From the Meiji Restoration to the War of Aggression Against China

2026-10-09T17:39:00+00:00· Historical

In 1853, just as Hong Xiuquan’s Taiping Army breached the gates of Nanjing, four U.S. warships were sailing toward Edo Bay in Japan.

U.S. Navy Commodore Perry demanded that the Japanese shogunate, just as the Qing government had done a decade earlier, open its borders, open its ports, and engage in “free trade.” Faced with these Anglo-Saxons who had traveled such a long distance and the menacing black cannons on their ships, the shogunate’s shoguns were momentarily at a loss. After much deliberation, they decided to stall for time, telling the Americans to return once they had reached a decision.

Seven months later, having received no reply, Perry lost his patience.

Returning to these waters, he brought not just four warships, but a massive fleet that eventually expanded to nine vessels, armed with eighty cannons and manned by approximately 1,600 men. This time, the Americans clearly had no intention of returning empty-handed. That year, Japan and China across the sea ushered in the dawn of modern history in almost identical ways.

Loss of Sovereignty and National Humiliation

“To bow our heads and submit to the will of foreign powers—such a decline of the nation has never been seen since ancient times!” — Yoshida Shōin

In 1856, Harris, the first U.S. Consul General to Japan, arrived in Shimoda, preparing to continue negotiations with the Tokugawa Shogunate on opening the country to foreign trade. Unexpectedly, this American diplomat took a fancy to the “exotic charm” of the local Gyokusen-ji Temple, so he simply set up the Consulate General there and even slaughtered a cow and ate its meat on the temple grounds. For Japanese society at the time—with its deep Buddhist traditions and widespread taboos against killing living beings and eating beef—such behavior was naturally unacceptable. However, given the Americans’ superior ships and artillery, the Tokugawa Shogunate had no choice but to swallow its pride. Yet this act of arrogance by the Americans would later become a “precedent” for other Western powers to bully Japan.

In 1859, the British Consul General to Japan, Arikuni, set his sights on Tōzen-ji Temple in Takanawa, Edo, designating it as the British Consulate General, which was later upgraded to an embassy. The French were not to be outdone, designating Jikai-ji Temple in Mita as their diplomatic headquarters. As for the Americans, they later moved outright from Shimoda to Zenpuku-ji Temple in Azabu, Edo. From then on, Japanese temples became inns for Westerners.

In 1858, the Shogunate signed the “Treaty of Amity and Commerce between Japan and the United States” with the United States once again, and subsequently concluded similar treaties with the Netherlands, Russia, Britain, and France—collectively known as the “Ansei Five-Nation Treaties.” The treaties stipulated that foreign currencies would be exchanged for their Japanese equivalents on a weight-for-weight basis, completely disregarding the actual value of Japanese currency. At the time, the gold-to-silver ratio on the international market was approximately 1:15, whereas in Japan—which had long practiced a policy of “national isolation”—the domestic gold-to-silver ratio was only about 1:5. This presented European and American bankers with a golden opportunity to make a fortune. They shipped large quantities of silver to Japan, exchanged it for Japanese silver coins in accordance with the treaties, then used those silver coins to purchase relatively inexpensive gold within Japan, and finally shipped the gold back to Europe and the United States. As a result, the same amount of silver, after circulating through Japan, could theoretically be exchanged for three times its value in gold—a blatant arbitrage opportunity that foreigners naturally did not hesitate to exploit.

Large quantities of gold flowed out of Japan in a steady stream. To stem the continued outflow of gold, the shogunate was forced to reform the gold coinage in 1860, significantly reducing the gold content of the coins. However, while the outflow of gold was curbed, currency depreciation and inflation spiraled out of control. Calculated based on the gold content of the coins, the Japanese currency depreciated by approximately 66.7 percent—meaning its original value shrank to about one-third of its original level. This was equivalent to the great powers plundering more than half of the Japanese people’s wealth. This crisis directly undermined the political authority of the Tokugawa Shogunate and became one of the key factors behind the economic turmoil and the anti-shogunate movement during the Bakumatsu period.

By 1862, 21-year-old Hirobumi Itō and 26-year-old Kaoru Inoue had long since reached their limit with the shogunate’s weakness and incompetence. In their view, the shoguns had been so terrified by a few cannons set up by the Americans that they had not only surrendered national sovereignty and brought shame upon the country but were now even shamelessly constructing a new British legation in Gotenyama, Edo. Consequently, these two impassioned young men, together with Takasugi Shinsaku, Kusaka Genzui, and other activists from the Chōshū Domain’s “Respect the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians” faction (the precursor to Japan’s “Restoration faction”), organized a secret society called the “Otate-gumi.” Late one night in December 1862, more than a dozen young men sneaked into the nearly completed British legation and set it ablaze, reducing the entire building to ashes. This became known in Japanese history as the “Gotenyama British Legation Arson Incident.”

Hirobumi Ito and Kaoru Inoue were not merely two hot-blooded, reckless youths who knew only how to shout for violence. Although they detested the hegemonic behavior of the Western powers in Japan, they had to acknowledge that the West was indeed far more advanced than Japan in industry, technology, and military affairs. Since a few samurai swords were not enough to drive the foreigners away, they had to first figure out exactly how these foreigners had become so powerful.

In 1863, the two decided to study in Britain. Just a few months earlier, they had been setting fire to the British legation; a few months later, they were planning to cross the ocean to seek knowledge firsthand on British soil.

Learn from the West to Conquer the West

Even if I succeed in my studies here, what meaning would any of this have if my homeland were to perish? — Hirobumi Ito

At the time, Japan was still enforcing a strict policy of national isolation; traveling abroad without the shogunate’s permission could easily cost one one’s head. Moreover, the cost of crossing the ocean to study in Britain was exorbitant—a sum that was by no means small for these young samurai. Hirobumi Ito, Kaoru Inoue, and their companions had no choice but to seek ways to raise the funds. After making inquiries, they learned that studying in Britain for one year would cost nearly 1,000 taels of silver per person. Where would they get that money? Finally, by persuading Kido Takayoshi—who held a central position in the Chōshū Domain’s administration—they secured a loan of silver from merchants, using funds originally earmarked for the purchase of weapons as collateral. Although they had secured the funds, since they had drawn upon the domain’s resources, the group wrote a special letter to the domain officials before their departure, assuring them that the money would not be spent on eating, drinking, or entertainment, but rather to “save the nation,” and that they would certainly return after completing their studies to serve the country.

In June 1863, less than half a year after the burning of the British Legation, five like-minded young men—Hirobumi Ito, Kaoru Inoue, Yozo Yamao, Katsu Inoue, and Kinsuke Endo—five like-minded young men—cut off their topknots, took off their samurai robes, donned Western-style clothing, and secretly boarded a British merchant ship. They set sail from Yokohama for Shanghai, then transferred to another ship bound for Britain. These five would later be known as the “Five Heroes of Chōshū.” But it wasn’t until they arrived in Shanghai that they realized, despite their determination to go to Britain to study advanced technology, none of them could speak English fluently. Kaoru Inoue knew only one word—“navigation”—and even spelled it wrong. The British crew members on board could not figure out what these Japanese men were actually trying to do. After a series of misunderstandings, the British mistakenly believed that Hirobumi Itō and Kaoru Inoue wanted to join the ship as sailors, so they assigned them sailor’s duties. The two men worked alongside the sailors on board, performing daily chores, believing that if they didn’t work, the British would refuse to take them to England. And so, the group set sail across the ocean, heading toward the British Empire they had longed for.

