Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 the Following Eighth Session (The Normal Session from 24 December 1894 to 23 March 1895) Was Held in Tokyo

RETHINKING THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR, 1904–05

Volume II THE NICHINAN PAPERS Captain Christopher Packenham RN meets General Nogi during Visit of Foreign Attachés to Front, April 1905 (Churchill College, Cambridge) RETHINKING THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR, 1904–05 Volume II THE NICHINAN PAPERS

Edited by JOHN W. M. CHAPMAN University of Glasgow & INABA CHIHARU Meijo University, Nagoya RETHINKING THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR, 1904–05 VOLUME II: THE NICHINAN PAPERS Edited by John W. Chapman and Inaba Chiharu

First published 2007 by GLOBAL ORIENTAL LTD PO Box 219 Folkestone Kent CT20 2WP UK www.globaloriental.co.uk

ISBN 978-1-905246-19-9

All rights reserved. No part of this publi ca tion may be reproduced or transmit ted in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocop y ing and recording, or in any informa tion storage or retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publishers.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data A CIP catalogue entry for this book is available from the British Library

Set in 9/10.5pt Stone Serif by Servis Filmsetting Ltd, Manchester Printed and bound in England by Cromwell Press Ltd, Trowbridge, Wilts Contents

Preface vii Abbreviations ix Acknowledgements xi List of Contributors xiii List of Tables and Figures xvii List of Conventions xviii Introduction xix

Part I: The Force of Personality 1 1. The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 3 ITO YUKIO 2. Komura, the British Alliance and the Russo-Japanese War 22 IAN NISH 3. Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 32 NARAOKA SOICHI 4. Theodore Roosevelt and the Portsmouth Peace Conference: The Riddle and Ripple of His Forbearance 50 MATSUMURA MASAYOSHI

Part II: Facets of Neutrality 61 5. American Capital and Japan’s Victory in the Russo-Japanese War 63 RICHARD J. SMETHURST 6. Preparing for the Next War: French Diplomacy and the Russo-Japanese War 73 PATRICK BEILLEVAIRE 7. German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 88 GERHARD KREBS 8. Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 104 LEE SUNG-HWAN vi Contents

9. Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War 119 JOHN FERRIS

Part III: The Power of Intelligence 135 10. Issues of Strategic Intelligence: Anglo-German Relations and the Russo-Japanese War 137 JOHN W.M. CHAPMAN 11. Russia and Korea in 1904–1905: ‘Chamberlain’ A.I. Pavlov and his ‘Shanghai Service’ 159 DMITRII B. PAVLOV 12. The Japanese Consular System in China during the Russo-Japanese War 177 CAO DACHEN

Part IV: Interior Lines 197 13. Russian Views of the Far East in the Period of the Russo-Japanese War 199 KANO TADASHI 14. The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War 218 TSUCHIYA YOSHIHURU 15. Japanese Deportees and Prisoners of War in Siberia, 1904–05 232 VLADIMIR G. DATSYSHEN

Part V: Gender and Race 241 16. Russo-Japanese War and Literary Expression: Voice, Gender and Colonialism 243 FAYE YUAN KLEEMAN 17. Japan Under Paternalism: The Changing Image of Japan during the Russo-Japanese War 257 IKURA AKIRA 18. The Russo-Japanese War and the Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ in Japanese Foreign Policy 274 SVEN SAALER

Part VI: Global Repercussions 291 19. The High Road to the First World War? Europe and the Outcomes of the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–14 293 ROTEM KOWNER

Bibliography 315 Index 339 Preface

here is a famous saying in Japanese ‘Ju yoku gowo seisu’ (Softness over- Tcomes hardness). It means that often the weak win over the more powerful. Indeed, as the proverb says, the Russo-Japanese War that occurred more than a century ago, was a war where a powerful European country, Imperial Russia, was defeated by Japan, a small nation that was at that time in the midst of modernization. Why could a weak country such as Japan win over the far more powerful Russia? The reason was because Japan challenged Russia by using a tactic devised as the strategy of limited war. This strategy adopted by Japan included the following understandings: first, the war should last only for a period of one year; second, the Japanese army, despite having the capability to march north into Manchuria from Korea, should not proceed beyond Harbin; third, Japan should find a mediator who would use his good offices for peace talks with Russia on their behalf while Japan continued their fight against Russia. The leaders of the Meiji Government were well aware that should the situation develop into a worldwide conflict, they would not have much hope of winning the war. Finding a mediator for peace negotiations, therefore, was a priority. As that mediator, they expected the United States, or more precisely its President, Theodore Roosevelt, to take on this role. With the understandings of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance lurking in the background, for- tunately for Japan, Roosevelt agreed to take on the role of mediator. As aresult, the strategy of limited war and US efforts towards peace negotiations led Japan to victory against the powerful Russians. The US President was also greatly honoured to receive the Nobel Peace Prize after the War. However, victorious Japan was yet to encounter various difficulties thereafter. For instance, issues related to Japanese immigration into the United States, as well as various problems in connection with the Manchurian railways. As in ‘yesterday’s enemy is today’s friend’, Japan was able to establish an amicable relationship with post-war Russia. On the other hand, nothing was said about inviting Roosevelt to Japan, nor even any Japanese decoration being awarded to him. According to our history, all things might be in flux towards reversal. This book is a collection of outstanding essays written by many eminent scholars and researchers from Japan and many other parts of the viii Preface world. Their dedicated studies on the origins and consequences of the Russo-Japanese War are compiled in one great collection. Readers interested in this field should benefit greatly from these studies. Lastly, I would like to express my gratitude only not to the editors, but also to the many scholars, including members of the Russo-Japanese War Association, and to Global Oriental for publishing these outstanding studies on the centenary of the War. I am confident that the papers will prove to be a significant landmark in Russo-Japanese War studies for the many academics interested in this area.

Matsumura Masayoshi, LL.D. President of the Russo-Japanese War Association, Japan Abbreviations

AA Auswärtiges Amt, The Political Archive of the German Foreign Ministry AJAC American Jewish Archives, Cincinnati (Schiff correspondence) AVPRI Arkhiv Vneshnei Politiki Rossiiskoi Imperii, Moscow BA/MA/RM German Naval Archives, Freiburg-am-Breisgau BDOFA British Documents on Foreign Affairs, edited by Bourne & Watt BDOW British Documents on the Origins of the War, edited by Gooch & Temperley BKTT Boei Kenkyujo, Toshokan, Tokyo BLHMCA Basil Liddell-Hart Centre for Military Affairs, King’s College, London BLL British Library, London BLO Bodleian Library, Oxford BOJ Bank of Japan Archive, Tokyo (Matsuo Shigeyoshi Papers) CCC Churchill College, Cambridge CUL Cambridge University Library DMOGU Ocherk deatel’nosti Moskovskogo Gorodskogo Obshchestvennogo Upravleniia EGB Eniseiske Gubernskie Vedomosti, 1902–1905 ES Entsiklopedicheskii slovar’ GAIO Gosudarstvennyi Arkhiv Irkutskoi Oblasti GAKK Gosudarstvennyi Arkhiv Krasoyarskogo Oblasti GATO Gosudarstvennyi Arkhiv Tomskoi Oblasti GN Gaimusho daijin kanbo jinji-ka ed. (1999), Gaimusho nenkan GNH Gaimusho hyakunen-shi hensan iinkai ed. (1969), Gaimusho no hyakunen GP Die Große Politik der Europäischen Kabinette, 1871–1914: Sammlung der Akten des Auswärtigen Amtes. GST Gaiko Shiryokan, Tokyo, the Diplomatic Records Ofﬁce of Japan HTKM Hara Takashi Kankei Monjo, KST HSBCL Hongkong & Shanghai Bank, London IGV Irkutskie Gubernskie Vedomosti, 1904–1905 x Abbreviations

