historians and intellectuals during the Meiji period were basically unable to appreciate the dynamism and potential of national liberation movements in Asia. This was not helped by the fact that many of the young and enthusiastic Chinese revolutionaries who had fled to Japan during the late Meiji period were actually the offspring of the bourgeoisie and landowners in China. For Ishimoda, this meant that their views toward social revolution could not be truly radical in the sense that they merely focused upon liberation from external control without considering how to first unite the ethnic nation by raising ethnic national consciousness among workers, peasants, and the people. Ishimoda also surmised that even the most progressive voices in Japan were not able to really understand how China was suffering under Japanese oppression, colonization, and the attempt to wipe out Chinese ethnic national culture. Even though thinkers like Kôtoku espoused humanism and international solidarity, then, their form of internationalism made the mistake of substituting the importance of each ethnic nation with an escapist and counterproductive form of internationalism. This resulted in misplaced efforts by otherwise-radicals like Kôtoku to seek international unity while remaining insensitive to the problems of internal struggle and class conflict that were actually central

The “minzoku faction” 103 to the process of national unification. Without explicit and conscious consideration of these internal contradictions, in short, appeals for international alliance among oppressed Asian peoples by socialist thinkers and historians reflected little more than a truncated understanding of the minzoku problem in history.73 This rather stinging indictment basically charged that Chinese socialists and revolutionaries in Japan, as well as Japanese anarchists such as Kôtoku, could not grasp the essential problems that lay outside their own personal bourgeois circle of experience. Chief among these was the idea that the proletariat in China could actually be the agency for national unification and social revolution. Conversely, Ishimoda also believed that Chinese socialist “theory” within China was, at the time, far more advanced than its counterpart in Japan.74 In order to back this up, Ishimoda had to look no further than the successful mass mobilization and resistance against Japan by China. This was because proletarian leaders such as Mao, and not bourgeois intellectuals attracted to the colonial metropole, were ultimately the ones who had been able to transform idea of revolution into a strategy through which to unify the ethnic nation from the ground up. Both Ishimoda and fellow historian Saito Akio offered suggestions as to how historians and the proletariat in postwar Japan could utilize the paradigm of national unification in China, so as to “rediscover” and reclaim Japan’s own ethnic national consciousness and ethnic culture. In contrast to the misplaced hopes for “world socialist revolution” by Japanese socialists and anarchists, for instance, Ishimoda insisted that postwar Japan would need to emulate China’s historical example in calling for a “new enlightenment” and “cultural movement” that could appeal to the Japanese people. By looking at the process of China’s resistance and national liberation – and the consequent “destruction of the paradigm of [bourgeois] modernity” for Asia, Ishimoda, Saito, and many Marxist historians believed that Japan could follow suit.75 More specifically, both Saito and Ishimoda saw China as a splendid political example of an Asian nation that had not only successfully defended its liberty and independence against cosmopolitanism and imperialism, but had in the process become the first Asian people to unify as a socialist ethnic nation. As such, for these historians China was even more germane to postwar Asian nationalism and internationalism than was the example of the Soviet Union. A good example of this logic can be found in Saito’s description of how prewar Chinese intellectuals and students were able to educate peasants and soldiers about China’s past, to create a true populist ethnic national culture. In Saito’s account, the Chinese resisted Japan by becoming conscious of their ethnic cultural past, and then resolving to fight in order to not only save this past, but to ensure that it could once again become available to all Chinese as their own history. Part of this account revolves around how Chinese cultural intellectuals and students, in response to the crisis brought about through Japan’s invasion of China in 1931 and the Manchurian Incident, sought to create a populist movement of resistance through historical allegories, lessons from the past, and even nationalistic poetry. This project also involved, according to Saito, the use and mobilization of roving theatrical groups of students who were able to spin historical fables and tales that “called the people to resist Japanese imperialism.” In addition, intellectuals and students also set up

104 The “minzoku faction” schools and newspapers in local areas to communicate and develop the message of resistance and unification.76 In fact, like Ishimoda, Saito was also concerned with showing that the project of resistance and unification required the active participation of intellectuals and students, in so far as they were the ones best equipped to articulate the larger political and historical implications of this new history. For example, Saito held that Chinese writers were able to express their resistance to Japanese rule through a kind of “political realism,” based upon exposing the dark side of political life. They were also able to utilize the past for the sake of the present by borrowing themes from Chinese history and dramaticizing these on stage. Based upon these new and realistic interpretations of politics and society under Japanese colonial rule, groups of traveling performers acted out realistically the tribulations of those regions hit hardest by Japan, and in so doing help to construct a larger “campaign of national defense” (minzoku bôshu no zensen). In portraying the harsh realities of the people under Japanese rule these performers, students, and intellectuals also helped to consolidate “the origin of revolutionary ethnic national culture” in China and enliven ancient Chinese ethnic culture into a new, dynamic “socialist nation.”77 Needless to say, however, the implications of this implied contrast between prewar China and Meiji Japan were not lost on either Ishimoda or Saito. In contrast to the writers, bards, and theatrical groups raising common awareness in China, the otherwise “heroic” poets and folk historians of the Meiji period, such Takuboku, could not resist the offerings of “cosmopolitanism,” “American monopoly capital” and “world imperialism.” In the end this would lead, Ishimoda insisted, to many of the difficulties Japanese intellectuals would have in the prewar to influence the masses.78 By contrast, however, the process of the formation of the ethnic nation in modern China for Saito was also characterized by the ability of Chinese culture to adjust to new historical conditions and crises. This could be summed up in terms of China’s uncanny ability to make selective use equally of ancient Chinese culture and ancient foreign cultures. While making use of the healthy aspects of each, the process of developing the nation was also able to adjust itself to new realities and new forms of culture . . .79 Saito added that since the May Fourth Movement in China, this process had been involved in the modifying of Chinese culture so that it could better resist imperialism, and establish a form of democracy that would lead to national independence.80 In spite of the visceral contrast set up between prewar Japan and China, however, Ishimoda and Saito, like Tôma and Matsumoto, were convinced that the prewar “discovery” of Chinese history and the nation could remedy many of the problems that had been overlooked by progressive thinkers in modern Japan. Although the narratives of prewar Japan and China, then, can be read as opposing and contrasting examples of political success and political failure, they ultimately envisioned Japan’s own discovery of history and the nation as something in the modern tradition of Mao and Chinese cultural intellectuals during the 1930s.

The “minzoku faction” 105 Nevertheless, this was also a modern tradition within which Japan was seen as being still far behind China, as well as India and Southeast Asia. As a result, Japanese history would have to go beyond class-based notions of historical agency and political resistance to create a form of national culture that was both unified and aimed like a laser at the problem of state power and the external manipulation of Japan’s economy, society, culture, and history. Historians would need to bring home to their audiences a new consciousness of Asian national liberation that could replace what Takeuchi condemned as the dialectic of “progress and civilization” that had driven Western modernity and imperialism. As Ozawa Hirotaka notes, historians like Ishimoda, through their discovery of the ethnic nation, hoped to encourage a popular consciousness of ethnic identity that could become a “subjective movement for the masses to act as a group” and join other “liberated” ethnic nations such as China and North Korea.81 For minzoku faction historians, and indeed for those historians to be examined below, the space of the present had become a moment in which Stalin’s historical constructionism could be embraced with unwavering confidence.

6

Minzoku ishiki and modernization Eguchi Bokurô, Suzuki Shirô, Inoue Kiyoshi, and Tôyama Shigeki

The emergence of the West and the modern formation of the nation As the previous chapter has illustrated, historians within the minzoku faction such as Ishimoda Shô looked not only to the premodern “germ” of the Japanese ethnic nation, but also to some of the problems associated with Japan’s modernization. Based upon Stalin’s hypothesis that nations did indeed have premodern origins, Ishimoda also felt confident that he could better understand, and make intelligible, the interrelated problems of Japanese nationalism and modernization. Looked at in this way, it is thus possible to place Ishimoda together with historians of the modern period such as Eguchi Bokurô, Suzuki Shirô, Inoue Kiyoshi, Uehara Senroku, and Tôyama Shigeki. This is all the more so when we compare Ishimoda’s interest in both the premodern and modern development of the Japanese minzoku to some of his colleagues such as Tôma – whose Nihon Minzoku no Keisei confined itself to the growth of Japan and East Asia during the first millennium A.D. Tôma’s approach to the formation of the ethnic nation in Japan began at about the time of Christ, and focused upon the several centuries that followed. This period was, he contended, a key turning point during which the Japanese minzoku were able to establish a separate and unique identity from China. On the other hand, like Tôma, Ishimoda and Matsumoto were also convinced that the premodern formation of the Japanese nation had been a significant force in Japanese history over the course of several thousands of years. For historians looking directly to the development of ethnic national consciousness in the modern period, by contrast, classical East Asia had far less immediacy and relevance to the present than did the history of the West’s recent encounters with Asia. In this regard, the rationale to the historical approach of the modernization faction rested upon the belief that the West had sought to thrust its traditions and systems upon the cultural autonomy and independence of various Asian peoples. Yet, this was not to be just a question of the original circumstances surrounding the impetus to modernization in Japan, for instance. Rather, one of the critical assumptions of the modernization faction could be found in the notion that European and American imperialism had been the venue through which specific ideologies and policies were levied upon Asia. According to this view, espoused

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 107 earlier by Takeuchi Yoshimi and de rigeur among Marxist historians by 1951, the paradigm of “bourgeois modernity” was presumed useful for understanding modernization in the West. It did, however, fail to take into consideration how modernization in Japan actually represented a response to the threat of colonization by Western imperialism. As they saw it, the problem of modernization and nationalism had as much to do with the dynamics of modern imperialism as it did the historical specificities of any kind of late-development, per se. This was because, as Lenin had already made clear within Marxist views of world history, struggles for national self-determination among peoples subjugated to colonialism were seen as essential contributions to the worldwide defeat of imperialism and the realization of socialism. In one sense, then, by resisting global capitalism, national movements in the non-West could become progressive agents of revolutionary change on a worldwide scale.1 The modernization and development of non-Western and “peripheral” peoples, in other words, represented the starting point from which modernization (i.e., the historical advancement toward socialism) could be seen as a truly global issue. One interesting example of this approach, to be found in the Society’s 1951 Annual Report, was Suzuki Shirô’s “Kindaishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai” (The National Question in Modern History).2 Reflecting his interest in looking at the development of various peoples in world history, Suzuki focused upon national liberation movements in contemporary Ireland, India, Spain, and China, as well as the overall phenomenon of postwar American imperialism. In particular, Suzuki argued that “Democratic Ethnic National Fronts” against British imperialism in both Ireland and India had in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries helped to push forward the cause of national independence. He also contended that these National Fronts were the only form of social organization to have taken on fascism and to have attempted to stop its cancerous growth. Yet, the key to their tenacity, as forms of resistance to colonial subjugation, lay in their emphasis upon the development of ethnic national consciousness beyond the confines of class.3 That is, the formation of ethnic national consciousness had far less to do with the emergence of strictly class-based popular movements, and far more to do with the overall popular realization of a common ethnic national denominator to social and political resistance. In other words, since the ethnic nation had become a subaltern to imperialist and colonialist machinations through the development of Western imperialism, the dynamic of class would have to take a back seat to popular agency based upon a fundamental sense of a unified ethnic national culture. Moreover, Suzuki maintained that these ideas were in accord with the “laws of world history” and were therefore relevant to nations like Japan that were still struggling for independence. For Suzuki, as for many Marxist historians looking out at the world during the early 1950s, national liberation movements in pre-1949 China proved to be the crowning example of the worldwide phenomenon of resistance to global capital and foreign colonization. In particular, Suzuki located the final phase of Chinese resistance to Japan as having taken place between 1945 and 1949, thus giving the early postwar period a historical and political distinction of its own.4 The message

108 Minzoku ishiki and modernization of this postwar period for Chinese liberation nationalism could be summed up in Mao’s idea of a “new stage-theory” of national development for China that emphasized the necessity of “subordinating class warfare to the war of national liberation.”5 This did not mean the abandoning of either class-consciousness or a commitment by the people to changing history by their own hand. Rather, it stressed the importance of looking at social and political struggle in postwar China as ultimately a matter of independence, autonomy, and liberation of the entire Chinese nation. For modern historians like Suzuki, in other words, it was this contemporary process of resistance and consciousness-building that could directly bring about revolution and liberation. Some of Suzuki’s colleagues, such as Inoue, Eguchi, and Tôyama, would look back at the Meiji period to illustrate how many of these lessons had yet to be collectively learned in Japan. For they saw a number of parallels between Japan and America that Suzuki had found in relation to both India and Ireland vis-à-vis the British empire prior to World War II. Their overall impression of Japan’s situation during the early 1950s, however, was anything but optimistic. As Suzuki himself decried, Japan had become the victim of a “unique form of American imperialism” that could best be described as a “dependency imperialism,” or “semi-colonial” status. There would thus be no need to make Japan a formal colony of America, as the latter had attempted a century before, or had done in Asia and the Third World in times past. Instead, informal empires could be created, subjugating even former empires themselves, such as France, Italy, and, of course, Japan. As they saw it, the postwar era had enabled America to arrange a set of relationships organized around neo-colonial forms of economic, political, cultural, and military dependency upon American capital and its global interests.6 Much like Ishimoda, to take one example, Tôyama argued that the “national economy” of the Japanese people had been virtually “obliterated” by the Occupation and the Yoshida Administration.7 Not only had remilitarization for the Korean War allowed monopoly capital to be funneled into Japan for purposes other than economic reform, but the assets of the people were also being usurped by the state. In addition, Tôyama cited events such as the 1951 May Day Incident, as well as the Peace Treaty and the Security Treaty with the US, as signs that Japan was being forced into remilitarization and aggression in Asia.8 In fact, the extent to which Tôyama went to give his account of this ordeal, and his focus upon treaties with America and the collaboration of the Japanese establishment in this process in order to quell popular resistance, contain many subtle parallels between Meiji and the postwar period. One example of such was the implied parallel between the unequal treaties of the Meiji period between Japan and the United States on the one hand, and the treaties that put an official end to the Occupation on the other. Ultimately, both periods had the potential to become “crises” that threatened Japan’s independence and put it in danger of colonization. It would therefore become imperative for historians and the public alike to be aware of how national unification at the start of Japan’s modernization represented a process that ultimately stymied a correct form of minzoku ishiki. For it was, ultimately, ethnic national consciousness that could enable the people to overturn corrupt forms of political

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 109 authority and unwelcome incarnations of global capital that continued to haunt Japan. Likewise, other historians such as Eguchi asserted the need to keep in mind earlier distinctions between the historical trajectories of imperialism, on the one hand, and socialism, on the other. For the only way to learn from the colonial tribulations of other subjugated peoples would be to first recognize the distinction between “reactive nationalism” that served the state, and “progressive nationalism” driven by popular will for unification. Just as Ishimoda had outlined the different tracks of development between the bourgeois modern nation-state and the socialist nation, then, so Eguchi here attempted to portray modern Japanese history as a conflict between two different forms of nationalism. This was important since it reflected larger developments in world history based upon the fundamental tension between imperialist states and nations seeking independence and socialism. For Eguchi, Inoue and Tôyama, moreover, it would be necessary to take these ideas back into the Bakumatsu and Meiji periods to uncover how the state, in its attempts to resist external colonization, actually pre-empted the development of a “correct” national consciousness. Here the logic of superimposing the Meiji Restoration upon the present became clear: just as Japan had faced the threat of the West in Meiji, so it was now facing – and indeed suffering under – American colonization. The way to resist and redress this problem involved re-establishing the basis of a “healthy ethnic nation” (kenzen na minzokuteki na mono) in the postwar.9 Ethnic national consciousness in Japan could then be made into a foundational moment for a “history of the present.” The theoretical rubric of the modernization approach to the question of the ethnic nation in history, much the same as for Ishimoda and Tôma, was derived from Stalin’s pre- and postwar writings. It should come as no surprise, however, to find that even though each side of the debate utilized basically the same points from Stalin’s theory of the ethnic nation as a historical product, their specific interpretations and discourses on how to emphasize the minzoku in Japanese history differed somewhat. Unlike Ishimoda and Tôma, for example, Inoue found one specific part of Stalin’s definition of the ethnic nation to be especially relevant to the question of postwar Japanese society, viz., that the formation or completion of the modern ethnic nation be driven by the proletariat. Although the attributes named by Stalin such as shared language, territory, and economic lifestyle were as important to him as they were to Ishimoda and Tôma, Inoue maintained that the people’s agency could be understood by first looking at the role of material culture within capitalist modernity.10 In other words, Inoue would locate the problem of agency specifically within the modern period. This he did by supposing the process of national unity to have taken place through internal political conflicts sparked by Western imperialism and bourgeois modernity. Although these assumptions could also be found in Ishimoda’s discourse, the latter acknowledged the agency of the people as an issue that could be taken back long before the onset of modernization in Japan. Here it was the premodern ethnic nation that functioned as a subjective and popular form of social organization that could push history forward toward modernization, and, ultimately, socialism. In this approach, it was through

110 Minzoku ishiki and modernization premodern agency that the burgeoning “psychological community” of the nation carried with them the “internal contradictions” and conflict with authority that eventually led to the appearance of the bourgeois nation with the onset of capitalism. In contradistinction, the historical agency of the Japanese minzoku for Inoue did not make its presence felt until the pangs of capitalism and late-feudal class conflict began to reach the stage of modern political unification and external economic expansion. For however much they emerged in the form of a nascent “national cohesion of the people,” premodern Japanese forms of identity and agency were little more than the amalgamation of the masses into a “despotic system” of authority, or the “political and religious conglomeration of the people.”11 Inoue did not mean to suggest that before the advent of capitalism the masses were utterly subjugated to the structure of Japanese despotism, or the imperial system, however. Instead, he merely maintained that the structure of feudal society had a strong hand in determining the shape and scope of any subjective consciousness, in effect rendering it an epi-phenomenon in the context of historical conditions and stages that preceded the onset of modernization. In short, the distinction between both factions on the point of the people’s agency in premodern times can be understood as a methodological difference concerning not only the periodization and development of ethnic national consciousness, but also the historical agency of the people in premodern times. In his 1951 “Nihon Minozku Keisei to Meiji Ishin no Igi” (The Formation of the Japanese Ethnic Nation and Significance of the Meiji Restoration), Inoue clearly framed the emergence of the Japanese ethnic nation within the domain of bourgeois modernity and the period surrounding the Meiji Restoration of 1868.12 He argued that the “fight against the crisis of semi-colonization” by America and the West was a process essential to the formation of the nation in late-developers like Japan. This took place, however, not through the agency or power of the people, but instead through what he referred to as the bourgeois middle strata of samurai, who sought to erect a form of national consciousness against the crisis of colonization by foreign powers. According to Inoue, this resistance did constitute a progressive form of national awakening and resistance. The “expel the barbarian” movement of the Bakumatsu period, involving both anti-Bakufu and some Bakufu interests to protect Japan from the “barbarous” West, in effect sought to give rise to political unification for Japan to make the transition to capitalism and was essentially a progressive form of national consciousness. This is because it reflected a growing spirit of defiance by anti-Bakufu samurai, the “middle strata” of Japanese society, as well as a sense of loyalty to the state and subsequently, to the modernized imperial system.13 As Inoue saw it, the middle strata of anti-Bakufu samurai, who would in fact lead the Meiji Restoration, also represented a “conscious political movement” that put the interests of the nation above those of class in seeking “national independence” from what could have become colonization and enslavement. Inoue surmised that the move to overthrow the Bakufu reflected an anti-feudal sentiment of this “middle strata” and that the Meiji Restoration did in fact mark the first major step toward independence from the West. Moreover, this crystallization of national

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 111 consciousness by the “middle strata” to repel “the pressure of foreign capitalism” was seen by Inoue as a kind of “minzokuteki jikaku,” or national awakening.14 Inoue also contended that one of the keys to understanding this swell toward national awakening during the early Meiji era could be found in the People’s Rights Movement. The advent of Meiji and the eradication of Japanese feudalism meant that movements from below such as the People’s Rights Movement could bring to fruition a true bourgeois revolution against the imperial system. Indeed, there were several important features of this movement that did lend themselves to such a description. In particular, the movement was initiated by several ex-members of the Meiji Government in 1874 and represented perhaps the first public debate over the political rights of taxpayers to be enfranchised within Japanese society. The movement also sprung from the growing drive for local autonomy and the decentralization of authority away from the state, something made possible by the demise of feudalism. Most of all, it introduced the concept of popular sovereignty into Japan, and the idea that the seat of political power could be shared between the emperor on the one hand, and the people’s representatives, on the other hand.15 Thus, in spite of the fact that the People’s Rights Movement began as a movement by and for the propertied-classes and intellectuals, it also sought to introduce and expand the idea of political enfranchisement. Moreover, Inoue also intimated that the People’s Rights Movement represented nationalism from below in that it sought not merely a democratic revolution (and thus the end of the imperial system), but as well the unification of the Japanese nation and complete independence from the West.16 Following this logic, the process of modernization and threat from without helped make conditions right for the People’s Rights Movement to support both democratic revolution at home and “national independence.” Yet, Inoue also concluded that Meiji Japan achieved national unity and independence in terms of the state, bourgeoisie, and ruling class, so as to attain a sense of “modern patriotism” buttressed by a “spirit of national defense.”17 On the one hand, then, movements such as the People’s Rights Movement, Inoue surmised, were a part of this whole process of national unification and minzoku dokuritsu. The flip side of these developments, however, could be seen in the fact that national unification in Meiji had produced neither a true bourgeois nor proletarian revolution. There was instead a kind of national unification based upon the bourgeoisie, the state, and the imperial system. This meant more than just that sad fact that a modern spirit of national resistance couldn’t hold its own against the more aggressive and expansionist interests of the state, so as to lead to eventual socialist revolution. It also implied that the Japanese people were not able in early Meiji to develop a strong enough sense of ethnic national consciousness against the interests of the state and the new hegemony of the “middle strata” over Japanese society and economic development. The people were merely sought in by the bourgeoisie, Inoue claimed, in order to protect the new Meiji state and the restored imperial system.18 Part of the theoretical basis for this approach belonged to the same two-stage view of revolution that had influenced many historians in the prewar and early postwar Society associated with the Kôza faction of Japanese Marxism. For them,

112 Minzoku ishiki and modernization the emergence of Japan as a modern nation-state occurred not though a bourgeois revolution, as it had in Europe. Instead, this was achieved by way of the “victory of imperial absolutism” without any substantial land reform, resulting in a situation whereby the Japanese land-owing system would eventually become a “semicolony” of America and Europe by the late nineteenth century.19 Even with the development of capitalism and modernization, in other words, the ethnic nation in Japan was not yet a fully developed agent of historical change in the social and political spheres. While the Japanese minzoku emerged only after the advent of capitalism, for Inoue many elements of Japanese feudalism had remained. The practical results of this problem made themselves clear in the development of a form of political unification based upon capitalism and a kind of patriotism (aikoku) which mandated the “absolute loyalty toward the despotic imperial system.” Therefore, the emergence of ethnic national consciousness in Meiji represented less an actual transformation and progression of productive forces in Japanese society, and more the subjugation to a structure of despotic rule and “the amalgamation of the people into ancient and feudal forms of authority,” namely, the “imperial restoration.”20 The agency of the people and the autonomy of a politically unified ethnic nation, therefore, were not to fully develop. Without a doubt, Inoue saw the emergence of Japan into the domain of world capitalism, as well as the political unification of Japan, as having been seminal moments in the development of ethnic national consciousness. Yet, this process was associated less with the notion that Japanese modernization had brought about the complete formation and the true unification of the Japanese minzoku, and more with the basic idea that a spirit of resistance had only partially succeeded. On the one hand, the spirit of resistance was able to bust open Japanese feudalism and propel political unification in order to protect Japan’s sovereignty. To be certain, for Inoue this very fact by itself represented a progressive moment and turning point in Japanese history. Even though national unification was more a kind of political unification based upon bourgeois interests, that is, it did represent an effective response to the genuine threat of political colonization by the West. On the other hand, the initiative for change and for modernization was monopolized to a large extent by authoritarian segments of society and politics. The process of political unification and modernization would instead empower the bourgeois middle strata and the expansion of Japanese capitalism into Asia.21 Ironically, it was just this kind of “middle strata” that Eguchi had warned against in the late 1940s in his critique of modernism, implicitly contrasting it with the people’s agency to bring about revolution.22 Put in starker terms, Japan’s modernization and political unification inaugurated a new system of political despotism and bourgeois expansion, all for the sake of national autonomy and economic growth. As Meiji rolled on, furthermore, the bourgeoisie lent their support to the state, and the state set its sights upon Asia: Although true that from the 1890s it was clear that [even] socialists in the People’s Rights Movement had failed to bring about democratic revolution, by this time Japan had already moved toward imperialism. The issue was thus no

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 113 longer how the Japanese minzoku would achieve independence from the West . . . [rather] the basic problem became how to resist Japanese imperialism.23 In other words, by late Meiji the concerns of the people would become less focused upon how to achieve social revolution so as to create a true nationalism from below, and more geared toward the “liberation of the Japanese people from their own empire.”24 As Inoue lamented, however, with victory over Russia in 1905, the transition from “semi-colonized state” to aggressive colonial power was finalized. This in turn had the effect of sealing the fate of democratic revolution, nationalism from below, and a form of national consciousness that could resist the state.25 Likewise, the notion that political unification in Meiji had actually prevented true national awakening by the people caught the interest of other modern historians in the Society such as Uehara Senroku. Uehara surmised that one of the “particularities” in the development of Japanese minzoku ishiki had to do with Japan’s premodern isolation. On the one hand, he asserted, European peoples had been able to enter into both positive exchanges such as trade, and negative exchanges such as war. This helped push their economies, cultures, and politics further toward greater national consolidation. On the other hand, political unification in Japan relied upon the appearance of capitalism from the West. In contrast to Germany, for example, where national consciousness was both political consciousness and a deep cultural sensibility that shaped historical consciousness, in Meiji Japan there was no real “spiritual base” from which to build ethnic national consciousness. The only historical awakening to come in Meiji was an awakening to the “political subjectivity” of the state. The result was that during the Meiji era the Japanese ethnic nation and state came to mean the same thing, as consciousness of the state was mistaken for true ethnic national consciousness in the project of modern political unification. Uehara here intimated that part of the problem during the Bakumatsu and early Meiji period had to do with something other than purely political, or even economic, factors. Owing to the historical circumstances surrounding Japan’s isolation during the Edo period, Uehara surmised, there had been in Japan no tradition of making cultural consciousness the basis for political action by the proletariat. This had dire consequences when the opportunity (driven by “external” developments) for democratic revolution arose in the Bakumatsu era. That is, Japan’s isolation had ultimately allowed the state and material interests to monopolize the process of modernization and political unification without any significant resistance by the people. From the outset of Japanese modernization the idea of national consciousness could thus not be expressed in terms of cultural unification or a particular cultural Zeitgeist that moved the people into action. This failure was, according to Uehara, a failure in both historical consciousness and an awareness of the importance of keeping Japan open to world historical influences and stimuli. The upshot of this historical failure was that the political unification which took place as a result of the Meiji Ishin represented a process driven essentially by corrupt political interests. This was because Meiji elites saw domestic and international events only through the self-serving prism of economic expansion and capital

114 Minzoku ishiki and modernization accumulation, within which Japan’s success, ironically, depended upon its cooperation with Western imperial powers as much as it did its own formal autonomy from them. As such, the question of Japan’s independence and national unification for Uehara, much as for Inoue, was something that had to be seen as Janus-faced at best, and as disastrous for Japanese modernization and minzoku ishiki, at worst. Other Modern historians such as Tôyama Shigeki were even more critical of the Meiji Restoration and the dangers of reactive forms of nationalism that loomed in Japan’s past – as if waiting in the wings to reappear. Unlike Inoue, Tôyama, on the one hand, hypothesized that there was no real crisis of political colonization for Japan during the Bakumatsu period. This was because by the 1860s the character of European expansionism was changing more in the direction of pressure to engage in free trade, moving away from former practices of political colonization through imperialism. Tôyama maintained that economic colonization and the opening to Western capitalism constituted the primary external threat or crisis that Japan had faced.26 This amounted to something less than political colonization, though still disadvantageous for Japan: a relationship of “dependency” with the West through “industrial capitalism.”27 Yet, in maintaining that no political crisis had threatened Japan from without, Tôyama also claimed that the political problems associated with the Meiji era had really come from within. In the process of trying to handle what was essentially an economic crisis, parts of the Bakumatsu establishment had in effect created a larger (yet internal) political crisis of ideology. For example, he noted that the “expel the barbarian” movement, which Inoue had taken as part of the process of the development of ethnic national consciousness, actually represented the antithesis of historical progress. Indeed, he held that the movement was the result of the failure of peasants in late-feudal Japan to create a sufficiently powerful front against the Tokugawa Bakufu. Moreover, ideological movements from feudal authority, even when these were coming from anti-Bakufu resistance, in effect smothered popular movements for ethnic national unification by peasants and the proletariat. Top-down ideologies such as the Joi movement, according to Tôyama, were at root the product of what was perceived as a political threat from the West. This in turn had brought about the rapid consolidation of feudal authority under the auspices of the imperial system. In other words, Tôyama surmised that resistance to the West had actually helped to dampen growing sentiments of progressive national consciousness and democratic revolution from below. Ethnic national consciousness, therefore, could not be properly thrashed out through class struggle and a bourgeois democratic revolution. In the absence of this progressive sense of national identity as the basis of political unification and modernization, the Meiji Restoration amounted to nothing more than the “creation of imperial absolutism.”28 As Tôyama saw it, even though there was an impetus for Japan to move toward democratic revolution, reactive forms of (state-driven) nationalism had in effect positioned the issue of national unification wholly within the interests of the bourgeois and ruling classes.29 In the charge to define class warfare in terms of external political crisis, the social and historical struggle between nationalism from below and reactive nationalism from above could not play itself out.30

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 115 Perhaps even more so than Inoue, however, Tôyama criticized the People’s Rights Movement as something that was from the very outset tinged heavily with “statist hues” (kokkenronteki shikisai). For instance, Tôyama argued that much state ideology was shared and supported by the movement, including the top down idea of “rich nation, strong military” (fukoku kyôhei) as well as the pretense of “national unification” from the bottom up. The problem as Tôyama saw it was that the notion of national unification advocated by the movement actually gave legitimacy to the Imperial Constitution of 1890 and ultimately the rise of statism and absolutism that in turn fueled Japanese imperialism.31 All of this worked against the development of progressive national unification based on the eradication of class differences. Likewise, Tôyama insisted that these ideologies were essentially rective in that they linked national independence to capitalism, military power, and the installation of the emperor at the center of this process. Therefore, by supporting the political unification of the nation-state, even ostensibly from the bottom up, the People’s Rights Movement had helped provide the legal and political rationale for the modern imperial system. Ironically, this situation was exacerbated, Tôyama asserted, by the fact that the movement’s support for political unification also stressed the need for a strong and independent state that could resist the West.32 By taking this position, moreover, Tôyama sought to contrast the national unification that took place in early Meiji with the possibility of a more democratic form of ethnic national unification that put popular interest and agency above the formation of capitalist interests and political coercion. Genuine movements of the people would have to strive not only for the eradication of class differences as the precondition to national unification, but would as well have to frame this struggle so that the ethnic nation could remain independent from the (capitalist) state. Looked at in terms of creating a new and improved form of Japanese ethnic national consciousness in the early postwar period, this picture portrayed the present as a moment of opportunity in which to redo and to improve upon the past. While both past and present had to confront the imminent crisis of colonization that befell the Japanese people, the reformation of Japanese national consciousness this time around would need, at least initially, to pay partial attention to the problem of class divisions. In order to fuse ethnic national consciousness with social revolution it would thus be essential to frame national unification as something distinct from both global capital and from the political interests of the bourgeois state. In these ways, furthermore, it was clear that modernization faction historians such as Eguchi, Inoue, Suzuki, and Tôyama, contributed to the debate over how to best articulate ethnic national culture, consciousness, and awakening. To this extent, Amino’s hypothesis – that the Historical Science Society had by 1951 split into two methodological camps – does provide an important window upon the shape of Marxist history on the precipice of a “historical turn.” Moreover, there was an important and timely message that ran through much of the writings and appeals of the modernization faction during the early 1950s: the crisis of colonization that Japan faced during the Bakumatsu period was not merely a historical relic.33 To the contrary, a profound crisis of economic, political, cultural, and spiritual proportions had made it urgent for the people and their progressive

116 Minzoku ishiki and modernization allies to achieve a social revolution that could once and for all bring about the transition to an independent, post-capitalist phase of national life in Japan. For although socialist internationalism was important, the historical conditions and political realities that the Japanese people were facing had first and foremost made imperative a national awakening that could, in turn, finally bring the nation into more internationalist position in Asia and the “non-West.” Healthy nationalism would therefore be the first step in reaching a stage of healthy internationalism with China, Asia, the Middle East, and Africa. For without the proper recognition of just what national awakening entailed, Japan would be unable to fulfill Lenin’s conception (cited above) of peripheral and colonized nations fighting to push global capitalism and imperialism toward the next stage of historical growth. Japan had failed in the previous century to make modernization work for the liberation of Asian peoples and their ascent to socialism, but could join in this time around.