In November 1863, after several months at sea, five young men—including Itō Hirobumi and Inoue Kaoru—finally arrived in London, England. The scene before them completely overturned their understanding of the world. In Japan, samurai were still carrying swords and debating how to expel foreigners, while the British had long since been crisscrossing the globe by train. The streets of London were bustling with traffic; machines in factories ran day and night; and massive steam engines provided an unending source of power for industrial production. As for the warships that struck terror into the hearts of the Tokugawa Shogunate, in the eyes of the British, they were nothing more than a commodity produced by the entire industrial system. Only then did the young men realize that Britain’s strength did not stem merely from a few warships or or a few dozen cannons, but rather because behind those warships lay a complete set of industrial, educational, financial, and political systems that Japan had never seen before. To make Japan strong, a few samurai swords alone were clearly not enough.

In 1864, the conflict between the Chōshū Domain and the Western powers continued to escalate, and four nations—including Britain—prepared to launch a military operation against Chōshū. Upon hearing the news, Hirobumi Itō and Kaoru Inoue hurried back to Japan ahead of schedule, attempting to persuade their former “expel the barbarians” comrades not to challenge the Western powers with a few crude cannons. Unfortunately, their pleas failed to prevent the war. In August of that same year, a joint fleet of British, French, American, and Dutch ships bombarded Shimonoseki, and the Chōshū Domain suffered a crushing defeat. This battle, however, served as a vivid military lesson for the Chōshū Domain. In the past, Japanese samurai had believed that the strength of foreigners lay solely in their superior ships and cannons; now they realized that so-called “superior ships and cannons” were merely an outward manifestation of industrial power. Since they could not drive the foreigners away, they had no choice but to first master the foreigners’ skills.

The Anti-Shogunate Movement

“If the Emperor does not obey, exile him to the Oki Islands.” — Tokugawa Ieyasu

Most Chinese people are unaware of the Emperor’s social role in modern Japan; their limited understanding comes solely from films and TV dramas about the War of Resistance Against Japan, leading them to believe that ancient Japanese emperors, like the emperors of China’s feudal dynasties, held supreme power and status. In reality, beginning in the mid-to-late Heian period of the 10th century, imperial authority in Japan was gradually undermined by local samurai clans and powerful court officials. It was not until 1192, when Minamoto no Yoritomo established the Kamakura Shogunate and assumed the title of “Seii Taishogun,” that Japan entered a period of samurai shogunate rule lasting nearly 700 years (the Kamakura, Muromachi, and Tokugawa shogunates), and the Emperor was reduced to a figurehead with no real power. Historically, there were two anti-shogunate movements in 1221 and 1331, but both ended in failure; Emperor Go-Toba and Emperor Go-Daigo, who had staged coups, were exiled to Oki Island by the shogun.

At this time, Japan faced foreign cannons from the West and internal strife between the Chōshū Domain and the shogunate forces; the entire nation was in turmoil and teetering on the brink of collapse. The defeated Chōshū Domain suddenly became as unwelcome as a rat in the street, with everyone calling for its downfall. Some conservative samurai believed that, since they had already offended the shogunate, they might as well quickly admit their mistakes and beg for mercy in order to preserve the domain lord’s position. However, radicals like Shinsaku Takasugi argued that compromising with the shogunate would only rob the Chōshū Domain of its future. In late 1864, Takasugi Shinsaku could no longer contain himself and led a small group of supporters in a rebellion at Kōzan-ji Temple. To be sure, this force was initially small and, by all accounts, did not appear capable of changing the course of Japanese history. But Takasugi Shinsaku possessed something the traditional samurai class tended to look down upon: the Kiheitai. This military unit no longer recruited soldiers strictly based on samurai status; instead, it incorporated members from non-samurai classes—such as farmers and merchants—and trained them using relatively advanced Western-style firearms. In Takasugi Shinsaku’s view, warfare ultimately came down to who could shoot most accurately, not to how many generations of samurai one’s ancestors had been. After a series of military and political struggles, the radical reformists within the Chōshū Domain gradually seized real power.

At the same time, another key figure emerged: Sakamoto Ryoma, from the Tosa Domain.

Sakamoto Ryoma realized that the two domains in Japan with the greatest potential to overthrow the shogunate were, in fact, at odds with one another: the Chōshū Domain and the Satsuma Domain. The two sides had even clashed directly in Kyoto. However, Sakamoto Ryoma believed that since everyone was dissatisfied with the shogunate, rather than continuing to fight each other, they should first unite to oust the Tokugawa shogun. Through the mediation of Sakamoto Ryoma and others, in 1866, the Satsuma and Chōshū domains finally formed a secret alliance, known in history as the “Satsuma-Chōshū Alliance.” The Chōshū domain possessed a modernized army, while the Satsuma domain had substantial economic strength and military resources. Thus, these two powerful domains, which had once been hostile to one another, joined forces.

The Tokugawa Shogunate soon realized that things were taking a turn for the worse. In 1866, the Shogunate launched another campaign against Chōshū, assuming that with the combined forces of all the domains across the country, subduing a single domain like Chōshū would be no difficult task. Unexpectedly, the Chōshū army—which had already completed its military reforms—managed to hold off the shogunate forces on multiple battlefields. To make matters worse, the Satsuma Domain refused to assist the shogunate in its campaign against Chōshū. With the shogunate forces suffering setbacks and the death of Shogun Tokugawa Iemochi, the Second Chōshū Campaign ultimately ended with the shogunate’s withdrawal. The Tokugawa Shogunate had ruled Japan for over two hundred years, yet now it could not even subdue a single domain like Chōshū. This led the various domains to question whether the Tokugawa family was still qualified to continue ruling Japan.

In 1867, Tokugawa Yoshinobu became the last shogun. Tokugawa Yoshinobu was no fool; he knew that the shogunate’s rule was becoming unsustainable. Thus, under pressure from political forces such as the Tosa Domain, he voluntarily returned political power to the Imperial Court—an event known to history as the “Restoration of Imperial Rule.”

The Japanese Emperor, who had served as a political puppet for 900 years, returned to the center of Japan’s political stage.

Tokugawa Yoshinobu’s move was actually quite clever: although he relinquished the shogunate’s nominal authority, he still retained vast territories, an army, and political influence. As long as the new central government was willing to allow him to participate in decision-making, the Tokugawa clan could still maintain an important position. However, the hardline anti-shogunate factions in Satsuma and Chōshū clearly did not want to leave this potential source of trouble unresolved. Spurred on by figures such as Saigō Takamori, Ōkubo Toshimichi, and Iwakura Tomomi, the anti-shogunate faction capitalized on the political situation at the Imperial Court to proclaim the “Restoration of Imperial Rule” and demanded that Tokugawa Yoshinobu resign from his official posts and surrender his territories. Later, however, the Meiji government paid a heavy price to accommodate the remnants of the old shogunate.

Although Tokugawa Yoshinobu relinquished power, the remnants of the shogunate had not yet completely abandoned resistance. It was not until the end of the Battle of Hakodate in 1869, when the remaining armed forces of the old shogunate were thoroughly eliminated, that the internal war in Japan was declared over.

From 1853, when Commodore Perry led the “Black Ships” into Edo Bay, to 1869, when the remnants of the shogunate were completely defeated, it took Japan only sixteen years to complete a far-reaching change of government. By contrast, it took China a full 76 years from the Opium War to the fall of the Qing Dynasty. This is one of the key reasons why Japan, starting from the same starting line, was able to rapidly surpass China in military and economic strength.