JSP Japan Society Proceedings KA Krasnyi Arkhiv KG Komura Gaikoshi (Gaimusho,1950, 2 vols.) KST Kensei Shiryoshitsu, the political history section of the NDL KTM Kato Takaaki Monjo, KST LCW Library of Congress, Washington DC MLS Mitchell Library, Sydney MMM Mutsu Munemitsu Monjo, KST MNM Makino Nobuaki Monjo, KST NAK National Archives, Kew, London (formerly PRO) NAW National Archives, Washington DC NDL National Diet Library, Tokyo NGM Nihon Gaiko Monjo (M ϭ Meiji Series; -NS ϭ Russo-Japanese War Series) NLS National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh NMM National Maritime Museum, Greenwich, London NS Nichiro Senki, vol.9 NWBL National Westminster Bank Archive, London (Parr’s Bank Papers) OSKM Ookuma Shigenobu Kankei Monjo, KST OSV Osvobozhdenie QTWS Qingxuan Tongchao Waijiao Shiliao, diplomatic records of the Qing Dynasty RGVIA Rossiiskii gosudarstvennyi voenno-istoricheskii arkhiv, Moscow SV Sibirskii Vestnik, 1904 TIM Tanaka Inaki Monjo, KST TKJ Takahashi Korekiyo Jidai, Takahashi’s Autobiography TKM Takahashi Korekiyo Monjo, KST TRM Toyokawa Ryohei Monjo, KST YAMYamagata Aritomo Monjo, KST Acknowledgements

he Russo-Japanese War Association, established at Gero Onsen, Gifu TPrefecture in Japan in July 2001, held more than twenty research meetings prior to the centenary of the war in 2004–05. Almost one hundred and thirty researchers from all over the world participated under the genial guidance of Professor Matsumura Masayoshi, the president of the association, initiated multifaceted researches on the war and debated the priorities among the many centennial events. As a result of these thorough discussions, it succeeded in organizing two international symposia on the Russo-Japanese War: first, one at Meiji-mura Museum and the Inuyama Tourist Centre, Inuyama City in Aichi Prefecture on 2–3 October 2004; second, an International Symposium at Komura Jutaro Memorial Hall, Nichinan City in Miyazaki Prefecture from 19 to 22 May 2005. Some parts of these research results on the Russo-Japanese War had already been published in Japanese during the actual centenary: Nichiro senso kenkyukai hen, Nichiro senso kenkyu no shin-shiten [The Russo- Japanese War Association ed., New Perspectives on the Russo-Japanese War Studies], Yokohama: Seibunsha, 2005. However, not all of the papers read at Nichinan could be completed in time for the deadline for the Japanese version. The Association itself, however, was very eager to publicize the most up-to-date results and these efforts have borne fruit in the appearance of this present volume on the re-thinking about the historical sig- nifcance of these events. Some of contributors to this volume originally wrote their articles in their own languages: Japanese, Russian, Korean and Chinese. The editors were fortunate to be able to find good translators from Japanese and Russian into English. In addition, however, Korean and Chinese papers were at first translated into Japanese, then re-translated into English. The complexity of a multilingual mixture of this kind inevitably presented difficulties in achieving precise translations of authors’ ideas and arguments. This made it important to engage in longer than usual intercom- munication among authors and editors, but it is hoped that the efforts at drawing out the necessary ideas and nuances have justified the inevitable delays. It is, therefore, a great pleasure for us to express our deep appreciation to Inuyama City and Miyazaki City for the strong support provided for the opening of these symposia. Financial support provided by the xii Acknowledgements

following organizations was of vital importance in holding the symposia: the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, the Japan Foundation, the Suntory Foundation, the Toshiba International Foundation, Meijo University and Teikyo University. Without the assistance of other institutions, it would not have been possible to organize the symposia conﬁ- dently: the Japanese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Miyazaki Prefecture, the embassies of the Russian Federation and of the Polish Republic in Tokyo. We are especially grateful for the cooperation of Kokushikan University and of the Far Eastern Technology University, Vladivostock, at Inuyama, and of the German Institute for Japanese Studies in Tokyo at Nichinan. Another joint event held with German scholars was the Centenary Exhibition on the Russo-Japanese War, entitled ‘European Views of the Russo-Japanese War: Lithographs, Photographs and Nishiki’, distributed at Nichinan, Nagoya, Inuyama, Osaka and Tokyo in 2005. We would like to acknowledge our most sincere appreciation to the Suntory Foundation whose publication programme has made possible the publication of this volume. We are also grateful to Teikyo University, which also provided ﬁnancial assistance toward the costs of publication. Warm thanks are owed to our translators, who had to cope with the obscurities and complexities of specialist historical terms: Dr Andrew Cobbing for translations from Japanese to English, Trevor Goronwy from Russian to English and Doda Yosuke from Chinese to Japanese.

Inaba Chiharu Helsinki, 30 April 2007 List of Contributors

PATRICK BEILLEVAIRE is Research Director at the French National Centre for Scientific Research and head of the Japan Research Centre at the École des Hautes Études en Sciences Sociales in Paris. His research focus is on nineteenth-century Okinawan history and the relations between Japan and the West in the late Tokugawa and early Meiji eras. His publications include the edited volumes, Ryukyu Studies and Western Encounter (Curzon 2000 and 2002) and Le voyage au Japon: Anthologie des texts français, 1858–1908 (Robert Laffont 2001). CAO DACHEN is an associate professor of history at the University of Nanjing and writes on the modern history of Japan and on Sino- Japanese relations. His publications include Tujie Zhonggu Kangri Zhanzhengshi, published at Shanghai and Cidao Xiade Duhao: Jindai Riben Zaihua Yapian Duhua Huodong, published at Fuzhou, both in 2005. JOHN W.M. CHAPMAN taught international relations at the universities of Sussex and Ritsumeikan and was the founding editor of Japan Forum (OUP). He has specialized in the development of communications intelligence in the twentieth century and its impact on East Asia, particularly those aspects involving Japan, Britain and Germany. He is the compiler of the war diary of German naval attachés in Japan, The Price of Admiralty (four volumes), among numerous publications and is currently Hon. Senior Research Fellow at the Scottish Centre of War Studies, University of Glasgow, as well as owning and running a bio- dynamic hill farm in Galloway. VLADIMIR G. DATSYSHEN is a professor of world history at the Siberian Federal University at Krasnoyarsk. His main fields are Russian migration problems, Central and East Asian history, especially eastern Russian history. His publications since 1996 include Russko-kitaiskaia voina, 1900 g., with a sequel in Pokhod na Pekin in 1999 and Bokserskaia voina: voennaia kompaniia russkoi armii i flotta v Kitae v 1900–1901 gg. JOHN FERRIS is a Professor of History at the University of Calgary. He writes on strategy, diplomatic intelligence and military history. Among his publications are Men, Money and Diplomacy: The Evolution of British Strategic Policy, 1919–1926 (1989); The British Army and Signal Intelligence xiv Contributors

in the First World War (1992); A World History of Warfare (2002); and Strategy and Intelligence: Selected Essays (2005). He is currently working on a book about Japan in British Strategy, 1853–1945. IIKURA AKIRA is a professor of international relations at Josai International University in Chiba whose current research focuses on Japanese international relations, historical memory and the question of race in the Meiji era. His publications include Yellow Peril no shinwa: Teikoku Nippon to koka no gyakusetsu, published by Sairyu-sha in 2004. INABA CHIHARU is a professor of international relations at Meijo University in Nagoya. He was secretary of the Russo-Japanese War Association and organized international symposia on the centenary of the Russo-Japanese War. His major works are Akashi Kosaku: Boryaku no Nichiro Senso, published by Maruzen in 1995; Abakreta kaisen no shinjitsu: Nichiro Senso (Toyo shoten, 2002) and has served as an editor of Russko-iaponskie dipomaticheskie otnosheniia: catalog dokumentov, I (1850–1917 gg.); II (1917–1962 gg.), published in Tokyo by Nauka in 1996–7. ITO YUKIO is a professor at the Graduate School of Law in Kyoto University whose main ﬁeld of study is the political and diplomatic history of modern Japan. His proliﬁc publications include Rikken kokka to Nichiro Senso (Mokutaku-sha, 2000); Meiji tenno: Murakamo wo fuku akikaze ni haresomete (Mineruva-shobo, 2006) and Show tenno to Rikken kunshusei no hokai (Nagoya, 2005). KANO TADASHI is a professor of history at Hosei University in Tokyo. His specialty is modern Russian and Soviet political history. His mono- graph, Roshia-teikoku no minshuka to kokka togo, published by Ochanomizu Press in 2001, analysed the process and development of reform in the Russian government between 1904 and 1906 and included the impact on these of the Russo-Japanese War. FAYE YUAN KLEEMAN specializes in modern Japanese literature, focusing on issues such as gender, colonialism and the intercontinental and cross-cultural aspects of Japanese literature. She is currently Associate Professor of Japanese Literature and Culture at the University of Colorado. Recent major publications include Under an Imperial Sun: Japanese Colonial Literature of Taiwan and the South (2003); ‘Modernity History and the Uncanny Colonial Encounter and Epistemological Gap’ (2006); ‘Gender, Ethnography and Colonial Cultural Production’ (2006) and ‘Postwar Japanese Language Literature: Focusing on Expatriate Japanese Authors and Foreign Authors in Japan’ (2006). ROTEM KOWNER is Professor of Japanese history and culture at the University of Haifa. His recent works include The Forgotten Campaign: The Russo-Japanese War and its Legacy (in Hebrew); Historical Dictonary Contributors xv