Limits to Amino’s paradigm: the common denominator of minzoku ishiki It is quite easy to summarily characterize the fissure between the modernization and minzoku factions as basically a difference between “primordialist” and “modernization” approaches to nationalism. This is so in spite of the fact that both sides in this debate rejected the notion that Japanese nationalism could best be phrased within the sociological syntax of the nation-state. In fact, the early postwar split seems to have paralleled the fundamental differences in the ideas of nationalism as seen between Anthony Smith on the one hand, and Ernest Gellner, on the other hand. Although it was argued in the previous chapter that Anthony Smith’s definition of the nation did not word for word match that put forth by Ishimoda’s historical constructionism, it is also undeniable that certain similarities do exist. Smith’s notion of the premodern ethnic component to the nation, what David McCrone has paraphrased as the force of ethnic nationalism to become an “important weapon against the state” in a “politics of cultural revolt,” could equally apply to Ishimoda’s reading of Japanese history. For Smith, although civic nationalism (kokuminshugi) is indeed the “nationalism of order and control,” it is the power of ethnic nationalism to marshal and make credible the notion of minzoku as historical agency that deserves our attention here.34 In Ishimoda’s case, this seemingly “irresistible” power would become the center of a revolt against those things imagined to have been antithetical to the Japanese ethnic nation. In this sense, it does seem just a bit ironic that historical constructionism was appropriated as a way for historians to energize a culturalist account of ancient ethnic origins as the basis of political action. In contradistinction to this approach, for historians like Inoue, Tôyama, Suzuki, and Eguchi the cultural spirit of resistance and the impetus to modernization from above were the deciding factors in shaping the political organization of the modern Japanese nation-state. The identity of the ethnic nation was really, then, the result of the urge to modernize and thereby to insure Japan’s independence from the West. Political and cultural changes that underscored this process, in particular the push toward Japanese national awakening and the desire not to be colonized, explain

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 117 why ethnic national consciousness appeared in tandem with the development of Japanese capitalism and national/political unification. Whether for the sake of industrialization, as Gellner or Breuilly suggest, or for the world-building project of capitalism, the socio-political value of national integration and cohesion here had little to do with tracing the ethnic nation back several millennia.35 At the same time, however, unlike advocates of civic nationalism such as Kristeva,36 Gellner and Breuilly, the modernization faction rejected civic nationalism, or kokuminshugi, as the basis for any correct form of national identity or political legitimacy. Rather, the ethnic nation – whether seen as something premodern or as something fated by modernization – had to be recognized as a historical reality and as an alternative to civic or liberal forms of nationhood. For the latter were unable, in the Society’s estimation, to account for social change and historical differences in power relations that came into play at the dawn of Japanese modernization. Perhaps the most striking common thread to both the minzoku and modernization factions, nevertheless, is the inescapable observation that each approach was epistemologically underwritten by a conscious consensus over the ultimate source of historical and cultural legitimacy to the Japanese minzoku. That is to say, there is one perspective from which Amino’s bifurcation of the two factions in 1951 cannot stand up to close scrutiny. Amino’s hypothesis fails to explain how and why historical constructionism could be used by historians within both factions to support discourses of cultural essentialism that demarcated new spaces for social and political action based upon the lessons of the past. More precisely, at the most rudimentary level, both groups of historians sought to recount the development of ethnic national consciousness in Japan based upon the calculation that “national characteristics” could be rendered into “scientifically objective” narratives of historical development. While both sets of representations of the past set themselves in contrast to prewar ethnic nationalism, their narratives were underwritten by a sub-text of Japanese racial homogeneity as a pre-requisite for the whole package of minzoku agency and independence. To take one example, Tôma’s account of the formation of the Japanese ethnic nation in antiquity stated clearly that the historical character of the Japanese nation could only be understood through the premodern “germ” of ethnic national consciousness of the Japanese “race.” The core of this “germ,” i.e., its “racial homogeneity,” was seen as something that remained compositionally and essentially unchanged since ancient times. In fact, by trying to establish the basis for a new postwar sense of progressive nationhood that could also historically and politically link Japan with China, Tôma exclaimed that for the past two thousand years there had existed in Japan a “pure” and “unified race.” More than this, however, Tôma also saw the many attributes going into the making of the nation – racial, linguistic, territorial, cultural – as all essentially traceable clear back to antiquity.37 Still more precisely, it was for Tôma this conjured sense of racial unity, and not just the dialectic or telos of Marxist history, that had in Japan nurtured and sustained the development of Stalin’s criteria for the nation such as common language, customs, national culture, and psychological characteristics. As such, Tôma took as a given the presumption that the Japanese race had continued, “as is,” through premodern and modern periods

118 Minzoku ishiki and modernization without any racial diluting or racial heterogeneity.38 Of course, this was far more of a discursive hypothesis – and part of a new social reality – than it was an uninterrogated or unconscious assumption. For Tôma was well aware that without a conscious effort to make historical constructionism something different from prewar Japanese ethnic nationalism, any racial hypotheses could easily be stigmatized as “bewitching” and tantalizing “fragmentary forms of the old nationalism” that Maruyama Masao had just warned progressive thinkers and historians against.39 Taken on its own merits, Tôma’s hypothesis of Japanese racial purity does present several analytical problems. In particular, Tôma assumed that there was such a thing as a distinctively Japanese race based upon unique customs, history, and psychological traits. That is, the racial ideas in Tôma’s approach actually seem to make the case for claiming more historical distance from China. Yet, he also supported the idea that Japan and China were historically, geographically, customarily, and psychologically linked, reflecting his conviction that postwar Japanese history would have to find a way to produce a historical narrative for the present based upon a Japanese version of Mao’s liberation nationalism. Likewise, the “discovery” of the ancient ethnic nation in Japan represented first and foremost a discovery of the extent to which the Japanese and Chinese ethnic nations shared the same premodern historical space.40 Of course, it is possible that Tôma viewed Chinese, Japanese, and Koreans as one race that had historically, and therefore culturally, branched out into several permutations; in this way, Japan could still maintain a historical link to China. More importantly, Tôma’s very obvious conflation of race and nation raises an important set of issues relating to the political message of the ethnic nation as a progressive, indeed radical, construct. Tôma’s conviction that the underlying “racial” composition of the Japanese nation had remained identical, consistent, and unique for at least two millennia,41 completely ignored the existence of a plethora of marginal groups, gender differences, political and economic outcasts, and geographically marginalized peoples. Not only were they ignored, however, they were also scripted right out of the national narrative and mobilization of politics that was the very goal of this strategic essentialism. Did historians within the modernization faction, such as Inoue and Tôyama, encase their historical approaches within this kind of socio-political boundary? If theirs really was a fundamentally different method from their premodern counterparts, the nation should have been taken as a developmental convention in the service of political unification and the state. In fact, it should logically follow Ernest Gellner’s position that the nation was constructed in order to support the consolidation of the modern state even though it did come to argue for the replacement of the bourgeois state with a socialist state.42 On the other hand, if historians like Inoue and Tôyama created the same kinds of boundaries within their histories as Ishimoda and Tôma, by breathing into them a pre-text of racial homogeneity, the implicit frame of reference for the nation cannot be confined to modernization alone. Indeed, at the very outset of his tome on the Meiji Restoration, Inoue exclaimed that from as far back as the fifth century in Japan there had existed one set of racial characteristics that continue to distinguish [sic] “contemporary Japanese.”43 Like Ishimoda and Tôma, then, Inoue grounded the more strategic and progressive articulation of

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 119 historical constructionism, a device as “scientific” as it was “external” to modern Japanese history, within a kind of ontological essentialism that separated the historical basis of the nation from the process of modernization. Furthermore, Inoue also supported the idea that racial characteristics had a meta-historical aspect to them in that they continuously determined a kind of “national character” evident in modern Japan as far back as the Yayoi period. In other words, Inoue concluded that a good deal of historical, cultural, and national development had taken place in Japan long before the Meiji Restoration. This hypothesis led Inoue and his colleagues to focus primarily upon how a common sense of identity, rooted in racial themes but impressed with historical stages and “scientific objectivity,” could shape the dimension of popular historical agency in social and political terms relevant to the early postwar period. On the one hand, then, Ishimoda, Tôma, and Matsumoto looked to the ancient period to begin their approach toward the (re)construction of the ethnic nation in Japan. By contrast, Inoue looked to the formation of a particularly modern response to colonization that could serve as the point of critical mass for ethnic national consciousness and political unification. Yet, Ishimoda and his colleagues had already begun mapping out the space for a meta-narrative of ancient origins; Inoue and his colleagues no doubt felt rather confident in bypassing the question of how socio-cultural conditions for the formation of the ethnic nation predated their modern debut in the late nineteenth century. This did not mean, however, that historians in the modernization faction rejected the idea of a premodern ethnic “germ” for the nation. For all their differences in approach to the minzoku faction, they nonetheless must have felt their methodology served more as a supplement to, rather than a replacement for, the premodern “discovery of history and the nation.” It thus becomes clear that, just as in the case of Tôma’s approach, Inoue’s hypothesis of premodern racial homogeneity in Japan also carried with it specific implications for the sphere of social and political action in the present. For instance, in 1957 Inoue and several other historians published Buraku no Rekishi to Kaihô Undô (The History and Liberation Movement of Japanese Outcasts).44 To their credit, Inoue and his colleagues did include social outcasts within modern Japanese society. They also affirmed the important point that the old social order of the Tokugawa, Meiji, and prewar periods (within which the Burakumin were socially marginalized) was not suited to the national awakening that was to take place in the postwar period. Indeed, the Burakumin were to be part of the narrative and historical politics of the “enslaved” and colonized Japanese ethnic nation in the postwar years. By extension, then, national liberation would emancipate them as much as it would any other members of the ethnic nation. Conversely, however, although the Burakumin could therefore claim legitimacy within the long history of a shared Japanese language, economic lifestyles, and psychological traits, the postwar existence of Koreans brought into Japan during the prewar years remained outside the social discourse of national liberation, and thus the domain of political enfranchisement. This meant that although the category of class could be collapsed in the radical move toward national awakening, the trope of the nation could not be tampered with – indeed, its racial boundaries had already been pre-figured.

120 Minzoku ishiki and modernization From the perspective of national history, or history of the Japanese minzoku, in other words, discrimination was essentially and intentionally defined as a class problem; the Buraku were as much of an out-class as they were an outcaste. As a result, it became clear that the only form of discrimination that could be acknowledged within the history of the Japanese nation related to problems such as class conflict and social oppression. It was thus social and economic conventions such as class, layered from above with relations of production and the specific problems of imperialism, that were seen as having been the root cause of conflict between various segments of Japanese society. By extension, then, the problem of discrimination would be solved through revolution and national awakening since the entire historical subject and agency of the people would be liberated in one fell swoop. Identity was class-based, and national identity, therefore, would become unified once the nation had succeeded in bringing about a revolution from colonial domination of the postwar variety. Conversely, since only members of the ethnic nation were actually included in the narrative of colonization, ethnic minorities such as Koreans were not accorded the same recognition and concern as class-based subaltern. Their history belonged to the language and territory of their own homeland, or sokoku, across the Sea of Japan. The contrast between Inoue’s concern with the Burakumin problem and his utter silence on the issue of Koreans in Japan, in short, illustrates that racial blurbs making their way in and out of these histories were far from innocuous or anomalous. Indeed, they supported the entire notion of historical constructionism and its claims to being a scientific and historical account of the nation. It seems that any lingering doubts about the role of race in historical constructionism can be put to rest by Inoue’s direct assertion that the Japanese ethnic nation was always based upon a recognition of racial unity. Commenting upon whether Stalin’s idea of the nation should indeed be construed in terms of race, Inoue boldly declared: In the Japanese language, “minzoku” and “jinshu” are often taken as meaning the same thing. There is a historical reason for this. It lies in the fact that we Japanese minzoku are one unitary race . . . Our race has developed over the course of two-thousand years from many regional communities, into one minzoku. In our common lives, therefore, it is difficult to separate the idea of minzoku from that of race.45 In the case of countries such as the United States, Inoue added, it would make no sense to take the minzoku, or people, as belonging to one racial group. Okinawans, on the other hand, were considered by Inoue as an integral part of the Japanese nation/minzoku since the Meiji Restoration yet were of a different status than “minorities” who were incorporated into the prewar Japanese empire.46 This rationalization was possible since postwar historical constructionism, Stalin’s 1950 thesis in particular, focused upon the factor of common language as not only socially uniting, but as also psychologically important to the formation of the nation. Not only did Okinawans speak Japanese, but they, like the rest of the Japanese minzoku, were under the control and subjugation of the United States. Culturally,

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 121 linguistically, and politically, then, they were one and the same nation with the mainland, waiting to be liberated from foreign rule. It may be recalled that back in 1947 Inoue had argued that even before the appearance of the imperial system, for at least the past four and one half millennia, the Japanese people (jinmin) had “enjoyed a democratic society with peace and freedom.”47 In fact, a comparison of this statement with those from the early 1950s can help to illustrate how racial assumptions had now clearly made their way into scientific historical discourse on the Left. The comparison suggests that prior to the “discovery of history and the nation,” the idea of a common and continuous past was not utilized for the explicit idea of ethnic homogeneity, but more for the notion that social autonomy and agency predated the imperial system. In a manner of speaking, then, this contrast serves to highlight the emphasis placed during the 1950s upon order and progress in Japanese history as possible only through the ethnic nation – and its suppositions of racial unity, national characteristics, and eventual cultural unification across class lines. Even more interesting is the fact that Tôyama would take Inoue’s basic claims even further by asserting that racial unity in the Japanese ethnic nation included ancient territorial claims. As one part of Stalin’s definition of the ethnic nation, the issue of “territory,” as the historical ground upon which minzoku ishiki developed, became for Tôyama, like many other radical historians, an essential component of national identity. Conversely, the “loss” of territorial integrity, both in the Occupation and in the subsequent control of Okinawa by the Americans, became the symbol of a divided and dispirited nation for Tôyama. This was because The formation of the minzoku in Japan was something quite exceptional. Aside from a tiny minority of Ainu, Japan is a homogeneous race with an ocean surrounding it and its own distinct territory. Many of the problems associated with nation-states such as ethnic conflicts and border disputes with other states, have thus not been a problem . . . [However,] today we see the danger in Okinawa of the division of the minzoku from their distinct territory.48 Likewise, by claiming that “in terms of race, culture, history, and economy, Okinawa has been a natural part of Japan,”49 Tôyama supposed that the legal and political separation of Okinawa from the mainland meant that the Japanese minzoku was internally divided. The Japanese ethnic nation, therefore, did not in the postwar correspond to the specific national territory upon which it had historically evolved. By thus linking national unity to minzoku, and the latter to race, Tôyama contended that national territory and the ethnic nation were inseparable. By implication, then, for so long as Okinawa remained under American control, there could be no “decolonization” of Japan, no matter how far revolution and national unification took place on the mainland. In his appeals to return Okinawa to the Japanese minzoku and once again unite all Japanese land under the Japanese ethnic nation, Ishimoda had supported the exact same proposition.

122 Minzoku ishiki and modernization Like Ishimoda, Tôyama was convinced that historical development in Japan denoted the progression of the minzoku from antiquity; with capitalism representing merely an advanced phase during which it became ripe for maturity: Of course, the factors going into the making of the minzoku such as language, territory, and cultural attributes, have emerged over a long period. From within a primitive communal form of production, the clan was forged along bloodlines; this clan then became a tribe. As society shifted toward class divisions, the germ of the ethnic nation [minzokutai] emerged as the consolidation of many different regional and linguistic tribes.50 Through the subsequent development of economic and cultural attributes, this “minzokutai,” or germ, was able to develop into the ethnic nation, Tôyama concluded. Likewise, Tôyama felt confident in asserting that for several thousands of years there had been only one “race,” one language and one culture on the Japanese archipelago. Indeed, since no other race had entered in large numbers into Japan, the process of development from “tribe to minzokutai,” and from “minzokutai to minzoku,” took place in a remarkably rapid and insular fashion.51 Here we see yet another assertion that the historical formation of Japanese ethnicity had in effect produced racial homogeneity for well over two thousand years. Even more striking is the fact that Tôyama based his historical, cultural, and racial exceptionalism upon the kind of “geographic” distinctions between Japan and Asia that had been designed by prewar cultural essentialists such as Watsuji Tetsurô. Where one had found the modus vivendi for this explanation in the Japanese state, the other had found it in the incremental agency of historical development based upon racial contiguity. In this vein, it seems Amino Yoshihiko himself realized that, for whatever the differences in approach between both factions in the Society, the idea of racial homogeneity had been “essentially retained, even in post-war [historical] writings that are critical of the imperial view of history.”52 Indeed, for so long as it was based upon such a racial sub-text, historical constructionism would obviate the narrative of liberation for those not scripted into the centuries, and indeed millennia, involved in the forming the ethnic nation in Japan. This meant that for historians like Inoue the national question in Japan was something far different from that in the Soviet Union. Japan had only to confront differences in “sub-cultures” based upon economic and social practices that differentiated members of the same nationality, or ethnic nation. In this way, the differential of national enfranchisement could be measured in terms of class. Conversely, Marxist historians involved in the project of national awakening expressed their interest in Korean language, culture, and history almost exclusively in terms of what had taken place on the Korean Peninsula, removed from considerations of social and cultural development in modern Japan. There was thus no conceptual way for such histories to make the bold move of “deprovincialiizing”53 or de-territorializing history by extending the frame of the debate into Korea’s modern presence within Japan, and what this meant for postwar conceptions of Japanese politics and society. Like Japanese history, Korean history

Minzoku ishiki and modernization 123 was something essentially part of the terrain of the ethnic nation, which included the all-important consideration of a common sokoku. The narratives of the nation put forth by both factions, in short, contained inherent contradictions between the concern for everyday life, on the one hand, and the closing-off of any truly radical subjectivity to the sphere of everyday life through the precondition of racial homogeneity, on the other hand. Marxist historians did stress the social history of everyday life, a new history from the bottom up, and a revaluation of values based upon how human and social subjectivity were expressed and realized in different periods. Yet, they also projected onto historiography a metaphysics of extra-historical time and national life that pushed aside any opportunities to include that which was disjunctured, fractured, or decentered. Ultimately, then, the notion of the people’s agency as a “revolutionary subject” was offered only through the logos of cultural essentialism, and could not escape the structural and ontological limitations imposed upon it by the project of radical cultural and national unity. It was through this cultural logic, moreover, that the strategic essentialism of both factions sought to bring closure to an important chapter in Japanese history: by establishing a new kind of nation that could be the very antithesis of prewar Japanese racism – in so far as it espoused a form of ethnic and racial purity that was historical, progressive, and even scientific – radical historians laid claim to a new postwar version of national history and racial discourse in which the “bad past” could actually be utilized – by way of contrast – with a “new” sense of nation in the postwar. This meant that the issue was not merely something akin to Maruyama Masao’s search for “healthy nationalism.” Instead, the new nation, its past and future, were to be expressed in terms of a “national awakening” that would attempt to directly influence society, politics, and the very history of postwar Japan itself.

7

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism

Nowhere was the distinctiveness of postwar historical constructionism plainer to see than in the attempt to mobilize popular consciousness toward national awakening and liberation. This project was, however, based upon two interrelated ideas that were the product of a definitive boundary between national and international history. For historians such as Ishimoda, Uehara Senroku, and Munakata Seiya, the “awakening” of Japanese historical consciousness to an affirmative sense of ethnic national identity was of paramount importance. True awakening and national unification, they held, would usher in social cohesion through the cessation of class conflict and the realization of a socialist revolution. This was precisely why Tôma Seita declared the liberation of the Japanese minzoku to be such an “urgent matter” for historians, students, and the public in general, that it would be necessary to create a new kind of “national front for popular unification.”1 National unification of the kind that had failed during the Bakumatsu era would finally bring about in Japan harmonious social relations, cultural emancipation, and the social conditions necessary to move toward a new historical period of socialism. This suggested that by bringing to life a new horizon of social and political action, cultural identity could in effect be reclaimed through a praxis of social action to produce dramatic historical change. As Tôma surmised, it would be the task of history and historians to mobilize “traditional, intellectual, activist, and cultural pride (minzokuteki hokori)” in order to raise national awareness of a “common psychology” amongst the people that bonded them to one another.2 This of course meant that the ideas of minzoku ishiki, national awakening, and revolution had to be presented to the people as something far more concrete than the realm of “academic” or pedagogical interests alone.3 Yet, this project also included a much less noticed component, without which the paradigm of Chinese liberation nationalism would have been ineffective. For it was not enough for Marxist historians and progressive voices to concern themselves only with the national question as a question of postwar nationalism in Japan. To be certain, the success of national unification in Mao’s China, along with Indian independence in 1947 and the impact of the Korean War on Japan during the early 1950s, all helped make the national question an issue of how to unify the nation against the state. At the same time, however, there was far more on the minds of Marxist historians than merely China alone, even though it was the premier historical example upon which they fixed

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 125 their collective gaze. Taking into account the growing movement toward decolonization in other parts of Asia, Africa, and the Middle East, many historians declared that national awakening in Japan would have to also include the awakening of the nation to their role as “members of humankind.” In other words, only through a more profound realization that Japanese society and history were linked to the worldwide project of decolonization could the process of national awakening and revolution be completed, and thus Japan completely transformed and transfigured.4 Like the earlier goal of democracy in world history, though in a different frame of reference, national awakening was also seen as a way for Japanese history and agency to meet the standard of international socialism and a new internationalism. Put differently, the boundary between national and international history was to be both preserved and overridden. The vision of international solidarity would provide a raison d’etre for national awakening, while the idea of the nation would be articulated as the vehicle through which to reach more enlightened forms of international cooperation and historical consciousness beyond the designation of “Japan.” As Uehara himself declared, the project of national awakening and national liberation was something for all nations that were continuing to struggle under the yoke of colonization by the West. In other words, just as the ethnic nation could be a form of collective agency to mediate the consciousness of individuals, as members of the nation, so it could also serve to mediate Japan’s consciousness of a world that had changed forever in the wake of decolonization and national liberation. The important point to note here is that individual agency, particularly within the domain of world history, was specifically and unequivocally mediated by national subjectivity based upon the unique identity of the Japanese minzoku. Without such an “awakening,” Uehara’s colleague Munakata Seiya surmised, it would be difficult for the Japanese people to “participate in world history”5 as it was shaping up in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East. A new sense of ethnic identity would thus be required to eradicate “colonial” influences in postwar Japanese society, so that Japan could join other socialist nations and liberated peoples in the victory over imperialism and racism.

Desire, awakening and the making of a “new breed of Japanese” Carol Gluck has noted that during the early postwar period “progressive historians” in Japan such as Ishimoda and Maruyama (as well as the British historian E.P. Thompson), held up to scrutiny the “sick” structure of Japan’s prewar past in order to “repair socio-political ills and move toward the future.”6 Without a doubt, Gluck is correct in so far as both Ishimoda and Maruyama invested much time and intellectual energy into developing what they each saw as healthy national consciousness and revolution in postwar Japan.7 These also brought with them the necessity of making a clean break with the prewar past, as Gluck suggests, and were rooted in the conviction that the early postwar would need to be conceptualized and lived as the very antithesis of the early Shôwa years (1925–1945). In contrast to Maruyama’s skepticism by the early 1950s as to the possibility for all this to

126 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism come about, as noted in previous chapters, radical historians would attempt to mobilize the masses for national awakening and independence. As Ishimoda put it, during this period historians in Japan would strive “for the first time” to actually express and mediate the “desire” of the masses so as to bring about a true national awakening.8 Hence, the legacy bequeathed to members of the Society by prewar historical constructionism – such as that already shown in Tosaka, Hayakawa, and Matsubara, could have no rightful claim to any modern tradition in Japanese historiography. Instead, as Ishimoda saw it, historians and history itself would have to speak directly to the agency of the people based upon the principle of human “desire” and volition as the ultimate mover of national awakening and liberation.9 Ishimoda tried, moreover, to strike a balance between historical objectivity and activism. To the early postwar principles of the Society Ishimoda would caution that it was not up to history to come off as something “neutral” or detached from the realm of popular desire. By this, Ishimoda meant that it had been the very lack of scientific objectivity among prewar historians in Japan that had led to their apathy and eventual acquiescence toward the cooptation of history by the state. From this perspective, Ishimoda also argued that there was nothing wrong with positivism, per se, and asserted that European positivism since the nineteenth century had in fact been successful in expressing the “autonomy” of historical scholarship through its devotion to scientific objectivity. This was crucial since it helped to free the domain of modern history from deism, on the one hand, and political authoritarianism, on the other hand. The beauty and utility of European positivism, for Ishimoda, was that it represented an approach to history that was scientific, yet was also concerned with the idea of social and political reform.10 Of course, this position did fit in quite well with the principles of the postwar Society in that it assumed there were laws that guided society and social progress, and that the historian’s job was to illuminate such laws. Once more, Ishimoda also took prewar Japanese historians to task for failing to develop a true “positivist” sense of history; prewar Japanese positivism, unlike its European counterpart, had staked out no clear nor consistent theoretical positions on culture, society, politics, or idealism. As a result of Japan’s cowardly neutrality toward history and historical subjectivity, then, history during the 1930s ultimately became absorbed within the kind of “nativist historiography” (kokusuiteki rekishigaku) that served as the handmaiden of fascism.11 As Ishimoda saw it, this feigned neutrality toward historical subjectivity was something far from the principled, scientific approach to history that European positivism had displayed. Social and historical science, and historiography in particular, needed to be recognized, Ishimoda asserted, as part of an ongoing process of competition and conflict among ideas, genres, modes of critical inquiry, and indeed worldviews. According to Ishimoda and his unofficial manifesto for the national awakening movement, historians should not make authoritative claims to a neutral position on the socio-political role and the scientific content of historical discourse. To do this, he contended, would be to risk allowing less principled forces within society and the state to stake their own claims to historical truth in ways that were against the interests of public desire for true national unification. Only by giving

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 127 up any pretensions to neutrality, in order to take into consideration the dynamism of a given period or epoch, could historical science come to appreciate and assist the desires and volition of the people in their struggle toward growth and emancipation. Ishimoda held that historical objectivity and method should therefore reject any notions of history as a “value-neutral” or “value-free” activity. This was indeed something quite daring given the fact that Maruyama Masao had, several years before, indicted wartime politics and ideology for not remaining “neutral” toward (and indeed for penetrating deeply into) the sphere of individual and private values.12 To illustrate these points, Ishimoda took up some of the work of Tsuda Sôkichi, a critical intellectual historian and contemporary to Ishimoda.13 Although in the postwar Tsuda was an intellectual historian of the “modernist” persuasion, during the late 1920s he had shown a remarkable penchant for recognizing the importance of popular “desire” in history and historical change, according to Ishimoda. His treatment of Tsuda is quite interesting in that it provides one rare example of a comparison between prewar and postwar Japanese historiography that does not end up exhorting the virtues of the latter through the past sins of the former. Referring to Tsuda’s 1929 Rekishi no Mujunsei (The Paradoxes of History), Ishimoda noted that Tsuda’s approach to history reflected consciousness of the importance of “guiding historical principles” that supported the subjective awareness and existence of ordinary people. Tsuda also approached the future, Ishimoda claimed, as a moment imminent in the present life of the Japanese people. Tsuda’s approach was noteworthy in recognizing that the terrain of history had to be rooted in the conscious reflection of historians upon the specific needs and beliefs of a given time. More precisely, Ishimoda argued that Tsuda was keenly aware that scientific objectivity in historical scholarship had to be based not upon eternal truths or transhistorical valuations, but instead within the practical terrain of popular interests and needs.14 Tsuda’s position reflected the idea that historians would need to meet the challenge of feeling the pulse of “popular desire” for the future and for change, and to articulate an “imaginative” sense of the possibilities for the future that could help shape and legitimize the emergence of popular agency.15 Looked at another way, Ishimoda believed that Tsuda’s work correctly highlighted the necessary balance between the active participation of historians on the one hand, and the “desire” for reform and progress on the part of those “on the bottom,” on the other. In so doing, Tsuda introduced the all important idea that historians could actually participate in social reform by helping to release and channel the people’s “imaginative desire” (kûsôteki yokyu) for a new future.16 By extension, then, it would be up to historians in the early postwar period to reconsolidate and organize this guiding principle of popular desire and imagination, now the pillar of a new historical science, within the genre and worldview of minzoku bunka and minzoku jikaku. National history could become the specific answer to problems and challenges that resided with the horizon of present needs, desires, and demands for empowerment and liberation. Indeed, for Ishimoda the element of human “desire” was important on this level since it spoke directly to the public’s interest in and capacity for social change and

128 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism political transformation. The notion of popular desire, moreover, did not discriminate against workers, students, farmers, or the proletariat as a whole; they all had within themselves the existential possibility for change. In this regard, Inoue had already expressed similar sentiments in his belief that history would have to reach out to and include all of the downtrodden and marginalized parts of Japanese society (i.e., the “nation”). In calling for a national awakening, likewise, Inoue’s colleague Uehara Senroku appealed for the creation of a “new breed of Japanese” that would include and enfranchise women, laborers, and even outcasts. In contrast to the Meiji period, Uehara asserted, national awakening would now need to involve a process of ongoing change and transformation to encompass a broad-based movement for unification across class lines.17 Here, however, was also the giveaway: the “imaginative desire” of the people depended upon the construction of the nation as a kind of national hermeneutic based upon racial homogeneity. Just as Uehara suggested, the redefining and enfranchising of the people through history could best be described as this very making of a “new breed of Japanese [sic]” to meet the specific demands and desires of the early 1950s. In this way, moreover, historical science and the principles of the postwar Society could be marshaled in the cause of making scientific objectivity an ally of national history and popular movements. The idea of a revolution for national liberation that lay within these positions was equally bold and complex. For Ishimoda and many of his colleagues revolution was not conceived only as a formal and structural transformation in the relations of production within Japanese society. Instead, revolution had come to mean nothing less than a sweeping reconfiguration of social relations, national identity, and international cooperation. In this sense, their approach toward revolution reflected a penchant to substitute materialist interpretations of social change, based upon economic considerations, with more sweeping assumptions of cultural identity based upon an ostensibly anti-modernist spirit that could nevertheless be tamed through historical science. Indeed, it was crucial for “modernist” attacks upon bourgeois modernity to stake their claim to progressive historical and social science through historical constructionism. This was precisely why Inoue, along with Suzuki Shirô, and Okonogi Shinsaburô, were to take aim at the educational system under the Occupation. In particular, they argued that by ignoring how defects in the modern “foundations” and structure of Japanese society had brought about Japanese fascism, postwar “social science” education was being used to support and legitimize the prewar “feudal family system.” As they saw it, the ultimate end of this Occupation strategy – that was perpetuated even after the formal end of the Occupation – was to divert attention away from existing class conflicts, and to transpose the organizational model of an authoritarian state onto the social institution of the Japanese family.18 In this way, it became possible for state and establishment to have the Japanese ie or household system do its own bidding to quell social and political dissent on the most rudimentary of levels. Needless to say, Inoue believed that as long as such vestiges of “semi-feudal” relations of production were nurtured and protected, the social base for mobilizing students, youth, and the proletariat would remain tenuous at best.