The Meiji Restoration

Seek knowledge widely from the world and vigorously revitalize the foundations of the nation. — The Five-Article Oath

In 1867, the Meiji Emperor ascended the throne at the age of just 14. The name “Meiji” was taken from the Commentary on the Explanation of the Trigrams in the Book of Changes: “The sage faces south to hear the affairs of the realm and governs by turning toward the light,” meaning “enlightened governance.”‌‌

After the fall of the shogunate, Japan’s reformists (anti-shogunate factions) chose to install Emperor Meiji in order to secure political legitimacy and achieve centralization of power. The reformists had several considerations for selecting Emperor Meiji. First, Japan had long been under the shogunate-han system, with each han operating as a semi-autonomous entity. The reformists needed a supreme authority that transcended the interests of individual han and served as a symbol for the entire nation to unify the country. As a monarch of the “unbroken line of succession” who had been deified since ancient times, the Emperor was best suited to rally the people. Second, they sought to implement modernization reforms through the Emperor’s authority. At that time, the reformists lacked the strength to directly command all of Japan; they had to rely on the Emperor’s “sacred decree” to promulgate the Five Articles of Oath, implement the abolition of the han and establishment of prefectures, and promote industrial development, thereby sweeping away the obstacles posed by the old feudal forces. Third, the Meiji Emperor was still young at the time and thus easier to manipulate; this move carried a certain degree of the strategy of “using the Son of Heaven to command the feudal lords.”

In 1871, the abolition of the han and establishment of prefectures took place, and the various han—which had previously enjoyed considerable autonomy—were gradually replaced by the central government. In 1873, Japan began implementing a modern conscription system, gradually establishing a national army that no longer relied on the traditional samurai class. That same year, land tax reforms were introduced, providing the government with a more stable source of revenue. Subsequently, Japan began building schools, railroads, telegraph systems, modern banks, and industrial enterprises. For a time, the entire nation was engrossed in learning from the West. The once-radical “Respect the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians” faction had now become the most enthusiastic advocates of Westernization. Whereas they had once chanted slogans calling for the expulsion of foreigners, they now were eager to bring Western railroads, factories, schools, and banks back to Japan.

During the approximately 70 years from the establishment of the Meiji government to the eve of World War II, Japan’s average annual economic growth rate is estimated to have reached 4% to 5%, a pace higher than the average in European and American countries during the same period. During the core acceleration phase of the Industrial Revolution in the mid-to-late Meiji period, the Japanese economy as a whole even achieved rapid growth of 6.3%. Take 1893 (on the eve of the First Sino-Japanese War) as an example: Japan’s domestic fiscal revenue reached 88.04 million yen (equivalent to approximately 58.69 million taels of silver at the time), approaching the Qing government’s domestic revenue of 88.67 million taels. In 1890, the Japanese Navy possessed a total tonnage of 51,000 metric tons. On the eve of the First Sino-Japanese War, the Navy had 31 warships and 24 torpedo boats, and in terms of overall maneuverability, rate of fire, and tactics, it had already surpassed the Qing Dynasty’s Beiyang Fleet. During the Russo-Japanese War of 1905, the total tonnage of the Japanese Combined Fleet had reached approximately 260,000 metric tons. By completely annihilating the Russian Baltic Fleet in the Battle of Tsushima Strait, Japan leaped to become one of the world’s leading naval powers.

In 1868, Hirobumi Itō was 27 years old. At that time, although he had already participated in the anti-shogunate movement, he was still far from being the most influential figure in Japanese politics. Those who truly held the core power of the new government were the leaders of the Meiji Restoration, such as Tomomi Iwakura, Sanetomi Sanjō, Toshimichi Ōkubo, and Takayoshi Kido. It was only after Okubo’s assassination in 1878 that Itō Hirobumi’s political standing rose further. In 1882, Itō Hirobumi was commissioned to travel to Europe to study constitutional systems. He researched the constitutional monarchies of Germany, Austria, and other countries, and upon his return, presided over the establishment of Japan’s modern constitutional system. It was not until 1885 that Itō Hirobumi became Japan’s first Prime Minister, concurrently serving as Minister of the Imperial Household.

After weathering countless upheavals, the 44-year-old Itō finally reached the pinnacle of power in Japan. It took Ito Hirobumi more than twenty years to rise from a low-ranking samurai of humble origins to become the Prime Minister of the Empire, holding the nation’s destiny in his hands. In the near future, the political system he personally established would profoundly shape Japan’s destiny for the next half-century.

In 1889, the Constitution of the Empire of Japan, drafted under Ito Hirobumi’s leadership, was officially promulgated. This constitution undoubtedly held significant modernizing significance at the time. Japan began to possess a modern parliamentary system, a cabinet, and a written constitution. However, Ito Hirobumi did not simply replicate the British model of constitutional monarchy. In Britain, the monarch’s actual political power is constrained by long-established parliamentary conventions. In Japan, however, the constitution explicitly stipulated that the Emperor holds supreme authority over the state, commands the Army and Navy, and possesses the power to declare war, make peace, and conclude treaties. At the same time, the cabinet was responsible for national administration, ministers of state advised the Emperor, and the Imperial Diet participated in legislative and budgetary affairs. As a result, Japan developed a rather unique power structure. The Emperor nominally holds supreme authority, the Cabinet is responsible for day-to-day administration, and the military, under the Emperor’s command, maintains a system of military command independent of ordinary administrative bodies. As long as all parties cooperate, this system can function effectively.

But should a conflict ever arise between the military and the Cabinet, the generals could easily invoke the Constitution to assert that their allegiance lay with the Emperor, not the Prime Minister. What made matters even more complicated was that the Cabinet lacked an effective enough system to compel the military to obey the civilian government. Hirobumi Ito had originally intended to establish a nation that would preserve the authority of the Imperial House while achieving modern governance, but he failed to thoroughly resolve the issue of oversight over the highest authority. It is as if an advanced engine were installed in a machine without considering who should apply the brakes when several drivers simultaneously grab the steering wheel.

While the elder statesmen of the Meiji Restoration were still alive, they were able to coordinate the relationships between the Imperial Household, the Cabinet, and the military through their political prestige. But once these elders passed away one after another, who would maintain the balance of this system?

In 1909, Hirobumi Ito was assassinated in Harbin. Three years later, Emperor Meiji died, and Japan entered the Taisho era.

Taishō Democracy

“Great prosperity comes from righteousness; this is the way of Heaven.” — The Book of Changes

Almost all of Japan’s imperial era names are derived from Chinese classics; “Taishō” comes from the passage in The Book of Changes: “Great prosperity comes from righteousness; this is the way of Heaven.”

Emperor Taishō is widely regarded today as the most incompetent emperor in Japanese history. He suffered from intellectual disabilities due to meningitis he contracted as a child; he repeated grades from first grade through the first year of junior high school, and was ultimately forced to drop out because he could no longer keep up with his studies. In the solemn imperial court, he would roll up an imperial edict to use as a makeshift telescope to peer at his ministers. Even ministers who had never dared to defy the emperor could no longer contain their anger; they stepped forward to rebuke and admonish him.

The rule of a weak monarch provided Japan’s political parties and cabinets with greater scope to play a role. In 1918, Hara Takashi formed a cabinet based on political parties. In 1925, Japan passed the General Election Act, further expanding suffrage to adult males. Although Japan still had a long way to go before achieving a truly mature democratic system, the influence of parliament and political parties in national politics had indeed grown. Later, during World War I, while the European powers were busy fighting each other, Japan seized the opportunity to expand its industrial production and overseas trade. Industries such as steel, shipbuilding, textiles, and machinery manufacturing flourished, and zaibatsu conglomerates like Mitsui, Mitsubishi, and Sumitomo grew increasingly powerful. Japan not only established its own modern banking system but also built railroads, telegraph networks, power plants, and a substantial modern industrial infrastructure.

The continuous growth of the zaibatsu also led to an increasing concentration of political and economic power in Japan. Political parties needed campaign funds; businesses required government policy support; banks needed financial stability; and the military needed budgets and weapons contracts. Each party sought what it needed, forming a network of interdependent interests. Within this system, although the Emperor held a position of great prestige, he did not need to personally intervene in every matter, and the nation was able to function efficiently. Political life in Japan during the Taishō era gradually demonstrated one thing: even without a monarch who personally made every decision, a country could still possess modern industry and a highly efficient administrative system.