of the Russo-Japanese War and the edited volumes The Impact of the Russo-Japanese War and Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–5, Vol. I: Centennial Perspectives. He is currently working on a book on the role of racial and bodily images in shaping Meiji Japan. GERHARD KREBS was born in Warsaw and from 1965 studied German linguistics, history and Japanese language in Hamburg, Freiburg-am- Breisgau, Bonn and Tokyo. He taught at universities in Tokyo, Freiburg- am-Breisgau, Trier and Berlin and worked at research institutes in Tokyo and Potsdam. LEE SUNG-HWAN is a professor in the Faculty of Foreign Studies at Keimyung University in Daegu, Korea. His main ﬁeld is the diplomatic history of modern Japan and historical relations between Korea and Japan. His publications include Kindai Higashi Azia no seiji rikigaku, published in 1993 by Kinesisha and Kando ha nugu eu ttang inga, published by Salim Chulpan sha in Seoul in 1994. MATSUMURA MASAYOSHI was formerly Consul in charge of public information and cultural affairs at the Consulate-General of Japan in New York, when he researched the extensive activities conducted by Kaneko Kentaro as part of a special mission to win over American public opinion to Japan during the Russo-Japanese War and to maintain close contact with President Theodore Roosevelt. Publication of these activities led to the award of an LL.D degree by Keio University and he has gone on to publish numerous books and articles on the Russo-Japanese War and the Portsmouth Conference. He has taught Japanese diplomatic history at Teikyo University and organized international exchanges. Since 2001, he has served as President of the Russo-Japanese War Association and been involved in the promotion of numerous events commemorating the centenary of the War. NARAOKA SOICHI researches Japanese political history as associate professor in the Faculty of Law at Kyoto University. He is author of Kato Takaaki to seito seiji, published by Yamakawa shuppan in 2006 and has produced articles on Ernest Satow and Charles Eliot and Japan in 2005. IAN NISH is Emeritus Professor at the London School of Economics and Politics and is a leading authority on Japanese diplomatic history. Among his numerous publications are The Anglo-Japanese Alliance, Alliance in Decline; The Anglo-Japanese Alienation, 1919–1952, The Origins of the Russo-Japanese War and the edited 8-volume set of major works, The Russo-Japanese War, 1904–5. DMITRII B. PAVLOV is professorial head of the department of History and Law at Moscow Technical University of Radio Engineering & Automatics. He has written Russo-iaponskaia voina, 1904–1905 gg.: sekretnye operatsii na sushe i na more, published by Materik in 2004, together with 150 other publications. His specialist interest is in Russian political movements at the turn of the twentieth century and xvi Contributors

in the Russo-Japanese War. He is a member of the editorial board of Istoricheskii Arkhiv in Moscow. SVEN SAALER is Associate Professor of History at the University of Tokyo, Graduate School in Arts and Social Studies, and was formerly head of the Humanities Section of the German-Japanese Institute in Tokyo. His research focuses on the history of Pan-Asianism and recent debates about the Yasukuni Shrine and Japanese history textbooks. He is the author of Politics, Money and Public Opinion (2005), co-editor (with J. Victor Koschmann) of Pan-Asianism in Japanese History: Colonialism, Regionalism and Borders (2007) and co-editor with Wolfgang Schwentker of The Power of Memory in Modern Japan (2008). RICHARD SMETHURST is University Center for International Studies Research Professor and Professor of History at the University of Pittsburgh. His book, From Foot Soldier to Finance Minister: Takahashi Korekiyo, Japan’s Keynes was published by Harvard University Asia Center in 2007. TSUCHIYA YOSHIHURU is a professor of history at Nihon University in Tokyo who has published numerous articles on the social history of industrial workers in late Imperial Russia and on Russian society during the Russo-Japanese War. He is co-editor of Nichiro senso kenkyu no shin-shiten, published at Yokohama by Seibunsha in 2005. List of Tables and Figures

Table 13.1 Peasant Migration, 1859–1908 201 Table 13.2 Chinese Residents in the Russian Far East, 1886–1914 202 Figure 17.1 Cartoon: Powder Keg in Manchuria 263 Figure 17.2 Cartoon: The Anglo-Japanese Alliance Caricaturized 263 Figure 17.3 Cartoon: David and Goliath 264 Figure 17.4 Cartoon: The Apt Pupil 270 Figure 17.5 Cartoon: The Mikado School of War 272 Figure 18.1 Knackfuß Painting 276 Conventions

ransliterations from Japanese and Chinese characters and the alpha- Tbetic conversion of Cyrillic and the Hangul texts pose special difﬁcul- ties. The editors basically adopted the Hepburn System in Japanese, the Gwoyeu Romatzyh in Chinese, the American Library Association and the Library of Congress system in Russian and the South Korean Ministry of Education rules in Korean. Some traditional usage of personal and geographical names, for example, Tokyo, Beijing (Peking), Moscow and Seoul, however, are exceptionally retained in this volume. Even so, we could not completely unify into the same transliteration systems throughout. In line with Asian linguistic conventions, family names in East Asia are printed ﬁrst, followed by the given name. There were two calendar systems in use in Europe from 1582 until the Russian Revolution of 1917. The main European countries adopted the Gregorian Calendar, but the Russian Empire continued to use the old Julian Calendar which lagged thirteen days after the West Europeans by the beginning of the twentieth century. Introduction

JOHN W.M. CHAPMAN

olume II is based on an international symposium held in Japan coin- Vciding with the centenary of the closing stages of the Russo-Japanese War. Sessions were held at the Meiji-mura Museum and Inuyama Tourist Centre at Inuyama City, Aichi Prefecture from 2 to 3 October 2004, and at the Komura Jutaro Memorial Hall at Nichinan City in Miyazaki Prefecture from 19 to 22 May 2005. The symposium was superbly organized by the Russo-Japanese War Association under the direction of Professor Inaba Chiharu and opened by Professor Matsumura Masayoshi, the president of the Association. Some of the proceedings of the Symposium were published in Japanese in 2005, but the present volume contains only a selection of the papers given or commented upon. The editors have endeavoured, however, to provide a balance of views from Europe, North America and wider Asia rather than a more narrow Russo- Japanese focus. In Part I, papers are grouped around the role of individual personalities: two heads of state, the Emperor Meiji and President Theodore Roosevelt of the USA; two Japanese foreign ministers, Komura Jutaro and Kato Takaaki. Inevitably, the individual personalities can hardly fail to be built into the various papers which make up the remaining parts of the volume, but in general the symposium itself spent some time discussing the role of sovereigns and dynasties in the pre-1914 era. Whereas the role of Theodore Roosevelt as head of state was taken up only in a minor way with ceremonial issues, there has been relatively little discussion of the political role of the Emperor Meiji and the impact he may have had behind the façade of pomp and circumstance in the Victorian and Edwardian eras. It is therefore interesting in many ways to compare the observations made by foreign observers in Japan at the relevant period with the findings of the modern researcher with access to the papers and memories of influential figures and groups behind the public scenes. The observations of members of the British and American elites are in many ways most useful simply because of the willingness and need of their Japanese counterparts to obtain their support as allies and friends, but it would be wise for the researcher to be prepared to analyse the xx Introduction observations and responses of the representatives of other nationalities also present at the historical feast. In a world where republicans were in a clear minority, for example, access to the Japanese system was more readily gained by members of other ruling houses, who were able to visit Japan in person thanks to the transport and communication technologies developed on a global scale from the middle of the nineteenth century. Queen Victoria’s despatch of Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh to Japan must be seen as part of a tradition in Britain going back at least to the early nineteenth century that, whatever might be thought of other political cultures, monarchs across the globe formed a type of masonic order that demanded respect, if not equality. With the help of the Royal Navy and its global network of bases, subsequent royal visits were made by British princes to the Meiji court and members of the imperial family, such as Prince Komatsu, the emperor’s brother, toured Europe in 1902 following his participation in the coronation festivities for the accession of King Edward VII. Following the establishment of a naval base at Kiaochow in 1897, Kaiser Wilhelm II copied the British precedent by despatching his brothers, Princes Henry and Friedrich Leopold of Prussia, to China and Japan while, even earlier, Nicholas II visited Japan as tsarevich only to meet a rather more hostile reception. Such visits were usually accompanied by exchanges of lavish gifts and decorations, increasingly aimed at one-upmanship in relation to rival dynasties and were later employed as vehicles for securing trade preferences and national economic interests. Its initial impact on East Asia was well demonstrated by the inrush of foreign forces into China during the Boxer Uprising in 1900–1901, but which was in many ways the culmination of the end stage in what was termed the ‘Great Game’ that had marked Russian responses to the Anglo-French expedition to the Crimea in the 1850s. The accession of King Edward VII marked an extremely important step in Britain’s external policy as it spelled a rejection of the anti-Russian and anti-republican prejudices which Queen Victoria sustained throughout her long reign. Although Britain was represented as an ideal model of a ‘constitutional monarchy’, the fact remained that the sovereign continued to play a significant personal role in the conduct of foreign and strategic policies and that role inevitably varied in significance according to the personal astuteness as well as the institutional prestige with which every sovereign was organically invested. The sovereign was consequently in a position to bestow confidence on individuals and feed van- ities apace with the provision of honours, promotion and expanded social status: liaisons were maintained by Court officials, private secretaries, social companions and often by actual relatives. In Edward VII’s case, there were many exiled members of German princely families living in London from the 1860s who had ample cause to resent the imposition of Hohenzollern central rule and retained or strengthened links with other dynasties through marriage. An excellent example of this was Prince Louis of Battenberg who served as a naval officer on the China Introduction xxi