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 129 The most fundamental way in which the social and political condition of “colonization” was being reinforced, as Inoue and his colleagues saw it, was precisely in the area of education. Inoue, Suzuki, and Okonogi maintained that the Japanese educational system had become completely “Americanized” after the war. They collectively declared that the imposition upon postwar Japan of “Americanism” and “American style “democracy” by the Occupation had led to the implementation of policies that actually precipitated the “destruction of national education” (minzokuteki kyôiku), literature, as well as Japanese history and geography. The postwar idea of democracy had also denied the importance of national independence and had dismissed the necessity of social revolution by excluding and oppressing the interests of workers, they charged. On the one hand, this system was legitimized, Inoue and his colleagues argued, through the false labeling of communism as “fascism.” On the other hand, this also meant communism and socialism were ideologically separated from the broader notion of democracy they saw as essential to any progressive ideology.19 Perhaps Inoue, Suzuki, and Okonogi were adamant in their support for educational reform precisely because they saw the realm of education as one of the keys to social and political change, revolution being the most explicit example. Indeed, many historians within the Society of the late 1940s and early 1950s wrote textbooks that they considered more accurate versions of the past than the ones approved by the Occupation and Ministry of Education.20 Certainly, fellow-historian Uehara Senroku was of this view. For instance, he suggested that only the area of education could really create a new sense of unity and destiny for the nation. To this end, he noted that one of the central objectives of a healthy postwar educational system would need to entail the “goal of educating each Japanese, one by one, to be members of the ethnic nation.” In fact, Uehara’s claims sometimes seem closer to contemporary communitarian positions than to Marxist historiography, most notably his belief that the development of postwar Japanese ethnic national consciousness was the “moral responsibility” of intellectuals, students, educators, and all Japanese of conscience.21 As such, Uehara’s notion of raising the people’s consciousness and the psychological awareness of a common national identity was not only to be part of the “making of new human beings,” but also represented an issue of fundamental “political and ethical” import. Much like Ishimoda, Uehara argued that the postwar educational system would have to both avoid overemphasizing the empirical or “objective” process of observation, and shun the prewar mode of “imparting knowledge” of “historical and social phenomenon.” Instead, Uehara exclaimed, education – like history itself – should be something that related directly to the problems of everyday life.22 In this regard, Ishimoda also saw the institution of the school as paramount to the cause of education, revolution, and the building of a new historical consciousness. In Ishimoda’s words, the best way to foster the kind of “national thinking” needed in the postwar period could come by first taking head-on problems in the “modern organization known as the school.” Socially speaking, it functioned as a kind of conceptual base for the state’s rule over the people, and in particular the supremacy accorded to monopoly capital in the social relations of production. If one could

130 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism change “historical education,” so as to make it more receptive to national unification, therefore, the legitimacy of the state and ruling class interests (not to mention the historical condition of “imperialism”) could be directly challenged.23 This was not able to take place during the prewar period, his colleague Munakata surmised, since Japanese educators were not able to instill within the masses an “organic fusion of concrete individual egos” (gutaiteki na koga no yûkiteki ketsugô) autonomous form the “political entity of the state.”24 The result was a situation whereby the lack of minzoku ishiki, and consciousness of an “organic unity” based upon individual self-consciousness, allowed statism and totalitarianism to lay claim to what should otherwise have been the autonomous space of ethnic national identity and historical agency. For both Uehara and Munakata, moreover, the change in emphasis from prewar ultranationalism to the complete postwar “denial” of any kind of national consciousness had indicated a swing of the pendulum from one extreme to the other. As an alternative, Munakata suggested the educational system focus upon teaching all students to become “members of one nation,” supporting the idea that revolution in the postwar could only come from a conscious spirit of an “organic unity” and collectivity.25 Naturally, there were a number of significant reasons why these historians were so confident that their ideas of the nation were essentially different from those of the prewar. Yet, so high was their confidence in this distinction that Uehara and Munakata could even refer affirmatively to a “shared sense of common destiny (unmei kyôdôtai)” that had been a notorious part of prewar ultra nationalist and imperialist ideology.26 In addition to the reasons already pointed out in previous chapters, Munakata and Uehara found another important feature of national awakening and revolution in the early postwar period that demarcated a line of difference and defense against the nationalism of the “bad past.” Although they did assert the necessity of an “organic unity and totality” based upon minzoku ishiki, the chief difference was that this time around it would be grounded in the notion of individual conscience and awakening. The “organic fusion” of the nation would be rooted in “individual egos” and, most of all, be set ontologically apart from the politics of the state. This was because the idea of the individual (koga) was conceptualized so as to allow for “educating each Japanese one by one as members of the ethnic nation.” That is, any concrete realizations of individual conscience were not to be woven through a counterpoising of the existential individual ego and group identity/ interests. Instead, the autonomy, agency, and indeed “independence” of the postwar Japanese people could only come through a transition to a new form of self-consciousness whereby each Japanese actively and affirmatively saw him or herself as “organically related” to one another.27 In place of the prewar metaphors of “blood,” “emperor,” or Kokutai, then, the new independence of the ethnic nation could be realized through a progressive and populist system of education. This would involve focusing upon the need to teach children so as to “awaken” them as Japanese and in particular to create a love for the “national language” in Japan.28 Here again, the influence of postwar historical constructionism, and especially what members of the Society took to be Stalin’s postwar emphasis upon language as the key to the historical formation of the ethnic nation, was indeed strong.

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 131 There was yet one more reason for the faith these historians placed in the demarcation between the prewar mobilization of the nation and the postwar awakening of national consciousness. While prewar ultra-nationalism and statism were seen as the product of national myopia and irrationality, postwar awakening and revolution were articulated within an overall worldview that made Japanese nationalism an instrument of internationalism, as will be discussed more below. This idea was perhaps best summarized by Ishimoda’s prescription for “historical education” that focused upon the concrete social relations between “world, people, class, and native place,” so as to “link the problem of minzoku with that of class” conflict.29 Likewise, Uehara also picked up on these affirmations for a world history based upon nonWestern peoples and the rejection of bourgeois modernity. He asserted that the “worldwide awakening” among colonized and emerging peoples would not be based upon the notion of “individual freedom,” as found in Europe or America, but instead upon the principles of the nation that could provide for a correct form of “democratic education.”30 In this way, the concept of the nation could be contrasted with both prewar Japanese ultra-nationalism and the equally horrifying specter of bourgeois modernity.

The Movement for a People’s History The Kokuminteki Rekishigaku Undô, or the Movement for a People’s History, represented an important example of how radical historians sought to apply the postwar principles of the Society, the symbiosis between history and politics, and the notion that history could be something that actually “made history.” Originally inspired by Ishimoda in 1950, and by his Discovery of History and the Nation two years hence, the movement picked up on ideas central to both Takeuchi Yoshimi in the late 1940s and the Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front of the JCP. In terms of structure, the movement was an aggregate of local and national organizations that sought a unified and coordinated approach to history and politics. These included the Democratic Scientists’ Association, or Minka, in particular its Historical Section, as well as the Historical Science Society. Interestingly, the Democratic Scientists’ Association, founded in 1946, in many ways overlapped with the Historical Science Society. For instance, one of the founding policies of the Minka, like that of the Historical Science Society, was to engage in historical research that was both “scientific” and “free.”31 Indeed, by 1948 the Minka had already declared itself in support of history as a “science of the people” (jinmin no kagaku) for the sake of “national liberation and independence.”32 In other words, at the same time that the Japan Communist Party and Takeuchi were beginning to articulate the crisis of national independence, the Minka was already declaring the goal of independence to be an urgent matter for Japanese historians. Yet, any formal distinctions between both groups should not be taken too seriously since key members of the Minka’s Historical Section included the likes of Ishimoda, Tôma, Inoue, Izu, Eguchi, Tôyama, Hayashi Motoi, and Matsumoto Shinpachirô. This made it all the more natural for the Historical Science Society and the Minka to join forces during the early 1950s in the Movement for a People’s History.

132 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism Moreover, in 1952 (the same year Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken came out, not uncoincidentally), Ishimoda called for the creation of smaller sub-movements (collectively under the banner of the People’s Movement) that could achieve these goals. His efforts soon resulted in the formation of campaigns whose slogans were “the Creation and Spreading of National Science” (Kokuminteki Kagaku no Sôzô to Fukkyû), as well as the development of a new “Science for Peace and Independence” (Heiwa to Dokuritsu no tame no Kagaku).33 These campaigns within the People’s History Movement drew in both the Historical Science Society and the Democratic Scientists’ Association, and had as their specific objective the bringing of history to the people. They were also linked to similar movements such as the “Committee for the Creation of the People’s Art,” the “Committee on Minwa,” the “Mothers’ History Committee” and the “History of the Workplace Committee.” Of course, the Korean War and the looming US–Japan Security Treaty were part of the stimulus for such movements. In addition, however, pressure from the Ministry of Education to sing the national anthem in schools and efforts to push forward the plan for Implementing National Morals, were also key factors. Likewise, the Yoshida Administration’s efforts to revive the Kigensetsu myth of imperial origin to the nation-state also had a hand in creating an atmosphere of tension.34 Looked at in these terms, then, the Movement for a People’s History was as much egged on by the perceived threat to healthy national consciousness from the Yoshida Administration’s attempted to resurrect loyalty to the imperial myth, as it was by what some saw as the compromising humanism of the Occupation. As the contemporary social philosopher Kawamoto Takashi has indicated, furthermore, this movement also developed against the backdrop of the Japan Communist Party’s 1951 “Policy for Democratic Revolution,” which called for a new kind of “practical activism” (jisenkatsudô) in educational reform and a recognition of the relationship between history and politics.35 Historians would now need to participate in proletarian cultural movements, student movements, and would, under the umbrella of the “People’s History Movement,” try to “pursue actual popular goals” as issues to be resolved with the help of academic involvement. For instance, the 1951 Minka Conference put forward a number of influential guidelines as to how this could be achieved. They included making the Association function as a “democratic academic association” to foster creativity and endeavoring to spread the fruits of science among the people so as to solve problems by working directly with the public. It also included insuring that obstacles to the development of “free” academic work were removed.36 One of the distinguishing traits of the movement was that the protagonists often referred to themselves as “scientists.”37 This was especially so within the writings formally identified with the Democratic Scientists’ Association. Indeed, Marxist historians often envisioned the history they were writing and producing to represent nothing less than a form of scientific analysis, borne out by the very core of historical agency – the minzoku – as first and foremost a scientific phenomenon that was historically defined and constructed. However, postwar historians associated with the People’s History Movement also saw themselves as engaged in a form of social politics, and thus criticized both historians and even

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 133 progressive intellectuals for failing to have enough concern with politics. The new policy of the Minka even stipulated that it was high time for historians to join forces with workers, farmers, and citizens against the Yoshida Administration and the crisis of academic freedom that had befallen them.38 In this regard, Tôma maintained that it would be necessary to emulate the student movements of the 1920s and 1930s in China, wherein a supply of “reserve troops” (yobigun), so long as they possessed the correct kind of historical consciousness or “scientific creativity,” could help to bring about revolutionary change.39 This was echoed by the Minka in 1954 when the Report of the Historical Section declared that it was necessary to look more carefully at the history of the Chinese nation from the perspective of how their People’s Revolution could serve as a “weapon for the liberation of Japan.”40 Indeed, the fascination with framing this as a “scientific movement” for a people’s history was far more than merely a slogan. First and foremost, the principles of the Society, and those of the Minka, asserted the importance of rendering history and social resistance as something that conformed to scientific principles. This included the scientific conception of the nation offered by Stalin, and the general focus within Marxist history toward developing historical science. As part of national history, it also spoke to the need for social and natural scientists to reclaim their concern with the political realm. In the same vein, historical science within the movement meant more would need to be done to increase cooperation with India, China, and the Soviet Union.41 Part of the motivation toward international alliances was motivated by a spirit of Asian cooperation and resistance to the Cold War that could act as a counterbalance to more materialistic and ideological forms of hegemony in the world system. Cooperation among Asian peoples could help facilitate international solutions to nuclear weapons proliferation, excessive military spending and domestic political repression. The movement even referred to historiography itself as a “weapon for solidifying peace and independence” in Japan and Asia.42 The movement was also quite interested in making “historical education” among the younger generation a base from which to emphasize the importance of national awakening and revolution. As Ishimoda noted, without focusing on the problem of historical education it would be impossible to effect a change in the public’s way of thinking.43 As already noted, the movement heralded Ishimoda’s Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken as a blueprint for bringing academic research into the practical realm of “cultural traditions” and also cited Ishimoda’s belief in a “history of the village and of the factory” as a model for making history and academic investigation relevant to the lives of ordinary people.44 As the writings of the Democratic Scientists’ Association also made clear, nowhere was Ishimoda’s influence more evident than in the conviction that historians should go out directly among the people. This included going to the villages, and even to the American bases, so as to work with local inhabitants in the writing and making of a true people’s history. 45 As such, it was not only through institutional change that Marxist historians hoped to bring about the right conditions for revolution based upon proletarian and mass consciousness. Historians would also have to transport and transpose themselves throughout local regions in order to teach and conduct research among various segments of the public.

134 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism Conversely, this also meant that local history and historians in various regions of Japan would have to correlate their narratives to the larger discourse and metanarrative of minzoku agency in history. The refracted histories of the periphery would then be able to serve the larger sense of national time and memory; local history could occupy the same space as national history. By extension, in place of the element of class agency to connect the weak in Japan to movements and ideals that spanned other peoples in Asia such as China, Korea and India, national history came in to bridge the gap between progressive movements in Japan and other “liberated” peoples. The Movement for a People’s History was, in fact, actively supported by local cultural movements in so far as many local branches of the Minka Historical Section took part in the Movement. A number of groups were formed in 1952 which hoped to synthesize and amalgamate the practices of local and national histories in order to declare an official crisis affecting Japan on the local, national, and international levels. Furthermore, Ishimoda and several other members of the Society were instrumental in the creation of local/ national groups mobilized against bureaucratic authority and national politics. During the early 1950s it even seemed as if local histories were regarded as fonts of empirical confirmation for theories and narratives of national history. In fact, the postwar emergence of local history can be traced back to November 1950, almost exactly the same time that radical historians such as Tôma, Ishimoda, and Matsumoto were beginning to develop the idea of the ethnic nation as a historical (and political) construct. It was just a few short months hence, in January of 1951, that Nomura Kentarô officially inaugurated the new journal Chihôshi Kenkyû (Research in Local History), through the newly established Association of Local History (Chihôshi Kenkyû Kyogikai).46 Granted, many of the articles in this journal during the early 1950s seem innocent enough. Often, their focus was upon the diverse topography of regional economic and social practices. Nomura himself spelled out in the inaugural issue the epistemological framework within which local histories should be considered: one important goal of this new Association would be to locate obscure histories from various regions that were hitherto unknown to professional historians. These could then be integrated and brought together, through cooperation among amateur and professional historians within various regions, according to Nomura’s statement of purpose for the Association of Local History.47 Looking at the integration of various levels of historiography Nomura alluded to, it also becomes possible, however, to deduce an interesting synthesis that sounds strikingly familiar. In order to show how previously accepted regional “idiosyncrasies” could actually be understood as part of a larger puzzle, Nomura suggested that historians focus upon how local histories could be seen as part of a larger and more organized mosaic that was “universal.” Based upon the idea that the synthesis of Japanese economic history could be approached from the local level, Nomura also endeavored to show how regional differences could actually be brought into a collective understanding of national history. In keeping with the idea that Japanese history could – through local history – be brought up onto the world stage, Nomura surmised that this collective approach could be used to develop a body of Japanese

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 135 history that could be, en toto, compared to other nations. Instead of class, then, Japanese history would be linked to world history (i.e., the history of other liberated peoples) and thus positioned within the idea of universality or objectivity.48 As such, historiography had to begin by looking at the regional/ particular in order to integrate and assemble its histories into a higher order of particular that could be used in comparison to the national histories of, say, China and India. Local history was thus constituted as a component of national history – the integrated parts serving the idea of the center. In turn, national history could become a variable for comparison with other (integrated) histories of different (national) cultures. That is to say, local history could serve as the basis for both nationalism and internationalism, according to Nomura. The Chihôshi Kenkyûkai also made clear that the Japanese nation, as just such a historical subject, should be expressed specifically in terms of the collective agency of minzoku and minzoku bunka.49 The Movement for a People’s History also saw in the construction of minzoku agency a way to both read (and write) local history into national history, and national history into local history – the parts and the whole representing two reflexive moments which reinforced and embellished one other. This was especially useful in translating historiography into the politics of social action and mobilizing the masses as different, yet essential and united, members of a revolutionary proletariat that had more than a common political destiny; they also had a shared cultural and communal past. Nevertheless, Kimura Motoi’s evaluation of local history during this period at first sight suggested there to have been a theoretical and phenomenological dissonance between the Historical Science Society and the Association of Local History. Reflecting upon his own experiences within the Association, Kimura surmised that it became necessary for “local historians” such as himself to part company with influential trends in historiography. Chief among these was what he called the Society’s overly theoretical emphasis upon the “basic contradictions within the social framework” of modern society, presented in the 1949 Annual Report of the Historical Science Society. To the contrary, Kimura argued that it was necessary to look at the “concrete particulars” of village life, and to even find one’s own “subjectivity based upon the experience” of participating within the realm of localized, everyday existence.50 This was, ironically, something that Ishimoda’s history of everyday life – based upon the desires and subjectivity of ordinary people – was supposed to have done. In this vein, moreover, Kimura even charged the methodology of the Society as being virtually the same as “emperor and state centric tendencies” within modern Japanese historiography in so far as both pre- and postwar approaches to history did not take as the principle focus of their research the “details of the people’s lives.”51 According to Kimura, while prewar historiography had compromised the lives of ordinary people for the sake of legitimizing the story of the emperor and the state, postwar groups such as the Historical Science Society had done basically the same thing – this time in the name of a Japanese revolution. On the one hand, he does suggest that local historical organizations such as the Association of Local History basically sought to “promote research that could serve as a foundation for a deeper understanding of Japanese history.” This would suggest a “provisional separation”

136 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism of local and Japanese history in that national history acted as a kind of “superstructural” element, while local history represented the true basis for greater historical understanding.52 Yet, Kimura also documents and sympathizes with critiques of local history that accused the local history movement of the early 1950s of having ultimately been too biased in the direction of a totalizing and homogenizing national center. That is, the most interesting assault upon local history taken up by Kimura is the claim that it actually represented a brand of historiography that was from the outset cast within a mold of “dependency” upon the center, or national history.53 Both local and national histories directly and indirectly reflexive to the minzoku narrative of cultural assemblage were, in short, to be deconstructed and picked-apart by Kimura for their reliance upon the mediation of history by the agency of the ethnic nation.

National history and internationalism In the wake of the Cold War in Asia, during the early 1950s, many Marxist historians in Japan thought a new kind of internationalism to be crucial to the new ideal of the nation upon which they had set their sights. In one sense, historians like Ishimoda, Eguchi, Munakata, and Uehara, among others, saw a new form of internationalism in Asia as the coup de grace and the logical outcome of revolution and national awakening in China, and subsequently in Japan. In another sense, however, they were by and large also convinced that so long as the productive forces of capitalist imperialism – in particular the rise of postwar American hegemony – held sway over international relations in Asia, significant obstacles to the building of an international alliance of socialist nations would remain. The challenge, as they saw it, was to go beyond merely ethnic national consciousness or national awakening, to forge an “international alliance”54 of peoples who sought escape from capitalism and its demands for militarization and cooperation with hegemonic powers such as the United States. This idea was important for a number of reasons. First and foremost, without an international alliance of liberated peoples, particularly in Asia, the gains made by China and Japan – in the direction of minzoku ishiki and the building of a new socialist nation – were thought in danger of being overturned and reversed. Indeed, this was one of the explicit fears historians like Ishimoda had as a result of the Korean War, which he feared could turn back the tide of revolution and liberation in East Asia. Secondly, if historical constructionism and socialist nationalism really were different from both bourgeois and statist nationalisms, it would seem only natural to expect these new forms of nationhood to serve as the platform for a different form of international cooperation and regime from those within the American orbit. In other words, just as racism was no longer a legitimate issue within socialist nationalism, so power politics could not be tolerated in the new socialist internationalism to be developed in Asia. In this vein, historians like Eguchi also maintained that proletarian revolution would lead to “proletarian international alliances” that replaced the victimization of peoples through international “aggression” and the subordination of the interests of a people to those of the bourgeoisie.55

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 137 Tôyama added that a new form of internationalism (kokusaishugi), particularly within Asia, could provide a formidable challenge to the “power politics” principle of “American imperialism.” 56 Here there is also another interesting irony. The new form of internationalism supported by radical historians, and their national histories, rejected the Western (contemporary realist) notion of a balance of power based upon things like superpower rivalry, military prowess, or hegemony. At the same time, though, it was also evident that one of the goals of the new internationalism in Asia included the pre-empting of American interests through the counterweight of socialist nationalism and internationalism. In order to propose a new idea of collective security without basing this upon the realist dynamic of the balance of power, then, it would be necessary to focus first upon how “good” and “bad” nationalisms were linked to their respective modes of international relations. In proposing a “Soviet theory of internationalism,” to offer one analogy from the same period, Merle Kling in 1952 maintained that the alliances formed by the USSR with Eastern Europe and with other regions of the world had been working to insure the continued “liberty and independence of their countries against the Germans” and neo-fascism. When socialist nations defended their autonomy through international alliance, then, it was to be defined as something completely different from the system of Western or “bourgeois” alliances. The latter was considered to be merely a tool of capitalism, and the “reverse side of bourgeois nationalism,” under the façade of a “community of interests of all mankind” which really concealed postwar neo-colonialism, or “the ideology of American rule,” on a worldwide scale.57 Central to the conception of “bad internationalism” was cosmopolitanism. Some Marxist historians in Japan were convinced that the idea of cosmopolitanism itself reflected bourgeois nationalism and the rise of the West through its expansion into and dominion over the non-West. As John Tomlinson points out – though in relation to more contemporary issues of cultural critique (that nevertheless have many of their roots in the decolonization of the early postwar period) – cosmopolitanism “inevitably reproduces the deeply rooted intellectual and ethical world-view of the West.”58 The associating of Western “cosmology,” imperialism, and the “history of the West,” all with cosmopolitanism, has indeed been an important part of Asian nationalism and Marxism alike. Moreover, for Ishimoda and many of his colleagues, cosmopolitanism denied the importance of national unity and the agency of the people by inserting into the world system the notion that individualism, and a nebulous sense of global identity, could be substituted for healthy nationalism. This was seen as working against the process of decolonization and liberation nationalism, and as perpetuating both the actual colonization of the non-West by the West, and a form of neo-colonialism that repressed popular movements for social justice against the interests of the state and global capital. Indeed, many of these arguments can be found within Ishimoda’s treatment of the prewar anarchist Kôtoku Shusui, as laid out in Chapter 5. For instance, Kôtoku’s vision of a new revolutionary internationalism for the late Meiji period in Japan had one significant flaw, according to Ishimoda. While it did acknowledge a place for international unity among peoples seeking liberation, it nevertheless lost sight of

138 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism the prerequisite for genuine Asian and worldwide revolution: the internal unification of the ethnic nation. According to Ishimôda, Kôtoku had instead seized only upon the false ideologies of cosmopolitanism and anarchy, without paying due respect to the quality and substance of national awakening and revolution as the prerequisite to a socialist international alliance. As this suggests, Ishimoda used the example of Kôtoku to assert that cosmopolitanism represented a form of ideology that “rejected the independence and free unity of the minzoku.”59 In place of cosmopolitanism, then, internationalism should first and foremost nurture the idea of internal proletarian revolution and liberation within the larger context of world revolution. As such, horizontal forms of international relations (i.e., an opaque, yet “wanton,” sense of non-belonging to the nation and its national/international struggle) were rejected in favor of a conception of universalism that eliminated distinctions among classes within states, as well as hierarchies among states. In a manner of speaking, Ishimoda’s idea was not that much unlike the kind of internationalism that Evans and Newnham generically refer to as “Marxist internationalism.”60 Within this larger idea that the quality of internationalism needs to be evaluated by the character of the nationalism that supports it, furthermore, lay also a strong sense of cultural and civilizational exceptionalism. Of course, this would only seem logical since liberation nationalism of the early and mid-1950s in Japan was seen as, first and foremost, a particularly Asian issue. Asian liberation nationalism, in other words, would need to conceive its own unique form of internationalism for the cooperation of Asian socialist nations against the larger interests of both the US and the USSR. Indeed, minzoku faction historians had already attempted to show that East Asian cultures were historically interlinked and interconnected in their relationships with the Chinese Han empire, and were thus all hooked into the larger ethos of ancient Chinese civilization. In one sense, this represented a return to the pre-Meiji ideology of China as the center of world civilization for Japan, and a rehash of the notion that the “East” formed its own unique and protected enclave of civilization and history against the “West.” This position was basically reconstructed in the postwar period around the idea that China’s liberation nationalism could become the prototype of a new Asian nationalism. As seen in Takeuchi, it would also utilize the “concept of humanity” (ningenkan) found among the Chinese people in order to create a more “humanistic” form of internationalism. Not only would this fuse Marxism with Asian nationalism, but the new “Asian” form of universalism would do away with the bourgeois and Western contrivance of the Hegelian master/slave mentality among nations which Takeuchi saw as having been tied to the ideology of cosmopolitanism and “free competition.”61 In this vein, Tôyama Shigeki asserted, as if to speak on behalf of many progressive voices, that it would become the task of Japanese “progressive nationalism” to help unite Asia in an “awakening of common destiny.”62 As far as Uehara and Munakata were concerned, suspicion of the motives of the Soviet Union – in spite of their basic acceptance of Stalin’s historical constructionism – was as much a factor in their exceptionalism as was a belief in the authenticity and uniqueness of Asian civilization. A good number of radical historians and members of the Society did lionize the Soviet Union’s ideal of minzoku coexistence within the

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 139 socialist state. Some even credited the shifts taking place in world history to the appearance of revolutionary minzokushugi and internationalism there during the first half of the twentieth century. Yet, for some, Soviet expansionism was as threatening as was America’s. For example, in 1952 Uehara and Munakata declared that the chauvinistic confrontation between American and Soviet “social systems” needed to be replaced by a new kind of “fundamental humanism.” Both American imperialism and Soviet internationalism were seen as equally “aggressive,” as being a threat to world peace and a danger to the entire “community of the human race,” as well as to each individual “national community” (minzoku kyôdôtai).”63 For them, international society by 1952 had fallen into a solipsistic game of declaring one side or the other to be right and the other wrong, one superior and one inferior, in the spheres of social relations as well as international politics. This mind set had produced a series of discourses that reduced the objective of peace down to a blame game of which side was the true provocateur in conflicts such as the Korean War. The 1955 Bandung Conference in Indonesia helped to galvanize, among historians like Uehara, this very spirit of a non-aligned (yet very much “Asian”) kind of “counter-internationalism” in the context of both Soviet internationalism and American hegemony. Bandung consisted primarily of Asian states, providing a “platform for leaders such as Nehru (India) and Sukarno (Indonesia) to give voice to the new diplomacy of positive neutralism or non-alignment.” This counterinternationalism was in part shaped by the “perception that the United States was following a policy of extending the Cold War” into the region with the 1954 South East Asian Treaty Organization.”64 Glimpsed through the looking glass of Bandung, moreover, the new internationalism supported by Japanese historians represented something akin to the non-Aligned Movement. Not only were many historians within the Society encouraged by the Bandung Conference of 1955, but some like Ishimoda also looked to Egypt and to Nasser’s anti-colonial, liberation nationalism, seeing in this a potent phenomenon that stretched all the way from China, to South Asia, to the Middle East, and finally to Latin America. Uehara even called movements for independence in Asia and Africa essentially “progressive” forms of nationalism linked to a strong desire for world peace.65 Yet, in seeking an alternative to Soviet internationalism, Uehara also believed that international relations and internationalism would not be decided by the content of the nation, or nationalism, alone. Instead, it would be possible to forge alliances so as to empower those historically on the receiving end of imperialism, colonialism, and superpower rivalry. This was necessary since Bandung, like the Bangkok Conference of the same year, had as its mission the “overcoming” of colonialism and racial discrimination in Asia and Africa.66 Not only would internationalism therefore involve a sphere of activity far wider than East Asia alone, it would also reproduce within international relations the “post-racial” politics that were taking hold within national liberation movements. Uehara and Munakata saw in this approach to internationalism, however, a chance to project cultural essentialism into arguments about Asian civilization. For instance, Uehara maintained that the Japanese people needed to look to an Asian kind of “tolerance” that rejected the extremism of war merely for the sake of

140 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism showing one social system to be better than another. Rather than becoming caught up within either American hegemony or Soviet “authoritarianism,” Japan should follow Asia in recognizing and consolidating the coexistence of difference peoples through the enlightened idea of tolerance. Based upon the “ethical relations of individuals” within Asian history, this notion of tolerance meant that one people would not try to impose their views or system upon another. Each nation in Asia, Uehara continued, could have its own social system without fear of interference or intervention from “outside” powers.67 Uehara and Munakata also suggested that the postwar era could usher in a strengthened sense of national identity that would help create and nurture a uniquely “Oriental” sense of “humanism and tolerance,” and thereby support national independence and world peace.68 From within the domain of Asian peoples, then, Japan could develop its own system as it saw fit, and could form alliances with other nations like China, Korea and Southeast Asia, without American or Soviet intervention. In Fred Halliday’s terminology, “hegemonic internationalism” demanded a form of “revolutionary internationalism” that was “proletarian” and that also recognized (counter to contemporary realism) “internal and international conflict as recurrently linked.”69 More needs to be said, however, about this contrast between a malevolent form of Western “humanism” and a quintessentially “Oriental” form of “tolerance.” For example, Munakata claimed that “European humanism” and cosmopolitanism, like capitalism, would not be suitable for postwar Asia. This was because European modernity and the international relations of modern nation-states were essentially based upon the paradigm of “ancient Greek humanism.” On the one hand, European humanism was rooted in “internal spiritual and lustful aspects” of the human psyche and the affirmation of war and peace. The kind of “pacifism” needed in postwar Japan and Asia, however, was not compatible with the epistemology of the West.”70 As Takeuchi had earlier phrased it, the West had operated according to a master/ slave or win/loose game plan in its interactions with the world. Even “Christian ethics” were seen as hopelessly incompatible with Asian values, since they did not tolerate other religions and instead sought to conquer and proselytize by coercion. Instead, Munakata concluded, the idea of tolerance in Buddhism and Confucianism would be best suited to become the pillar of postwar internationalism in Asia. This was because, for Uehara, Buddhism did not make any ontological distinctions between those who were enlightened and those who needed to be enlightened. While in Christianity God and humans were separated, and war was seen as one legitimate part of man’s (fallible) existence, Buddhism supported the idea that anyone could attain enlightenment through the ideal and practice of peace. Similarly, Confucianism supported the idea that because the abilities, character, and outlook of each person was something that could not be changed, one should be accepted for what one was. Uehara thought this concept to have been especially important for world peace since it could be used to support the notion of mutual tolerance among different minzoku.71 In a similar vein, Ishimoda argued that the mobilization of ethnic myths and religion during and after the Peloponnesian War had given ancient Greek citizens a unique kind of “ethnic national pride.” This not only helped to strengthen Greek

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 141 culture and create ancient Greek civilization, but it ultimately became the cultural, historical, and political cradle for all modern Western civilization. To be precise, the development of ancient Greek ethnic culture precipitated and facilitated the appearance of what Ishimoda referred to as “worldliness” (sekaisei).72 Ishimoda also believed that the origin of Western civilization began in this very universality of ancient Greek minzoku bunka, and extended all the way down to the pretentious universality of American culture in the twentieth century. Hegel was to be the link in this progression in that he developed the notion that history equals progress of the consciousness of freedom on the one hand, and that Asia had nothing to offer to world history or politics, on the other.73 For Ishimoda, Hegel’s beliefs about Asia also marked a continuation of ancient Greek civilization and the apogee of nationalism (e.g. the Prussian bureaucratic state) laying claim to internationalism (i.e. cosmopolitanism as the story of Western progress). This progression could be found in the modern history of France, Britain, and finally the American Revolution, the latter constituting the “modern” paradigm of cosmopolitanism and (bourgeois) civilization. Thus, Uehara, Munakata, and Ishimoda were for the most part in agreement as to the civilizational context that lined their conceptions of internationalism. At the same time, however, other historians like Tôma adapted a policy toward internationalism that did not rely completely upon Asian civilizational essentialism and, therefore, was somewhat more in line with the true ideals of Bandung and the non-Aligned Movement. Although a premodern historian who, like Ishimoda, stressed the ancient historical connection among East Asian peoples, Tôma advocated a form of internationalism that included principles of peaceful coexistence not confined to Asian nations alone. Tôma also asserted that the most permanent and efficient means of eliminating war and enshrining a “perpetual peace” would be through the establishment of a world state in the postwar period.74 In so far as he praised the expansion of the Soviet bloc into Eastern Europe, moreover, his appraisal of the chances for coexistence of diverse peoples under one form of political leadership were at odds with the more sweepingly essentialist discourses of Uehara and Munakata. In fact, Tôma thought the best hope for world peace to lie in the continued consolidation of the Eastern bloc, and the subsequent “seizing of state power by the proletariat” worldwide, creating socialist societies that would come together into one superstate standing firmly on the principles of egalitarianism. This diagnosis for the future of world history in the postwar period was especially surprising since Tôma favored a more minzoku-oriented approach to the issue of pre-capitalist Japanese history. In fact, he had stated clearly at the outset of his Nihon Minzoku no Keisei in 1951 that he wanted to show the interlinked historical destinies of Japan and China. However, it is also quite likely that Tôma envisioned a Soviet-led proletarian world state as a “lesser evil” to the continuation of American hegemony. All of this also suggests that the projects of nationalism and internationalism were two concurrent and dialectically interactive spheres of history and action. In addition, it also indicates that the conceptual territory of minzoku as agency was easier to imagine and delimit when it came to national narratives and histories. It was not so easy to conjure, however, when it came down to conceptualizing