However, how long such an arrangement could be sustained ultimately depended on whether all parties were willing to continue adhering to the unwritten rules that had become established practice.

In 1912, shortly after the death of Emperor Meiji, the Japanese Army clashed fiercely with the government. The prime minister at the time was Saionji Kinmochi, a figure of great prestige in Japanese political circles. Following in the footsteps of Itō Hirobumi, Saionji was hailed as the “guardian of party politics,” the “defender of constitutional norms,” and the “last of the genrō.” The Army demanded the creation of two additional divisions to expand its military strength, but the Saionji administration, seeking to control fiscal spending, refused to comply. Minister of the Army Yusaku Uehara consequently resigned. Under the “system of active-duty military officers serving as Ministers of the Army and Navy” in effect at the time, the Minister of the Army was, in principle, required to be an active-duty Army general. The Army refused to nominate a successor, leaving the government unable to function normally. The Saionji Cabinet was forced to resign. This incident exposed a major flaw in Japan’s constitutional system to the public: a military institution, unelected by the people, was able to bring down an entire government simply by refusing to appoint a minister. Subsequently, the Genrō nominated Taro Katsura, who had served as prime minister on multiple occasions, to reorganize the cabinet. But this time, the Japanese public—now educated in constitutionalism—was no longer willing to remain silent. In February 1913, a large-scale constitutionalist movement erupted in Tokyo.

During the 1913 constitutional protection movement, people gathered near the Diet to protest. Legislators, journalists, students, and citizens were all swept up in the political storm. Ozaki Yukio, leader of the constitutional protection faction, fiercely criticized the government in the Diet, opposing the ruling party’s use of the Emperor’s authority to suppress political opponents. As the protests escalated, the Katsura Tarō Cabinet ultimately resigned in February 1913, having remained in power for only slightly more than fifty days. This marked a major turning point in Japan’s modern political history. In the past, the fate of a cabinet had been primarily a matter among the Genrō, the Imperial Court, and political factions. This time, however, pressure from the parliamentary opposition and the people in the streets became one of the decisive factors. Japanese historians refer to this movement as the First Constitutionalist Movement and regard it as a key marker of the rise of Taishō democracy.

In the same year, the “system requiring active-duty military officers to serve as Ministers of the Army and Navy” was abolished—the most significant political legacy of the First Constitutionalist Movement. This reform broke the military’s institutional monopoly over the appointment of Ministers of the Army and Navy, curbing the military’s ability to politically blackmail the cabinet into resigning. It made it difficult for the military to easily force the cabinet’s collapse simply by refusing to appoint officials or provide successors.

In 1914, World War I broke out. Japan entered the war as a member of the Allied Powers, and its domestic industries received massive overseas orders. The steel, shipbuilding, textile, and shipping industries developed rapidly, and a group of entrepreneurs amassed enormous wealth. However, this prosperity came at the cost of severe inflation. Ordinary people’s wages could not keep pace with the cost of living, particularly as rice prices rose rapidly. In 1918, public discontent finally erupted. Initially, a group of women in Toyama Prefecture protested rising rice prices and the export of rice. Subsequently, the unrest spread rapidly across Japan. With business closures, demonstrations, and clashes occurring one after another, the government was forced to deploy police and the military to maintain order. The Masatake Terauchi cabinet ultimately resigned in the wake of this political crisis.

The democratic movement of the Taishō era did not occur solely within the Diet. Cities such as Tokyo and Osaka saw a large number of young people who had received a modern education. Newspapers, magazines, universities, and public speeches became important forums for political discussion. A group of intellectuals began to explore whether the imperial system and democratic politics could coexist. The most representative figure among them was Sakuzo Yoshino, a professor at Tokyo Imperial University. In 1916, he proposed and systematically expounded on “people-centeredism.” His theory had a distinctly realist character. Since the Meiji Constitution stipulated that sovereignty resided with the Emperor, he advocated not challenging this principle for the time being, but rather argued that national policy should aim for the people’s well-being and respect their opinions. In other words, it was possible to retain imperial sovereignty while establishing a parliamentary government that was truly accountable to public opinion. This position provided an important ideological foundation for the democratic reforms of the Taishō era.

The Taishō era is known as the “Taishō Democracy,” a period marked by the rapid development of party politics and liberal thought within Japan.

In 1925, Japan enacted the General Election Law. This was a truly historic reform. Japan no longer required ordinary men to meet a tax threshold to qualify for the right to vote in the House of Representatives. Workers, farmers, and a large number of ordinary citizens were finally able to participate in national politics through the ballot box. However, in the very same year, Japan also passed another law, the Public Order Maintenance Act, which explicitly banned political organizations and activities that sought to alter the state system or deny the system of private property; it later became a key legal tool for the government to suppress leftist ideas and political dissent. Thus, Japan in 1925 presented a highly contradictory picture: on the one hand, the government actively and significantly expanded suffrage and developed democratic institutions. On the other hand, the government expanded its capacity to crack down on certain political ideologies and organizations. Japan’s democratic politics were growing, but the boundaries of freedom were still defined by the constitutional monarchy.

There is another historical fact from the Taishō period that is easily overlooked: Japan did not begin its foreign aggression only after Emperor Hirohito ascended the throne. On the contrary, in 1910, Japan annexed the Korean Peninsula through the Japan–Korea Annexation Treaty; in 1914, it launched a military offensive against Shandong Province in China; the Japanese government’s presentation of the “Twenty-One Demands” to Yuan Shikai’s government in 1915, and the large-scale deployment of troops to the Russian Far East between 1918 and 1922—all of which demonstrated Japan’s vigorous ambitions for active military expansion.

However, it is important to note that Japan’s military expansion during this period differed fundamentally from the militaristic expansion driven by Japanese fascism after 1930. The military expansion of this era was traditional colonial military expansion. Japan was primarily vying for colonial interests and expanding its sphere of influence within the existing international order. In short, given the international order at the time—where Western powers were all acting like bullies, carving up colonies across the globe—Japan was already one of those great powers. From Japan’s perspective, if others could act, why shouldn’t Japan? Therefore, given the historical context, a cabinet that supported democratic politics did not necessarily oppose imperialism; the Japanese military and the cabinet often reached consensus on the path of military expansion, and the cabinet even actively promoted it.

However, it was also during this period that extreme nationalism and fascist ideology began to take root within the Japanese military.

Fascism differs fundamentally from traditional militarism. The core objectives of traditional militarism are territory, resources, trade, strategic advantage, and great-power status; democratic institutions within the country can generally coexist with it. Fascism, on the other hand, not only pursued expansion but also emphasized opposition to liberal democracy and political pluralism, championed the dictatorial authority of a single leader, and even promoted biological racism—representing a complete regression in history.

A Nation of Assassins

Elders, high-ranking officials, warlords, financial magnates, bureaucrats, and political parties are all the chief culprits in undermining the national order. — Manifesto of the Uprising

On December 25, 1926, Emperor Taishō passed away. His son, Hirohito, succeeded to the throne, and Japan entered the Shōwa era. Hirohito’s name was chosen during the Meiji era, derived from a passage in the Shangshu meaning “Prosperity brings peace to the people,” symbolizing the prosperity of the people and social stability.‌‌

Most historical accounts depict the political landscape in Japan on the eve of the war of aggression against China as one in which the military ran rampant and monopolized power. However, it is little known that when Emperor Hirohito ascended the throne, he inherited a Japan where party politics and military power were relatively balanced.