Station in the late 1890s and maintained a correspondence with Prince Henry of Prussia rather than conduct personal contacts with the Kaiser. His wife was the favourite sister of Tsarina Alexandra and he was employed by Edward VII on business connected with the maintenance of good personal relations with Russia and Germany between 1904 and 1910 despite the international crises with which the period was studded. Tokyo was never seen as an attractive diplomatic posting as it lacked the social and materialistic appeal of the major capitals of Europe, but British diplomats did appreciate the professionalism of the Japanese elite and recognized that they were extremely well informed about what was going on in Asia. There was concern among individual diplomats and especially officers about the scale of Japanese ambitions in the region, but the secrecy and discretion of the Japanese compared favourably with the deep-seated animus reserved for Russian behaviour and pretensions which found plenty of resonance in Whitehall, Simla and Washington. The War Office was perpetually concerned with Russian intentions and military movements all over Asia, while the Admiralty, which had been more responsible than Commodore Perry for the establishment of diplomatic contact with Japan in the 1850s, generally remained rather complacent until the events surrounding the Triple Intervention of 1895, when the small Japanese fleet had been forced to capitulate in the face of the combined European threat. In the course of the reappraisal of the altered strategic situation in East Asia, closer liaison with the Japanese expeditionary forces resulted in a radical reassessment of the position. It was realized in London that Japanese technical naval capabilities had been far greater than the small size of their fleet had appeared to indicate and that these would be transformed even more spectacularly once the construction of modern battleships in British yards had been successfully completed. Closer dialogue with Japanese military and naval commands included information about the organization of wartime operations and credit was given to Emperor Meiji in bringing about closer Army-Navy relations and a significant contribution to Japanese war-making capabilities and improving the coordination of military, naval and civilian intelligence gathering. Nevertheless, in assessing the emperor’s role, a straightforward comparison with Queen Victoria as a constitutional monarch would fail to encompass problems such as membership of cabinets by genro except where there was a significant division of opinion among the genro themselves. The emperor figured prominently in the promotion of good relations following the decision in favour of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. British naval officers below the rank of admiral were feted with unheard of invitations to receptions at the Imperial Palace and commanding officers visiting Japan from the China Station were almost invariably presented to the emperor even after the alliance was terminated. Minister MacDonald, a retired commanding officer of a Highland regiment who had put his military training to good use during the Boxer siege of Beijing, provided much of the initiative in dealings with the Japanese Army that was xxii Introduction lacking in the official military attaché and pressed for the establishment of a permanent naval attaché on discovering that the temporary secondment of Captain Charles Ottley to Tokyo was abruptly ended with his transfer to St Petersburg to study the Russian Navy in late 1901. He found that without a capable naval adviser, his relations with the Japanese Navy were inadequate to provide authentic information or advice to the visiting officer commanding the China Station, Admiral Sir Cyprian Bridge, at a time when London was providing advance warning of the likelihood of an alliance with Japan. Once Captain Ernest Troubridge arrived as the first permanent British naval attaché in Tokyo in the autumn of 1902, however, a close working relationship was established by him with leading Japanese naval officers which provided him with a much more realistic understanding than was ever acquired either by Admiral Bridge or his successor, Admiral Noel, located at Hong Kong between 1901 and 1906. Although Troubridge attempted to acquire the language, the fact was that senior officers in key positions in the Japanese Navy, such as Admiral Togo Heihachiro, the commanding officer of the Combined Fleet, Admiral Saito Makoto the vice-minister of the Navy, and Admiral Ijuin Goro, the vice-chief of naval staff, all had adept English-language skills and were able to pass on important information painlessly in the course of the build-up to and prosecution of the war. Troubridge was the only foreign officer permitted to participate in fleet training exercises before war broke out and to serve at sea during operations on board the Glasgow-built battleship Asahi. Troubridge, following the example set by Ottley previously, employed a privately engaged Japanese translator to ensure that essential communication was reliably established. Troubridge’s successor, Captain Christopher Pakenham, inherited the same translator when continuous service with the fleet at sea was performed during the successful operations off Port Arthur and up to and including the victorious Battle of the Japan Sea (Tsushima). Troubridge was instrumental in introducing General Sir Ian Hamilton to senior naval officers in the period between March and May 1904 when Hamilton was patiently waiting in Tokyo for secondment to the front line in Manchuria. Troubridge’s admiration for the prowess of the Japanese Navy was clear to Hamilton, who reported to Lord Kitchener on 18 March 1904 that the Navy was proving more communicative towards him than the Army: the Navy Minister, Admiral Yamamoto Gonnohyoe, proved to be particularly frank about what was expected of the British ally:

We hope and believe we shall have to make no call on England even to look warlike until the peace negotiations at the close of hostilities, when others may again try to play the part of ﬁre thieves.1

By the end of March 1904, however, Hamilton succeeded in arranging many tours of inspection of Japanese Army training depots, logistical and medical facilities and after a further month had met many of the leading Introduction xxiii

Japanese personalities, including War Minister Terauchi Masatake, Prime Minister Katsura Taro, the genro Yamagata Aritomo, Foreign Minister Komura Jutaro, Army chief-of-staff Oyama Isao, his deputy Kodama Gentaro, and the director of military intelligence, Fukushima Yasumasa, some on several occasions. He was aware that the Japanese Army was fully apprised of Hamilton’s role as chief-of-staff to Lord Kitchener in the final stages of the war in South Africa but, somewhat to his surprise, he ‘found in practice that they were glad to ask questions about experiences gained in South Africa and to listen to what I had to say’.2 By early May, Minister MacDonald had written to Hamilton to congratulate him on a debate he had had with Sir William Nicholson in the presence of Generals Terauchi and Kodama when Hamilton had argued against a ‘strongly dissentient’ Nicholson in favour of the Japanese use of heavy artillery in Manchuria. Hamilton’s view appears to have been the one favoured on the Japanese side and their use of 5-inch Vickers field guns as ‘outclassing’ the Russian artillery was subsequently reported to Kitchener by General Gerard, the principal British observer at Kuropatkin’s headquarters.3 Hamilton appears to have made little or no mention at all of the Emperor Meiji, but it is interesting that he maintained correspondence not only with St John Brodrick, the Secretary for India who had previously served as Secretary for War, but also with the king’s principal private secretary, Lord Knollys, ‘to whom the king told me to write when I left England’. There was evident friction between Hamilton, who was the chief representative of the Indian Army, and Nicholson, the chief representative of the British Army: members of Nicholson’s staff were constantly suspicious that Hamilton was ingratiating himself with the Japanese at Nicholson’s expense. One of the principal complainants was Nicholson’s chief staff officer, Colonel Aylmer Haldane, who kept a detailed diary of events while in the Far East and subsequently wrote up the first volume of the War Office’s official account of the Russo-Japanese War. Nicholson and Haldane arrived in Japan several weeks after Hamilton and Haldane gave an account of the first imperial reception held for foreign officers on 6 April 1904. When taken to meet the Emperor Meiji, Haldane noted that the emperor ‘stood with his toes turned in and is a flabby looking fellow, ugly like most of his race’. Haldane attended in full dress wearing the kilt of the Gordon Highlanders and so intrigued the ladies of the court that the empress – contrary to normal custom – instructed her ladies-in-waiting to introduce him to her for a second time.4 Haldane’s condescending attitude was not uncommon among many of the more senior European military and naval officers who visited Japan, but there is no evidence that it was advanced in any official reports or correspondence, which would in any event have been despatched to London by diplomatic bag. There was no diplomatic bag operating between Japan and India and Hamilton was more than conscious of the fact that his correspondence with Kitchener was subject to censorship, just as there was no secure courier connection for correspondence xxiv Introduction between MacDonald in Tokyo and Sir Charles Hardinge in St Petersburg.5 Hamilton openly stated that he did not mind censorship so long as letters were delivered and actually praised the rigorous regulations organized by General Fukushima and deeply resented by the press. He was careful to warn his correspondents that ‘it is essential that we should show no signs of hedging; sitting on the fence; conciliating the hare, or otherwise of wavering in our sympathy’. He was also highly conscious of ‘the very small proportion of Japanese soldiers who have been to America or England’ and how many who had been to Germany or France were ‘sympathetic to those countries’. He recommended that efforts should be made to increase the number of invitations to secondments with the British and Indian armies in future in order to counter this, while he took the precaution of hiring a private Japanese translator to accompany him to the headquarters of the 1st Army in Manchuria in line with the arrangements made by previous military and naval attachés in Japan. With the appointment of able and high-ranking officers as observers on both the Russian and Japanese front lines and the relatively privileged access accorded to the British side in Japan, it is possible to estimate how well informed contemporary observers were about the inner workings of the belligerent states. In Russia, however, it was much more likely that information could be obtained about sensitive topics such as the activities of the autocracy and even of the military and naval commands by means of monetary purchases than in Japan. Former British agents with access to privileged information about Russia were secretly made available to the Japanese authorities in a number of instances, while extensive efforts were made by covert Russian agencies to frustrate Britain and other states friendly towards Japan from gaining information which could be passed on to Japan. Parallel efforts were made by General Fukushima to discourage British observers from operating too closely with those of other states and of controlling the access of newspaper correspondents even more stringently to privileged information. By contrast with these contemporary observations, the analysis by Ito¯ Yukio lays bare the more extensive actual role played by the Emperor Meiji during the course of the war as opposed to the more traditional tendency to highlight this in the context of the road leading to war. The emperor presided over an extremely important drive for parity of status between Army and Navy within the Imperial Headquarters normally established to supervise the conduct of war, but remained extremely circumspect about the wisdom of going to war. This sense of caution is confirmed in relation to specific operations in the course of the war through the citation of the diaries and statements of members of the Meiji court, but in several instances these make it clear that the emperor encountered particularly severe difficulties in reconciling the views of different factions within the Army about future strategy and it is easier to appreciate how much harder it was for his Taisho and Showa successors to limit the influence of rival militarism and navalism in subsequent generations. Introduction xxv