142 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism the specific kind of internationalism that would mediate post-capitalist history in the latter half of the twentieth century. Yet, it was also true that Tôma, Ishimoda, Munakata, and Uehara would not have taken issue with the claim that internationalism represents a logical extension and complement to nationalism.75 Nor would they have taken issue with other historians of their period in China, who argued that in contrast to the bourgeois idea of the nation – where class served as a vehicle for nationalism – proletarian internationalism sought to provide closure to the lingering “national question.”76 Perhaps the paradigm within which Ishimoda and his colleagues approached the unity of Asia was not completely dissimilar to the internationalism of India’s Nehru, as seen in Indian independence in 1947 and the 1955 Bandung Conference. For these historians, Nehru’s India, like Mao’s China, had developed a progressive and truly democratic ideal that connected the fate of the people with that of Asia. To be more specific, in the figure of Nehru, Ishimoda and many radical historians saw a beautiful example of a nation that went from colonization to liberation, and then toward the ideal of true internationalism. It is even likely that Ishimoda’s 1952 Discovery of History and the Nation was modeled somewhat upon Nehru’s 1946 The Discovery of India, written just one year prior to Indian independence.77 In this regard, Uehara had also praised Nehru, noting that he treated the minzoku no mondai as a “political, economic, social, cultural” and ethical issue.78 According to Mool Chand, nevertheless, Nehru’s internationalism in this period actually favored a “world federation of socialist states” based upon the “commonwealth of nations.”79 With the exception of Tôma, very few of the major figures in Japanese radical history during this period supported the idea of a generic worldstate. Rather, they envisioned the aftermath of national liberation in Japan to have lain within the cradle of Asian civilization and the foundational myth of minzoku agency as the signature to the history of different peoples (i.e., races) that represented each component-nation within Asia. Indeed, Nehru himself also seems to have realized the power of both nationalism and civilizational essentialism, in that his vision of a new internationalism did include the idea of an “Eastern federation.” Likewise, Nehru also seems to have concluded that the power of nationalism was not something that could be done away with easily, even through an independent form of peaceful internationalism.80 Although these historians made few explicit comparisons between the prewar Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere and their own form of internationalism, furthermore, there are some interesting similarities and differences worthy of mention. Both representations shared the basic idea of a “common Asian destiny” that was inherently anti-bourgeois modernity and premised upon the liberation of the nation from imperialism. In both, there was an appeal to “return to a classical East Asia” and “a new-found antithesis to the modern industrial society of the West,” under the assumption that a “third civilization” could be created within Asia. 81 Moreover, both ideas concluded with a call to the writing of a new kind of “world history” to resist the West and to provide Asia with a space of political and cultural autonomy through the idea of the minzoku kokka, or ethnic nation state. The call to overturn the history of Western imperialism and bourgeois modernity in favor of

Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 143 cultural and civilizational essentialism could be found in both the Kyoto School of the early 1940s82 and in the project of national awakening during the early 1950s. In addition, the Co-Prosperity Sphere, like postwar kokusaishugi, sought through a particularly “Asian” spirit of cooperation to bring a peaceful system of international relations to Asia. Looked at in very broad terms, then, the idea of mass resistance to the West, its instrumental rationality, bourgeois modernity, and seemingly hegemonic forms of civilization, helped shape both prewar and early postwar notions of a new international system in Asia that could stand up to America and Europe. On the other hand, it is quite probable that the kokusaishugi concept of the early 1950s was put forward in the full awareness of how far the wartime Co-Prosperity Sphere had gone in trying to unite all of Asia under the political, cultural, and military hegemony of Japan. Again, this is where the ethnic homogeneity argument, especially when combined with its ontological separation from the modern Japanese state, worked to make spatial and temporal distance from wartime ideology. As already noted in earlier chapters, it was in fact the ideology of a “hybrid minzoku” in wartime Japan, especially the belief that Japan alone was able to assimilate all of Asia into its concept of the nation, that lay at the basis of the Co-Prosperity Sphere. In this interpretation, then, the Japanese minzoku had been accustomed to racial assimilation throughout the ages; this had produced the notion that colonial policy was devoid of racial distinctions and hierarchies. The Japanese minzoku, under the umbrella of the imperial state, could stake its claim to Asian leadership based upon the proposition that Japan was “the center in which cultural differences were absorbed, consumed, and transformed into cultural homogeneity.”83 The process of assimilation within Japan, in other words, had given it the legitimacy to “assimilate” all of Asia into its own syncretic sense of the nation. Indeed, it was against this very “multi-national” sense of the ethnic nation that Marxist historians during the 1930s took aim. Compared to expansionist and syncretic notions of the nation incorporated into the Co-Prosperity Sphere, the postwar idea of Asian internationalism may thus be distinguished by its very rejection of assimilationist ideology. As seen in the prewar debates of the mid-1930s, the idea of ethnic hybridity was construed by some Marxist historians as something contrary to the history of the Japanese nation as well as the peoples of Korea, Taiwan, and China. It brought into the picture the entire specter of state policies that supported the amalgamation and domination of Asian ethnic groups by Japan. For Japan in the postwar to have any claims to a position of authority (or even equivalence) in Asia, socialist revolution would thus have to produce a form of national identity that bore no resemblance to prewar statism or racial syncretism. It was ironic, however, that the attributes which distinguished postwar from prewar pan-Asianism, such as the attempt to make history “work for the people” and against bureaucratic and military interests, also contributed to the making of historical science based on a new sense of closure toward national homogeneity. This, in turn, became the proof that postwar minzokushugi was neither imperialist, expansionist, nor aggressive. To be certain, the common threads of Asian humanism and the rejection of bourgeois world history were no longer couched in terms of Japanism as the key to Asia’s future.

144 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism Japan had through its wartime actions relinquished any claim to postwar political authority. Instead, the Chinese example would provide a new incarnation of proletarian humanism for all Asia to emulate. In the end, by removing the thorn of the state from the entire project of national awakening, postwar conceptions of racial purity could be substituted for prewar conceptions of race that had been – through the project of imperialism – tied to larger geopolitical interests and cultural policies. There was, however, to be a new set of conditions put upon political action, the nation, and internationalism, within the attempt to make a post-imperialist, post-nationalist, and post-essentialist meta narrative of minzoku bunka. The new cultural politics of Marxist history would define who was in and who was out of national life, history, and cultural community by grounding these within a strategic essentialism of race. Looked at in terms of the relationship between race and nation, one could even venture to say that postwar minzokushugi, especially within Marxist history during this period, put an even higher premium on racial homogeneity in Japanese culture and society than did prewar colonial policies. In this sense, then, the meta-narrative of minzoku bunka – along with its constituents of national consciousness and awakening – does fit into what some have criticized as a racially based form of ethnic homogeneity embedded within the construction of postwar society in Japan,84 including the very notion of “healthy nationalism.” As Narita Ryû’ichi argues, the “self-evident premise of nationality” that brought convenient closure to Japanese hybridity, moreover, ultimately urges us to “question the values produced by postwar historiography.”85 Indeed, both the nationalism and internationalism of Marxist historians supports this general hypothesis and even suggests that early postwar Marxist history has played a significant role in the development of contemporary Japanese nationalism.

8

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism

The denouement of “national awakening” Finding historical closure to the early and mid-1950s minzoku no mondai is not as easy as it might otherwise seem. Postwar overviews of Japanese historiography often relegate the debate to the 1950s, and hypothesize that nationalism of the Left ceased to be an issue by the early 1960s. Of course, the paradigm of ethnic national culture as a form of opposition politics did decline swiftly during this period. It is also quite true that, bereft of its theoretical and popular support, narratives of progressive ethnic nationalism would never again come to dominate postwar history, nor be as broad-based, as they were during the period examined in this book. In retrospect, the Japan Communist Party even went so far as to criticize the project of national awakening as a form of “adventurism” that “mechanically reacted” to the historical conditions and geopolitics of the early 1950s. Marxist history and politics had ignored the fact that Japan was already an “advanced capitalist country,” and had instead lumped it together with formerly colonized nations in Asia, conceptualizing Japanese revolution purely in terms of liberation from dependency.1 While the project of national awakening had sought to skirt around previous distinctions between “bourgeois” and “proletarian” revolution in favor of a rather romanticized version of history, its demise would lead progressive voices on the Left to reconsider the possibilities of social revolution and radical politics in the postwar period. In spite of the fact that both the JCP and the Society would lose their enthusiasm for the project of national awakening by 1955, however, the story does not end here. For many of the arguments and positions taken up during the 1950s would reemerge in the New Right from the late 1960s, and their attempts to exorcise some of the same demons that had hounded Ishimoda and his colleagues. What is perhaps even more interesting is the proposition that these have turned up, albeit in slightly more acceptable attire, in some recent positions of the Liberal School of History. This suggests that the arguments (but not the Stalinist and socialist interpretations) of the ethnic nation have had impressive resonance and versatility within postwar Japanese nationalism, especially outside the traditional quarters of conservative political and economic nationalism. Indeed, contemporary ethnic nationalism in Japan has seen to it that many of the themes of the 1950s Left – critiques of political

146 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism decadence, cultural vulgarization, compromised political institutions, anti-minzoku education, and excessive American influence – did not go to waste. For they have been recycled and continue to bewitch present-day Japan. Before concluding with an examination of this undercurrent to postwar nationalism in Japan, however, we must first return to the critical issue of how the strategic essentialism of the 1950s ultimately functioned as political discourse. For the problem of the 1950s reveals the heart of the difficulty with grounding even progressive sentiment in a subterranean code of racial community. This problem is evident in that behind the discourses of the 1950s lay the assumption that the politics of cultural representation could justify social action in racial and ethnic terms. Rather than merely a matter of class obligation, revolution and national awakening became the historical duty of all the Japanese people. The move toward a new socialist nation was thus every bit as important for Japanese outside the immediate sphere of radical activity as it was for workers, students, the labor-class, and intellectuals in the vanguard of social change. On the one hand, this approach basically supported the idea that ethnic-national culture could provide the ultimate designation for participation in radical politics. On the other hand, it also meant that in place of ideology, politics, and class, membership in the ethnic nation would become the criteria from which a new form of political unification and social cohesion could be created amidst the tumult of the early postwar period. Since this was not just a question of historical agency in an “ethnic national past,” but instead an agenda for socialism within Japan and internationalism for Japan in Asia and the Third World, it represented a grand narrative whose implications were fundamentally political, and indeed heavily ideological. It will be recalled that one noteworthy interpretation of strategic essentialism asks whether discourses of essentialized identity stand as “ontological” assumptions grounding a “politics of identity based on uninterrogated assumptions of naturally shared interests.” Some have suggested that this would constitute a form of “ontological essentialism” which serves to “oppress” the majority of the people. A healthier form of essentialism, by contrast, can be found in a more “performative” usefulness of identity that helps “constitute new kinds of subjects” based upon shared interests.2 According to this interpretation, the latter would in fact “enable” the majority of the people to develop, and put to good use, a sense of autonomy that would facilitate greater individual awareness, social conscience, and political action. In the case of early postwar Japan, nevertheless, these existential and sociological considerations cannot be separated from historical realities that push us one step back from hard-edged distinctions between cultural ontologies that deny political identity, and social imaginations that diversify them. More exactly, the ontology of the Japanese race, which was legitimized by historical constructionism’s suggestion that national culture is somehow a “historical contingency,” was supposed to provide a means for the liberation of the masses and the creation of new forms of social organization and political action. Without a doubt, one can find much to agree with in the political goals, and the moral objections, of historians like Ishimoda and campaigns like the JCP’s National Front as well as the Movement for a People’s History. However, the

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 147 problem of ontology raises its head when we consider the fact that Japan of the 1950s was far from homogeneous. While devoting much time to the liberation of nations such as India and China from colonial rule, Marxist history in Japan denied the existence of those who suffered under prewar Japanese colonialism, such as Koreans and Chinese, many of whom were brought to Japan before 1945.3 It is quite ironic that, in this sense, the minzoku no mondai in Marxist history actually helped to reinforce the agendas of both the Occupation and conservative politics, in that it made Japan a “post-colonial,” homogenous nation-state.4 Indeed, this process was taking place at the very same time that discourses opposed to the state and Occupation, such as the National Front of the JCP and Takeuchi Yoshimi’s comparison of Chinese and Japanese modernity, were being developed.5 This brings us to the inescapable conclusion that ontologies of cultural essentialism carry with them far more than merely the capacity to “enable.” They may also function as narratives involved in public memory, history, the legal system, social institutions, and the intersection of collective identity and everyday life. Therefore, early postwar Marxist history, all the more so when reflected upon in its historical and political context, demonstrates that the “performance” and functionality of cultural essentialism are in fact very much tied to problems of ontology. The notion of performance, whether it be in the grand objective of revolution or the much more finite domain of everyday existence, was first and foremost delimited by the cast of characters (i.e., the ethnic nation) that set the stage for postwar progressive politics. Indeed, this aspect was all the more important since the vision for a socialist Japan in the early postwar period had two integrated and mutually reinforcing components. In one sense, the vision sought to establish the parameters of how culture, society, and the nation were to be constituted in the postwar years. In the same moment, however, it also denied the political legitimacy of civil society, democratic political institutions, and multi-ethnic forms of citizenship in relation to the politics and history of the nation in Japan. In fact, the denouement of Marxist history’s approach to the nation and radical politics seems to have only strengthened subsequent conservative political ideologies of ethnic homogeneity under the other safe-haven of the “symbolic” emperor and the emphasis upon economic growth rooted in national consensus. In the end, early postwar (and indeed interwar) narratives of neo-colonization by “modernists against modernity” depicted a bleak choice between either a “native spirit,” on the one hand, or the corrosive forces of global capitalism, on the other. Of course, it can also be claimed that the obvious difficulties in realizing a true socialist revolution in early postwar Japan should countenance a more lenient view towards the essentialism of the 1950s. In the words of Glyn Daly, perhaps it is necessary to look back upon the meta-narrative of the nation with the caveat that “no universalism” will ever be “completely integrationist.” Instead, “it will always be a power construction which establishes exclusive (historical) frontiers between “we” and “them.” This would not in itself be a major problem since the “contents of the ‘we’ can always be modified by new resistant identities” so that the “we” group expands, and comes more into a broad recognition of “the principles of liberty and equality.”6 One is tempted to accord Ishimoda and the entire project of national

148 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism awakening the benefit of the doubt here. On the other hand, the politics of the cultural nation were, as just noted above, rooted in a presumed symbiosis between the ethnic nation and political change. Indeed, from the late 1960s it would become all too easy to transpose the meta-narrative of ethnic national culture and national awakening into discourses that took political institutions to have corrupted the purity and interrupted the continuity of the ethnic nation. Interestingly, the politics of cultural essentialism seen in the 1950s, and thereafter, were hardly anything new to the landscape of modern Japanese history. During the Meiji period, for example, similar discourses could be found within two intersecting narratives. These included the strategy of using the ethnic nation as a cultural construct from which to distinguish “erroneous” developments within Japan, such as material culture, urban decadence, Westernization and capitalism, along with the political enfranchisement of minorities, women, and those on the margins. They also included the penchant to find within internationalism an excuse through which to articulate the fundamental unity of Asian civilization, such that nationalism and internationalism mutually reinforced the links between race, national culture, and civilization. In the same vein, Marxist historians of the 1950s turned toward developing ideas of how Asian internationalism, like Asian nationalism, represented something particular to nations like China, Japan, and India. Uehara and Munakata, as already shown, supported a new form of internationalism that rejected the material power of either American or Soviet geopolitics, favoring instead conceptions of peaceful coexistence in Asia based upon spiritual traditions of Buddhist tolerance and cooperation. While quite laudable in themselves, they were nevertheless rooted in national themes of race and pan-Asian civilizational essentialisms. Similarly, even though the historical and political terms of Japan-in-Asia had been transformed in 1945, the logic behind the new internationalism had an interesting parallel with earlier twentieth century ideology in Japan. As Najita and Harootunian point out, during the late Meiji period romantic tomes such as Okakura Tenshin’s Ideals of the East sought to reverse the European oriented “civilization and enlightenment” paradigm in culture and society. They called for Japan’s re-entry into Asia and the “reidentification of Japan with its continental roots” to “return to its original sphere of civilization.”7 Not only did this trend swell during the 1920s and 1930s, climaxing with the wartime idea of “overcoming modernity,” but it was redeveloped and reconceived as early as 1948 by progressive thinkers such as Takeuchi Yoshimi. The main difference to postwar civilizational essentialism – at least as far as Marxist historians were concerned – was that Japan no longer represented the key to the “great cultural code” that could unlock (and indeed bring to a new synthesis) the Asian “spirit.”8 Asia still had a unitary and privileged view of the world, only this time around Japan was not to be the privileged guardian of its cosmology. Similarities with the nationalism and internationalism of the 1950s can also be found in the interest of prewar radicals like Kita Ikki in creating a socialist revolution that could “liberate all of Asia.”9 Likewise, commonalities exist between the ethnic nationalism of the 1950s on the Left and the much earlier “ideal of an Asian agrarian community independent of the state and free from contamination by

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 149 Western history.” The latter conception of an organic and pristine cultural community was supposed to furnish an “alternative to modern social and political relations,” as well as to the tradition of “Western” political and bureaucratic rationalism.10 Indeed, such precursors to the internationalism of the 1950s even included appeals for a new form of “cooperation in Asia which would unite Asia under Asian humanism.”11 Exactly the same could be said for the national awakening movement and Marxist historians, although they would certainly have denied such a narrative connection to the Meiji past, insisting that their approach was something completely new to Japanese history and thought. In this vein, there was clearly among Marxist historians conscious resistance to any connections with the ethnic nationalism or Asian internationalism of the prewar period. As much was evident in their conceptualization of the “warped nationalism (henkyô na minzokushugi)” of the prewar years, and the “healthy nationalism (kenzen na minzokuteki na mono)” of early postwar history. No doubt, these served to deflect any possible comparisons between prewar pan-Asianism and the idea of Asian kokusaishugi found in national awakening. In place of cultural absolutism and the statism associated with emperor ideology, then, the modern Japanese nation could be introduced as a prerequisite to the larger idea of Asian cooperation without Euro or Japan centrism. The flip side to this sense of the nation lay in the belief that it was now China, and not Japan, that had become the epicenter of Asian civilization, and, along with India, the flagship of postwar internationalism in Asia. In this respect, it makes perfect sense to provide the caveat that postwar internationalism associated with national awakening was based upon quite distinct limitations as to Japan’s political role in Asia. On the other hand, it also makes perfect sense to keep in mind that not only did this internationalism rest upon the idea of a Japan that was racially homogeneous, but it also saw fit to juxtapose the “spiritualism of the East” against the “excesses of the West.” The entire enterprise of national awakening in the early postwar period would, however, not survive many of the transformations taking place during the late 1950s. The year 1956 would prove especially fateful to the goal of national awakening in several different ways. Chief among these was the discrediting of Stalin and his approach to the national question by Moscow in 1955 at the Sixth Communist Party Conference. Moreover, the following year the 20th Party Congress took specific aim at Stalin’s policy toward different nationalities (minzoku) within the Soviet Union, charging that it had been merely an instrument for separating and subsequently exterminating Soviet citizens of non-Russian ethnicity. In response to what was now (posthumously) seen as Stalin’s political authoritarianism under the guise of peaceful coexistence among different nationalities, Khrushev promised that the Soviet Union would protect non-Russian peoples within its borders.12 Thus, it can be said that, even in the eyes of Khrushev, the problem of different nationalities within the Soviet Union could not be solved without looking to more inclusive and socially enfranchising interpretations of political community. Secondly, and somewhat paradoxically, Soviet intervention during the same year had brought to an abrupt end a new flowering of openness and social democracy in Hungary. If the discrediting of Stalin had brought the downfall of the historical constructionist

150 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism approach to the nation and national consciousness, the Hungarian Incident called into question the claims of the Soviet Union to revolutionary internationalism.13 Taken together, these events did irreparable damage to the theoretical and political legitimacy that had been accorded to Stalinism in Japan by the Marxist historians examined in this book.14 More precisely, the “heroic” status accorded them between 1945 and the mid-1950s would turn more toward public suspicion. Naturally, the responses to events on the Left in Japan varied according to individual and factional positions among historians, intellectuals and members of the JCP. Nevertheless, the whole epistemological paradigm of national awakening was to a large extent to fall from favor during the late 1950s, in no small part owing to the backlash against the past “worshipping of individuals” that had marked the “cult of Stalin” during the 1940s and early 1950s.15 Some of the first signs of this disillusionment among Marxist historians can be found at the 1956 Historical Science Society Annual Meeting, in which the historical approaches of Ishimoda, Matsumoto, and Tôma, along with the Movement for a People’s History, came under fire.16 This, in turn, led to what is often called Ishimoda’s “self-criticism” of his earlier approaches.17 Indeed, fellow historians like Inoue Kiyoshi had already begun to separate themselves from the Movement, charging that it had sought to force a specific political agenda down the throats of the people.18 Likewise, in the wake of Soviet intervention in Eastern Europe, Eguchi argued that it was high-time to rethink the relationship between “socialism and minzokushugi.”19 Moreover, this turmoil and soul-searching during the late 1950s was also linked to a clearer recognition of how Stalin’s conception of the nation had created many problems for both Japanese nationalism and internationalism. In late 1956, Oike Fumio declared that the Hungarian Incident afforded a long-overdue chance to take a critical look at the principles of Marxist internationalism. In particular, Oike maintained that Soviet intervention in Hungary ran counter to the belief that Marxist internationalism should foster revolution, and subsequently peaceful coexistence, among socialist countries in ways quite different from American-led internationalism.20 That is, the very fact that Moscow had sought to control Hungary through military power and Realpolitik indicated that the Soviet Union was oppressing other peoples. The interesting point here is that his analysis of the Soviet Union led Oike to conclude that it would be necessary for dominant peoples to look carefully at their own internal politics first, in order to properly respect the principles of autonomy and peaceful coexistence among different socialist countries. The lesson to be learned, Oike surmised, was that progressive forces should look more carefully at how Japan was treating ethnic minorities within their own precincts. It would be a mistake, nevertheless, to interpret some of these changes on the Left as having smothered the spirit of resistance within Ishimoda and his colleagues. Ishimoda would continue to assert the problem of the “ethnic nation consciousness” of Okinawans and Japanese, especially at times such as the crisis over revision to the US–Japan Security Treaty in 1960. On the other hand, even Ishimoda argued that what had once been a “crisis of the ethnic nation,” was now more a “political crisis” for the Japanese people.21 As many on the Left saw it, the Security Treaty crisis of 1960 had reinforced the notion that the people were still incapable of

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 151 stopping the state, American imperialism, and the now deafening march of bourgeois modernity. For Ishimoda, nationalism of the 1950s had failed to summon a sustainable popular consciousness of how national culture remained mired in the throes of political manipulation. As Suehara Keiji argues, furthermore, the latter half of the 1950s saw the decompression of national history and the change in focus more toward the problem of “contemporary society,” as reflected in the annual meetings of the Historical Science Society.22 This moment of decompression would, by the early 1960s, lead the Society to turn its gaze toward a “reexamination of basic historical laws” and a “reevaluation of historical conceptions.”23 Even though the emphasis of this revised historical science would be giving history back to the people, the issue of “mass nationalism” would be thrust out from within its former (Left) center of gravity. Within historiography, old concerns over national history were being replaced by new momentum toward regional and local history. Not only did local histories (chihôshi) support the original Historical Science Society goal of looking at Japanese society from the bottom up, but they also seemed to reinforce the idea of “popular history” (minshushi) that was beginning to make its way into historical debate and political life. The beginning of high economic growth during the early 1960s helped usher in greater concern with focusing upon everyday life in its regional and local flavors, and often against what was seen as the increasing willingness of the state to place economic concerns above all. As the contemporary historian Motoi Kimura intimates, from the 1960s local histories appeared in the context of social movements and “local citizens movements” concerned with protecting the quality of life against excessive consumerism and urbanization.24 Not only did local histories come to replace national histories, but these were also part of a larger move within Japanese society toward establishing the autonomy or liberation of ordinary people by focusing upon social and economic issues more than overarching political problems. Away from the Historical Science Society and more toward the realm of critical intellectual discourse, moreover, the late 1950s and early 1960s witnessed the development of two distinct and often conflicting representations of Japanese nationalism. On the one hand, high economic growth and more affirmative views of Japanese modernization supported interpretations of Japanese culture that actively linked Japanese tradition with modernism. By contrast, however, successors to the critique of the state and bourgeois modernity on the Left attempted to develop the idea of “the masses” in order to show that postwar society was not in fact heading in right direction. That is, problems in Soviet communism, defeat with the Security Treaty, and the ascent of economic success within Japanese society, taken together, would give new impetus to framing ideas of cultural uniqueness within more affirmative appraisals of Japanese history. Yet, these same developments would also gradually help resuscitate and politically transfigure the ideology of ethnic nationalism against the state during the late 1960s, just as the Japanese Left was to more or less lose its vaunted place as defenders of the people.

152 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism

The cultural politics of ethnic nationalism in contemporary Japan The decline of the nationalism of the Left by the late 1950s came just at the time when modernization theory and new arguments about Japanese culture and national character were being produced by minds more receptive to the idea of linking nationalism and bourgeois modernity. This linkage of bourgeois modernity and the nation, especially in the context of high growth policies which had already begun to produce their yield, served as the postwar foundation for discourses that have collectively been called the Nihon Bunkaron, or Japan Culture Theory. Between the late 1950s and mid-1960s, it seemed that the assumptions and arguments within this approach to Japanese identity were becoming the primary organized representations of cultural nationalism in contemporary Japan. From the mid-1960s onward, however, the cultural politics of ethnic nationalism against the state would once again become a compelling source of political nationalism and cultural essentialism. The issues involved during this period included the Okinawa problem, the Vietnam War, and what were seen as some of the shortcomings of the postwar constitution. The articulation of these problems within the framework of a vivid and pointed ethnic nationalism, however, would not come from the Left, even though the latter was still heavily involved in social protest. Economic growth, technological and scientific achievement, and a rising global Japanese presence would substitute for earlier paranoia over “enslavement” and “colonization” by the United States. In place of earlier internationalism or socialism, the Right would take up the cause of the imperial system and find in it the ontological justification for ethnic nationalism and racial homogeneity. It would be the imperial system, and no longer the cause of Asian socialism and internationalism, that would support the ethnic nation against postwar democracy, rapid economic growth, consumer culture, massification, and a lack of ethnic national consciousness among ordinary Japanese. At just about the time “national awakening” began to wane, some sought to establish the historical autonomy of national culture through narratives that supported modernist ideas. One of the earliest examples was Katô Shûichi’s “Nihon Bunka no Zasshusei,” published in 1955. A scholar of European literature, Katô argued that Japanese culture, though substantially different from British or French culture, was qualitatively and developmentally equivalent to that of modern Europe. The basis of Katô’s argument was that modern Europe had historically and socially followed the tradition of ancient Greek and Roman civilization in being impervious to external cultures and influences from other civilizations. By contrast, Japanese culture was something syncretic, having historically and culturally borrowed first from China and the Asian continent, and then subsequently from Europe and America during the Meiji era.25 Put differently, the pattern of cultural interaction and existence in Japan – whereby Japanese culture had for millennia accrued and adopted elements from different cultures and civilizations, in itself represented a unique socio-cultural tradition. The implication of Katô’s thesis was that this tradition had in fact made possible the right social and economic conditions for

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 153 modernization to take place in Japan. The historical development of Japanese and European culture could be understood as a series of “parallel” processes linked in different forms of modernity, but comparable stages of modernization. Umesada Tadao’s 1957 “Bunmei no Seitai Shikan” built upon the ideas expressed by Katô and proceeded to argue for a “parallel process of development” between Western and Japanese civilization.26 Interestingly, Umesada picked up on a prewar conception – and latter-postwar idea used by Murakami Yasusuke and others, to the effect that Japanese culture constituted a “world civilization.”27 According to Umesada, not only was Japan a civilization unto itself – much like China or India – but it also belonged to the same “primary civilizational grouping” (Dai’ichi chiiki) as did Western (European) civilization.28 Japanese culture and civilization were indeed as socially and culturally modernized as Europe, though Japan was distinct (“parallel”) from its Western counterpart.29 Thus, in spite of differences over the integrity of “autonomous development” between Katô and Umesao,30 each was rooted within a principle of parallel development that ideologically assumed the “convergence” of both Japan and Europe. Unlike the minzokushugi ideology of Takeuchi Yoshimi and the historical approach of Ishimoda Shô, then, modernism could be affirmed by virtue of its congruence with Japanese culture and tradition – for the sting of “Westernization” (and hence, “imperialism”) had been taken out of modernization. National culture could therefore become rationalized as the modus vivendi for economic growth, rather than the instrument of political resistance and revolution. Indeed, this approach to culture, civilization, and modernity, substituted modernization for revolution. Since Japan was already modernized, it no longer was in need of being “awakened.” It was thus no coincidence that modernization theory made itself felt in Japan by 1960, the same year as the revision to the US–Japan Security Treaty and the violent social unrest which preceded its passage in the Diet. Rather than ideas of revolution or internationalism, historian John W. Hall envisioned the task at hand for Japan to lie in the creation of a “united concept of modernization” based upon a “common understanding of the meaning of modernization.”31 In the eyes of Hall and his associates at the 1960 Hakone Conference, modernization had “occurred in the last several hundred years and brought with it changes which take the same general direction all over the world rather than moving in opposite directions.”32 In this regard, Katô Shûichi (also a participant in this debate) noted that some of his colleagues such as Umesada Tadao had already shown that there was in fact no “significant difference between Japan and Western societies” in terms of the modernization process.33 In other words, the process of modernization in Japan and the West revealed how otherwise disparate or divergent lifestyles and peoples were nevertheless “converging” upon one common and integrated kind of modern society with congruent values, massification, and social patterns of development. The modern phenomena of urbanization, social integration, and mass communications were also seen as having brought about a “breakdown in Gemeinschaft leading to greater individual social mobility and a more diversified range of social performance in a Gesellschaft.”34 Of course, for Marxists like Tôyama Shigeki, modernization theory was nothing more than an ideological disinfecting of bourgeois modernity