From the late 1920s to the early 1930s, Japan still had political party cabinets with real influence. Conversely, party politics was still in a crucial stage of development. In 1927, Giichi Tanaka formed the Seiyūkai cabinet. In 1929, a cabinet led by Tomoyuki Hamaguchi of the Minseito Party was formed. The two major political parties gradually established a pattern of alternating in power. Even after the death of Emperor Taishō in 1926, the political achievements of Taishō democracy continued for several years. However, the biggest problem at the time was this: while votes could determine a majority in the House of Representatives, they could not ensure control over the military. Under the constitutional system of the time, the military could invoke the independence of the commander-in-chief’s authority to assert that certain military affairs should not be subject to interference by an ordinary cabinet. Even so, Japan’s party politics remained a crucial check on the military’s power.

In the 1920s, following the end of World War I, Japan—as a victorious member of the Allied Powers—established itself as a major international power, but its domestic economy and society rapidly plummeted from the brief wartime prosperity into crisis. Subsequently, Japan experienced postwar economic readjustment, a banking crisis, and economic hardship in rural areas. After the outbreak of the Great Depression in 1929, unemployment, bankruptcies, and rural poverty further exacerbated these conflicts. Parliamentary parties attacked one another, and controversies over political donations and corruption were constant, eroding public trust in political parties. Some right-wing military figures began to put forward an alternative political agenda: parliamentary politicians were corrupt and incompetent, the zaibatsu were solely concerned with making money, and the nation needed to reorganize its politics with the Emperor at the center. From that point on, the political balance in Japan began to shift.

From 1930 until the start of the War of Aggression against China in 1937, Japan experienced a fierce ideological struggle between “patriotism” and “treason.”

In November 1930, Japanese Prime Minister Takeyuki Hamaguchi, who opposed the military’s unrestrained expansion and had forced the signing of the London Naval Treaty to reduce armaments, was shot by a right-wing youth at Tokyo Station; he eventually died the following year as his injuries worsened. Reijirō Wakatsuki subsequently succeeded him as Prime Minister.

On September 18, 1931, the Japanese Kwantung Army unilaterally planned and launched the September 18 Incident. The principal instigators were Ishiwara Kanji, Chief of Operations for the Kwantung Army, and Seishirō Itagaki, who later became Minister of the Army. The primary reason for the attack was that a group of radical officers within the Kwantung Army believed Japan must seize the opportunity—while China had not yet achieved unification and the Soviet Union had not yet fully strengthened its military presence in the Far East—to use war to gain control of Northeast China and establish a strategic base for Japan’s future imperial expansion. Kanji Ishihara wrote a book titled On the Final War of the World, whose main thesis was that human history would ultimately culminate in a decisive battle between the “Eastern Way of Kings” (led by Japan) and the “Western Way of Hegemony” (led by the United States), and that the outcome of the war would depend on the ability to integrate Asia’s resources. In fact, in Japan’s eyes, all the world’s great powers at that time were imperialist wolves “harboring an unrelenting desire to destroy us.”

Interestingly, after the September 18 Incident, Ishiwara Kanji suddenly shifted to an anti-war stance, advocating for the establishment of a “civilization without war” and promoting “the restoration of relations with China, reconciliation, and the formation of an alliance.” This clearly shows that the backbone of the Japanese military at the time was a group of madmen.

After the September 18 Incident, the cabinet of Japanese Prime Minister Reijirō Wakatsuki immediately convened an emergency meeting and decided on a “no-escalation policy,” opposing the expansion of military operations. It demanded that the Minister of War notify the Kwantung Army of this decision and publicly declare that the government had no “territorial ambitions.” However, the Kwantung Army completely ignored the cabinet’s orders and chose to continue its offensive. On December 31, faced with the military’s ongoing expansion, domestic political divisions, and the failure to form a cross-party coalition cabinet, the Wakatsuki Cabinet found itself in a dire predicament, ultimately leading to Reijirō Wakatsuki’s resignation. Tsuyoshi Inukai, later labeled a “traitor to Japan” by the military, took over as Prime Minister.

Contrary to the belief held by many Chinese that the “September 18 Incident” was a meticulously planned and premeditated event within Japan, the launch of this war was unknown to virtually everyone—from the Emperor to the Cabinet, and even the majority of the Japanese Army High Command.

“Lower-ranking officers overruling their superiors” was a classic manifestation of the Japanese military’s unchecked power during the Shōwa era, in which junior officers launched military operations without formal authorization from the supreme commander or the government, then leveraged military victories, internal support within the military, and nationalist public opinion to force their superiors to accept the fait accompli. The root cause of this “insubordination” lay in the Meiji Constitution, which granted the Emperor of Japan absolute military command authority—an authority independent of the Cabinet and the Diet. This meant that the Prime Minister and the civilian government had no authority to interfere with military orders or operations.

Regarding the September 18 Incident, Emperor Hirohito not only failed to punish the instigators who had violated his authority as commander-in-chief but, two weeks later, tacitly approved the escalation of hostilities and awarded medals to the generals who had captured China’s Northeast. This greatly emboldened right-wing forces in their ambition to achieve fascist expansion through “subordinates overthrowing superiors.” In 1936, young officers from the Imperial Way faction launched the “February 26” coup, flying the far-right banner of “revering the Emperor and punishing traitors.” Emperor Hirohito ordered the suppression of the rebellion because the rebels had infringed upon his absolute authority, but afterward, rather than curbing fascist tendencies, he used the opportunity to purge political opponents, enabling the “Control Faction”—military officers who supported external expansion—to seize full power and formally establish the military-led fascist “National Defense State” system.

After the September 18 Incident, Japan’s far-right ultranationalist forces rapidly descended into fanaticism and, together with “young and ambitious” officers, began frequently carrying out assassinations and coups. Emperor Hirohito’s attitude toward these forces was not one of outright suppression, but rather one of highly selective indulgence.

In February 1932, former Minister of Finance Junnosuke Inoue was assassinated in Tokyo by members of the Blood Alliance. A month later, Takuma Dan, a key leader of the Mitsui zaibatsu who had staunchly opposed the militarization of the Japanese military and its radical military expansionist policies, was also assassinated.

By May, the situation had escalated further. A group of radical young naval officers stormed the Prime Minister’s official residence and shot and killed Prime Minister Tsuyoshi Inukai, whom they branded a “traitor to Japan.”

Subsequently, the 11 perpetrators who shot the prime minister were merely “leniently sentenced” by a court-martial to relatively light prison terms; after serving a few years, they were released one after another.

In 1931, Tsuyoshi Inukai succeeded Reijirō Wakatsuki, who had resigned, as Prime Minister. and the first thing he did upon taking office was to oppose the Kwantung Army’s efforts to establish the puppet “Manchukuo” in Northeast China. He attempted to defuse tensions between Japan and China through diplomatic channels and even dispatched a special envoy to make secret contact with the Kuomintang and Zhang Xueliang to explore the possibility of halting further military expansion—a move that provoked strong discontent among extremists within the Japanese military. After Tsuyoshi Inukai’s death, Kimimaro Saionji recommended Admiral Minoru Saito to Emperor Hirohito as the new Prime Minister. The new cabinet was dominated by bureaucrats, bringing to an end the tradition of party-based cabinets that had developed since the Kei Hara cabinet of 1918. Japan never again restored a fully party-based cabinet before the war.

The Taishō Democracy era thus came to an end.

Emperor Hirohito

The Emperor holds supreme authority over the state, commands the Army and Navy, and possesses the power to declare war, make peace, and conclude treaties. — Constitution of the Empire of Japan

In stark contrast to the foolish incompetence of the Taishō era, Hirohito was not only exceptionally gifted in politics but also a true academic prodigy. After World War II, Emperor Hirohito was internationally recognized as an expert in the taxonomy of hydra (a type of marine invertebrate); he published eight academic works on the subject and was awarded the title of Foreign Member of the Royal Society of the United Kingdom, an organization known for its extremely rigorous review process. It is worth noting that Hirohito never signed his own name when publishing his research findings. It is said that he feared that if his work bore the title “Emperor,” future scholars would be too awed by imperial authority to dare question his conclusions.