An important aspect of the balance of influences in wartime is the extent to which the operational conduct of the armed forces relates to the roles of civilians, as the danger is so often that the deployment of force acquires an inner logic that fails to take wider issues into consideration. If we are to believe General Hamilton, the leaders of the Japanese Navy retained a deep concern about the end game rather than a preoccupation with the struggle itself. The aggressive style of the Japanese Army is summed up in Hamilton’s observation from the front line in Manchuria: ‘The Japs worship the sword. – There is nothing they long for so much as to cut off a lot of legs and arms.’6 If we examine the relationships between officers and other diplomatic personnel in Japanese missions abroad during the war, those between officers and career diplomats present one level of analysis but what is especially interesting is the relationship of each and both to other civilians attached to missions for other purposes. Much attention has been paid by Japanese scholars to the role of individuals such as Suematsu Kencho in Europe and Kaneko Kentaro in the USA as propagandists and even greater attention to the role of Takahashi Korekiyo as a financial organizer. Takahashi, a vice-president of the Bank of Japan on secondment to London, nevertheless, was instructed to provide support to Colonel Utsunomiya Taro, the military attaché, who had been supplied with substantial funds to organize assistance to Polish and Finnish nationalists and promote their collaboration with Russian revolutionaries.7 In November 1904, Minister Hayashi Tadasu was shocked to discover that Takata & Co. had been employed without his knowledge by the Japanese Navy to purchase contraband in Britain for delivery to Japan and hinted that if he were not properly informed about such activities he would regard it as a resigning matter.8 General Hamilton supplied a pen-portrait of Komura Jutaro, whom he met early on in his stay in Japan, thanks no doubt to the fact that Minister MacDonald had insisted that he stay with him in the legation residence:

The Foreign Minister – Komura – is a very clever little man. He is so like Lord Lansdowne in appearance that I could not help telling him so, when he replied that he was afraid Lord L. would not be ﬂattered if he heard it, which perhaps was true. He was educated in America and loves the legal side of a question. He is precise and punctilious in manner, just like our own Secy. of State.9

Ian Nish’s examination of the role of Komura conﬁrms that he was one of the principal architects of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance and that he kept the British side informed of most of the main developments in Russo-Japanese negotiations prior to the outbreak of war, mainly through MacDonald. It is clear that the Russians thought that they had the upper hand and that they need only send in a division to settle the matter. It is ironic, however, that the Japanese ministers, so insistent on xxvi Introduction guarding against multilateral intervention being directed again towards Japan, consciously opted for a strictly bilateral negotiation and rejected US and French proposals for multilateral international mediation which would have made it more likely that Russia would have had to take Japanese demands more seriously.10 However, Nish credits Komura with continuing management of the direction of Japanese foreign policy and recognized that the application of further force, such as the Army’s plans for the seizure of Vladivostock and northern Sakhalin, could no longer be sustained. He emphasizes further that Komura realized in 1905 the need for a satisfactory conclusion of the new alliance with Britain and acceptance of the US view that an indemnity would only undermine the operational successes, but that it was vital also to obtain at least a measure of Chinese consent to Japanese control of Manchuria. Naraoka So¯chi explains the close relationship between Kato and the Seiyukai, spells out the far greater distance he sought to create between the Foreign Ministry and the Army and how much effort he made while Foreign Minister in the Ito administration to promote closer Anglo- Japanese relations, which ties in closely with Ian Nish’s explanation of the activities of Ito in Europe. He also brings out the contrast with Komura’s conduct of policy by the way in which he sought to work more closely with the other powers to put multilateral pressure on Russia’s unwillingness to evacuate Manchuria. Naraoka concentrates on Kato’s activities during the Russo-Japanese War and points to his differences with Yamagata Aritomo and preference for efforts to develop a deeper democratic and constitutional basis for the national polity. As a newspaper president, Kato made full use of the media to develop a hard line, demanding an unconditional Russian surrender, which almost excluded him from a return to ofﬁce after the end of the war. Prior to the First World War, the leaders of republican states were placed at quite a serious disadvantage, especially as the problem of engaging in personal visits to Japan remained out of the question until only the most recent times of rapid air travel have made the global activities of sovereigns and other heads of state equally achievable. Nevertheless, republican statesmen and policymakers were able to select able individuals to develop contacts from within their own society or even from friendly societies to pursue initiatives which served their own or national interests. In Theodore Roosevelt’s case, his links with the British diplomat, Cecil Spring-Rice, who had been his best man, played a crucial role in the coordination of Anglo-American relations with Japan and Russia. Roosevelt appointed his own nominee, Henry Meyer, as US representative to Russia and instructed him to maintain close friendly contact with Spring-Rice while First Secretary of the British Embassy at St Petersburg. Spring-Rice was despatched to Washington by Lord Lansdowne soon after the fall of Port Arthur with the express intention of encouraging Roosevelt to put himself forward as an acceptable third party to serve as mediator between the belligerents when he judged that the time for this was ripe.11 Introduction xxvii