154 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism to further serve American hegemony. The fact that modernization theory was organizationally and financially supported by major American economic and academic interests in Japan meant that the new version of modernization as a “universal” goal could quite easily be read as a dominant ideology designed to lift American interests in Asia into the next decade.35 These approaches to Japanese culture and civilization, especially within the context of modernization theory, meant that the “parallel” yet unique nature of its traditions could be used to explain why Japan was able to modernize in the nineteenth century. For it would be many of the feudal and modern traditions in Japanese culture and society that would support notions of national distinctiveness that came to the fore in the Nihon Bunkaron. Citing Maruyama Masao, Ronald Dore argued that the premodern development of Japanese thought patterns (namely, the idea that society was something “contrived” and not organic), had helped facilitate Japanese modernization. This was because, historically speaking, it helped to inspire the modernization of feudal society in early Meiji. Likewise, it also gave birth to the early Meiji principle of “seeking knowledge throughout the world as a means of strengthening the imperial throne.”36 The same could be said for the notion of the “public interest” which had its roots in “Tokugawa tradition,” but which also “gave root to Fukuzawa Yukichi’s “spirit of independence” and Uchimura Kanzô’s “conscience” during the early Meiji period.37 Similarly, John W Hall surmised that it wasn’t possible to explain Japanese modernization “in terms of a struggle between tradition and the modernization process.” This was because even “authoritarian tendencies of the Meiji period” had in fact helped “facilitate the creation of a Weberian type of modern bureaucracy.”38 In the same vein, Ueyama Shunpei stated that Japanese modernization during the Meiji era was in part the result of cultural traditions like the Japanese family system, which was more “modernized” than that in China.39 In contrast to the paradigm of Chinese liberation nationalism guiding progressive ethnic nationalism during the late 1940s and 1950s, therefore, modernization theory claimed that Japanese civilization was developmentally equivalent to Western civilization. It was also more “advanced” than the still developing nations of China, India, and the rest of Asia. During this same period, some on the Left would seek to reconsolidate progressive claims to Japanese culture without historical constructionism or the trope of national awakening. From the late 1950s, political activists, writers, and social scientists attempted to express the cultural nation within new ideas about “the masses.” No doubt, these voices were as disaffected by modernization theory as they were by the earlier failures of national awakening. One such example can be found in Kurahara Korehito’s 1957 article “Bunka Seisaku no Kihonteki na Jakkan na Mondai ni saishite” (Regarding Basic Problems in Cultural Policy).40 It will be recalled from Chapter 3 that ten years earlier, Kurahara had called for the creation of “cultural movements” for the social “construction of an advanced form of popular minzoku bunka” and the securing of the “independence” of Japanese ethnic-national culture from capitalism and its reactive interpretations of culture.41 This represented a new cultural policy on the Left against modernism and capitalism, the authoritarian nature of the Occupation, and the necessity of proletarian struggle for “cultural

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 155 unification” in both Japan and China.42 It is therefore somewhat ironic that, in discussing the problems with cultural policy on the Left one full decade hence, Kurahara would suggest that earlier representations of culture had produced a distrust of intellectuals among the general public. Kurahara did, however, share much of the optimism toward the vitality and flexibility of Japanese culture seen in both Katô and Umesada, albeit with more distaste for the relationship between Japanese culture and modernization theory. Rather than assuming a natural holism in Japanese culture would unite society, moreover, Kurahara claimed that the genius of Japanese culture would need to be articulated in terms of the “construction of a socialist culture” in postwar Japan. This involved making culture – a “people’s democratic culture” – the domain of the working class, since it was they alone who made up the all-important designation of the “masses” (taishû) in Japanese society.43 The problem, as Kurahara saw it, lay in the fact that “monopoly capital” continued to exert an untoward influence upon Japanese politics and society, in effect preventing the “Japanese ethnic-nation from becoming independent.”44 Even though the presence of Stalin’s approach to the ethnic-nation had vanished, therefore, the emphasis upon cultural colonization from both the state and external “imperialism” (i.e., “internal and external monopoly capitalism”) clearly remained. Kurahara stressed the need to consider how the Japanese minzoku could better be realized in relation to the “reality,” and not the “conceptual edification,” of “the masses.” As he saw it, the JCP, in particular, had often focused upon the “development of the Party’s own [conception] of culture,” while not putting enough resources into “encouraging the gradual progression of all Japanese culture toward democratic socialism.”45 During the late 1950s, the political scientist Matsushita Kei’ichi would also seek a new space for Japanese culture, and would articulate the need for a true “nationalism of the masses” (taishûteki nashonarizumu).46 Matsushita argued that traditional Marxist notions of class, the “national awakening” of culture, and “civic nationalism,” were no longer relevant to Japanese society.47 According to Matsushita, the twentieth century had produced societies in which even the proletariat and those on the bottom could participate in their own nation (sokoku) for the very first time.48 This meant that it was far more difficult to distinguish members of the Japanese nation according to economic considerations of class. In fact, the very “monopoly capital” that Kurahara had targeted as a symbol of the continued colonization of Japan had become for Matsushita the economic means by which the working class came to share in the growing benefits of Japanese high growth. The next step, then, was to stress the post-class nature of Japanese society based upon the idea of “the masses,” and their collective responsibilities toward the nation (sokoku). Indeed, as Andrew Barshay suggests, Matsushita’s concept of “mass” society can indeed be read as basically supporting the tenets of modernization theory.49 In fact, between the late 1950s and late 1960s, the idea of “mass society” would become important to both modernization theory and to representations of the ethnic nation against modernity. One interesting example of how “mass society” ideas crossed ideological frontiers lay in the work of Yoshimoto Taka’aki. In 1964,

156 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism Yoshimoto argued that the Japanese establishment had hindered the development of the kind of “mass nationalism” that society needed to better deal with domestic and international challenges. Yoshimoto also distinguished this new form of nationalism from both “nationalism of intellectuals” and “establishment nationalism.”50 The former distinction between “mass nationalism” and the “nationalism of intellectuals,” in particular, was linked to what he saw as the problem of postwar nationalism to reach down into the actual experiences of the masses. For Yoshimoto, however, the problem of how to create “mass nationalism” could not be solved by ideologies such as Enlightenment thought, pragmatism, or Stalinism.51 In fact, as Lawrence Olsen shows, Yoshimoto maintained that the true experiences and feelings of “the masses” had not “been incorporated in any significant way in the interpretation of modern Japanese history.”52 According to Olsen, Yoshimoto’s romanticization of a long-lost “mass nationalism” marked a response to theories of a syncretic (and “modernist”) approach to culture put forth by figures such as Katô Shûichi. Moreover, Olsen’s partial translation of Yoshimoto’s 1964 article correctly captures the latter’s polarization of “village life, “ and “the masses,” on the one hand, and the “capitalist system,” along with the state, on the other. The idea of any type of “fusion of mass nationalism and the capitalist state as desired by modernist intellectuals,” in short, was for Yoshimoto an ill-conceived suggestion.53 Most of all, Olsen reminds us that Yoshimoto came to believe that this conception of the “masses” required a clear and precise distinction between “the language of the ‘vanguard’” and the “language of the folk.”54 In addition, some have suggested that there has been an eerie similarity between the contemporary Left and Right. According to Miura Yoshikazu, this has involved an interesting symmetry in terms of common repudiations of postwar democracy and the postwar Japanese constitution as being little more than “products of the Occupation.”55 Indeed, this author must also plead guilty to having elsewhere supported the idea that both the contemporary Left and the Right had the same views towards the ethnic nation and postwar history.56 Deeper contemplation over these discourses, however, brings one to the inescapable conclusion that the New Right has been far more involved in ethnic nationalism against the state than has the Left. Part of the problem is that the New Right has framed its critiques of capitalism and postwar democracy not in terms of internationalism, peaceful coexistence, or public debate over the role of the state. Rather, it has made ethnic nationalism the servant of the imperial system and imperial revival. The most recalcitrant critiques of postwar Japan in the name of the ethnic nation have come from the New Right, and its successors. The ascent of this anti-state ethnic nationalism among the contemporary Right can be traced back to the critique of Yoshimoto’s approach by the former Japan Romantic School figure and novelist Hayashi Fusao. Hayashi criticized Yoshimoto as a “Leftist’s Leftist” who rejected the imperial system outright.57 Likewise, he claimed that the postwar era in Japan had emasculated the historical traditions of the imperial house. Even though throughout Japanese history the emperor’s role had been transfigured by different regimes, he remained a distinct presence from Shôtoku Taishi through the Tokugawa Bakufu, and all the way down to the Meiji

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 157 era.58 From this evacuated space of an ethnic nation unsullied by the state and postwar democracy, Hayashi also saw the postwar Occupation as “the overturning in practically one night of customs and lifestyles that had been built upon the history, traditions, and legends of two millennia.”59 In place of the past “neutering” of the ethnic nation by the state and the legacy of the Occupation, then, Hayashi proposed a search for the “origin” of the Japanese minzoku that could illustrate the power of traditions for the present.60 Moreover, he also maintained that World War II was not an act of aggression on Japan’s part (implied in the Occupation’s designation of the “Pacific War”), but that Japan had merely stood up to Western racism (suggested in his referring to the “Greater East Asian War”). The novelist Mishima Yukio developed these themes with still greater passion and fury. Indeed, just as Ishimoda had been the inspiration for the national awakening movement, so Mishima was a tremendous source of inspiration for the cause of “cultural defense.” The anti-state nationalism of Mishima did not, however, support social progress, revolution, or internationalism. Like Hayashi Fusao, Mishima was a novelist obsessed with how to link Japanese history, culture, and the imperial system into an organic whole that, nevertheless, also conveyed the populist spirit of the masses. In particular, his 1968 Bunka Bôeiron (In Defense of Culture) reflected some of the sentiments of both Yoshimoto and Hayashi. Seeking to bring the idea of the Japanese ethnic nation and national culture into a more mass-centered and “anti-ideological” representation, Mishima declared that Japan was in need of a new cultural ethos (bunka rinen). On the one hand, this idea collapsed the distinction between high and low culture and was contrasted with modern ideologies such as democracy, bureaucratic rationality, and Marxism. On the other hand, the new “cultural ethos” was also based upon the mass acceptance of “absolute values,” whose avatar and ultimate referent was none other than the Japanese imperial system. In effect, Mishima stood Maruyama’s critique of prewar “ultranationalism” on its head. He took the very same “absolute values” of the tennôsei, and totalizing notions of culture rooted in ethnic nationalism, and inserted them within the idea of a “mass nationalism” for the sake of reviving the spirit of Japanese culture. Building in part upon Yoshimoto’s earlier distinction between “nationalism of the masses” versus “establishment nationalism,” furthermore, Mishima incorporated both spatial and temporal vectors into his critique of postwar Japanese society. The Japanese minzoku had fallen victim to the “inauthentic” and politicized cultural policies of postwar democracy and bureaucratic rationality.61 The postwar state and Occupation had succeeded, in other words, in demolishing the ethnic national culture of the Japanese people and replacing it with the ideology of “mass humanism” which only pretended to respect culture.62 For Mishima, this had resulted in the dislocating of a people’s oriented ethnic nationalism and “cultural traditions” from true “political unification” with the state. Since the state had rejected the history, culture, and traditions of the ethnic nation in the postwar period, it would, therefore, be up to the ethnic nation to “reclaim” what had been lost.63 This meant that the ethnic nation could no longer countenance the ideals of peace and democracy, nor the kind of internationalism that had given Japan its constitution.

158 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism For Mishima, in order to reconnect Japanese culture to everyday life and to modes of individual and social action, therefore, it would first be necessary to recover the idea of “cultural totality” based upon two intersecting axes: the “linear continuity” (jikanteki renzokusei) of Japanese cultural traditions, aesthetics, and pastimes, as well as the “spatial continuity” (ku¯kanteki renzokusei) inherent in the diversity and plurality of everyday life.64 Culture would thus need to become based upon the masses and mass consciousness, but would also be articulated in terms of an ethnic nation focused upon the authorizing presence of the emperor within Japanese history and the aesthetics of everyday life. The agency of the Japanese minzoku, in other words, could not legitimately be understood apart from the evacuated space and time of the emperor. The modus vivendi, then, had clearly shifted from the “historical constructionism” of a distinctively anti-imperial minzoku of the 1950s Left, to the “evacuation” of space and time for a new logos of cultural authenticity. The New Right was not, however, limited to intellectuals. Indeed, the origins of the New Right lay in student movements and organizations that became active from the mid- to late 1960s. Collectively known as the “minzoku faction,” this new movement sought to “organizationally maximize the minzoku’s rage” at the state for its “policy of supporting Americanism.”65 Indeed, the broad-based nature of the New Right’s growth from the late 1960s represented a response to what was seen as the economic and social costs of postwar consumerism, modernization, standardization, and urbanization. In this respect, the social movements and discourses associated with the New Right provide a very interesting collective example of how cultural arguments for political nationalism represented a response to a perceived loss of cultural and national identity. Clearly, as a result of Mishima’s dramatic suicide in 1971, there was an opportunity for mobilizing the New Right. The loss of Mishima was taken as an important symbol of the very “loss” of cultural and national identity in the postwar era. It served as a focal point through which the New Right were able to mobilize young people, and to emphasize the value of “action” in bringing about social and political change.66 In the aftermath of Mishima, furthermore, the Shinto theorist and public intellectual Ashizu Uzuhiko lent his energies to expanding these very ideas. Arguing that postwar democracy, the constitution, and in particular the Occupation, had stripped the Japanese minzoku clean of their “Shinto consciousness,” Ashizu expressed his affinity and sympathy for Mishima.67 In asserting that the Japanese ethnic nation could only be fathomed through the imperial system, moreover, Ashizu sought to counter the postwar influence of “Western civilization” on Japanese society through “traditional spiritual civilization” against the perverse influence of the West in Japan since the Meiji era. Referring to the postwar constitution as the “Potsdam Constitution,” Ashizu claimed that the Occupation had suppressed and discarded the “historical tradition of political thought” in Japan, and the minzokuteki “spirit of loyalty” that had been a natural part of Japanese life up until 1945.68 In the absence of a new generation of youth who could spiritually resist the trappings of postwar democracy, the mass media, and materialism, Japan had become a land of “sinking ethnic-national masses” (chinpostu seru minzoku taishû).69

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 159 Ashizu did, however, look favorably upon the modern tradition of resistance to the West seen in Japan during the Meiji era. Basically, he argued that the nationalism of the late Tokugawa and early Meiji periods could not be bifurcated into nationalism based upon the people and nationalism based upon the state. Rather, Meiji nationalism was underwritten by the “strong awakening” (tsuyoi jikaku) and “resistance” of the people to the threat posed by the West.70 This spirit could be seen in both the “expel the barbarian” idea and the desire of the people to “revere the emperor.” According to Ashizu, Meiji nationalism had also helped to establish the modern authority of the emperor, awaken the masses to realize the dangers from abroad, and bring about consciousness of the need for a more egalitarian society.71 Ashizu also saw no need to at all distinguish between the Movement for People’s Rights (Minken) and the Movement for State’s Rights (Kokken) during early Meiji. For the former was ultimately an integral part of the latter. Following much of the revisionism toward World War II that could be seen, for instance, in Hayashi’s 1964 lament about the “Greater East Asian War,” Ashizu subscribed to the notion that Meiji nationalism had a universal significance, much as did the French and Bolshevik Revolutions. In particular, Ashizu held that the Meiji Restoration had proven to the West that Asian peoples could create their own modern states and thus did not have to remain “slaves” to colonization or economic exploitation.72 As the symbol of a new “Asian nationalism” and the “destruction of European prejudices,” then, the Meiji emperor became the “hero” of “colored peoples” such as Filipinos, Koreans, Chinese, Vietnamese, Burmese, and Indians.73 The Meiji period also illustrated for Ashizu the importance of grounding ethnic nationalism within the imperial system. For the nationalism of Meiji had succeeded in restoring the emperor to political power, and in bringing about the popular transformation (i.e., the strengthening of already present tendencies in the ethnic nation toward the emperor from premodern times) of consciousness of the emperor. It was literally this spirit of resistance to the West, therefore, that changed world history and Asia in the same vivid moment. Behind these arguments lay Ashizu’s conviction that both the United States and the Soviet Union had, by 1972, entered into their own respective and profound spiritual crises.74 Both were ethnically and racially mixed societies, and therefore detested the idea that the ethnic nation or ethnic national culture could serve as a principle of political organization.75 While Marxism and modern democracy had both looked down upon Asia since the nineteenth century, the early twentieth century saw new prototypes for continuing its colonization.76 These included the Treaty of Versailles and postwar American democracy.77 There was, also, no distinction made by Ashizu between postwar American democracy and the ideal of democratic government, per se. Democracy in the twentieth century was synonymous with American power and influence. In addition, Ashizu also lashed out at the notion that modern democracy could solve problems associated with late-development, post-colonial nations, and the threat that “American monopoly capital” posed to Asia and the Third World.78 Even though capitalism was part of the problem, what Ashizu saw as the racist policies of hegemons like the United States, along with continued discrimination inside the

160 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism latter’s own borders, indicated that modern democracy was an ideology that had gone bankrupt. Ashizu contended that to successfully overcome these problems facing modern Japan it would be necessary to once again make the emperor the protector of Japanese tradition and culture. Thus, he saw the death of the Shôwa Emperor in late 1988 as an opportunity for a new “revival” period based upon the ethnic nation’s “tradition of imperial culture” (Kôshitsu bunka dentô).79 In a manner of speaking, Ashizu saw the death of Emperor Shôwa as the final chapter in the history of World War II. This meant, moreover, that a new chance had arisen for what he had two decades earlier referred to as “consciousness of Japanese principles” that had during Meiji been the basis for its justified “anguish” over the problem of “Asian liberation” from the West.80 Contemporaries of Ashizu such as Kaetsu Yasuto and Tanaka Tadao brought this debate into the realm of Japanese education. In particular, Kaetsu argued for a new form of “national education” (minzoku kyôiku) that could restore ethnic national consciousness, taking aim at the “denial of Japanese history” (nihon rekishi hitei) and “ethnic national spirit” since the Occupation.81 Postwar “historical education” and the postwar constitution have, according to Kaetsu, not only supported policies that “weakened” Japan,82 but also emasculated Japan’s “ethnic national sprit” (minzoku seishin).83 For Tanaka, likewise, postwar “humanism,” “modernization” and “progress” have been the cause of widespread aesthetic devastation through urbanization, and physical devastation through weapons of mass destruction. According to Tanaka, this devastation has been a part of both American and Soviet forms of “modernity.”84 Believing that all the ailments plaguing postwar Japan were the result of its being caught within the throes of the Cold War, Kageyama Masaharu, in a similar vein, argued that there had been no “third way” of “indigenous” or “autonomous” development in the postwar period.85 Like Tanaka, Kageyama was not satisfied, however, to locate Japanese democracy only within American ideology and hegemony. Rather, he saw both Soviet communism and American capitalism as the confluent products of one single stream of “Western democracy.” Moreover, for Kageyama, the Occupation had “institutionalized” this very ethos of “modern Western civilization” in postwar “democratic education.”86 In particular, Kageyama asserted that the legal and institutional foundations for postwar education in Japan had utterly rejected the social place of “myth.” Indeed, he continued, this was the area in which the Occupation had devoted most of its attention vis-à-vis educational reform. For in Japan myth had always served as the wellspring of history and the source of the Japanese “ethnic national spirit.”87 Democratic education, conversely, had taken away the epistemological foundation through which the people could reclaim an essence that had been lost. Instead of a system that rears young people to become weak individuals with no “nationality,” postwar education would therefore need to “awaken the essence of the Japanese ethnic nation” in each Japanese individual, he concluded.88 In Kageyama, furthermore, it is possible to locate several themes and approaches that have become important to contemporary Japanese neo-nationalism. Although

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 161 he appealed for a new state and society in Japan that recognized the legitimacy of the emperor, Kageyama also tried to an extent to dissociate the idea of history from the imperial system. That is, he framed the issue of myth’s central place in Japanese history in terms of the immutable essence of the ethnic nation. Thus, myth was not only the domain of Shintoism, but of the ethnic nation as well. Likewise, history would not merely revolve around the imperial system and the latter’s relation to the people. Of course, Kageyama clearly wanted a strong nation-state in Japan, one that could be founded upon the true “national spirit” that united the people with the emperor.89 Yet, he softened his advocacy of a strong state and emperor-system with ideas of the nation that touched upon more progressive themes. Arguing that it represented a true “nativist” form of national consciousness, he praised Yoshimoto Taka’aki’s earlier notion of “mass nationalism” as distinct from both Soviet communism and American liberalism. For Kageyama, Yoshimoto’s approach had been one of “realism.” At the same time, however, he saw in figures such as Takeuchi Yoshimi something that Yoshimoto had lacked: a clear recognition that Japanese nationalism was inseparable from Asian nationalism (Ajiashugi).90 In any event, it should be clear by now there are some noteworthy common threads between the national awakening discourses of the 1950s, and this subsequent discourse of the New Right. First, the ethnic nation is taken as a racial entity and, in the guise of culture, instrumentalized as a form of opposition politics. Secondly, the fact that monopoly capital and American imperialism have been assailed by both Left and Right suggests that this critique was not rooted in neo-Marxism alone. To the contrary, cultural essentialism toward the West, as well as civilizational essentialism toward Asia, lay behind the political protestations against the state, capitalism, postwar democracy, bureaucratic authority, and political institutions. Likewise, the Right also took up the very same issues of educational reform (minzoku kyôiku) in the name of the same kind of “ethnic national spirit” that had occupied much of the national awakening movement during the 1950s.91 Naturally, this general comparison of national awakening to subsequent arguments among some voices on the New Right does not prove any kind of causality (if such a thing can at all be proven). Yet, it does illustrate the important point that the political instrumentalization of ethnic nationalism did move from its initial place among the early postwar Left, in the direction of the contemporary New Right. Moreover, it is also possible to surmise that without the national awakening movement in Marxist history during the 1950s, the intellectual backbone to the New Right would have had far less discursive precedent upon which to draw. In effect, the New Right and its contemporaries staked their claims within older versions of ethnic nationalism. This leaves two concluding, yet highly relevant, points in conjunction with neo-nationalism in Japan since the mid-1980s: (1) the subtle re-emergence of ethnic nationalism against the state on the Left, and (2) the growth of “national history” critiques of postwar democracy from the Right. Matsumoto Ken’ichi, who remains active as a public intellectual in Japan to this very day, has taken exception to the approaches of Kageyama Masaharu and Mishima Yukio. Matsumoto’s objection, however, rests not with their political

162 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism usage of ethnic nationalism against the postwar state, nor with their cultural essentialism toward the West and civilizational essentialism toward Asia. Instead, Matsumoto parts company with Kageyama and Mishima for claiming that it is impossible to have ethnic “nationality” without the tennôsei.92 For instance, Matsumoto and Kan Takayuki maintain that the idea of “nationality,” as opposed to “nationalism” per se, does not depend upon imperial legitimacy since the true “ethnic national ethos” of the Japanese exists independently of the emperor. The true “nationality” of the Japanese belongs instead to the “physical traits, language, popular customs,” and overall “values” of the ethnic nation.93 In this vein, Matsumoto also seems to agree with Yoshimoto’s much earlier notion of “mass nationalism” that seeks to represent and express the idea of “nationality” at the level of the “masses.”94 By this, Matsumoto refers to Yoshimoto’s recognition that nationalism has all too often been controlled by intellectuals and the establishment. In contradistinction, Yoshimoto was aware of the importance of sticking to the “principle of minzokuteki nationality”95 in trying to reconceptualize national consciousness from the bottom up. For Matsumoto, therefore, the idea of nationality is not seen primarily in terms of political or legal conventions linked to the state, what ordinarily counts as citizenship (kokuseki). The true locus of the nation for Matsumoto lies neither in the Japanese state nor in the imagined sovereignty of the emperor. Rather, it resides within the cultural authenticity of the minzoku itself. Matsumoto’s enthusiasm for anti-state and anti-imperial forms of the ethnic nation, often rooted in agrarian values, can be seen in his deep interest over the postwar work of Takeuchi Yoshimi. Indeed, Takeuchi’s approach continued to influence ethnic nationalism on the Left and Right long after Marxist history had simmered its appeals to national awakening. In taking up Takeuchi’s views on modernism and the nation, for example, Matsumoto indirectly expresses his admiration for the eventual “rejection of postwar democracy” as bourgeois “modernism” in a manner similar to that of the prewar Japanese Romantic School.96 Matsumoto also quotes Takeuchi’s Vietnam era work quite favorably, in particular the latter’s call for a “Methodology of Asia” (Hôhô to shite no Ajia) to “culturally roll back,” through the broad and deep sprit of Asian “resistance,” the influence of the Occupation, modernism, and Soviet interventionism.97 In this same spirit, Matsumoto also explores the modern “logic of Gemeinschaft” in Japan and Asia, holding “modernists” like Maruyama Masao responsible for what he sees as the unsuccessful attempt in the postwar period to break the back of the Japanese community ethos through capitalism, centralization, and Westernization. For Matsumoto, as for the New Right, the “modernization” of the postwar represented merely the perverse fiction of “postwar democratic revolution.”98 Indeed, for Matsumoto, Takeuchi, the national awakening movement, and certain voices on the New Right, the major weapon in the “Asian” arsenal against the culturally cancerous influence of the West has been this very spirit of Asian resistance. Even though Takeuchi originally lamented over the failure of Meiji Japan to retain and develop such a spirit, virtually all of the minds covered in this book have seen its “restoration” as the central pillar to postwar nationalism and

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 163 internationalism. In fact, Matsumoto has recently devoted much of his attention to the “spiritual history of modern Asia” and the continuation of Takeuchi’s contrast between Japanese and Asian forms of “resistance” during the nineteenth century.99 Where Takeuchi had taken China as the paragon of Asian resistance, however, Matsumoto takes colonial India under the British Empire as the inspiration for panAsianism during the Meiji period. In particular, he cites the ideas of Ôkawa Shûmei as an example of “pan-Asianism” based not upon Japanese ethnic nationalism, but rather upon the true spirit of ethnic nationalism rooted in “Asian fundamentalism,” “moral principles,” and “Asian revival.”100 Although Matsumoto does criticize many of the wartime attempts to “unite” Asia under Japanese militarism, he also expresses a buoyant optimism regarding the ability of Asia to unite behind a revitalized spirit of collective “resistance” in the future. Perhaps the most notable trend in Japanese neo-nationalism during the past decade, however, has occurred on the Right, in the form of historical revisionism toward the way history has dealt with the issue of “the people” in the postwar period. This has been pointed out in a number of recent articles and books, in both English and Japanese, which have taken up the ideas of the Liberal School of History.101 Yet, what is not often mentioned is that these approaches are not as revisionist as they might first appear. In this regard, several important points need to be noted so that some of the most recent and disturbing neo-nationalism in Japan can be put into the broader context of postwar Japanese nationalism and neo-nationalism. Firstly, leaders of the Liberal School of History, such as Fujioka Nobukatsu and Nishibe Susumu, were involved in many of the Marxist struggles for national awakening during the 1950s and were indeed Marxists during this period. Secondly, after the project of national awakening and the Movement for a People’s History declined, many such ideas were picked up and carried for several decades on the Right. Thirdly, these arguments have reached a new level of social acceptance during the late 1990s, however, as the strategy and views of the Liberal School have penetrated into local school boards and movements for new textbooks around Japan. Fourthly, the modern tradition of anti-state nationalism in Japan has shown us that neonationalism need not necessarily come from within the “iron triangle” of political and economic power. Indeed, the critique of the postwar system in Japan has also come from the perspective of the ethnic nation as a counterbalance to political institutions, economic interests, and bureaucratic domains. Regarding the first of these points, it should be noted that others have also suggested there to be a parallel between the national awakening paradigm of the 1950s and the Liberal School of History. For example, Rikki Kersten has brought up the fact that one of the founders of the School, Fujioka Nobukatsu, “reverently followed the writings of Marxist historian Tôyama Shigeki, and constructed his understanding of Japanese history” based upon Tôyama’s treatment of the Meiji Restoration.102 Naturally, Fujioka does today see himself as having “radically changed” his “intellectual outlook” away from communism and socialism.103 Nevertheless, as Kawamoto Takashi surmises, there are indeed interesting comparisons to be made between Fujioka and the Liberal School of History, on the one hand, and Takeuchi Yoshimi, Uehara Senroku, as well as Eguchi Bokurô, on the

164 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism other hand. For example, Uehara’s lament over Japan’s loss in World War II, and the subsequent emphasis by the Occupation upon “humanism and democracy,” to the severe detriment of “ethnic national consciousness,” as Kawamoto argues, does also permeate the psyche of the Liberal School of History today.104 Kawamoto even goes so far as to blame the rise of the Liberal School upon the failure of 1950s national awakening advocates to reflect upon the reasons for the failure of their movement: an overemphasis upon nationalism without enough consciousness of internationalism. Of course, this view does overlook the fact that the project of national awakening did support a form of internationalism that reflected what was seen as a balance between minzokushugi and kokusaishugi. It does, however, correctly suggest that the internationalism of the Liberal School is far less idealistic, well intentioned, or peaceful, than that of its predecessors. With respect to what thematically unites national awakening, the New Right, and the Liberal School, there is much to be said. Historically, each has taken the postwar period as something rather anomalous to the long tradition of national culture and consciousness unsullied by the influence of America and “Western civilization.” Politically, each has sought to “recover” and evacuate an ethnic nation capable of realizing reform. Socially, these reforms have included the restructuring of national education (minzoku kyôiku), the overturning of modernism, capitalism, postwar democratic advances, and the view that the war was not primarily waged for the “liberation” of Asia from Western imperialism. They have also all shared the conviction that Japanese culture can, in one way or another, be recovered in terms of racial and ethnic attributes whose “character” drives and determines the sphere of politics. As such, the political and social agendas attached to these postwar discourses, though quite ideological, have rejected the idea that politics or ideology can have any significant input into how we view history and act accordingly. For all intents and purposes, then, these approaches have charged (albeit in often elliptical and tacit ways) their own issues to be beyond the realm of either ideology or politics, and to be instead matters which speak to the historical and cultural obligations of the Japanese minzoku. Looked at in terms of present trends within neo-nationalism in Japan to affect mass social and political change, this sense of a history that is “pre-political” and “pre-ideological” can indeed come off as something very persuasive. In fact, it has summoned up themes that have resonated throughout the postwar period. For instance, the Liberal School of History has sought to focus upon how the historical innocence of the Japanese people must be established before contemporary questions of politics and ideology are considered. Thus, Fujioka is able to claim that the approach of the Liberal School represents “healthy nationalism,” “strategic realism,” and “non-ideology.”105 Nishio Kanji, furthermore, has sought to disseminate this view of history through the “Association for the Making of New Historical Textbooks” (Atarashii Rekishi Kyôkasho O Tsukurikai), which has been trying to introduce new primary and secondary school textbooks into the classroom. Such developments are also disturbing since many of the views expressed by the Liberal School have found their way into local schoolboards, public opinion and even the mass media. Ironically, the inspiration for this project was Nishio’s 1999 Kokumin

“National awakening” and postwar nationalism 165 no Rekishi, whose very title takes us back to the Kokuminteki Rekishigaku Undô of the 1950s.106 While the rightist strain of ethnic nationalism against the state since Hayashi Fusao does show that neo-nationalism need not be confined to the “iron triangle” (LDP-big business-bureaucracy), it is the Liberal School of History and a new wave of public intellectuals who are at the center of the current debate. Their influence and legitimacy, even within parts of the establishment, at the moment seems on the verge of becoming more considerable than either the national awakening project or the New Right. Their growing influence is, without a doubt, partially the result of wrenching economic and social difficulties within Japan today, as well as troubling problems in the new leviathans of globalization and postmodern capitalism. Yet, it is also likely that the Liberal School, along with influential public intellectuals (some of whom studied under its founders), have been somewhat successful precisely because they have avoided direct appeals to either ethnic nationalism or emperorrevivalism. This strategic hint of moderation has given their cultural and civilizational essentialism a far more presentable appearance. Indeed, like the project of national awakening, the Liberal School has often focused upon articulating its historical themes within “scientific” discourse.107 In spite of its veneer of respectability, as Iwai Tadakuma points out, the subtle appeal to the Japanese ethnic nation in Kokumin no Rekishi is far less scientific than it is “emperor-centric.”108 Nevertheless, their appeal to “scientific history” does indicate that neo-nationalism in Japan has sought to remedy the problems of anti-statism on the one hand, and public suspicion over the strengthening of the imperial system, on the other. For even though the New Right did criticize the Left’s earlier handling of the minzoku no mondai for its separation of nation and state,109 it is also true that they were themselves unable to conceptualize a nation-state that could win the hearts and minds of the public. Learning from the mistakes of the New Right, some public intellectuals are seeking to establish a seemingly “rational” form of neo-nationalism for the twentyfirst century in narratives co-axial to the Liberal School of History. For example, pragmatists such as Saeki Keishi (a former pupil of both Nishibe Susumu and Murakami Yasusuke) have asserted their belief that postwar education and postwar democracy have negated the true spirit (civic and otherwise) of the Japanese nation. Without making explicit reference to either ethnic nationalism or emperor-centrism, Saeki seeks to expose “the ills of postwar democracy” in Japan by examining how intellectuals such as Maruyama Masao imbibed “Western civilization” to the detriment of the true “sprit of the Japanese people.”110 In place of imperial prerogative, Saeki proposes a transformation in mass consciousness in the direction of a secular/moral obligation toward the state, along with the recognition of common “values” that forever unite Japan with Asia.111 Quite alarmingly, Saeki and others have rearticulated the metaphysics of pan-Asianism by stringing together Meiji figures such as Okakura Tenshin with Asian anti-colonial nationalism of the 1950s and post-Cold War international politics.112 While the limits of this “revisionist” critique are uncertain, it does tell us that, just as in the 1950s, Japanese nationalism is now staking its claim to legitimacy within versions of the past that seek to germinate far greater political missions and social ideologies.