In the political landscape of Japan’s right-wing movements—both in the modern and contemporary eras—Emperor Hirohito has consistently served as a central spiritual totem and source of legitimacy. Strangely, however, few have taken the time to examine what kind of person Hirohito actually was. After World War II, most cultural works selectively avoided portraying Hirohito as an ordinary person, instead depicting him solely as a noble idol revered by all and a political puppet who went with the flow. In the countless anti-Japanese films and TV series produced in China, there is virtually not a single shot of Emperor Hirohito. For most Chinese netizens, their understanding of Emperor Hirohito is limited to scenes in these productions where Imperial Japanese soldiers routinely pledge allegiance to the Emperor and, after defeat, shout “Long live the Emperor!” before committing seppuku.

Unlike Hitler and Mussolini, Hirohito rarely delivered public speeches outlining his ideology. His political views are primarily reflected in three types of historical records: imperial edicts issued in the Emperor’s name, private conversations recorded by court attendants, and minutes from war decision-making meetings. These records reveal that Hirohito was a man who spoke with great caution, rarely revealing his true thoughts even in private. The Diary of a Junior Chamberlain at the Small Storehouse records some of his private remarks regarding the war; even his most hardline statements were limited to phrases such as “We must be cautious before launching a war, but once it begins, we must see it through to the end” and “After the war, I want to visit the South Seas; that region will become Japanese territory.” Yet even from these remarks alone, it is clear that Hirohito certainly harbored ambitions for military expansion.

In today’s historical scholarship on war responsibility, Hirohito remains a highly controversial figure. The extent to which he actually directed the war, as well as the nature of his legal liability, remain subjects of heated debate. Most historians in Japan argue that although Hirohito possessed the powers granted by the Constitution, he was in fact unaware of many wartime decisions; however, I believe this view is one-sided. In 2018, the U.S. National World War II Museum presented a record dating from December 1941: After then-Prime Minister Hideki Tojo reported the war plans to Hirohito, he told other officials that the Emperor had shown considerable resolve regarding the decision. The Monologues of Emperor Showa records that during the Battle of Shanghai in 1937, Hirohito said: “ I felt that the two divisions in Shanghai would find themselves in a difficult situation, so I frequently urged the dispatch of reinforcements.” This book, published in 1946 after the war—and after Hirohito had been exempted from the Tokyo Trials—contains his voluntary admission that he had requested additional troops for the Chinese theater, which sufficiently proves that Hirohito was directly involved in specific wartime operations.

Historian Herbert Bix argues in Hirohito and the Making of Modern Japan that Hirohito was not a passive bystander to the war, but rather a ruler who participated in military decision-making and approved combat operations. Bix specifically points out:

Following the September 18 Incident in 1931, Hirohito endorsed the results of Japan’s military expansion into China’s Northeast.
After the full-scale war of aggression against China began in 1937, he continued to receive military intelligence and participated in key military decisions.
He bore direct responsibility for approving the use of poison gas by Japanese forces in China.
He approved military orders concerning large-scale mop-up operations by Japanese forces in North China.

David Bergamini, in The Conspiracy of the Japanese Emperor, states that around the time he became regent in 1921, Hirohito supported the establishment of a secret network of political education and organization. This included an institution known as the “Institute for Social Problems,” whose primary “students” and members of the lecturing corps were mostly Japanese fascists, such as Class-A war criminal Hideki Tojo, Daisaku Kawamoto, the mastermind behind the Huanggoutun Incident; General Neiji Okamura, Commander-in-Chief of the Japanese invasion forces in China; and Iwane Matsui, the principal perpetrator of the Nanjing Massacre. According to Bergamini’s account, this institution was not an ordinary research institute, but rather a secret facility for cultivating imperialist political talent. Its main characteristics included: recruiting young members from the aristocracy, political circles, and right-wing forces; cultivating political leaders loyal to the Japanese Imperial House and the expansionist agenda; researching expansion plans for mainland China, Manchuria, and other Asian regions; and gradually placing the trained personnel into political and military positions.

The Meiji Constitution stipulated that the Emperor held supreme authority over the state, served as Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy, and possessed the power to declare war, make peace, and conclude treaties. Under such a system, the military could claim that its actions were carried out in the name of the Emperor, while the Emperor could influence national policy through the military. Once both sides shared common interests on certain issues, it became extremely difficult for ordinary political party cabinets to counter them. Hirohito successfully exploited the power structure inherent in the Constitution, enabling the military to gradually become a key force in bypassing parliamentary politics and advancing imperial expansion.

The War of Aggression Against China

“I have always felt that, in the end, we would have no choice but to go to war with China.” — Emperor Hirohito

After Tsuyoshi Inukai’s death, Kiichi Saionji, in an effort to ease tensions between the military and the cabinet, recommended retired Admiral Minoru Saito—known as the “treacherous minister”—to succeed as Prime Minister. Although Saito Makoto had previously served in the military, his political stance was one of clear opposition to the military’s fascist-style expansionism, and he supported Hamaguchi Osachi’s signing of the London Naval Treaty. After forming his cabinet, Saito continued the policy of not expanding the war and preventing fascist politics, which infuriated the Japanese military.

On February 26, 1936, young officers in the Japanese Army launched a military coup, and Saito was also executed.

In 1936, Hirohito took advantage of the situation to appoint his confidant, Koichi Kido, to the positions of Minister of Education and Minister of Health and Welfare. Koichi Kido was Hirohito’s close confidant and advisor within the imperial court.

In March 1936, the infamous Koichi Hirota formed a cabinet. Of course, its formation was not simply the result of a military appointment, but rather the outcome of political coordination. Kōichi Kido actively promoted the formation of the Hirota Cabinet, and the truly significant shift in which the Japanese military seized absolute power occurred during the Hirota Cabinet era.

In 1935, Hirota Koki, then Japan’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, proposed the so-called “Three Hirota Principles”: “prohibiting anti-Japanese activities and promoting pro-Japanese cooperation,” “recognizing the puppet state of Manchukuo,” and “Sino-Japanese cooperation against communism.” Chiang Kai-shek commented on this: “If we reject his principles, it means war; if we accept his demands, it means annihilation.” The Nationalist Government ultimately refused to formally recognize these principles, which became one of the key diplomatic triggers for Japan’s subsequent full-scale invasion of China.

In May 1936, the “system of active-duty military officers serving as Ministers of the Army and Navy”—which had been abolished in 1913 and remained suspended for 23 years—was reinstated.

From that point on, the Japanese Cabinet was once again held by the throat by the military through this “system,” and the political landscape was completely dominated by the military, which represented extreme right-wing forces. From the start of the war of aggression against China in 1937 until the end of the war in 1945, Japan had eight prime ministers; with the exception of Fumimaro Konoe and Kiichirō Hiranuma, the remaining six were all generals in the military. Japan had finally degenerated into a fascist state.

Although no fascist party seized state power in Japan, the regime exploited the inherent flaws in the Meiji Constitution and relied on the existing imperial system, the military, and the bureaucracy to gradually marginalize parliamentary parties. By mobilizing society through state institutions themselves, it pushed the nation step by step down the path of fascism.

On July 7, 1937, Japan launched the “Marco Polo Bridge Incident,” marking the beginning of its full-scale war of aggression against China.