Although Roosevelt pursued these unofficial links assiduously, his official relations with the British ambassador, Sir Mortimer Durand, whom he described as ‘fat-witted’, were much more cool, a condition in line with Matsumura Masayoshi’s description of Britain’s attitude towards the peace negotiations. His central interest is in the gap in Japanese- American relations in the middle of the Portsmouth talks, which centres on the personal relations between Roosevelt and Kaneko and gives rise to different theories of explanation, both from contemporaneous memoirs and from subsequent researchers. There remains every reason to question why Roosevelt’s strong condemnations of the treatment of Japanese entering Hawaii and California should be matched by other contemporary claims that Roosevelt was at heart anti-Japanese as well as anti-Russian and that ‘what he really wishes is to see the two powers entirely exhausted as a result of the war’.12 Part II contains five different views of the war from the perspective of neutrality, which was subsequently to play a critical role in the unfold- ing era of global conflict in the twentieth century. Richard Smethurst examines the role played by banking and finance based on an analysis of archives in various banks in Britain, Japan and the USA with the object of highlighting the crucial breakthrough achieved by Takahashi Korekiyo. A great deal of attention has been paid in the past to the role of Jacob Schiff and the importance of Jewish bankers’ reactions to the Russian pogroms, especially that at Kishiniov, but the chapter under- scores the fact that it was an equal partnership between British and US banks. London was the ideal centre from which to operate because the key introductions were made with the assistance of the Rothschilds and greater secrecy was available than was possible in New York. The British side was only too happy to have the risks shared, as the King (briefed by his friend, Sir Ernest Cassel) emphasized to Schiff at the time, and it is clear that the British cabinet via Lansdowne and Selborne (with close links to the City and to Wall Street through his brother-in-law) were aware of what was being done. Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the affair was that the Japanese loan was oversubscribed no fewer than twenty-five times.13 Patrick Beillevaire is particularly concerned to emphasize the con- tinuity between French policy during the Russo-Japanese War and in the subsequent road to war in 1914, but highlights how delicate the situation was throughout the war in the Far East because of the tensions that arose as a result of the measures taken by the French authorities to operate a policy of benign neutrality towards Russia, especially in the matter of the supply of fuel and provisions to the Baltic Fleet. The Japanese side was always aware of the development of the entente between Britain and France, though initially suspicious of the earlier moves in 1903. However, they were satisfied that British policy went a long way towards neutralizing French support for Russia, particularly after the settlement of colonial differences in April 1904 was made clear. Suematsu Kencho pointed out that most French support for Russia came from right-wing xxviii Introduction sources, but also expressed his view that, behind that, lay sinister signs of German machinations.14 That the Baltic Fleet’s reliance on German shipping for supply, which Beillevaire cites, was more important than French support was understood in Tokyo not only from observation of the efforts to promote German-Russian commercial ties but also from Consul-General Iwasaki in Sydney who succeeded in obtaining detailed information about its extent and scope from a former French secret agent in London.15 It was concluded in Tokyo that Germany rather than France had been Russia’s real ally, but in London that Germany was seeking to exploit the situation in Manchuria after the battle of Mukden not only to humiliate France by means of the demands on Morocco, but also to dominate Europe. Gerhard Krebs’ careful analysis both of the literature and of the selective evidence in Der Große Politik (GP) of German policy indicates that there were considerable internal strains among policymakers about what course to pursue, but that precipitate action by the Kaiser and his personal circle (aimed at detaching Russia from France and against Japan) created apprehensions abroad which devalued the initial stance of neutrality. Contemporary British evidence demonstrates that the personal element provided a major impetus towards Anglo-German antagonism: King Edward VII was intent on winning over the Kaiser’s close relative, the King of Spain, whose country had a longstanding interest in Morocco, to the British side by finding him a bride from among the king’s relatives, rather than those of the Kaiser. Having entertained Alfonso and many of the king’s other guests as C-in-C at Portsmouth, Admiral Sir John Fisher, promoted as First Sea Lord in October 1904, was a favourite of the king, for example, who took every opportunity to highlight the significance of the king’s involvement in the diplomacy, strategy and financial issues of the day.16 In the case of Korea, as indeed of China, the lack of sufficient military strength failed to reinforce the choice of neutrality which the current leadership desired. As Lee Sung-hwan demonstrates, that choice was heavily dependent on the Korean emperor’s faith in Russian protection and consequently all the more likely to reinforce Japanese insistence on obedience to their wishes. It was a matter of clear assumption on the parts of Britain and the USA that control of Korea was the price that had to be paid to induce Japan to take on Russia single-handed. In the British case, there were no economic links of any serious consequence with Korea which would obstruct policymakers in London, while President Roosevelt’s view was that Japan would provide the necessary injection of civilization that would safeguard US trading interests in Korea – much as was argued for US intervention in the Caribbean and the Pacific against Spain in 1898. Using primarily Korean sources, Lee’s study of Korean neutrality elucidates the largely false premises on which Korean perceptions of the problem of being caught in the middle of Russo-Japanese rivalry were based. In his analysis of the role of British military observers attached to both sides of the conflict, John Ferris employs the reports of both profes- Introduction xxix sional military officers, such as General Hamilton and Colonel Haldane, and of newspaper correspondents such as Charles Repington of The Times – himself a former Army officer in charge of British agents in the field.17 Hamilton he regards, along with Repington, as the most pro- Japanese of the British observers and Haldane as their greatest critic, but provides a wide range of sources to arrive at a balanced view of the military and naval perceptions of the war which had a tangible influence on the subsequent development of the British armed forces in wartime. Part III is particularly concerned with the role of intelligence in the planning and development of operations and with the conclusions drawn from those operations for the subsequent development of warfighting capabilities. John Chapman looks at many of the global issues of strategic intelligence and emphasizes the importance of a triangular relationship involving Japan with India as much as with metropolitan Britain. Modern writing tends to highlight the Anglo- Japanese Alliance treaty and its European dimension but tends to underplay the significance of the wider Asian dimension which had formed the central issue of the so-called ‘Great Game’. While recognizing the contribution Japan’s victories made to the revival of Asian nationalism, they nevertheless also had a significant impact on the thinking of the German leadership which sought to exploit evident Russian weakness to further German interests worldwide. German behaviour after the battle of Mukden had a direct impact on future British war plans with the conclusion that Germany now had to be regarded as Enemy No.1 in the future and that steps needed to be taken to bring into being an organization that was to develop into the secret intelligence services by 1909 which would target and report on the activities of the German state during peacetime and in advance of the outbreak of actual hostilities.18 A key part in uncovering German secret intelligence activity in the First World War; was played by Indian Army officers, whether centrally by such officers as Colonel Church (under Brigadier Anderson), or at the periphery by regular counter-intelligence methods at Singapore by Colonel Ridout (with the help of Major Wallinger and Inspector Petrie). The results of this activity tied in closely with knowledge acquired in Europe and the Middle East, but revealed quite fully the resources supplied by Germany to members of the Indian independence movement in Europe, the USA, Japan and China and their contacts with Kuomintang activists in China and the close involvement of ultra-nationalist societies and the General Staff in Tokyo. When examining British policy at this period, it is also of key importance to pay attention to Anglo-American interactions. The US Army had been deeply suspicious of Japanese involvement in dealings with the Filipino liberation movement as far back as 1900 and of the alleged negotiations of such people as Fukushima Yasumasu in the supply of munitions not only in Tokyo, but also in Hong Kong where many Filipino exiles had taken refuge. This had provided further suspicions xxx Introduction about British involvement, the denial of which had been accepted by the US Navy, but not entirely by the US Army, represented in Manila by General Arthur MacArthur and his ADC (from October 1905), Lieutenant Douglas MacArthur.19 There had been concern in London about the defence of Canada as late as 1905, but the Admiralty insisted on the need to dismantle all naval bases at Bermuda and in the Caribbean to emphasize Britain’s peaceful intentions toward the USA.20 Admiral Noel, the British C-in-C in China, had attempted to produce a future war plan involving the possibility of conflict between Japan and the USA but this had been vetoed by London.21 Further efforts had been made to dilute US suspicions of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance when it came up for renewal in 1911, but these had been dashed by the refusal of the US Senate to ratify a proposed Anglo-American arbitration treaty.22 US neutrality in the early years of the First World War provided opportunities for German use of US territory to promote schemes for subversion and sabotage and US nationals were found to have been involved in efforts to supply arms to the Indian independence movement. Evidence of German abuse of US neutrality was regularly drawn to US attention, but it was not until 1916 that proof was finally located which demonstrated that German secret communications via the USA had been facilitated with the assistance of the Swedish government. Evidence collected in Southeast Asia about a worldwide German conspiracy with the involvement of Japan and Mexico aimed at undermining the interests of Britain and the USA provided the essential underpinning for the British effort to involve the USA in the war. German archives, in turn, provide the hard evidence for core attempts to utilize the Muslim world in efforts to overthrow the Entente and demonstrate that these have some of their origins in German General Staff planning to emulate the success of the Japanese Army in promoting revolution in Russia in 1904–1905. The essay by Dmitrii B. Pavlov on the achievements of the ‘Shanghai Service’ operated by his namesake, A.I. Pavlov, demonstrates the close working relationship between the Russians and their Korean friends throughout the war. It confirms the existence of a political intelligence group working at the behest of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and quite separate from the group of military and naval specialists located for many years in China before the outbreak of war with Japan. The fact that military operations were conducted on Chinese sovereign territory provides a significant basis for the analysis by the Chinese scholar, Cao Dachen, of the development of the Japanese consular corps in China and the use made of ‘extra-territoriality’ whether they were located within or outside the actual war zone. He points to the development of ‘dual diplomacy’ where the boundaries between the Japanese Army administration and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs’ diplomatic and consular organization interacted and observes that this development was only the beginning of a longstanding effort at planning the Introduction xxxi long-term promotion of Japanese interests in China after 1905. The consular organization in China is linked to the wider global network established by Japan which was of particular relevance to charting the progress of the Baltic Fleet eastward and complements the work of Inaba and Kowner in chapter 6 of Volume I. Part IV consists of three essays which concentrate on the ‘home front’ in Russia and Japan during the conflict. Kano¯ Tadashi examines the evolution of Russia’s regional policy in the Far East with particular reference to the issues posed by Manchuria and Korea and points to the weakness of this policy that stemmed largely from the limited level of investment in facilities and personnel prior to 1904. He also explores the views of the anti-government press over the handling of the issues of the Far East and points out the extensive labour unrest that had existed in European Russia well before the outbreak of war. Tsuchiya Yoshifuru makes a direct comparison of the support provided by the home front for Russian and Japanese institutions and reveals clearly from studies of local provincial and city archives the varied and somewhat haphazard nature of the measures taken by the Russian authorities. Evidence from Japanese provincial archives confirms that, while contributions to soldiers’ families did little to lift them out of poverty, nevertheless steps were taken locally in Japan which provided at least a show of popular solidarity and good intentions for most of the war period. The element of popular involvement was strongly resisted in Russia from the outset until the ‘all-zemstvo’ organization was accepted and it marked the major difference with the sense of national solidarity that was engendered in Japan. One of the least researched of the internal issues regarding the conflict is perhaps the subject of Japanese prisoners and deportees and how they were treated in wartime Russia, which forms the subject of the essay by Vladimir G. Datsyshen,who again makes widespread use of contem - por ary local newspapers and archives. Most of the Japanese detainees were transported to European Russia, but numbers continued to be held in Siberia at such places as Tomsk and Krasnoyarsk. Japan’s diplomatic interests, it should be noted, were looked after during the war by the USA – at British suggestion – and a few accounts survive in US archives on issues such as medical treatment and welfare. One interesting account from contemporary archives comes from three reports by the US Consul at Moscow, Thomas Smith, on the treatment of 69 Japanese Army officers and 414 other ranks held in Russian POW camps there. These questioned why civilian crew and passengers of two Japanese merchant vessels should continue to be held as prisoners and why the Russians insisted on not releasing Japanese doctors in the way that the Japanese had agreed to repatriate captured Russian medical personnel. The civilians held included twenty-one Koreans who had to be held in separate accommodation because the Japanese ‘hate them’. Smith also intimated to Colonel van Arr Hoff, Assistant Surgeon-General of the US Army, that the crews included ‘a few Englishmen among the xxxii Introduction prisoners, the officers of a captured transport’.23 Colonel Hoff arrived in Russia only in June 1905 to replace his medical colleague, Colonel Havard, who had been captured by the Japanese after the Battle of Mukden. However, they were able to provide a detailed picture of Russian military hospitals and Hoff addressed the ‘conundrum’ arising from the fact that the Japanese had 12 per cent more wounded than the Russians. None of the US observers understood Russian and relied heavily on two of the three British military attachés for translations, but claimed that it was possible to employ German usefully in conversations with ‘better- class’ Russian officers. Part V contains three essays which focus on the role of gender in the ways in which the war was interpreted in Japan and the role of race in terms of foreign perceptions and images of Japan before, during and after the conflict. Faye Yuan Kleeman explores the impact of the war on modern Japanese literature and contrasts the approaches taken by male and female writers. She observes that the war was the first to be fought in the glare of media coverage and subsequently in novels by prominent writers who participated in the events and were able to convey their experiences and sentiments to a wider audience, with emphasis on the contributions made by ordinary conscripts rather than the tales of aristocratic prowess as in the past. Special attention is given to a study of Kawahara Misaoko who was subsequently hailed as a heroine while a spy of the Japanese Army in Manchuria.24 She concludes that minority voices critical of the conduct of the Russo-Japanese War could be heard in the contemporary media, but that the majority voices lauding the military heroes became dominant in subsequent conflicts and dissonance was no longer tolerated after 1917. The paper by Iikura Akira traces the changes in image that developed in Western countries in the course of the war about Japanese conduct on the basis of the concept of ‘paternalism’ with phases that emphasized the significance of child-parent connotations, the growth of sympathy for the underdog, praise for the ‘apt pupil’ and its coming of age as a ‘child of civilization’. He concludes with the observation that a similar pattern of paternalism to that in Japan’s relations with the Western Powers developed in the 1930s and 1940s in terms of paternalistic relations between Japan and the societies of occupied Asia. Sven Saaler’s detailed analysis of the initial concept of the ‘Yellow Peril’ examines its reception in Japanese society and follows up its evolution into a scenario for the concept of racial conflict which became the dominant perception by the 1930s. He concludes with the argument that because the concept was the product virtually entirely of internal debate, its resonance within wider Asia proved to be far short of the objectives of its proponents. The final essay in Part VI by Rotem Kowner assesses the outcomes of the Russo-Japanese War between 1904 and 1914 for the individual European empires and extends these to include the Ottoman Empire. He argues that the conflict in East Asia marked the beginning of the break- Introduction xxxiii down of the European power equilibrium and places it in a direct line of development that ushered in the high road to global conflict.