Notes

1 National imagery and international Marxism 1 Tôyama Shigeki, Sengo no Rekishigaku to Rekishi Ishiki, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1968, pp. 90–6. 2 See Masao Maruyama, “Nationalism in Japan: Its Theoretical Background and Prospects,” in Masao Maruyama, Thought and Behavior in Modern Japanese Politics, London: Oxford University Press, 1963, pp. 135–56. 3 For a general overview of the development of the Society itself, see Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Sengo Rekishigaku to Rekishi no Ayumi, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1993. Hereafter, I refer to the group using the English translation offered by its members during the early postwar, viz., the “Historical Science Society.” 4 Ishimoda Shô, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1953. 5 Joseph Stalin, “The Nation,” John Hutchinson and Anthony Smith (eds), Nationalism, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1994, p. 20 (originally published in 1913). 6 Joseph Stalin, Marxism and the National and Colonial Question, Moscow: Foreign Languages Publishing House, 1940, p. 82. 7 That is, the history of a subjugated class or social group. Although used in much postcolonial theory, the term originally goes back to Antonio Gramsci. See Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the prison notebooks of Antonio Gramsci, edited by Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell-Smith, New York: International Publisher, 1999. 8 This kind of metaphysical essentialism of the prewar has also been framed in terms of a “cultural organicism” rooted in “national aesthetics.” See Leslie Pincus, Authenticating Culture in Imperial Japan: Kuki Shuzô and the Rise of National Aesthetics, Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1996. 9 Ephraim Nimni, Marxism and Nationalism: Theoretical Origins of a Political Crisis, London and Boulder: Pluto Press, 1991, p. 194. 10 Gayatri Spivak, “Criticism, Feminism and the Institution; Interview with Elizabeth Gross,” Thesis Eleven 10/11 (November/March, 1984–5) pp. 175–87. 11 Ien Ang, “The Differential Politics of Chineseness,” Southeast Asian Journal of Social Science, vol. 22 (1994) pp. 73–5. 12 Harry Harootunian, History’s Disquiet: Modernity, Cultural Practice, and the Question of Everyday Life, New York: Columbia University Press, 2000, p. 50. 13 See for example his “Ethnic Nationalism and Romanticism in Early Twentieth-Century Japan,” Journal of Japanese Studies, vol. 22, no. 1 (1996) pp. 77–103. In applying this idea of “anti-state nationalism” to twentieth-century Japan, Doak cites John Breuilly’s Nationalism and the State, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1982, for precedents from modern nationalism theory. 14 Stefan Berger, Mark Donovan and Kevin Passmore, Writing National Histories: Western Europe Since 1800, London and New York: Routledge, 1999. See Preface.

Notes 167 15 This latter term refers basically to international cooperation based upon principles of pacifism, against the nation-state, and in support of worldwide revolution. For an overview of different forms of internationalism, see Fred Halliday, “Three Concepts of Internationalism,” International Affairs, vol. 64, no. 2 (Spring 1988), pp. 187–98. 16 Walker Connor, Ethnonationalism, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994, pp. 41–2. 17 Ôguma Eiji “Wasurerareta Minzoku Mondai: Sengo Nihon no ‘Kakushin Nashonarizumu,’” Sôkan Shakai Kagaku, no. 5 (1995), p. 32. 18 Ibid., p. 32. 19 Uehara Senroku, “Minzoku Ishiki no Rekishiteki Keitai,” in Ishimoda Shô (ed.), Minzoku no Mondai, vol.15: Rekishi Kagakutaikei (1976) Tokyo: Kokura Shobô, p. 219. 20 Uehara Senroku, Uehara Senroku Chosakushû, vol. 12, Tokyo: Hyôronsha, 1987, p. 251. 21 An interesting account of just such a “radical politics” can be found in Anna Marie Smith, Laclau and Mouffe: The Radical Democratic Imaginary, London and New York: Routledge, 1998. 22 Kôsaku Yoshino, “Rethinking Theories of Nationalism,” in Kôsaku Yoshino (ed.), Consuming Ethnicity and Nationalism: Asian Experiences, Richmond: Curzon Press, 1999, p. 25. 23 An example of this approach can be found in David E. Apter and Nagayo Sawa, Against the State: Politics and Social Protest in Japan, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1984. 24 For instance, see Ivan Morris, Nationalism and the Right Wing in Japan: A Study of Post-War Trends, London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1960. 25 I have Kevin Doak to thank for pointing out to me this important basso ostinatto within modern Japanese nationalism. 26 Kenneth B. Pyle, “Introduction: Some Recent Approaches to Japanese Nationalism,” Journal of Asian Studies, vol. 31, no. 1 (November 1971), p.5. 27 Ôguma Eiji, Nihonjin no Kyôkai, Tokyo: Shinchosha, 1998, pp. 523–34. 28 Kawamoto Takashi, “Minzoku, Rekishi, Aikoku,” in Komori Yoichi and Takahashi Tetsuya (eds.), Nashonaru Hisutori O Koete, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1998, p. 163. 29 See Amino Yoshihiko and Miyata Noboru, “Sengo Nihon Shigaku to Minzokugaku no Aida de,” Daikokai, no.25, (December 1998), p. 93. 30 Ugai Masashi, “Tôyama Shigekishi no Meiji Ishinshi Kenkyû to Sekai Ninshiki,” Rekishi Hyôron, no. 563 (March 1997), p. 75. 31 Nakabayashi Takayuki, “Ishimoda Shô no Sekai Ninshiki,” Rekishi Hyôron, no. 563 (March 1997), pp. 44–6. 32 Ozawa Hirotaka “Eguchi Shigaku ni okeru Minzoku,” Rekishi Hyôron, no. 563 (March 1997), pp. 68–71. 33 For example, Kevin Doak, “What Is a Nation and Who Belongs?,” The American Historical Review, vol. 102, no. 2 (April 1997), especially pp. 299–309. 34 The idea of “base” and “superstructure” in classical historical materialism is summarized in Charlie McMahon, “Marxism and Culture,” in Andrew Gamble, David Marsh, and Tony Tant (eds.), Marxism and Social Science, Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1999, pp. 196–8. 35 Michael Forman, Nationalism and the International Labor Movement: The Idea of the Nation in Socialist and Anarchist Theory, University Park, Penn.: The Pennsylvania State University Press, 1998, p. 164. 36 See for example Althusser, Louis and E. Balibar, Reading Capital, London: New Left Books, 1970. See also Alex Callinicos, Making History: Agency, Structure and Change in Social Theory, Ithica, New York: Cornell University Press, 1988, p. 3. 37 Harvey J. Kaye, “Why do Ruling Classes Fear History” and Other Questions, New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1996, p. 201.

168 Notes 38 Bill Schwarz, “The Communist Party Historians’ Group, 1946–1956,” in Richard Johnson et al. (eds.), Making Histories: Studies in History-Writing and Politics, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1982, p. 95. 39 John E. Grumley, History and Totality: Radical Historicism from Hegel to Foucault, London and New York: Routledge, 1989, pp. 146–7. 40 Georg G. Iggers, Historiography in the Twentieth Century: From Scientific Objectivity to the Postmodern Challenge, Hanover and London: Wesleyan University Press, 1997, p. 88. 41 Christopher Norris, “Postmodernizing History” in Keith Jenkins (ed.), The Postmodern History Reader, London and New York: Routledge, 1997, p. 102. 42 Perry Anderson, Arguments Within English Marxism, London: Verso, 1980, p. 20. 43 For a description of the Asiatic Mode of Production idea, see Nicolas Abercrombie, Stephen Hill and Bryan S. Turner, The Penguin Dictionary of Sociology, London: Penguin Books, 1988, pp. 13–14. 44 Germaine A. Hoston, The State, Identity, and the National Question in China and Japan, Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1994, p. 323. 45 Ishimoda, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, pp. 21–2. 46 Ibid., pp. 26–7. 47 Ibid., p. 26. 48 Ibid., p. 22. 49 Ibid., pp. 28, 32, and 49. 50 Edward Q. Wang, “Between Marxism and Nationalism: Chinese Historiography and the Soviet Influence, 1949–1963,” Journal of Contemporary China, no. 23 (March 2000), p. 95. 51 For a summary of this basic position in general terms, see Jenkins, The Postmodern History Reader, p. 78. 52 Ishimoda, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, pp. 206–7. 53 Ibid. 54 Ibid. 2 Marxist history and the ethnic nation during the 1930s 1 Tomiyama Ichirô, Senso no Kioku, Tokyo: Nihon Keizai Hyôronsha, 1995, pp. 108 and 112. 2 Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Sengo Rekishigaku to Rekiken no Ayumi: Sôritsu 60 Shûnen Kinen, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1993, pp. 1–2. 3 Eguchi Bokurô, Rekishigaku to Markusushugi, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1972, p. 190–1. 4 See John S. Brownlee, Japanese Historians and the National Myths, 1600–1945: The Age of the Gods and Emperor Jinmu, Vancouver: UBC Press, 1997, Chapter 11. 5 Ibid., p. 23. 6 Ibid., p. 230. 7 Germain A. Hoston, The State, Identity, and the National Question in China and Japan, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1994, pp. 266–7. 8 Ibid., p. 270. 9 Robert A. Scalapino, The Japan Communist Movement, 1920–1966, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1967, p. 33. 10 See also Nihon Kyosantô, Nihon Kyosantô no Rokujûnen, Tokyo: Nihon Kyosantô Chûô Iinkai Shuppankyoku, 1982, pp. 60–4. 11 See Kevin M. Doak “What Is a Nation and Who Belongs?”American Historical Review, vol. 102, no. 2 (1997), p. 291. 12 Michael Forman, Nationalism and the International Labor Movement: The Idea of the Nation in Socialist and Anarchist Theory, University Park: the Pennsylvania State University Press, 1998, p. 98. 13 Ibid., pp. 100–1.

Notes 169 14 Watsuji Tetsurô, Fûdo: Ningengakuteki Kôsatsu, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1935. 15 Forman, Nationalism and the International Labor Movement, p. 107. 16 See Matsubara Hiroshi, “Minzoku no Kiso Gainen ni oite,” in Bandô Hiroshi (ed.), Minzoku no Mondai, vol. 15: Rekishi Kagaku Taikei, Tokyo: Kokura Shobô, 1976, pp. 7–14 and Matsubara Hiroshi, Yuibutsuron Tsûshi, Tokyo: Mikasa Shobô, 1936. 17 See Bruce Franklin (ed.), The Essential Stalin: Major Theoretical Writings, 1905–52, Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc. 1972, pp. 54–84. 18 For an overview of the work of Dutt, see John Callaghan, Rajani Palme Dutt: A Study in British Stalinism, London: Lawrence & Wishart, 1993. 19 Matsubara, “Minzoku no Kiso Gainen ni Oite,” p. 9 20 Ibid., pp. 9–10. 21 Ibid., p. 12. 22 Ibid., p. 315. 23 See Antonio Gramsci, Selections from the prison notebooks of Antonio Gramsci, edited by Quintin Hoare and Geoffrey Nowell-Smith, New York: International Publisher, 1999 24 Matsubara, “Minzoku no Kiso Gainen ni oite,” p. 18. 25 Ibid., pp. 21 and 32. 26 Stalin, “Marxism and the National Question,” p. 57. 27 Hayakawa Jirô, “Nihon Minzoku no Keisei Katei,” in Minzoku no Mondai, p. 16. 28 Ibid., pp. 35 and 49. 29 Ibid., p. 66. 30 Kikanshi Henshubu, “Minzoku naru Gainen ni Tsuite,” Yuibutsuron Kenkyû, no. 47, (September 1936), p. 45. For purposes of brevity, two articles within this debate have been omitted: Hayakawa Jirô’s “Kokumin to Minzoku” (pp. 47–50) and Mori Koichi’s “Minzoku to Kokumin oyobi Nation” (pp. 52–3). 31 Tosaka Jun, “Minzoku to Kokumin,” Yuibutsuron Kenkyû, no. 49, (November 1936), p. 34. 32 Izu Kimio, “Kokumin Ongaku to Minzoku Ongaku,” in ibid., p. 36. 33 See Hirokawa Ko, “Minzoku ni Oite,” in ibid., p. 38. 34 Ibid. 35 Utsumi Takashi, “Minzoku naru Gainen ni tsuite,” in ibid., pp. 41–2. 36 Ibid., pp. 42–3. 37 Ibid., pp. 44–5. 38 Ibid., p. 46. 39 Forman, Nationalism and the International Labor Movement, p. 122. 40 Bandô Hiroshi, “Rekishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai ni tsuite,” in Minzoku no Mondai, p. 292. 41 See for example Komagome Takeshi, Shokuminchi Teikoku Nihon no Bunka Tôgô, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1996, pp. 357–9. 42 Ôguma Eiji, Tanitsu Minozku Shina no Kigen, Tokyo: Shinchosha, 1995, pp. 153–9. 43 Tessa Morris Suzuki, Reinventing Japan: Time, Space, Nation, Armonk, NY: M. E. Sharpe, 1998, p. 92. 44 Ibid., p. 95. 45 Ibid., pp. 28, 32, and 49. 46 Tsurumi Shunsuke, An Intellectual History of Wartime Japan, 1931–1945, London: Kegan Paul International, 1986, pp. 12–13. See also Shisô no Kagaku Kenkyukai (ed.), Kyôdô Kenkyû, vol. 3: Tenkô, Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1959. According to Sandra Wilson, “the ramifications of the Manchurian Incident had helped provoke a mortal crisis” in the JCP. See Sandra Wilson, The Manchurian Crisis and Japanese Society, 1931–33, London and New York: Routledge, 2002, p. 105. 47 Nihon Kyosantô, Nihon Kyosantô no Rokujûnen, Tokyo: Nihon Kyosantô Chûô Iinkai Shuppankyoku, 1982, pp. 75–6. 48 Germaine A. Hoston, “Ikkoku Shakai-shugi: Sano Manabu and the Limits of Marxism as Cultural Criticism,” in Thomas J. Rimer (ed.), Culture and Identity: Japanese

170 Notes

49 50 51 52

Intellectuals During the Interwar Years, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1990, p. 168. Ibid., p. 169. Quoted in George M. Backmann and Okubo Genji, The Japanese Communist Party, 1922–1945, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1969, p. 246. Ibid., p. 247. Ibid., pp. 180–4.

3 Rebuilding Marxist history and rethinking the nation, 1945–1948 1 Bandô Hiroshi, “Rekishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai ni tsuite,” in Bandô Hiroshi (ed.), Minzoku no Mondai, vol. 15: Rekishi Kagaku Taikei, Tokyo: Kokura Shobô, 1976, p. 292. 2 Doi Takao, “Nihonshi Saiken no Gutaiteki Hôshin,” Sekai, no. 4 (April 1946), pp. 56 and 59. 3 See Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai, Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 122 (June 1946), p. 47. 4 Doi, “Nihonshi Saiken no Gutaiteki Hôshin,” p. 59. 5 See J. Victor Koschmann, “Intellectuals and Politics,” in Andrew Gordon (ed.), Postwar Japan as History, Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1993, p. 397. 6 Ibid., pp. 396–7. Here Koschmann cites Maruyama Masao’s well-known essay on modern Japanese intellectuals. See Maruyama Masao, “Kindai Nihon no Chishikijin,” in Maruyama Masao, Kôei no Ichi kara, Tokyo: Miraisha, 1982, pp. 72–133. 7 Nihon Kyosantô, Nihon Kyosantô no Rokujûnen, Tokyo: Nihon Kyosantô Chûô Iinkai Shuppankyoku, 1982, p. 106. 8 Naohara Hirotaka, “Sengo Bunka Undô no Saikentô,” in Ikumi Takuichi (ed.), Koza Gendai no Ideorogi, vol. 6, Tokyo: San’ichi Shobô, 1962, p. 142. 9 Nosaka Sanzô, Nihon Minshuka no tame ni, Tokyo: Jinminsha, 1948, pp. 76, 81, and 83. 10 Ibid., pp. 96 and 102. 11 Robert A. Scalapino, The Japan Communist Movement, 1920–1966, Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1967, p. 54. 12 Ibid., pp. 123–4. 13 Junnosuke Masumi, Postwar Politics in Japan, 1945–1951, Japan Research Monograph 6, Berkeley: Center for Japanese Studies, Institute of East Asian Studies, University of California: 1985, pp. 88–9. Quoted in John Dower, Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II, New York: W.W. Norton & Company, Inc. 1999, p. 69. 14 The particulars of the early postwar Kôza faction’s position on peaceful revolution can be found in Kojima Tsunehisa, Nihon Shihonshugi Ronsôshi, Tokyo: Ariesu Shobô, 1976, pp. 48–51. 15 See Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai, Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 122 (June 1946), p. 47. 16 Okamoto Shô, “Mao Tokuto no ‘Shin Minshushugiron’” Zen’ei, vol. 1, no. 5 (May 1946), pp. 28–9. 17 Hirasawa Saburô, “Bunka Seisaku no Shomondai ni yosete,” Zen’ei, vol. 1, no. 2 (March 1946), p. 10. 18 Miyamaoto Shoji, “Bunka Seisaku ni tsuite,” Zen’ei, vol. 1, no. 4 (April 1946), pp. 35 and 37. 19 Yun Kon-cha, “Sengo Rekishigaku no Ajiakan,” Iwanami Kôza (ed.), Nihontsûshi: Rekishi Ishiki no Genzai, Supplementary vol. 1, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1995, pp. 253–4. 20 Nihon Kyosantô, Nihon Kyosantô no Rokujûnen, Tokyo: Nihon Kyosantô Chûô Iinkai Shuppankyoku, 1982, p. 103. 21 Ibid., p. 101. See also Nihon Kyosantô, “Wagatô no Kokusai Seisaku,” Zen’ei, vol. 1, no. 4 (April 1946), p. 157. 22 Nihon Kyosantô no Rokujûnen, pp. 101–3, and 106. 23 “Wagatô no Kokusai Seisaku,” p. 152.

Notes 171 24 Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai, “Shinpoteki Rekishikan no Danketsu O Nozomu,” Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 122 (June 1946), p. 34. 25 Ibid. 26 Inoue Kiyoshi, “Tennôsei no Rekishi,” in Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Rekishi wa Tennôsei O do Miru ka?, Tokyo: San’ichi Shobô, 1947, p. 1. 27 Ibid., p. 3. 28 Ibid., p. 29. 29 Doi Takao, “Nihonshi Saiken no Gutaiteki Hôshin,” Sekai, no. 4 (April 1946), pp. 60–1. 30 Ibid., p. 71. 31 Ibid., pp. 105–7 and 112. 32 Hani Gorô, “Nihon Rekishi no Tokushusei,” in Rekishi Kagaku Kyôgikai (ed.), Tennôsei no Rekishi, vol. 17: Rekishigaku Taikei, Tokyo: Kokura Shobô, 1986, pp. 81–92. 33 Tôyama Shigeki, Sengo no Rekishigaku to Rekishi Ishiki, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1968, pp. 29–30. 34 Ibid. 35 Izu Kimio, “Tennôshugi no Kaikyuteki Kiso,” in Tennôsei no Rekishi, p. 116. 36 Ibid., p. 117. 37 Ibid., pp. 119 and 121. 38 Ishimoda Shô, “Seijishi no Kadai,” Rekishi Hyôron, vol. 2, no. 3 (May 1947), p. 6. 39 Ibid., p. 13. 40 Hani, in Tennôsei no Rekishi, p. 119. 41 Tôma Seita, Nihon Kodai Kokka, Tokyo: Itô Shoten, 1946. See also Mishima Hajime, Ishimoda Shô, and Tôma Seita, Nihon Kodai Shakai, Tokyo: Nihon Dokusho Kobai Riyo Kumiai, 1947. 42 See for example Tôma Seita, “Tennôsei no Honshitsu,” in Tennôsei no Rekishi, vol. 1, p. 142. 43 Bill Schwarz, “‘The people’ in history: the Communist Party Historians’ Group, 1946–56,” in Richard Johnson, Gregor McLennan, Bill Schwarz and David Sutton (eds.), Making Histories: Studies in History-Writing and Politics, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1982, pp. 45 and 66. 44 Izu Kimio, Nihon Bunkashi Kenkyû, Tokyo: Getsuyobi Shobô, 1948, vol. 1, p. 3. 45 Ibid., p. 4. 46 Ibid., pp. 6–7. 47 Ibid., p. 8. 48 Ibid., pp. 10–11. 49 Ibid., pp. 14–15. 50 Hani Gorô, “Nihon Bunka no Sekaiteki Suijun,” in Hani Gorô, Hani Gorô Sengo Chosakushû, vol. 3: Bunkaron, Tokyo: Tokuma Shobô, 1981, p. 118. 51 Ibid., p. 119. 52 Inoue Kiyoshi, ‘Kuni no Ayumi’ Hihan, Tokyo: Kaihôsha, 1947, preface: pp. 6–7. 53 Ibid., preface: p. 4. 54 Ibid., preface: p. 7. 55 Ibid., preface: p. 6. 56 Kojima Tsunehisa, Nihon Shihonshugi Ronsôshi, Tokyo: Ariesu Shobô, 1976, p. 35. 57 Scalapino, The Japan Communist Movement, 1920–1966, p. 44. 58 Nihon Kyosantô, Kyosantô no Rokujûnen, p. 117. 59 Ibid., p. 108. 60 Tokyo Rekishi Kagaku Kenkyûkai Gendaishi Bukai (ed.), Nihon Gendaishi no Shuppatsu: Sengo Minshushugi no Keisei, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1978, pp. 215–16. 61 Ibid., p. 219. 62 Kurahara Korehito, “Bunka Katsudo ni saishite,” Zen’ei, no. 26 (April 1948), pp. 62 and 64. 63 Ibid., p. 67. 64 Ibid., p. 66.

172 Notes 65 J. Victor Koschmann, Revolution and Subjectivity in Postwar Japan, Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1996, p. 206. 66 Scalapino, The Japan Communist Movement, 1920–1966, p. 58 and fn. 10 therein. 67 Tokyo Rekishikagaku Kenkyûkai Gendaishi Bukai, Nihon Gendaishi no Shuppatsu: Sengo Minshushugi no Keisei, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1978, p. 226. 68 Ibid. 69 Ibid., pp. 229. 70 Ibid., pp. 220–1. Here Koschmann quotes Arase Yutaka’s “Sengo Shisô to sono Tenkai,” in Ienaga Saburô (ed.), Kindai Nihon Shisôshi Kôza, vol. 1, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobô, 1959, p. 372, and Furuta Hikaru, “Nashonaru na Mono no Saihyoka O Meguru Shoronsô,” in Miyakawa Toru, Nakamura Yujirô, and Furuta Hikaru (eds.), Kindai Nihon Shisô Ronsô, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1971, p. 297. 71 Ibid., pp. 206 and 213. See also Kurahara Shinto, “Kindaishugi to sono Chôkoku,” Zen’ei, no. 30, (August 1948) p. 41. 72 Takeuchi Yoshimi, “Chugoku no Kindai to Nihon no Kindai,” in Takeuchi Yoshimi et al. (eds.), Tôyôteki Shakai Ronri no Seikaku, Tokyo: Hyakunichi Shoin, 1948, pp. 8–9. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid., p. 22. 75 Ibid., p. 26. 76 Ibid., pp. 28–9. 77 Ibid., p. 43. 78 Ibid., pp. 45–6. 79 Ibid., pp. 48–9. 80 Ibid., pp. 55–6. 81 Takeuchi Yoshimi, “Shin Chugoku no Seishin,” in Takeuchi Yoshimi, Takeuchi Yoshimi Zenshû, vol. 4, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobô, 1980, pp. 92 and 95. 82 Ishimoda Shô, Zoku: Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1953, pp. 430–1. 83 Lawrence Olson, Ambivalent Moderns: Portraits of Japanese Cultural Identity, Savage, MD.: Roman & Littlefield Publishers, 1992, p. 58. 84 Nakagawa Ikuro, Takeuchi Yoshimi no Bungaku to Shisô, Tokyo: Originaru Shuppan Senta, 1985, p. 78. 85 Maruyama Noboru, “Lu Xun in Japan,” in Lee Ou-fan Lee (ed.), Lu Xun and His Legacy, Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1985, p. 230. See also Nakagawa p. 94 for a brief discussion of Yasuda Yojurô and Romanticism in the context of Takeuchi’s work. The most authoritative work of the Japan Romantic School in English is Kevin Doak, Dreams of Difference: The Japan Romantic School and the Crisis of Modernity, Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1993. 4 Marxist history’s search for new ground, 1948–1950 1 Tokuda Kyûichi, Tokuda Kyûichi Zenshû, vol. 2, Tokyo: Gogatsu Shobô, 1985, p. 240. 2 Ichikawa Yonehiko, “Minshushugi no Rekishiteki Hatten,” Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 139 (May 1949), p. 30. 3 Ministry of Education (ed.), Minshushugi, Tokyo: Kyôiku Tosho, 1949 (2 vols). 4 Ichikawa, “Minshushugi no Rekishiteki Hatten,” p. 31. 5 Ibid., p. 30. 6 Minshushugi Kagakusha Kyôkai and Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (eds.), Nihon no Rekishi, Tokyo: Choryusha, 1949, pp. 3 and 311. 7 Ibid., p. 1. 8 Ibid., p. 3. 9 Eguchi Bokurô, “Rekishi ni okeru Kindaishugi no Hihan,” in Eguchi Bokurô, Eguchi Bokurô Chosakushû, vol. 1, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1974, p. 163.

Notes 173 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40

41 42 43 44 45 46 47

Ibid., p. 161. Ibid., p. 163. Ibid., p. 150. Ibid., p. 153. Ibid. Tôyama Shigeki, Sengo Rekishigaku to Rekishi Ishiki, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1968, pp. 73–4. See Sekai, no. 39, (March 1949), p. 6. See also p. 19 for English translation. Tôyama, Sengo Rekishigaku to Rekishi Ishiki, p. 63. Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Sekaishi no Kihon Hôsoku: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1949 Nendo Taikai Hokoku, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1949, p. 77. Ibid., pp. 63 and 65. Ibid., p. 68. Ibid., p. 74. Ibid., p. 74. Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai, “Sekaishi no Dôkô,” Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 138 (March 1949), p. 37 Ibid., p. 37. Ishimoda Shô, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1953, p. 49. Okamoto Saburô, “Kônichi Minzoku Tôitsu Sensen no Keisei Katei,” Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 138 (March 1949), p. 2. Ibid., p. 2. Ibid., pp. 16–18. See for example their contributions to Rekishi Kagaku Kyôgikai (ed.), Tennôsei no Rekishi, vol. 17: Rekishigaku Taikei, Tokyo: Kokura Shobô, 1986. See Sekaishi no Kihon Hôsoku: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1949 Nendo Taikai Hokoku. Tôyama, Sengo no Rekishigaku to Rekishi Ishiki, pp. 89–90. Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Kokka Kenryoku no Shodankai: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1950 Nendo Taikai Hokoku, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1950, pp. 121–33. Ôyama Ikuo, “Seinen to Heiwa Undô,” in Tokuda Kyûichi et al. (eds.), Seinen no Ninmu: Minzoku Dokuritsu no tame ni, Tokyo: Nihon Minshu Seinendan Shuppankyoku, 1949, p. 13. Ibid., p. 16. Ibid., pp. 16 and 19. Tôyama Shigeki, “Futatsu no Nashonarizumu no Taikô,” in Bandô Hiroshi, Minzoku no Mondai, p. 120. Ibid. Ibid., p. 121. Ibid., pp. 124–5. As Stefan Tanaka shows so well, during the Meiji period Japanese historians succeeded in taking Japan out from within the designation of “the Orient,” something which Takeuchi would later decry. See Stefan Tanaka, Japan’s Orient: Rendering Pasts into History, Berkeley and London: University of California Press, 1993. Tôyama, “Futatsu no Nashonarizumu no Taikô,” p. 129. Masao Maruyama, “Nationalism in Japan: Its Theoretical Background and Prospects,” in Masao Maruyama (ed.), Thought and Behavior in Modern Japanese Politics, London: Oxford University Press, 1963, pp. 141–3 and 150–2. Tôyama, “Futatsu no Nashonarizumu no Taikô,” pp. 130–1. Ibid., p. 135. Maruyama, “Nationalism in Japan: Its Theoretical Background and Prospects,” pp. 150–2. Tôyama, “Futatsu no Nashonarizumu no Taikô,” pp. 50–1. See Chapter 1.

174 Notes 48 Eguchi Bokurô, “Rekishi ni okeru Nashonarizumu no Hatten,” Chûô Kôron, no. 742, (December 1950), pp. 46–7. 49 Ibid., p. 47. 50 For a brief description of this critique, see Kojima Tsunehisa, Nihon Shihonshugi Ronsôshi, Tokyo: Ariesu Shobô, 1976, p. 54. 51 J.P. Napier, A Survey of the Japan Communist Party, Tokyo: The Nippon Times, Ltd., 1952, pp. 12–13. 52 Ibid., p. 23. 53 Ibid., p. 47. 54 Ibid., p. 35. 55 Ibid., p. 36. 56 Ibid., pp. 27–8. 57 Eguchi, Bokurô, “Nihon ni okeru Minzokuteki na Mono,” in Minzoku no Mondai, p. 157. 58 Fujiwara Hirotate, “Uyoku Nashonarizumu ni okeru Sengoteki Tokushitsu no Shozai,” Shisô, no. 340 (October 1952), pp. 44–5. 59 Ibid., pp. 43–9. 60 Ibid., p. 48. 61 Ibid., pp. 46 and 49. 62 Quoted in Delmer Brown, Nationalism in Japan: An Introductory Historical Analysis, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1955, p. 269. 63 Fujiwara, “Uyoku Nashonarizumu ni okeru Sengoteki Tokushitsu no Shozai,” pp. 46–9. 64 Ivan Morris, Nationalism and the Right Wing in Japan: A Study of Post-War Trends, London and New York: Oxford University Press, 1960, p. 193. 65 Ibid. 66 Ibid., pp. 172–3. 67 Ibid., p. 331. 68 Shigeta Senji (ed.), Nihon Uyoku no Dôkô to Gensei, Tokyo: Kôan Shiryô Kyokai, 1976, pp. 488–9. 69 Ibid., p. 492. 70 Ibid., pp. 503, 509 and 513. 71 Ivan Morris, Nationalism and the Right Wing in Japan, pp. 204–5. 72 Ibid., pp. 203–4. 73 Ibid., pp. 311 and 404. 74 Ibid., p. 316. 75 Ibid., p. 311. 76 Ibid., p. 402. 77 Ibid., pp. 271 and 283. 5 Marxist history and the “minzoku faction” 1 See Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 153 (September 1951), English Title Page. 2 See Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 154 (November 1951), English Title Page. 3 Ôguma Eiji, “Wasurerareta Minzoku Mondai: Sengo Nihon no ‘Kakushin Nashonarizumu,’” Sôkan Shakai Kagaku, no. 5 (1995), p. 32. 4 This term can be found in Bill Schwarz, “The Communist Party Historians’ Group, 1946–1956,” in Richard Johnson et al. (eds.), Making Histories: Studies in HistoryWriting and Politics, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1982, pp. 44–95. 5 Cited in Kojima Tsunehisa, Nihon Shihonshugi Ronsôshi, Tokyo: Ariesu Shobô, 1976, p. 56. 6 See for instance Kanda Fumito, “Rekishigaku ni okeru Minzoku Mondai,” Rekishi Hyôron, no. 200 (April 1967), p. 51. 7 Amino Yoshiko and Miyata Noboru, “Sengo Nihonshigaku to Minzoukgaku no Aida de,” Daikokai, no. 25 (December 1998), p. 91.