If the “September 18 Incident” was a chance event involving a “revolt of the lower ranks against their superiors,” then the “July 7 Incident” was launched by the Japanese military, under fascist control, after long-standing premeditation. After the Emperor and the Japanese military successfully seized power during the Hirota Cabinet, the political forces advocating a “peaceful path” were completely eradicated from Japan’s political stage. At that time in Japan, the Emperor and the military reached a consensus: Japan should establish an East Asian order under its own leadership, while China was striving to achieve national unification, regain sovereignty, and free itself from foreign control. These two political objectives were in direct conflict. On the other hand, the political rationale behind Japanese fascism’s initiation of the war was to establish a Japan-centered East Asian order while economically plundering and controlling China’s resources, markets, and labor force, thereby realizing its Pan-Asianist ambitions. Japan also hoped that, through the threat of war, China would adopt a foreign policy aligned with Japan’s and accept the international political arrangements envisioned by Japan.

It is also worth noting that at the time, both the Emperor and the military believed that, given the vast disparity in military strength between China and Japan, the war could be ended and victory achieved within a few months; no one could have imagined that China would be able to sustain prolonged resistance against the military invasion.

The war began in August 1937 when Beijing and Tianjin fell; Japanese forces occupied both cities, and the situation in North China rapidly deteriorated. From August to November 1937, during the Battle of Shanghai, China deployed a large number of elite Central Army troops and fought fierce battles against Japanese forces in Shanghai for about three months. Although the Japanese ultimately prevailed, they paid a heavy price. In December 1937, Nanjing fell, and the Japanese subsequently carried out large-scale killings, rapes, looting, and other atrocities. From June to October 1938, Guangzhou fell, and during the Battle of Wuhan, the Japanese achieved a “bitter victory”; Chinese forces withdrew voluntarily and abandoned the three towns of Wuhan. From this point onward, Japan realized that a swift victory was impossible. The war of aggression against China thus shifted from a phase of strategic defense to a phase of strategic stalemate.

From the capture of Nanchang in March 1939 through the Henan-Hunan-Guangxi Campaign of 1944, Japan made virtually no further progress in its occupation of China. In September 1939, during the First Battle of Changsha, Japan failed to capture Changsha and withdrew. From November 1939 to 1940, during the Southern Guangxi Campaign, Japanese forces briefly occupied Nanning but later withdrew. From May to June 1940, during the Zaoyi Campaign, they captured Yichang and held it for an extended period. In September 1941, during the Second Changsha Campaign, they failed to maintain a long-term occupation of Changsha. From December 1941 to January 1942, during the Third Changsha Campaign, they were defeated and withdrew. From May to September 1942, during the Zhejiang-Jiangxi Campaign, they captured parts of the region but withdrew from most of the newly occupied areas after destroying airfields. From November to December 1943, during the Changde Campaign, they briefly advanced into Changde but ultimately retreated.

In August 1940, Yosuke Matsuoka, then Japan’s Minister for Foreign Affairs, first publicly proposed the term and concept of the “Greater East Asia Co-Prosperity Sphere”—a phrase familiar to us from films and television dramas—and Prime Minister Fumimaro Konoe subsequently established it as a national strategic vision.

In 1940, Koichi Kido assumed the post of Grand Chamberlain; from then on, the Grand Chamberlain served as the Emperor’s proxy in political affairs. Through the Grand Chamberlain, the Emperor directly conveyed his edicts to the government, high-ranking military officials, and key ministers. The actual structure resembled a form of oligarchy with multiple centers of power coexisting under the Emperor as the supreme commander. During this phase, the Emperor ultimately became the supreme source of legitimacy and, in practice, the final approver of major decisions. A 1946 U.S. Navy report titled Japan’s Efforts to End the War provided a detailed analysis of this system: the Minister of the Imperial Household served as the Emperor’s political representative and intelligence assessor; senior ministers provided advice, while the Ministers of the Army and Navy, the Chief of the General Staff, and the Chief of the Naval General Staff each had their own channels of communication with the Emperor; major national policies were typically formulated through consensus among these forces.

In 1941, Japan and the United States were embroiled in a serious diplomatic crisis over issues such as the war of aggression against China, the withdrawal of troops, and economic sanctions. Fumimaro Konoe hoped to continue negotiations, but Koichi Kido believed Konoe was too weak; he therefore recommended to Hirohito that Hideki Tojo—the leader of Japanese fascism and the most hardline advocate for war—be appointed to form a cabinet, and Hirohito agreed to the appointment. Later, during the Tokyo Trials, Kōichi Kido claimed that promoting Tojo was an attempt to use him to rein in the Army and seek a diplomatic solution—a claim that was clearly nonsense.

In December 1941, Japan—which was extremely dependent on U.S. imports for strategic resources such as oil, scrap metal, and rubber, yet faced U.S. sanctions due to its wars of aggression—decided to take a huge gamble, deluding itself that a surprise attack on Pearl Harbor would deal a crushing blow to the main U.S. forces, shatter American public morale, and thereby force the United States back to the negotiating table to recognize Japan’s claims to its occupied territories in East and Southeast Asia. In reality, however, this backfired, dragging Japan into the quagmire of the Pacific War.

By the end of 1943, U.S. forces had achieved a series of victories on the Pacific front, securing control of the seas and the skies. The maritime supply lines connecting the Japanese mainland to Southeast Asia and the islands of the South Seas faced the imminent threat of being completely severed by U.S. submarines and aircraft. The Japanese military hoped to advance southward from Northeast China, North China, and Central China to open up a continental supply route—passing through the Pinghan, Yuehan, and Xiang-Guang railways—that would lead directly to French Indochina and Southeast Asia, thereby maintaining supplies and transporting materials to Japanese forces in Southeast Asia. Consequently, in 1944, the Japanese military launched “Operation No. 1,” deploying nearly 500,000 troops. This was one of the largest offensives during Japan’s entire war of aggression against China. It is also known as the “Henan-Hunan-Guangxi Campaign.” During this campaign, China lost vast swaths of territory (including most of Henan, Hunan, Guangxi, Guangdong, and Fujian provinces, as well as part of Guizhou), over a hundred cities, 36 airfields, and a large number of industrial and mining areas and grain-producing regions, resulting in a severe humanitarian and political disaster.

In August 1945, Hiroshima and Nagasaki were devastated by atomic bombs. Subsequently, Emperor Hirohito announced Japan’s surrender.

On September 2, 1945, Japanese representatives formally signed the Instrument of Surrender aboard the U.S. battleship USS Missouri, anchored in Tokyo Bay, marking the end of World War II across all fronts.

Approximately 1.85 million to 2.32 million Japanese military personnel died during World War II. A total of approximately 300,000 to 950,000 Japanese civilians perished.

After the end of World War II, Japan was occupied by the United States.

Postwar Trials

The Japanese people sincerely seek international peace based on justice and order, and forever renounce war waged as a sovereign right, as well as the threat or use of force as a means of settling international disputes. To achieve this end, they shall not maintain land, naval, or air forces, or any other war potential. They do not recognize the right of a state to wage war. — The Peace Constitution

After World War II, the International Military Tribunal for the Far East indicted 28 individuals. Hideki Tojo, Iwane Matsui, Seishiro Itagaki, Kenji Doihara, Heitaro Kimura, Akira Muto, and Hirota were sentenced to death by hanging, while 16 others were sentenced to life imprisonment, and two were sentenced to 20 and 7 years, respectively. Two others died during the trial, and one received no verdict because he was deemed unfit to stand trial.

At that time, war crimes were broadly classified into three categories: crimes against peace—the planning, initiation, or waging of a war of aggression; ordinary war crimes—violations of the laws of war, such as the mistreatment of prisoners of war and the killing of civilians; and crimes against humanity—serious and systematic atrocities committed against civilians.

What is less well known is that, in addition to the Tokyo Trials, the Nationalist Government of China established military tribunals in Nanjing, Beiping, Shanghai, and other locations to try some members of the Japanese forces that had invaded China. Examples include Toshio Tanaka, Toshiaki Mukai, and Tsuyoshi Noda.