Scroggie Hall, Stewartry of Kirkcudbright 31 March 2007

NOTES 1 Hamilton to Kitchener, 30.3.1904: NAK: Kitchener Papers, folio HH/6. 2 Two Japanese Army officers were seconded to the British forces in South Africa as military observers but both were killed in fighting in Manchuria. 3 Hamilton (Chemulpo) to Kitchener, 6.5.1904: f.HH/14; Gerard (Liaoyang) to Kitchener, 1.6.1904: NAK: f.HH/16. 4 Papers of General J.A.L. Haldane, MSS 20247: NLS. Haldane was the cousin of the Liberal politician, R.B. Haldane, who was subsequently Secretary for War and Lord Chancellor in the Campbell-Bannerman and Asquith admin- istrations. Haldane himself had been involved with Nicholson in the intelligence directorate at the War Office during the visit of General Fukushima to London as head of the military delegation engaged in staff talks under the terms of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. It was Fukushima who pressed Nicholson for the despatch of a Japanese Army liaison officer to Indian Army HQ and subsequently followed this up with a visit to Curzon and Kitchener in India on his way home from London. Fukushima fell seriously ill in India but was nursed there sufficiently back to health to enable him to return to Japan and recover. 5 Some pages of a letter of 20.4.1904 from Hamilton to Kitchener have pinholes in the top right-hand corner and a private letter from MacDonald to Hardinge of 2.9.1904 is similarly marked. This is consistent with the ‘tampering’ of the mails (which Hamilton asked Kitchener to look out for) and the photographing of selected correspondence, but in the latter case it was forwarded to London by Hardinge with the claim that it had been intercepted by the Tsarist secret police. NAK: HD3/125. 6 Hamilton to Rawlinson, commandant of the Staff College, 25.8.1904 in: Kitchener Papers, f.HH/27. 7 Hayashi (London) Tel.No.164 of 16.5.1904 to Komura: GST: File 5.1.8.1-4: Meiji 36-nen, Zai-Eikoshi Raiden, 1–6 gatsu. As early as March 1904, Utsunomiya was trying to engage Polish nationalists in acts of sabotage, but was unable to gain British support for efforts to overthrow the Russian state, whereas Colonel Akashi as military attaché in Stockholm had greater success in his dealings with the Swedish authorities. After the surrender of Port Arthur, Minister Inoue in Berlin learned that the German government became anxious about its likely effect on Russia’s internal situation and the ultimate threat to Germany’s position in China and the Pacific area. GST: File 5.2.27-1. Cf. Fält & Kujala, eds. (1988). xxxiv Introduction

8 Hayashi to Komura, Tel.No.389 of 28.11.1904 and Tel.No.397 of 1.12.1904: ibid. File 5.1.8.1-4. 9 Hamilton to Kitchener, 15.3.1904: NAK; Kitchener Papers, f.HH/3. 10 As early as July 1903, Komura – in the light of evidence of Anglo-French rapprochement – made it clear to Lansdowne that the Japanese judged that bilateral negotiation with Russia ‘would give the greatest promise of success’ in resolving peacefully the current problems of Manchuria and Korea and urged that the notion of joint Anglo-American-Japanese pressure on Russia should be abandoned. GST: Meiji 35-nen: Oden, 7–12 gatsu. On the eve of war, Lansdowne volunteered that Britain would reject US and French proposals for mediation between Russia and Japan in response to a request of 19.1.1904 from Komura which was repeated on 6.2.1904. Ibid.: Meiji 36-nen: Oden, 1–6 gatsu. 11 See Roosevelt Papers: LCW; Spring-Rice Papers: CCC; and Gwynn (1929). 12 Hayashi (London) Tel.No.403 of 5.12.1904 to Komura, basing it on information from ‘an old acquaintance . . . from a friend of his in the United States who is intimate with the president . . .’ GST: File 5.1.8.1-4. 13 Hayashi (London) Tel.No.163 of 13.5.1904 in: ibid. Interestingly, Takahashi was also employed by the Communications Ministry (Teishinsho) to pursue discussions in London with US interests involved in establishment of a new cable to Japan via Guam which would have greatly accelerated communications between Tokyo and the rest of the world had it come into operation in time. 14 London Tel.Nos.95 of 5.3., 111 of 19.3. and 117 of 31.3.1904 to Komura: ibid. 15 Iwasaki (Sydney) to Komura, 13.12.1904; GST: File 5.2.20-2 relays information from an Australian journalist who interviewed Baron de Hardenflycht, who allegedly had served in London under the alias of Colonel Count Hoogerwoera. 16 For an example of this phenomenon, already cited by Professor Smethurst in relation to such figures as Sir Ernest Cassel, one need only look at Prime Minister Balfour’s correspondence with Lord Selborne in 1902 to learn that Balfour thought that Fisher would ‘get into a devil of a row with his Royal Master’ if he rejected the King’s demand that Fisher be appointed to the Esher Committee to reform the Army, which had been initiated by the King ‘on his own initiative’. Balfour to Selborne, 22.10.1902 at Bodleian Library, Oxford (BLO): MS Selborne 34: 35–38. 17 Repington had been in charge of Section I3, dealing with ‘special service’`, in the Intelligence Section of the War Office, but appears to have been blamed for the mishandling of a Belgian citizen named Claeys who had been employed as an agent in France during the early part of the Boer War and had been caught and sentenced to a term of hard labour. The War Office subsequently admitted that Claeys’ capture had been ‘entirely due to the carelessness of an officer here’. After his departure from the service, Repington in late 1901 became involved in efforts to engage the Dutch in Anglo-Boer mediation, only to be severely reprimanded by Lord Lansdowne for claims that had no real foundation. NAK: HD3/123 & 129. 18 ‘It is impossible to extemporize a system of espionage after hostilities have broken out and any arrangements to be of value must be elaborated in time of peace.’ Maj. Gen. Sir Spencer Ewart, Director of Military Operations at the War Office, memorandum of 12.1.1909: NAK: KV1/2: 13. Introduction xxxv