Notes 175 8 Anthony Smith , “The Nation: Real or Imagined?” in Edward Mortimer (ed.), People, Nation and State: The Meaning of Ethnicity and Nationalism, London: I.B. Tauris Publishers, 1999, pp. 36–42. 9 Ibid., pp. 38 and 42. 10 Ibid., p. 37. 11 Tôma Seita, Nihon Minzoku no Keisei, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1951, p. 284. 12 See Joseph Stalin, Concerning Marxism in Linguistics, Moscow: Pravda, 1950. An abbreviated version of this was published the same year in Japanese. See Joseph Stalin, “Gengogaku ni okeru Marukusushugi ni tsuite,” Zen’ei, no. 51 (July 1950), pp. 70–85. 13 Tôma, Nihon Minzoku no Keisei, p. 103 and pp. 284–5. 14 Ibid., pp. 285–6. 15 Ibid., pp. 71–2. 16 Ibid., p. i. 17 Ibid., p. 1. 18 Ibid., p. 104. 19 Ibid., p. 242. 20 Ibid., p. 232. 21 Ibid., p. 230. 22 Ibid., p. 235. 23 Ibid., pp. 106 and 110. 24 Ibid., pp. 111–12, and 116. 25 Ibid., p. 116. 26 Ibid., pp. 208–14. 27 Ibid., pp. 261–2. 28 Tôma Seita, “Kodai ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai,” in Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Rekishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1951 Nendo Taikai Hokoku, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1951, p. 52. 29 See Azuma Sho, “Tôma Seita ‘Nihon Minzoku no Keisei,’” Rekishigaku Kenkyû, no. 156 (March 1952), p. 37. 30 Matsumoto Shinpachirô, “Kakumeiteki Dentô ni tsuite,” in Tôma Seita et al. (eds.), Rekishi ni okeru Shomondai: Kôza Nihon, vol. 4, Tokyo: Otsuki Shoten, 1956, p. 189. 31 Ibid., p. 201. 32 Ibid., pp. 190–1. 33 Ibid., p. 202. 34 Ibid., p. 168. 35 Ibid., p. 183. 36 Ibid., p. 168. 37 Ôguma, “Wasurerareta Minzoku Mondai,” p. 35. 38 Joseph Stalin, “The Nation,” in John Hutchinson and Anthony Smith (eds.), Nationalism, Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1994, p. 20 (originally published in 1913). 39 Ishimoda Shô, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1953, p. 105. 40 Ibid., p. 101. 41 Ibid., p. 106. 42 Ibid. 43 Ibid., pp. 179–80. 44 Ibid., p. 179. 45 Ibid., p. 180 46 Ibid., p. 110. 47 Ibid., p. 117. 48 Ibid., p. 121. 49 Ishimoda Shô, Zoku: Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, Tokyo, Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1953, p. 22. 50 Ibid., p. 105.

176 Notes 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81

Ibid, p. 108. Ibid., pp. 111–12. For example, ibid, p. 21. John Dower, Embracing Defeat: Japan in the Wake of World War II, New York: W.W. Norton & Company/The New Press, 1999, p. 554. Ishimoda, Zoku: Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, p. 12. Ibid. Ishimoda, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, p. 204. Ibid., pp. 205–7. Ibid., p. 17. Ibid., p. 22. Ibid., p. 24. Ibid., p. 15. Ibid., pp. 16–17. Ishimoda, Zoku: Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, p. 71. Ibid., p. 415. Ibid., p. 60. Ibid., pp. 108–111. Ibid., p. 59. Ibid., p. 320. Ibid., p. 321. Ibid., p. 323. Ibid., pp. 323 and 325. Ibid., pp. 337 and 340. Ibid., p. 332. Ishimoda Shô, “Rekishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai,” in Minzoku no Mondai, p. 95. Ishimoda, Zoku:Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, pp. 108–11. Saito Akio, “Minzoku Bunka Sôzô no Katei,” in Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Minzoku no Bunka ni tsuite: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1952 Nendo Taikai Hokoku, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1953, p. 140–1. Ishimoda, Zoku:Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, pp. 59–60. Saito, “Minzoku Bunka Sôzô no Katei,” p. 142. Ibid. Ozawa Hirotaka, “Eguchi Shigaku ni okeru Minzoku,” Rekishi Hyôron, no. 563 (March 1997), pp. 68–71.

6 Minzoku ishiki and modernization 1 See Neil Harding, Leninism, London: Macmillan Press Ltd., 1996, p. 209. 2 Suzuki Shirô, “Kindaishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai,” in Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Rekishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1951 Nendo Taikai Hokoku, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1951, pp. 73–103. 3 Ibid., pp. 74–81 and 81–5. 4 Ibid., p. 91. 5 Ibid., p. 91. 6 Suzuki, “Kindaishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai,” pp. 92–9. 7 Tôyama Shigeki, Tôyama Shigeki Chosakushû, vol. 6, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1992, p. 250. 8 Ibid., pp. 237–83. 9 Eguchi Bokurô, “Nihon ni okeru Minzokuteki na Mono,” in Bandô Hiroshi (ed.), Minzoku no Mondai, vol. 15: Rekishi Kagaku Taikei, Tokyo: Kokura Shobô, 1976, p. 167. 10 Ibid., pp. 171–2. 11 Ibid., pp. 5 and 10.

Notes 177 12 Inoue Kiyoshi, Nihon Gendaishi, vol. 1: Meiji Ishin, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1951, pp. 1–16. 13 Ugai Masashi, “Tôyama Shigekishi no Meiji Ishinshi Kenkyû to Sekai Ninshiki,” Rekishi Hyôron, no. 563 (March 1997), p. 75. 14 Inoue, Nihon Gendaishi, p. 139. 15 R.L. Sim, A Political History of Modern Japan, Delhi: Vikas Publishing House Pvt. Ltd., 1991, pp. 50–5, 67. 16 Inoue Kiyoshi, “Kindai no Bu: Tôron,” in Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Rekishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1951 Nendo Taikai Hokoku, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1951, p. 130. 17 Ibid., p. 143. 18 Inoue Kiyoshi, “Nihon Teikokushugi to Ajia,” in Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Sekaishi ni okeru Ajia: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1953 Nendo Taikai Hokoku, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1953, p. 124. 19 Ibid., p. 140. 20 Ibid., p. 15. 21 Ibid., p. 3. 22 See Chapter 3. 23 Inoue, “Kindai no Bu: Tôron,” p. 131. 24 Ibid., p. 132. 25 Ibid., p. 126. 26 Tôyama, Tôyama Shigeki Chosakushû, vol. 5, pp. 226–7. 27 Ibid., p. 301. 28 Ibid., p. 232. 29 Ibid., p. 301. 30 Ibid., pp. 227–9. 31 Ibid., p. 234. 32 Ibid., p. 235. 33 See Inoue, “Nihon Teikokushugi to Ajia,” pp. 121–2. 34 Anthony Smith, “Opening Statement: Nations and their pasts,” Nations and Nationalism, 2 (3), Quoted in David McCrone, The Sociology of Nationalism: Tomorrow’s Ancestors, London and New York: Routledge, 1998, p. 15. 35 See for example Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, Oxford: Blackwell, 1983, and John Breuilly, Nationalism and the State, Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1982. 36 This position can be found in Julia Kristeva, Nations Without Nationalism, New York: Columbia University Press, 1993. 37 Tôma Seita, “Kodai ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai,” in Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Rekishi ni okeru Minzoku no Mondai: Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai 1951 Nendo Taikai Hokoku, p. 167. 38 Tôma Seita, Nihon Minzoku no Keisei, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1954, p. 146. 39 Masao Maruyama, “Nationalism in Japan: Its Theoretical Background and Prospects,” in Masao Maruyama, Thought and Behavior in Modern Japanese Politics, London: Oxford University Press, 1963, p. 152. 40 Tôma, Nihon Minzoku no Keisei, p. 227. 41 Ibid., pp. 1, 104, 111. 42 See for example Ernest Gellner, Nations and Nationalism, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1983. 43 Inoue, Nihon Gendaishi, p. 5. 44 Kitayama Shigeo et al. (eds.), Buraku no Rekishi to Kaihô Undô, Kyoto: Buraku Mondai Kenkyûjo, 1958. 45 Inoue Kiyoshi, “Marukusushugi ni yoru Minzoku Riron,” in Minzoku no Mondai, p. 171. 46 Ibid., p. 175.

178 Notes 47 Ibid., p. 3. See also Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Rekishi wa Tennôsei O do Miru ka?, Tokyo: San’ichi Shobô, 1947. 48 Tôyama Shigeki, Tôyama Shigeki Chosakushû, vol. 5, p. 362. 49 Ibid., p. 363. 50 Ibid., p. 273. 51 Ibid., p. 296. 52 Amino Yoshihiko, “Deconstructing Japan,” East Asian History, 3 (1992), p. 132. 53 The American historian Eric Foner has recently argued that “even histories organized along the lines of nation-state must be, so to speak, deprovincialized, placed in the context of international interactions.” See Eric Foner, “Presidential Address,” The American Historical Review, vol. 106, no.1 (February 2001), p. 4. 7 Desire, mobilization, and internationalism 1 Tôma Seita, “Minzoku Mondai no Toriagekata,” in Bandô Hiroshi (ed.), Minzoku no Mondai, vol. 15, Rekishi Kagaku Taikei, Tokyo: Kokura Shobô, 1976, p. 113. 2 Ibid., p. 113. 3 Uehara Senroku, Uehara Senroku Chosakushû, Tokyo: Hyôronsha, 1987, vol. 7, p. 9. 4 Uehara Senroku and Munakata Seiya, Nihonjin no Sôzô, Tokyo: Tôyô Shokan, 1952, p. 159. 5 Ibid., pp. 137 and 159. 6 Carol Gluck, “Sengoshi no Metahisutori,” in Asao Naohiro et al. (eds.), Iwanami Kôza: Nihontsûshi, Supplementary vol. 1: Rekishi Ishiki no Genzai, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten: 1995, p. 7. 7 Maruyama’s and the Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai’s representations of “healthy nationalism” are summarized and compared in Curtis Anderson Gayle, “Progressive Representations of the Nation: Early Postwar Japan and Beyond,” Social Science Japan Journal, vol. 4, no. 1 (April 2001), pp. 1–19. 8 Ishimoda Shô, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1953, p. 60. 9 Ibid., p. 70. 10 Ibid., p. 60. 11 Ibid. 12 Masao Maruyama, “Theory and Psychology of Ultra nationalism,” in Masao Maruyama, Thought and Behavior in Japanese Politics, London: Oxford University Press, 1963, pp. 1–22. 13 For a sketch of Tsuda’s life and work, see John S. Brownlee, Japanese Historians and the National Myths, 1600–1945: The Age of the Gods and Emperor Jinmu, Vancouver: UBC Press, 1997, Chapter 13. See also Kimura Tokio, Nihon Nashonarizumu Shiron, Tokyo: Waseda Daigaku Shuppanbu, 1973, pp. 461–540. 14 Ishimoda, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, p. 69. 15 Ibid., p. 70. 16 Ibid., p. 70. 17 Uehara, Uehara Senroku Chosakushû, vol. 6, pp. 278 and 282. 18 Inoue Kiyoshi, Okonogi Shinsaburô and Suzuki Shirô, Gendai Nihon no Rekishi, vol. 1, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1952, p. 373. 19 Ibid., p. 374. 20 This includes Gendai Nihon no Rekishi, as well the earlier “Kuni no Ayumi” Hihan, and Nihon no Rekishi, noted in Chapter 2. 21 Uehara and Munakata, Nihonjin no Sôzô, p. 118. 22 Uehara, Uehara Senroku Chosakushû, vol. 7, p. 38. 23 Quoted in Umeda Tetsuya, “‘Kokuminteki Rekishigaku’ Undô no Isan,” Rekishi Hyôron, no. 150 (February 1963), p. 111. 24 Uehara and Munakata, Nihonjin no Sôzô, p. 136.

Notes 179 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62

Ibid., pp. 133–4, and p. 144. Ibid., pp. 144–5. Ibid., pp. 136–7. Uehara, Uehara Senroku Chosakushû, vol. 12, pp. 48–9. Ishimoda, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, pp. 299 and 305. Uehara, Uehara Senroku Chosakushû, vol. 12, pp. 42–4. Watanabe Kikuo and Umeda Tetsuji (eds.), Minka Rekishibukai Shiryôshu, Rekishigaku Taikei: vol. 33, Tokyo: Rekishigaku Kyôgikai, 1999, p. 14. Ibid., p. 15. Ibid., p. 72. Umeda Tetsuji and Sato Nobuo, “Kokumin no Rekishi Ishiki to Rekishigaku,” in Umeda Tetsuji and Sato Nobuo (eds.), Ima Manabitai Kin-gendaishi, Tokyo: Kyoiku Shiryô Shuppankai, 1997, p. 215. Kawamoto Takashi, “Minzoku, Rekishi, Aikokushin,” in Komori Yoichi and Takahashi Tetsuya (eds.), Nashonaru Hisutori O Koete, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1998, pp. 164–7. Ibid. Watanabe and Umeda, Minka Rekishibukai Shiryôshu, p. 72. Ibid., p. 73. Tôma Seita, Rekishi no Manabikata, Tokyo: Itô Shoten, 1950, p. 124. Watanabe and Umeda, Minka Rekishibukai Shiryô, p. 112. Ibid., pp. 73 and 85. Ibid., p. 114. Ishimoda Shô, Sengo Rekishigaku no Shisô, Tokyo: Hosei Daigaku Shuppanki, 1977, p. 283. Watanabe and Umeda, Minka Rekishibukai Shiryôshu, pp. 95, 161, and 165. Ibid., pp. 156 and 161. Nomura Kentarô, “Chihôshi Kenkyû Kyôgikai no Hassoku ni saishite,” Chihôshi Kenkyû, inaugural issue (March 1951), p. 1. Ibid. Ibid. Sakurai Tokutarô, “Minzoku Gakkai no Saikin no Dôkô,” Chihôshi Kenkyû (July 1953), p. 27. Kumura Motoi, “Kyodoshi, Chihôshi, Chiiki Kenkyû no Rekishi to Kadai,” in Iwanami Kôza (ed.), Nihontsûshi: Chiikishi Kenkyû no Genjô to Kadai, Supplementary vol. 2, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1994, pp. 4–6. Ibid., p. 7. Ibid., p. 16. Ibid., p. 21. Inoue Kiyoshi, “Marukusushugi ni okeru Minzoku no Riron,” in Minzoku no Mondai, p. 182. Eguchi Bokurô, “Gendai ni okeru Minzoku oyobi Minzokushugi,” in ibid., pp. 195 and 202. Tôyama Shigeki, “Futatsu no Nashonarizumu no Taikô,” in ibid., pp. 123, and 127–9. Merle Kling, The Soviet Theory of Internationalism, Washington University Studies, Social and Philosophical Sciences,No.9, St. Louis, 1952, pp. 30–1. John Tomlinson, Globalization and Culture, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1999, p. 188. Ishimoda, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, p. 222. See for example Graham Evans and Jeffrey Newnham, The Penguin Dictionary of International Relations, London: Penguin, 1998, p. 278. Takeuchi Yoshimi, Takeuchi Yoshimi Zenshû, vol. 5, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobô, 1980, pp. 6–7. Tôyama, “Futatsu no Nashonarizumu no Taikô,” p. 129.

180 Notes 63 Uehara and Munakata, Nihonjin no Sôzô, pp. 176–7. 64 Evans and Newnham, The Penguin Dictionary of International Relations, p. 45. For an interesting perspective on Bandung, see Angadipuram Appadorai, The Bandung Conference, New Delhi: Indian Council on World Affairs, 1995. 65 Uehara, Uehara Senroku Chosakushû, vol. 13, pp. 136 and 144. 66 Ibid., vol. 12, p. 42. 67 Ibid., vol. 13, p. 184. 68 Ibid., p. 181. 69 Fred Halliday, “Three Concepts of Internationalism,” International Affairs, vol. 64, no. 2 (Spring 1988), pp. 187–98. 70 Ibid., pp. 188–9. 71 Ibid., pp. 191–2. 72 Ishimoda, Rekishi to Minzoku no Hakken, pp. 206–7. 73 Ibid. 74 Tôma, Rekishi no Manabikata, p. 196. 75 E.R.A. Seligman (ed.), Encyclopaedia of the social sciences, New York, 1930–35, vol. 11, p. 239. 76 Liu, Shao-chi, Internationalism and Nationalism, Peking: Foreign Language Press, 1952, pp. 8–9. 77 J.L. Nehru, The Discovery of India, Bombay: Asia Publishing House, 1961. Originally published in 1946. 78 Uehara Senroku, Uehara Senroku Chosakushû, vol. 12, p. 28. 79 Mool Chand, Nationalism and Internationalism of Gandhi, Nehru and Tagore, New Delhi: M.N. Publishers, 1989, pp. 156–7. 80 Dorothy Norman, Nehru: The First Sixty Years, vol. 2, London: Bodley Head, 1965, p. 51. Also see J.L. Nehru, The Discovery of India, p. 54. 81 See Kimitada Miwa, “Japanese Policies and Concepts for a regional Order in Asia, 1938–1940,” in James White et al. (eds.), The Ambivalence of Nationalism: Modern Japan between East and West, Lanham and London: University Press of America, 1990, p. 142. 82 One example of this basic idea in the wartime Kyoto School being Nishitani Keiji. See John C. Maraldo “Questioning Nationalism Now and Then,” in James W. Heisig and John C. Maraldo (eds.), Rude Awakenings: Zen, the Kyoto School, & the Question of Nationalism, Honolulu: University of Hawaii Press, 1994, p. 353. 83 Tessa Morris Suzuki, Reinventing Japan: Time, Space, Nation, Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 1998, p. 95. 84 Here I refer to critiques of postwar Japanese society and nationality in, to take just two examples, Sakai Naoki, “Maruyama Masao to Sengo Nihon,” Sekai, no. 616 (November 1995), p. 63, as well as Komagome Takeshi, Shokuminchi Teikoku Nihon no Bunka Tôgô, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1996, pp. 378–85. 85 Narita Ryû’ichi, “Karucharu Sutadeizu e no Shôtai,” Gendai Shisô, vol. 24–3 (1996), p. 90. 8 “National awakening” and postwar nationalism 1 Nihon Kyosantô, Nihon Kyosantô no Rokujûnen, Tokyo: Nihon Kyosantô Chûô Iinkai Shuppankyoku, 1982, pp. 142–3. 2 Ien Ang, “The Differential Politics of Chineseness,” Southeast Asian Journal of Social Science, vol. 22 (1994), pp. 73–5. See also fn. 10 in Chapter 1. 3 See for example Sonia Ryang (ed.), Koreans in Japan: Critical Voices from the Margin, London and New York: Routledge, 2000. 4 The affects of this transition upon Koreans in Japan can be found in Yun Kon-cha, Nihon Kokuminron, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobô, 1997. See also Arai Shin’ichi, Sensô Sekininron, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1995, pp. 193–200.

Notes 181 5 See Chapters 2 and 3. 6 Glyn Daly, “Marxism and Postmodernity,” in Andrew Gamble, David Marsh and Tony Tant (eds.), Marxism and Social Science, Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1999, p. 80. 7 Najita Tetsuo and H.D. Harootunian, “Japanese revolt against the West: political and cultural criticism in the twentieth century” in Peter Duus (ed.), The Cambridge History of Japan: The Twentieth Century, vol. 6, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988, p. 715. 8 Ibid. 9 Ibid., p. 714. 10 Ibid., pp. 721–2, and 733. 11 Ibid., p. 739. 12 Bofudan Nahairo et al. (eds.), Sorenpo Minzoku, Gengo Mondai no Zenshi, translated by Takao Chizuko and Tsuchiya Reiko, Tokyo: Akashi Shoten, 1992, pp. 219–21, and 224. 13 The idea of “revolutionary” or Marxist internationalism can be found in Fred Halliday, “Three Concepts of Internationalism,” International Affairs, vol. 64, no. 2 (Spring 1988), pp. 187–98, and Merle Kling, The Soviet Theory of Internationalism, Washington University Studies, Social and Philosophical Sciences, no.9, St. Louis, 1952, pp. 30–1. 14 See Kojima Ryô, Hangari Jiken to Nihon, Tokyo: Chûô Kôronsha, 1987, especially p. 86. 15 See Kozai Yoshishige, “‘Sutarin Hihan’ no Shisoteki Igi,” Chûô Kôron (March 1957), pp. 180–93. 16 Tôyama Shigeki, Sengo no Rekishigaku to Rekishi Ishiki, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1968, p. 221. 17 Ishimoda Shô, “Rekishi kagaku to Yuibutsuron,” in Rekishi Kagaku Kyôgikai (ed.), Rekishi Kagaku no Kadai to Hôhô, vol. 2, Tokyo: Kokura Shobô, 1984, pp. 7–46. See also Ohta Hidetsu, “Ishimoda Shôshi no Jikô Hihan ni Tsuite,” in ibid., pp. 47–66. 18 Tôyama, Sengo no Rekishigaku to Rekishi Ishiki, p. 224. 19 Eguchi Bokurô, “Shakaishugi to Minzokushugi,” Chûô Kôron, Supplementary Edition (1957), pp. 91–101. 20 See Kojima Ryô (ed.), Dorei no Shi: Oike Fumio Chosakushû 1954–61, Tokyo: Perikansha, 1988, especially pp. 323–30. 21 Ishimoda Shô, Ishimoda Shô Chosakushû, vol. 16, Tokyo: Iwanami Shoten, 1990, p. 229. 22 Rekishigaku Kenkyûkai (ed.), Sengo Rekishigaku to Rekiken no Ayumi, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1993, p. 61. 23 Ibid., p. 83. 24 Kimura Motoi, Kimura Motoi Chosakushû, vol. 4, Tokyo: Heibonsha, 1997, p. 77. 25 Katô Shûichi, “Nihon Bunka no Zasshusei,” Chûô Kôron, no. 802 (June 1955). 26 Umesada Tadao, “Bunmei no Setai Shikan Chissetsu,” Chûô Kôron, no. 822 (February 1957), pp. 32–49. 27 See Murakami Yasusuke,“Ie Society as a Pattern of Civilization: Response to Criticism,” Journal of Japanese Studies, vol. 11, no. 2 (Summer 1985), pp. 401–21. 28 Umesada Tadao, “Bunmei no Setai Shikan Chissetsu,” p. 37. 29 Ibid., pp. 38–9. 30 Andrew Barshay, “Postwar Social and Political Thought, 1945–90,” in Bob Tadashi Wakabayashi (ed.), Modern Japanese Thought, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998, p. 318. 31 John W. Hall, “Changing Conceptions of the Modernization of Japan,” in Marius Jansen (ed.), Changing Attitudes Toward Modernization, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1962, p. 11. 32 Ibid., p. 17. 33 Katô Shûichi, “Japanese Writers,” in ibid., p. 443. 34 John W. Hall, “Changing Conceptions of the Modernization of Japan,” p. 27.

182 Notes 35 See Tôyama, op. cit., p. 276. Harry Harootunian offers a wonderful account of how “area studies” in the United States has sought to “repress its political origin.” See his History’s Disquiet: Modernity, Cultural Practice, and the Question of Everyday Life, New York: Columbia University Press, 2000, Chapter 1. 36 Ronald Dore, “The Legacy of Tokugawa Education,” in Changing Attitudes Toward Modernization, p. 119. 37 Ibid., p. 130. 38 John W. Hall, “Changing Conceptions of the Modernization of Japan,” p. 37. 39 Tôyama, Sengo no Rekishigaku to Rekishi Ishiki, p. 271. 40 Kurahara Korehito, “Bunka Seisaku no Kihonteki na Jakkan no Mondai ni saishite,” Zen’ei, (September 1951), pp. 3–16. Kurahara’s article actually marked the continuation of a debate within the JCP that had begun earlier in 1957. See “Bunka Mondai to Nihon Kyosantô,” Zen’ei, Supplementary Edition (March 1957). 41 Kurahara Korehito, “Bunka Katsudo ni saishite,” Zen’ei, no. 26 (1948), pp. 62–7. 42 Ibid., p. 66. 43 Kurahara Korehito, “Bunka Seisaku no Kihonteki na Jakkan no Mondai ni saishite,” p. 5. 44 Ibid. p. 5. 45 Ibid., p. 14. 46 Matsushita Kei’chi, “Marukusushugi Riron no Nijû Seikiteki Haaku,” Chûô Kôron, no. 823 (March 1957), pp. 142–57. 47 Ibid., p. 145. 48 Ibid., p. 153. 49 Andrew Barshay, “Postwar Social and Political Thought, 1945–90,” p. 317. 50 Yoshimoto Taka’aki, “Nihon no Nashonarizumu,” in Yoshimoto Taka’aki, Gendai Nihon Shisô Taikei 4: Nashonarizumu, Tokyo: Chikuma Shobô, 1964, p. 11. 51 Ibid., p. 11. 52 Lawrence Olsen, Ambivalent Moderns: Portraits of Japanese Cultural Identity, Savage, M.D.: Roman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 1992, p. 101. 53 Ibid., p. 102. 54 Ibid., p. 104. 55 Miura Yoshikazu, “Sengo Uramenshi no ‘Mushin no Kurobaku,’” in Ino Kenji (ed.), Nihon no Uyoku, Tokyo: Nishin Hôdô, 1973, pp. 352–3. 56 Curtis Anderson Gayle, “Progressive Representations of the Nation: Early Postwar Japan and Beyond,” Social Science Japan Journal, vol. 4, no. 1 (April 2001), pp. 14–16. 57 Hayashi Fusao, Daitôa Sensô Koteiron, Tokyo: Bancho Shobô, 1964, p. 156. 58 Ibid., p. 147. 59 Ibid., pp. 142 and 147. 60 Ibid., and Hayashi Fusao (ed.), Nihon no Genten, Tokyo: Nihon Kyôbunsha, 1972, p. 240. 61 Mishima Yukio, Bunka Bôeiron, Tokyo: Niko Insatsu Kabushikigaisha, 1969, p. 28. 62 Ibid., pp. 29–30. 63 Ibid., p. 46. 64 Ibid., pp. 48–9. 65 Hori Yukio, Sengo no Uyoku Seiryoku, expanded edition, Tokyo: Keiso Shobô, 1993, p. 70. 66 See for instance Naikaku Kanbô Naikakuchosa Shitsu, “Uyoku, Minzokuha Undô no Genjô ni tsuite,” Chosa Geppô, no. 196 (April 1972), p. 35. 67 Ashizu Uzuhiko, “Tennô to Shintô to Nihonjin,” in Hayashi Fusao (ed.), Nihon no Genten, pp. 71 and 79. See also Ashizu Uzuhiko, Tennô-Nihon no Inochi, Tokyo: Kyôbunsha, 1971, p. 2. 68 Ashizu Uzuhiko, Kindai Minshushugi no Shumatsu, Tokyo: Nihon Kyôbunsha, 1972, pp. 90, 94 and 103.

Notes 183 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101

102

103 104 105 106

Ibid., pp. 100–1. Ibid., pp. 143 and 150. Ibid., p. 151. Ibid., p. 139. Ibid., p. 141. Ibid., p. 1. Ashizu Uzuhiko, Tennô-Shôwa kara Heisei e, Tokyo: Jinja Shinpôsha, 1989, pp. 14–15. Ashizu Uzuhiko, Kindai Minshushugi no Shumatsu, p. 141. Ibid., pp. 54–6. Ibid., p. 58. Ashizu Uzuhiko, Tennô-Shôwa kara Heisei e, pp. 5, 181 and 183. Ashizu Uzuhiko, Kindai Minshushugi no Shumatsu, p. 212. Kaetsu Yasuto, “Warera no Uchinaru Minzoku Kyôiku,” in Nihon no Genten, pp. 132 and 134. Ibid., p. 131. Ibid., p. 134. Tanaka Tadao, “Hankindai, Shizen, Tennô,” in Nihon no Genten, pp. 113–15. Kageyama Masaharu, Kageyama Masaharu Zenshû, vol. 25, Tokyo: Kageyama Masaharu Zenshû Kankokai, 1994, p. 224. Ibid., pp. 252–7. Kageyama Masaharu, Kageyama Masaharu Zenshû, vol. 19, p. 8. Kageyama’s call for a “national awakening” can also be found in ibid., vol. 17, p. 209. Ibid., p. 13. Ibid., vol. 18, pp. 1–5. Ibid., vol. 27, pp. 580–1. See Shigeta Senji (ed.), Nihon Uyoku no Dôkô to Gensei, Tokyo: Kôan Shiryô Kyokai, 1976, p. 49. Kan Takayuki and Matsumoto Ken’ichi, Tairon: Nashonarizumu no Yukue, Tokyo: Daisan Bunmeisha, 1985, pp. 125–6. Ibid. Ibid., p. 92. Ibid., p. 92. Matsumoto Ken’ichi, Takeuchi Yoshimiron, Tokyo: Daisan Bunmeisha, 1975, p. 200. Ibid., p. 223. Matsumoto Ken’ichi, Kyôdôtai no Ronri, Tokyo: Daisan Bunmeisha, 1978, p. 29. Matsumoto Ken’ichi, Kindai Ajia Seishinshi no Kokoromi, Tokyo: Chûô Kôronsha, 1993. Ibid., p. 133. For an outline of the Liberal School of History and its relation to postwar historiography, see Nara Rekishi Kenkyûkai (ed.), Sengo Rekishigaku to “Jiyûshugi Shikan,” Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 1997. In English, see, for example, Laura Hein and Mark Selden (eds.), Censoring History: Citizenship and Memory in Japan, Germany, and the United States, Armonk, NY: M.E. Sharpe, 2000, especially Chapters 2 and 3. Rikki Kersten, “Neo-nationalism and the ‘Liberal School of History,’” Japan Forum, vol. 11, no. 2 (1999), p. 193. See also Nishikawa Nagao, “Sengo Rekishigaku to Kokumin Kokkaron,” in Yasuda Tokio et al. (eds.), Sengo Rekishigaku Saikô, Tokyo: Aoki Shoten, 2000, p. 84. Ibid. Kawamoto Takashi, “Minzoku, Rekishi, Aikokushin,” in Komori Yoichi and Takahashi Tetsuya (eds.), Nashonaru Hisutori O Koete, Tokyo: Tokyo Daigaku Shuppankai, 1998, pp. 159–62. Quoted in Fujiwara Kei, “Sengoshi no Gendankai to ‘Jiyûshugi Shikan,’” Rekishi Hyôron, no. 579 (July 1998), pp. 8–9. Nishio Kanji, Kokumin no Rekishi, Tokyo: Sankei Shinbun News Service, 1999.

184 Notes 107 Nishio Kanji, Rekishi to Kagaku, Tokyo: PHP, 2000. 108 Iwai Tadakuma, “Sengo nashonarizumu to ‘Kôkoku Shikan,’” in Kyokasho ni Shinjitsu to Jiyû O Renrankukai (ed.), Tettei Hihan “Kokumin no Rekishi,” Tokyo: Otsuki Shobô, 2000, pp. 50–1. 109 Shigeta Senji (ed.), Nihon Uyoku no Dôkô to Gensei, p. 486. 110 See Saeki Keishi, Gendai Minshushugi no Byôri: Sengo Nihon O Do Miru ka?, Tokyo: TBS Britannica, 1997, and Aoki Tamotsu and Saeki Keishi (eds.), Ajiateki Kachi to wa Nani ka?, Tokyo: TBS Britannica 1998. For an excellent critique of the nationalism and internationalism in these approaches, see the essays collected in Tettei Hihan “Kokumin no Rekishi” in fn. 108. 111 Saeki Keishi, Gendai Nihon no Ideorogi: Gurobarizumu to Kokka Ishiki, Tokyo: Kodansha, 1998. 112 For example, Tsubouchi Takahiko, Okakura Tenshin no Shisô Tanpo, Tokyo: Keisô Shobô, 1998.