In 1947, Ishii Shiro, a key leader of the notorious Japanese Unit 731, struck a deal with the United States using intelligence data from Unit 731 as leverage, in exchange for immunity from prosecution as a war criminal, and was subsequently shielded by the U.S. government.

Okamura Neiji, as the last commander-in-chief of the Japanese China Expeditionary Army, appealed to Chiang Kai-shek through his “protégés” He Yingqin and Tang Enbo, and was acquitted by the Nationalist Government’s military tribunal in 1949.

These postwar trials cannot be considered entirely fair; many heinous executioners escaped the punishment of justice. In the 1950s, large numbers of convicted war criminals were gradually released. Nobusuke Kishi had served as a key economic official in the puppet state of Manchukuo and as Minister of Commerce and Industry in Hideki Tojo’s cabinet. He was detained in 1945 as a Class A war crimes suspect, released without indictment in 1948, and even became Prime Minister of Japan in 1957. As for Hirohito’s confidant, Koichi Kido, he was sentenced to life imprisonment at the Tokyo Trials and granted parole in 1955. He was neither executed nor restored to his prewar political standing.

In January 1946, MacArthur reported to the U.S. government, advocating against holding Emperor Hirohito criminally liable. The U.S. National World War II Museum notes that this decision was closely tied to MacArthur’s strategy of utilizing the imperial system to stabilize the occupation order. However, there were disagreements among the Allied nations. Diplomatic documents from the Australian government in 1946 indicate that Australia believed Emperor Hirohito should not be granted special immunity if the evidence was sufficient to support an indictment. Australia had supported including him on the list of defendants but failed to gain the backing of other representatives of the prosecution. Ultimately, Emperor Hirohito retained his status as Emperor, though after the implementation of Japan’s new constitution in 1947, he no longer held the sovereign and military command authority granted by the Meiji Constitution.

In 1946, Hirohito issued the so-called “Human Declaration,” an imperial edict that rejected the practice of basing the relationship between the Emperor and the people on fictitious notions such as the Emperor’s divine nature and the superiority of the Japanese race over other nations.

On May 3, 1947, Japan’s new constitution officially took effect—the “Peace Constitution” as we know it today. This new constitution was drafted under the direction of the Allied Forces General Headquarters led by General MacArthur, then revised by the Japanese government and deliberated upon and adopted by the Imperial Diet.

Why is it called the “Peace Constitution”? Compared to the Meiji Constitution, which was drafted under the leadership of Hirobumi Ito in 1889, this new constitution fundamentally transformed Japan’s political system: the Emperor no longer held sovereign power over the state but became a symbol of unity between the state and the people; sovereignty was transferred from the Emperor to the people, and Japan transformed from a constitutional monarchy under imperial sovereignty into a parliamentary cabinet system based on popular sovereignty and parliamentary democracy.

More importantly, Article 9 of the Constitution explicitly stipulates that Japan permanently renounces war as a means of settling international disputes and prohibits the maintenance of land, naval, and air forces, as well as other war potential. It is precisely this provision that has earned it the title of the “Peace Constitution.”

Over the past nearly eighty years, although debates in Japan regarding the right to self-defense, military capabilities, and constitutional interpretation have never ceased, this Constitution has profoundly shaped Japan’s political system and continues to impose significant constraints on its military policy and the direction of the nation’s development.

On January 7, 1989, the 87-year-old Emperor Hirohito died of complications from cancer. Crown Prince Akihito succeeded to the throne.

The name “Akihito” is derived from the “Li Hexagram” in the Chinese I Ching: “Ming (Brightness) is written as Li; the noble one continues the light, illuminating the four quarters.” It symbolizes the continuous rise of light, implying that virtuous people should spread that light and virtue to all corners of the world.

With this, the Shōwa era—so steeped in blood and deep in sin—finally drew to a close.

The Qin People Had No Time to Mourn Themselves, Yet Later Generations Mourned Them

Why am I writing this article?

Over the years, whenever I’ve discussed the history of the War of Resistance Against Japan with friends or seen discussions about it on social media, I’ve observed that for most people, their only knowledge of this war—which determined the fate of the nation—is limited to the Battle of Taierzhuang and the Great Victory at Guandong as described in textbooks, or to scenes of rape and plunder by the Imperial Japanese Army in sensationalized anti-Japanese TV dramas. Yet if asked what the root causes of the war were, Why did Japan take the path of fascism? Almost no one has a clue.

On the morning of September 18, 2024, a 10-year-old Japanese boy attending the Shenzhen Japanese School was attacked with a knife by a 44-year-old Chinese man 200 meters from the school gate. He was injured and died the next day in the hospital. The following year, the perpetrator was sentenced to death.

This tragedy reminded me of my middle school days, when my history teacher would recount this period of history in class, grinding his teeth in rage and vowing to exact bloody retribution. On Chinese social media, various “anti-Japanese patriotic” posts have long circulated legends about donating money and even one’s life to fight Japan. Many people still believe that “a war between China and Japan is inevitable in the future,” or simply claim that Japan is an evil country and that Japanese people deserve to die.

Every nation in this world has its own historical narrative. And the vast majority of nations with long histories also carry historical wounds that cannot be avoided. Remembering history is meant to help us understand why suffering occurred and to guard against the recurrence of such tragedies. A nation certainly has the right to remember the harm it has suffered and to demand that the perpetrators confront history and take responsibility. However, historical responsibility should not be endlessly extended into a “original sin” for the nation, nor should it become a justification for violence against the innocent.

If a nation’s history education no longer strives to foster rationality and reflection but instead continually reinforces vengeful hostility; if society as a whole regards “an eye for an eye” as justice, treats revenge as proof of patriotism, and consciously fosters hatred with a clear conscience— then how different is this form of ethnic hatred from the Japanese right-wing extremism of that era? And how far is our country from the Japan of the fascist era?

The fundamental reason Japan gradually drifted toward fascism was the serious institutional flaws in the Meiji Constitution, which was drafted under the leadership of Hirobumi Ito. While this constitution propelled Japan toward ending its feudal system and embarking on the path of capitalist modernization, it also sowed the seeds of serious institutional risks: the lack of effective checks on the power of the Emperor and the military led the military to gradually break free from the control of the cabinet government, ultimately causing state power to gradually spiral into imbalance and chaos.

The Meiji Constitution once provided an institutional framework for Japan’s rise, yet it failed to prevent the nation from descending into ultimate madness after it had grown powerful. As the economy flourished and military strength grew, a handful of ambitious individuals exploited the system’s flaws, transforming the wealth and power originally intended to improve people’s lives and advance social progress into tools for satisfying personal political ambitions and launching foreign invasions. The fruits of civilization accumulated over decades by a nation ultimately became fuel for the war machine, and countless lives were lost in the bloody catastrophe of war.

Faced with this history, we certainly have reason to be outraged and to harbor resentment, but what we should truly hate is the system that allowed power to spiral out of control; the political fanatics who placed personal ambition above the lives of countless people; and the ignorant supporters who turned a blind eye to the system’s failings and even cheered on tyranny and war.

The most profound lesson of this history lies not in the crimes a nation once committed, but in how a country that originally sought prosperity, strength, and civilization gradually lost its reason, ultimately plunging both itself and the world into the abyss.

Leaving aside Japan’s history at that time, I cannot help but feel that certain people and events in Japan back then bear a striking resemblance to the situation in China today. Isn’t contemporary Chinese society just like Japan a century ago, where any mention of a foreign country inevitably leads to talk of war, and any discussion of one’s own country inevitably leads to claims of victory? Those who constantly claim to be patriots are doing nothing but harming the country and its people, while those who genuinely wish to advance the nation are labeled as traitors and scum—to the point where people are gradually losing the ability to distinguish between the loyal and the treacherous.