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Index

Acheson, Dean 54 Africa 12, 75, 116, 125, 139 Ainu 121 Akahata 78 Althusser, Louis 13, 29 America, United States of 8, 17–18, 25–6, 29, 41–2, 51, 56, 58, 71, 77, 79, 81, 85, 91, 94, 96–7, 108, 110, 120–1, 129, 133, 138, 140–1, 143, 152, 159–61 American containment policy 54, 62 “American imperialism” 1, 4, 56–7, 70, 78–9, 82, 84–5, 91, 94, 97, 106–8, 128, 136–7, 139–41, 151, 154, 160–1 American Occupation 1, 6, 18, 42–4, 46–7, 51–5, 57–8, 62–7, 71, 77–8, 82–3, 97, 108, 121, 128–9, 132, 147, 154, 156–8, 160, 162, 164 American Revolutionary War 94, 141 Americanism 10, 67, 82, 129, 141, 158 Amino, Yoshihiko 11, 86, 115–17, 122 Anderson, Perry 14 Ang, Ien 5 Ashizu, Uzuhiko 158–60 “Asian values” 140, 165 Asiatic Mode of Production 15–17, 23–4, 44, 50, 69–70, 98 Austria 26, 27 Bakufu 46, 110, 114 Bakumatsu era 23, 30, 46, 72, 109–10, 113–15, 124 Bandô, Hiroshi 34, 40 Bandung Conference 139, 141 Bangkok Conference 139 Barshay, Andrew 155 Bauer, Otto 26–7, 32 Berger, Stefan 7 Breuilly, John 117 Buddhism: and civilizational essentialism 140; idea of ‘tolerance’ in 140; and international relations 140, 148

Bushi 48, 94, 110 bureaucracy 8, 25, 47, 68, 80, 154, 157 Capitalism 2, 3, 6–8, 11–12, 14, 16, 23–4, 28, 30, 32–3, 36, 38, 55, 62, 66, 68–9, 72, 75, 77, 81–2, 84, 86, 88, 96, 110–17, 122, 126, 137, 148, 154, 156, 159, 161–2, 164 Chand, Mool 142 Chihôshi Kenkyû 134–5 Chihôshi Kenkyû Kyogikai 134–5 China 12, 17, 24, 29, 35, 37–8, 41–3, 50, 64, 71, 77, 79, 87, 89, 91, 93, 97, 116, 134–6, 140–4, 152–5; Ching Dynasty 102; Communist Party 15; Han empire 49–50, 89–92, 138; and liberation nationalism 42–3, 138–9, 148, 154, 159; Marxist history in 15–16, 44; in Meiji ideology 138; May Fourth Movement 98, 104; and national liberation 15, 23, 43, 68–9, 75, 99, 102, 104, 107–8, 147; as paradigm for Marxist history in Japan 13, 16–18, 23–4, 37, 42, 50, 56–62, 67–73, 79, 81, 99, 100, 103–5, 107–8, 117–18, 124, 133, 149, 163; and revolution, 2, 15–16, 37, 43, 57, 63, 67–8, 73, 77, 99, 103–4, 133 citizenship 6, 147, 162 civil society 6, 147 class: conflict 12, 38, 56, 66, 72, 81, 89–91, 94, 99, 102, 108, 110, 114, 124, 128, 138; consciousness 13–14, 56; and ethnic nation 11, 34, 107, 115, 119, 120, 122, 131, 142, 146; and historical change 4, 34, 56, 65, 107, 134–5; in Marxist history 12, 14, 105; and the “national struggle” in international Marxism 13, 33–4; syncretic notion of 12–14; working 4, 9, 12, 25, 33–4, 155 Cold War 55, 64, 67–8, 70, 75, 78, 80, 133, 136, 139, 160, 165 colonialism 4, 13, 42, 86, 139; anti colonialism 2, 42, 51; and assimilation policies 22, 27, 32, 34–6; Marxist historians and “amalgamation” with Korea 35–6; neo colonialism 67, 137, 147;

Index 195 post-colonial/post-imperial nationhood 22, 39, 75, 86, 144, 147, 159 colonization 1, 4; of Asia 22, 27, 34, 38, 42, 58, 100, 112, 137, 147; “decolonization” 42, 63, 121, 125, 137; and ‘eliding’ in postwar Japanese history 2; threat of in Meiji 107, 110, 112, 114–16 Communist Party Historians’ Group 5, 14, 49 communitarianism 129 “community of contrition” in early postwar 39, 41–2 Confucianism 140 Connor, Walker 8–9 cosmopolitanism 17, 95, 100, 102–4, 137–8, 140–1 culture: consumer culture 152, 158; cultural authenticity 1, 162; cultural homogeneity 9; cultural parallelism (“convergence”) 153–4; cultural syncretism 152, 156; organic idea of 149 cultural assimilation policies 22, 32–6, 38; and racial ‘hybridity’ 35 cultural studies 11 Daly, Glyn 147 De Gaulle, Charles 59 democracy 12, 44, 66, 69, 104, 121, 152, 156–7; as American ideology 53, 56, 64–5, 70, 76, 77, 95, 129, 158–61, 164; social democracy 26, 63; as universal ideal 43, 51–2, 63–5, 83, 125 Democratic Ethnic-National Unification Front 17–18, 43, 52–6, 62, 78, 86, 131, 146–7 Democratic Front 42–3, 47 Democratic Revolution for Ethnic National Independence 85–6 Democratic Scientists’ Association 41, 44, 131–4 democratization 42–3 Doak, Kevin 7, 12 Doi, Takao 45 Dore, Ronald 154 Dower, John 97 Dutt, Rajani Palme 27 East Asia: American presence in 1, 18, 62, 67, 76–7, 96–7; cultural commonalities with Japan 36, 73, 87–94, 118, 141, 148, 152; cultural differences with Japan 25, 36, 91, 106, 118; geo-politics in 34, 62; and Japanese imperialism 4, 28, 31, 34, 36, 38, 99–100, 112–13, 147 East Asian Co-Prosperity Sphere 22 East Germany 75 Edo period 60, 113, 119, 159 Eguchi, Bokurô 1, 19, 23, 62, 65–6, 69, 74–9, 82, 86–7, 106, 108–9, 115–16, 131, 136, 150, 163

Emperor 8, 25, 27, 46, 51, 80–3, 115, 130, 156, 158–9; scientific critique of 25, 42, 45–7; and war responsibility 44, 82 Engels, Friedrich 60 essentialism: civilizational 138–9, 142–3, 148–9, 153, 161–2; cultural 4–7, 9–12, 20, 26, 49, 122–3, 139, 143, 147–8, 162; metaphysical 5; national 26, 31, 37, 94; ontological 5, 28–9, 119, 146; performative 5, 146; ‘strategic’ 3, 5, 118, 123, 144, 146 ethnic nation 31, 70; and agency 46, 51–2, 85, 94, 141, 146, 154; and “assimilation” policies 22, 35, 143; as “bourgeois” entity 88; as counterwork to imperial state 25–6; and cultural authenticity 162; as economic and socio-political unit 26, 31–2, 95, 159; as “extra-historical” ideology 95, 100; and historical change 2, 18, 80, 87, 109, 112, 136; “hybrid” conception of 35, 38–9, 143; and idea of “blood” 2, 28, 94–5; and national consciousness 1, 19, 29–31, 108–9, 111, 113, 115, 117, 119, 121, 124–5, 129–30, 144, 152; organic conceptions of 81, 116, 130; and postwar imperial system 156, 158–62; premodern “germ” in 19, 28, 32, 86–8, 91–3, 96, 106, 117, 119, 122; premodern unification of 90; and race 4, 28, 123, 144, 147, 161; and radical politics 146–7; as romanticism 61, 92; and social change 36 ethnie 86 Evans, Graham 138 “expel the barbarian” movement 110, 114, 159 Forman, Michael 13 France 17, 25, 99, 108, 141, 152 French Revolution 74, 88 Fujioka, Nobukatsu 163–4 Fukuzawa, Yukichi 99–100, 154 Gandhi, M.K. 60 Gellner, Ernest 116–18 Gemeinschaft 100, 153, 162 gender 1, 9, 118, 148 Genji Monogatari 93 Germany 8, 15, 26, 28, 31–3, 70, 74, 80, 98, 113, 137 Gluck, Carol 125 Gramsci, Antonio 29 Great Britain 5, 7, 14, 17, 27, 42, 49, 71, 108, 141, 152, 163 Greece 49, 75; ancient Greece 17, 49–51, 56, 140–1, 152 Grumley, John 14 Hakone Conference on modernization 153 Hall, John W. 153–4

196 Index Halliday, Fred 140 Hani, Gorô 19, 24–5, 37, 40–1, 46, 48, 51, 69, 86 Harootunian, H.D. 5, 148 Hayakawa, Jirô 3, 18, 22, 24–5, 27–31, 34–8, 87, 126 Hayashi, Fusao 156–9, 165 Hayashi, Motoi 131 Hegel, G.W.F.: and bourgeois internationalism 138; and bourgeois modernity 17; and bourgeois nationalism 141; “cunning of history in” 17; and Orientalism 17, 57, 60–1, 98, 141 Heike Monogatari 93 hermeneutics 16, 128 high-growth era 151–2, 155 Hiraizumi, Kiyoshi 23 Hirasawa, Saburô 43 Hirokawa, Ko 27, 3 historical constructionism 4–6, 8, 16–19, 21–2, 27–30, 33–4, 36–9, 52, 61, 70–1, 78–80, 86–7, 92–5, 99, 105, 116–20, 122, 124, 126, 128, 130, 136, 138, 146, 149, 154, 158; comparison in pre and postwar 21–39, 92; “constructionist moment” 16; “deconstructionist moment” 16–17 Historical Science Society: critiques of 135; and decline of “national awakening” 151; factional divisions within 11, 19, 86–7, 115–16, 118, 122–3; founding and reconstruction of 3, 22–4; modernization faction 11, 19, 86–7, 106, 109, 115, 117–19; minzoku faction 11, 19, 86–7, 105–6, 117, 119, 138, 141; postwar principles of 3, 18, 40–1, 43, 45, 47, 49, 61, 65, 66, 87, 126, 128, 131 and radical nationalism 11; sub-text of racial homogeneity in 4, 19, 117–23, 144, 146 historical stages 110, 119 history: agency in 4, 15, 28, 31, 46, 93; cultural history 48–9; “deprovincializing” 122; “desire” in 14–15, 93; establishment history 7; as “history of the West” 16–17, 57–8, 60, 64, 69, 137; and the “people” 10, 45, 46; as politics 14–15; radcial 14; state centric views of 3, 40, 45; world history 16, 18, 40–4, 76, 87, 88, 107, 109, 131; world history and liberation 16–7, 56, 58, 68, 75, 79, 98, 107, 116, 131, 135, 142; world history in Japanese history 11, 40, 43–5, 49–51, 56, 63–7, 69, 75, 78–9, 89, 113, 125, 134–5, 141, 143 Hori, Toshikazu 69 Hoston, Germaine 15, 24, 38 humanism 81, 102, 125, 132, 160 Hungarian Incident 7, 149–50 Ichikawa, Yonehiko 63–4, 68 identity: and culture 5, 124, 140; and ethnicity 5, 43, 96, 110, 116, 120–1; perceived “loss” of

in postwar 158; “pre-political” forms of 6; and race 119; and world history 11 identity politics 5, 146 Ienaga, Saburô 52 Iggers, Georg 14 imperial system 8, 23–4, 26, 28, 42, 44–7, 50, 54, 65, 111–12, 121, 152, 154, 157 imperialism 16–17, 22, 24, 30–3, 36–8, 40, 67, 68, 70–4, 76, 79, 88, 95, 100–1, 103–6, 109, 113–14, 116, 120, 125, 136, 139, 142, 155 India 12, 24, 50, 60, 75, 79, 102, 105, 107–8, 133–5, 142, 148–9, 153–4, 159; independence of, 2, 76, 124, 142, 147 Indonesia 76 Inoue Kiyoshi 1, 11, 19, 37, 40, 45–8, 51, 62, 65, 86, 106, 108–15, 118–22, 128–9, 131, 150 instrumental rationality 143, 149 international relations 11, 136, 138; “Asian tolerance” in 139–40, 143, 148; balance of power in 137; conflict in 140; and geopolitics 8, 34, 55, 70, 76, 96, 148; and hegemony 70, 137; hierarchy in 138; and nationalism 137; and “post-racial” politics 139; and power politics 11, 137, 148; realism in 137, 150 internationalism 10–11, 17, 33, 79, 81, 83, 125, 131, 135–44, 150, 152, 156–7, 163; Asian 10–12, 16, 19, 73–4, 77, 81, 102–3, 116, 133, 136–7, 143, 146, 149; bourgeois 138, 141; civilizational essentialism in 140, 141, 148; as ‘counter internationalism’ 139; and the Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere 22, 142–3; and hegemony 133, 140; and humanism 138–40, 143–4, 149; Marxist 138, 150; and Nehru 142; pan-Asianism and 38, 143, 149, 163; in prewar 149; and race 142, 148; revolutionary 139–40, 150; socialist (proletarian) 8, 34, 72, 88, 116, 136–7, 142; Soviet 76, 139; world-state and 142 Ireland 107–8 Ishikawa, Takuboku 100–1, 104 Ishimoda, Shô 1, 3, 5–7, 13–17, 19, 22, 29, 34, 36, 38, 40, 44, 46, 48–50, 57, 59, 62, 65, 68–9, 78–9, 85–6, 94–100, 103–4, 106, 108–9, 116, 118–19, 121–2, 124–5, 129, 131–9, 141–2, 145–7, 150, 153, 157 Italy 29, 32–3, 108 Iwai, Tadakuma 165 Izu, Kimio (Akagi, Kensuke) 22, 27, 32, 34, 36, 47, 49–51, 55, 62–3, 65, 72, 89, 131 Japan: ancient “slave” system in 48, 51, 69, 91; as “colonized” in postwar 1, 4, 17–8, 34, 39, 42, 55–7, 59, 62, 67, 70, 79, 81, 85–6, 95–8, 108–9, 115, 119–20, 129, 152; Imperial Japanese Constitution 45, 115; Marxism in 23; and neo-colonialism 108; and

Index 197 neo-nationalism 19, 67; postwar constitution 54, 156–8 Japan Communist Party 3, 18–19, 37–8, 41–4, 47, 52–7, 62–4, 66, 77–8, 80–1, 83, 85–6, 131–2, 145, 147, 155 Japan Culture Theory 10, 152, 154 Japan Romantic School 61, 156, 162 Japanese capitalism 3, 6–8, 11–12, 14, 16, 30, 38, 42; crisis of 36; historical particularities of 25; scientific critique of 23–4; scientific development of 24, 28 Japanese fascism 26, 29, 32–3, 37, 41–3, 47, 57, 64–7, 70–1, 77, 95, 97, 128–9, 137 Japanese feudalism 2, 12, 23, 25, 28, 30–2, 41–2, 46–8, 51, 55, 69, 70, 73, 93, 110–14, 154 Japanese Marxism: Comintern Critique of 19, 66, 77, 78; Kôza faction 24–5, 38, 42, 111; in the prewar 3, 15, 23–4, 37, 99–100; Rônô faction 24–5; as social science tool 24 Japanism 143 Kaetsu, Yasuto 160 Kageyama, Masaharu 160–2 Kan, Takayuki 16 Kanda, Fumito 86 Kanda, Shohachihei 67–8 Katô, Shûichi 152, 155–6 Kawamoto, Takashi 11, 132, 163 Kaye, Harvey 14 Kersten, Rikki 163 Khrushev, Nikita 149 Kimura, Motoi 135–6, 151 Kita, Ikki 148 Kling, Merle 137 Kojima, Tsunehisa 53 Kokutai 23, 45 Korea 11, 23, 29, 32, 34–6, 38, 50, 62, 67, 71, 73, 75, 89–93, 118, 122, 134, 140, 143, 159 Korean War 2, 13, 19, 76–9, 82, 85, 97, 108, 124, 132, 136, 139 Koreans in Japan 4, 119–20, 147 Koschmann, J. Victor 56–7 Kôtoku, Shusui 101–2, 137–8 Kristeva, Julia 117 Kurahara, Korehito 56, 154–5 Kuroita, Katsumi 23 Kyôgen 93 Kyoto School 143 Lenin 32, 60, 74, 88, 107, 116 Leninism 100 Liberal School of History 7, 12, 20, 145, 163–5; and Association for the Making of New Historical Textbooks 164; historical revisionism in 12, 163–5; Liberal School of History (continued)

and myth 160; and national education 146, 160, 164–5; and national history 165; and the postwar Occupation 160, 162, 165; and public intellectuals 165; respectability, veneer of 165; as “scientific” discourse 165; similarities to early postwar Left 10, 156, 161, 163–5; “spirit” of ethnic nation in 160–1, 165; local history: relation to national history 134–6 Lu, Xun 58–61 Malaysia 76 Manchuria 23, 90 Manchurian Incident 26–7, 37, 47, 103 Mao, Zedong 2, 13, 15, 43, 57, 59–60, 62, 67–8, 71, 79, 103, 108, 118, 124, 142 March Struggle 54–5 Maruyama, Masao 2, 73–4, 79, 118, 123, 125, 127, 154, 157, 162, 165 Maruyama, Noboru 61 Marxism: in Asia 17; and liberation 75; and the national question 4; and Orientalism 24, 98 Marxist history: agency in 4, 12, 14, 28, 45–6, 49–52, 56, 64–5, 69–71, 79, 85, 93, 99, 105, 107, 109–10, 112, 119–20, 126, 130, 134, 141; base and superstructure argument in 12–13, 29, 65; in China 12, 15–17; class conflict in 12; and contemporary Japanese nationalism 146–65; cultural convertibility idea in 49, 56, 63, 89; definition of 12; “desire” in 14, 93, 126–8; and educational reform 41, 128–33; emperor-centrism and 23, 25, 28, 135. 156; “ethnic imagination” in 8; and European modernity 16; exclusionary character of 147–8; historical laws in 49, 50, 53, 63, 66, 69, 76, 87, 107, 126, 151; ideology of “blood” in 33l; in India, the Middle East, and Africa 12; and liberalism 95–6; and local history 131–6, 151; and myth 10; and national education 82, 129, 130–1, 133, 146; “neutrality” idea in 126–7; and objectivity 13–14, 28, 33, 99, 126, 128–9, 135; “the people” in 2, 40–1, 45, 47, 49, 52, 62, 65, 70, 80, 95, 109, 126, 131–2; as popular history 151; and positivism 126–7; in prewar 34, 36–7, 45, 99, 101; prewar legacy of 34, 38, 39, 40–1, 53, 126; racial assumptions in 144; as science 3, 13, 25, 28, 31, 40, 42, 45–9, 51, 66, 67, 87, 98, 101, 117, 119, 123, 126–8, 131–3, 143, 151; syncretic idea of class in 12–14; telos of 117 “masses”: in Japanese thought 155, mass consciousness 158; mass humanism 157; “mass society” idea 155; “nationalism of the masses” 155–7, 161–2 Materialist Study Group 18, 22–38 Matsubara, Hiroshi 3, 18, 27–9, 34–6, 38, 87, 126

198 Index Matsumoto, Ken’ichi 161–3 Matsumoto, Shinpachirô 1, 19, 40, 65, 85–6, 93–6, 98, 104, 106, 119, 131, 134, 150 Matsushita, Kei’ichi 155 May Day Incident 54, 97–8, 108 McCrone, David 116 Meiji era 2, 23, 28, 31, 36, 45–7, 59, 61, 69, 73, 76, 99–102, 104, 108–9, 111–13, 128, 137, 148, 152, 154, 159, 160, 162–3, 165 Meiji Restoration 11, 15, 19, 25, 46, 109–13, 118–20, 159 middle class 65–6, 77, 110–12 Middle East 12, 116, 125, 139 Mikami, Sanji 23 millennialism 80, 88, 98 Ministry of Education 63, 129, 132 minorities 1, 32, 34, 120, 148, 150 Mishima, Hajime 22, 40, 65 Mishima, Yukio 157–8, 161–2 mission, sense of 1, 33, 57, 74, 79, 85 Miura, Yoshikazu 156 Miyamoto, Shoji 44 modernism/modernity 9, 56–8, 66, 109, 128, 147; bourgeois 7, 17, 41, 53, 60, 62, 69–70, 78–9, 103, 107, 109–10, 142, 151, 162; critique of 41, 54, 56–7, 59, 64–5, 71–3, 75, 77, 95, 105, 112, 131, 143, 153, 155, 160, 162, 164; European 58–61, 75; and Japanese tradition 154 “modernists against” 5, 128, 147; and modernization 16, 22, 42, 58, 69, 70, 74, 80–1, 86, 89, 96, 106–10, 112–19, 153, 158, 162; “overcoming modernity” 148; as “universal” 44 modernization theory 152–5 Morris, Ivan 83 Movement for a People’s History 6, 19, 41, 83, 131–6, 146, 150, 163, 165 Munakata, Seiya 124–5, 130, 136, 138–42, 148 Murakami, Yasusuke 153, 165 Nabeyama, Sadachika 38 Najita, Tetsuo 148 Nakabayashi, Takayuki 11 Nakagawa, Ikuro 61 Nakasone, Yasuhiro 10 Naohara, Hiromichi 42 Napier, J.P. 78 Nasser, G.A. 139 nation state 7–8, 11, 109, 116, 121 national history 1–2, 18, 45, 61, 71, 94, 120, 123–5, 127, 133–5, 141, 151; in France 7; in Great Britain 7; in Italy 7 “national awakening” 1, 3, 5–6, 9–12, 15–19, 39, 57, 61, 69, 81, 83, 94, 111, 113, 115–16, 119–20, 123–31, 138, 143, 154–5, 157, 161, 163–5; decline of 6, 145–52, 163; as new

phenomenon in Japanese history 3, 6, 21–2, 34, 79, 126, 149 national liberation 2, 33–4, 42, 60, 68, 80, 98, 107, 125, 131 National Postal Workers’ Union 54–5, 57 “national question”, the 2, 4, 14, 26–7, 31–3, 36, 71, 74–5, 79, 86, 88, 92, 95, 124, 142, 145, 149, 165 National Railroad Workers’ Union 55, 57 national self-determination 74 “national socialism” 33, 38 national unification 11, 32, 90, 108–9, 112, 114–15, 117, 121, 124, 126, 128, 130 nationalism: and agency 116; and agrarianism 148–9, 162; anti state 7–8, 10–12, 19, 80, 116, 152, 156–7; Asian liberation nationalism, 2, 16–17, 38, 42, 64, 68, 72–7, 79, 98, 100, 102, 105, 137–8, 148, 159–61; bourgeois 7, 17, 33, 36, 75, 95, 110, 136–7, 141; civic 28, 31–2, 34, 60, 74, 116–17, 155; and chauvanism 88; contemporary ethnic 145–6, 151; contemporary trends in 151–5; cultural 9, 152; “elision” of Japanese and Asian 2, 80, 161; establishment 156–7; “ethnic nationalization of Marxism” 60; “healthy” 3, 5, 8, 75, 87–8, 109, 123, 125, 132, 137, 144, 149, 164–5; and ideology of “blood” 2, 28, 30, 80, 130; left wing 7–8, 10, 71, 83; liberation nationalism 43, 60, 68, 74–5, 88, 118, 124, 138–9; and Marxism 53; Meiji nationalism 159; and modernization 116, 151–5; multi-ethnicity 34; “nationalism of intellectuals” 156; “nationalism of the masses” 155–7, 161–2; official 33; as organizing theme in Japanese history 11; “primordialist” sense of 9, 116; progressive 2, 6, 18, 21, 27, 61, 72, 74–8, 87, 109–10, 117, 138–9; radical 8, 11; reactive 72, 74–5, 99, 109, 114; and revolution 43, 73–4, 89; revolutionary 28, 72–4, 139, 148; right wing 10, 83; socialist 2, 136–7, 150; statist 136; “warped” ethnic 41, 149 nationality 26, 87, 160; “self-evident” premise of in prewar Japan 144 Nativism 5, 95, 126, 147; and Shinto 30, 161 Nehru, J. 139, 142 neo nationalism 6, 160; and agrarianism 148–9, 162; and American democracy 160, 165; anti state nationalism in 163; and Asian nationalism 161, 164–5; “Asian values” in 165; as communitarian republicanism 165; critique of capitalism in 165; critique of Maruyama Masao in 165; critique of political institutions in 161, 163–5; critique of postwar Left in 165; and democratic education 160, 161, 164–5; and educational reform 160, 161, 165; essentialism of 165; as

Index 199 “healthy nationalism” 164–5; idea of culture in 164; and internationalsm 164; and the “iron triangle” 163, 165; and pan Asianism 165; and postwar “denial” of Japanese history 160, 165; and postwar imperial system 156, 158–62, 165; as “pre political” and “pre ideological” 164–5 New Right 7, 19, 145, 156, 158, 164; debt to early postwar Marxist history 7, 9–10, 161, 164; “minzoku” faction in 158; and nationality 162; social mobilization of 158; racial assumptions in 161; rejection of postwar democracy by 162, 164; and Shintoism 161 Newnham, Jeffrey 138 Nimni, Ephraim 4–5, 88 Nishibe, Susumu 163, 165 Nishikawa, Masao 23 Nishio, Kanji 164 Nomura, Kentarô 134 Non-Aligned Movement 139 North Korea 105 Nosaka, Sanzô 37, 41–4, 54,77 Ôguma, Eiji 8, 11, 35 Ohta, Takeo 27, 34. Oike, Fumio 150 Okakura,Tenshin 148, 165 Okamoto, Saburô 68–9 Okamoto, Shô 43–4 Okawa, Shumei 163 Okinawa 36, 120–1, 150, 152 Okonogi, Shinsaburô 128–9 Olson, Lawrence 61, 156 Orient 24, 58–60, 74, 98 Oriental history 15, 24, 73, 100 outcasts (Burakumin) 119–20, 128 Ôyama, Ikuo 26–8, 32, 37, 41, 70–1, 87, 94 Ozawa, Hirotaka 11, 105 patriotism 72, 100, 111–12 Peace Treaty 77, 96–7, 108 People’s Rights Movement 46, 73, 111–12, 115, 159 political institutions 6–10, 147–8, 161 Potsdam Declaration 43–4, 46, 51, 52 prewar era: ethnic nationalism in 118; “family state” idea in 30, 38, 80, 94; minzokushugi in 2, 70; and racism 28, 76–7, 95, 123; and statism 41, 115, 131; and tenkô 37, 53, 59; and ultra-nationalism 2, 5, 10, 34, 41, 72–4, 81, 87, 130–1, 157 proletarian cultural movements 41, 43–4 public memory 22, 82, 147 Pyle, Kenneth 11 race 4, 6, 8; and assimilation policies 35; and

assumptions of Japanese homogeneity 8, 56, 79, 85, 92, 117–23, 128, 144; and colonialism 28, 100; conflation with “nation” 118, 144; and cultural unity 19, 92; and discrimination 120, 139; German idea of 28; in historical constructionism 4, 28–32, 36, 85, 92, 117–23, 144, 146; and “hybridity” 29, 38, 39, 143; “post-racial” politics 139, 144; presence in postwar Japan 97, 117–23, 144, 146; as “progressive” construct 4, 29–30, 146; Western racism 157, 159 radical politics 9, 146–7 Rekishigaku Kenkyû 40, 45, 63; postwar rebirth of 45 relations of production 12–13, 31, 65, 88, 112, 120, 122, 128–9, 136 republicanism 51, 165 resistance to the West 11, 16, 111–12, 115, 142, 159, 162–3; in Takeuchi Yoshimi 57–61 revolution: bourgeois democratic 24–5, 32, 34, 40–5, 47–8, 51–2, 54, 56–7, 62–3, 65–6, 69–70, 72–3, 77–8, 88, 95, 111–14, 145, 162; and China 13, 16, 43, 68, 78; identity in 13, 128; and Marxist history 12, 85; and modernism 152; and national culture 43; and national independence 78; people’s 11, 55, 67; “revolutionary culture” 43, 94; “revolutionary subject” 11, 123; “revolutionary tradition” 10, 93; socialist (proletarian) 1, 24–5, 34, 42, 62, 64–5, 78, 102, 111, 116, 120, 124, 136, 138, 143, 145, 147; in Soviet Union 16, 68; spiritual 80–1; in Third World 12–13; two-stage theory of 18, 24, 38, 40, 63, 77, 111; worldwide 88, 101, 103, 107, 138 Right, the 80–4; comparison with postwar Left 82–3; influence of 83–4; weakness of in early postwar 83–4 Russia 4, 58, 60, 68, 70, 74, 113 Russo-Japanese War 100, 113 Saeki, Keishi 165 Saito, Akio 103–4 Sano, Masanobu 38 Scalapino, Robert 53 Schwarz, Bill 14, 49 Shinto 158,161 Sino-Japanese War 73, 100 Smith, Anthony 86–7, 116 Shôtoku Taishi 156 socialism 6, 42, 66, 75, 82, 89, 107, 109, 124, 152; in China 67–8; and culture 155; and the ethnic nation 15, 25–7, 70, 88, 102; international 34, 125; and national consciousness 15; and national liberation 34; and nationalism 72, 136; and race 136; “socialism in one country” 38; the socialist

200 Index nation 26–7, 60, 68–9, 77, 88, 96, 98, 103–4, 109, 116, 118, 136, 138, 146 Sokoku 100, 101, 120, 123, 155 Southeast Asia 71, 75, 105, 140 Southeast Asian Treaty Organization 139 Soviet Union 54, 98, 103, 133, 137–8, 150, 159, 161; Bolshevik Revolution 15, 37, 88, 159; “co-existence” of nationalities in 4, 27, 32, 35–6, 88, 138–9, 149–50; and Cold War 54, 97; and democracy 63–4; and expansionism 139, 141; and historical constructionism 27, 122; and Marxism 41; and revolution 15, 25, 37, 69, 88; and the state 4, 100 Spivak, Gayatri 5 Stalin, Joseph 4, 5, 13, 16, 18, 25–7, 30–1, 32, 36, 59, 78–9, 87, 94–6, 98–9, 105–6, 109, 117, 120–1, 130, 133, 138, 149, 155–6 Stalinism 41, 74, 93, 150 subaltern politics 4, 120 subjectivity 56, 59–60, 113, 123, 125–6, 135 Suehara, Keiji 151 Sukarno, Achmad 139 Sun, Yat-sen 60 Suzuki, Shirô 1, 48, 70, 86, 106–8, 115–16, 128–9 Suzuki, Tessa Morris 35 Symposium on the Historical Development of Japanese Capitalism 24, 40 Symposium on Marxism 24, 26 Tagore, R. 60 Taguchi, Kikuchi 99–100 Taiheiki 93 Taishô democracy 26 Taiwan 32, 34–6, 38, 143 Takahashi, Sadanobu 35 Takeuchi, Yoshimi 18, 57–62, 64, 67, 71–2, 98, 105–6, 131, 138, 140, 147–8, 153, 162–3 Tamura, Eitarô 22 Tanaka, Tadao 160 tenkô 37–8, 41, 53, 59–60 Third International 33, 75 Third World 12–13, 42, 108, 146, 159 Thompson, E.P. 14, 125 Tokuda, Kyûichi 41, 43–4, 62 Tôma, Seita 1, 19, 39, 44, 46, 48–9, 57, 62, 65, 69, 86–91, 93, 95–6, 98, 104, 106, 109, 118–19, 124, 131, 133–4, 141–2, 150

Tômiyama, Ichirô 22 Tomlinson, John 137 Torii, Ryuzô 35 Tosaka, Jun 3, 18, 27, 31, 33, 35–8, 87, 126 Tôyama, Shigeki 1–2, 11, 46–7, 65, 72–6, 78–9, 82, 86–7, 106, 108–9, 114–16, 118, 121–2, 131, 137–8, 153–4, 163 tribal society 30, 33 Tsuda, Sôkichi 127 Tsuji, Zennosuke 23 Tsurumi, Shunsuke 37 Uchimura, Kanzô 154 Uehara, Senroku 1, 8–9, 106, 113–14, 124–5, 128–30, 136, 138–42, 148, 163–4 Ueyama, Shunpei 154 Ugai Masashi 11 Ukraine 32, 35 Umesada, Tadao 153–4 United States–Japan Security Treaty 10, 14, 77, 97, 108, 132, 150, 153 Usami, Seijirô 40 Utsumi, Takashi 33–4 Vietnam 152, 159, 162 Volk 31, 85, 87–8, 92, 96 Wang, Edward Q. 16 Watanabe, Yoshimichi 35 Watsuji, Tetsurô 26, 28, 122 Weber, Max 154 Western civilization 17, 89 Williams, Raymond 5 World War I 74, 99 World War II 6, 34, 42, 157, 159–60, 164 Yamato Culture 90 Yamato Minzoku 28, 35 Yasuda, Yojûrô 61. Yayoi period 90, 119 Yoshida Administration 67, 83, 97, 108, 132–3 Yoshimoto, Taka’aki 155–7, 161–2 Yoshino, Kôsaku 9 Yugoslavia 75 Yun, Kon-cha 44 Zen’ei 44, 56