19 MacArthur senior was seconded to the Manchurian front in the spring of 1905, but had difficulty in keeping up on horseback with other foreign observers as a result of a certain corpulence. Following their return fromTokyo in July 1906, both were despatched on a tour of the whole of Asia, approved by President Roosevelt in February 1905. NAW: RG165: War Department: Intelligence Corps, Historical Section: NM84, Entry 310/Box 128. 20 NAK: WO106/40 provides a range of papers covering the period from 1897 to 1908, when the War Office speculated on the scenario of a war between the US and Japan and ADM1/8875 supplies detailed views in 1903, when a war with the USA was regarded as a ‘calamity’ to be avoided at all costs. There is no indi- cation that this perception was relayed to Japan. 21 Noel Report No.771 of 30.9.1905 at: ibid.: ADM1/7728. Even Lord Walter Kerr had noted on 10.11.1903 that ‘Noel is dreadfully old-fashioned in his ideas and as obstinate as a mule’. On this occasion, Noel had expressed the opposition of most senior admirals to Sir John Fisher succeeding Kerr as 1st Sea Lord: Noel to Selborne, 14.7.1912. BLO: MS Selborne 35: 195–197; NMM: NOE/5, Correspondence on Naval Matters. 22 It is worth quoting here the letter from Admiral Ottley, secretary of the Committee of Imperial Defence, to Lord Fisher of 26.1.1911: It has been a very interesting meeting, and a most valuable discussion was elicited regarding the renewal of of the Anglo-Jap Alliance. I believe the happiest thing would be to bring about a tripartite agreement – Britain, America and Japan – and I believe that arrangement would be welcomed with acclamation – if it could be worked. Fisher Papers, FISR1/10: CCC. 23 NAW: RG165: NM84, Entry 310/Box 125. 24 A summary of the Japanese intelligence system, prepared by Colonel Edmonds in 1909, concluded that ‘in their use of women, and other intelligencers, at Vladivostock and other Russian ports in the East, they were up to the best European systems’. Ewart minute of 12.1.1909 to CIGS, Admiralty and Foreign Office: NAK: KV1/2: 48–52. Colonel Haldane in a subsequent lecture at the Staff College warned that people should be worried if they learned that geisha were being despatched to Southeast Asia because it would be one of the signs indicating hostile Japanese intelligence activity: NAK/WO106/6150.

PART I The Force of Personality

1 The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War

ITO YUKIO

or a long time the dominant perspectives of the Russo-Japanese War Fwere that it was an unavoidable conflict due to Russia’s push to the south and an inevitable imperialist struggle between the two powers involved.1 In contrast to these views I have argued that: first, there was a good chance the war could have been avoided since it occurred against a background of mutual misunderstanding on both sides in exerting power over Korea and Manchuria; and second, that if Russia and Japan had managed to reach a compromise there was every chance of the First World War breaking out without there ever having been a Russo-Japanese war, since Russia’s interests lay not just in the Far East but in various other regions such as Afghanistan and Europe where tensions increased after 1905 following crises over Morocco, the Balkans and Turkey.2 Subsequently, several papers have appeared which offer a similar perspective to this first interpretation that the war was avoidable.3 I have also focused attention on the political function of the sovereign ruler in the Russo-Japanese War in the context of considering the formation of monarchy and constitutionalism in modern Japan. This has clarified that while the Emperor Meiji acted as a political mediator just as he had in the 1890s by acting cautiously to promote the formation of a constitutional monarchy, the trust he had previously invested only in Ito Hirobumi now shifted to include Prime Minister Katsura as well, indirectly influencing Russo-Japanese negotiations and accelerating the outbreak of the war.4 This research, however, has placed an emphasis on the period leading up to the war, and has not really discussed the emperor’s role during the war itself. Before the publication of these studies not only was there a tendency for works on the Emperor Meiji to barely mention his role in the Russo-Japanese War, but this has continued since as well.5 This paper examines Japan’s political diplomacy and monarchical system 4 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 in the context of the Russo-Japanese War by focusing on how the Emperor Meiji who, at the age of fifty-one and fifty-two was beginning to show signs of failing health, was involved in the outbreak of hostilities and in leading the war effort.

THE EMPEROR’S THOUGHTS ON THE ROAD TO WAR The first stage on the road to the Russo-Japanese War was the Boxer Rebellion. When this broke out the need arose to send troops to rescue the Great Powers’ consular officials and residents in Beijing. Taking into account the complexity of the China issue, the emperor instructed Prime Minister Yamagata on 5 July 1900 to get Ito’s opinion on the matter. He then summoned Ito to the Palace and told him to tell him his views on the counsel he had received from cabinet ministers.6 This was perhaps due to his apprehension that the Yamagata cabinet’s strong-arm diplomacy, in its rush to expand Japan’s influence, might have a negative effect on relations with the Great Powers. The resulting limited despatch of troops in particular reflected Ito’s position on cooperating with the Great Powers. Afterwards on 20 August Yamagata drew up a memorandum for ‘Measures over the North China Incident’. This set out his ambitious plans for taking control of the entire Korean peninsula (until then the objective had been to share political power with Russia), to the effect that the only element now preventing Japan from being in a position to fight with Russia (and also Germany and France if necessary) was reaching an alliance with Britain. Such plans had been made possible by the great strides the Japanese army and navy had taken in strengthening their forces in the three years up to 1900.7 What is noticeable here is the Amoy (Xiamen) Incident which occurred immediately afterwards in late August. In an effort to improve stability in Taiwan where there was an unrestricted flow of people and goods with the Chinese mainland, Goto Shumpei, the civilian governor there, together with Governor-General Kodama Gentaro, tried to take control of neighbouring Fukien Province by occupying Amoy. The Yamagata cabinet recognized this action and decided to send an infantry battalion, and when the emperor also gave his approval, two platoons were landed in Amoy. Britain and the other powers called for their withdrawal, however, and although Kodama and Goto persisted in occupying the city the Japanese Government, in particular Ito and the other genro, decided to recall these troops.8 Given the concern he had shown for maintaining relations with the Great Powers, why had the emperor given his ‘immediate approval’ for the Amoy expedition? One reason was probably that the Yamagata cabinet had justified the expedition by saying that the influence of the Boxer Rebellion had reached Fukien Province where anti-Japan conspirators were now plotting to restore Taiwan to China.9 The deciding factor, however, was that this was a cabinet decision and convention made it hard to refuse (particularly with three genro in the cabinet in The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 5

Prime Minister Yamagata, Finance Minister Matsukata Masayoshi and Home Minister Saigo Tsugumichi). Just like Queen Victoria, the British monarch at the time, the Emperor Meiji in principle did not reject can- didates for cabinet posts who were proposed by the prime minister. Realistically, therefore, he could not reject a cabinet decision since the resulting resignation of the prime minister and other ministers would create political chaos, which in turn could easily provoke mistrust of the emperor. The second stage on the road to the Russo-Japanese War was the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. During the Boxer Rebellion, Russia had suffered severe damage to personnel and materials along the East China Railway then under construction. Russian troops now continued to occupy the area so as to press demands to secure the railway, extend Russia’s rights and expand its sphere of influence. Among the Great Powers in the age of imperialism, it was accepted practice for a power that had received this kind of damage to send troops to obtain something in return and an assurance of safety. Negotiations between Russia and China, however, did not reach a settlement, and the continued occupation of Manchuria by Russian troops raised tensions with Japan, which suspected Russia of trying to extend her sphere of influence into the Korean peninsula. Not only Japan but Britain, the United States and other powers protested against Russia’s action, but from the start the British and the Americans had no intention of taking the issue to the point of war. Deciding on the need to reach a settlement between Japan and Russia, Ito met with Foreign Minister Lamsdorf and Finance Minister Witte (since there was no post of prime minister in Russia) in St Petersburg in December 1901. He thought there was some chance of striking a commercial agreement if Russia recognized Korea as a Japanese sphere of influence under certain conditions such as not using the territory for military purposes, in return for Japan recognizing the Russian army’s occupation to protect the East China Railway and the extension of some Russian rights in Manchuria. Although he supported plans for an Anglo-Japanese alliance, he stressed the danger that this could result in heightened tensions with Russia unless a Russo-Japanese commercial agreement was concluded first. Meanwhile, plans for the Anglo-Japanese Alliance began to take shape from the summer of 1901 following the formation of the first cabinet under Katsura Taro. This had been Japan’s dream ever since the Sino- Japanese War, but at first Britain had not responded to overtures from a still militarily weak Japan since the protection of her own shores and territories, including India and Egypt, were a higher priority than securing her vested interests in China. The reason why the British should show interest in an Anglo-Japanese alliance now was that they sensed a decline in the power of their empire, and they could better protect India in particular from the threat of Russia if the military burden in the Far East was reduced with Japan instead 6 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

confronting the Russian presence there. Another reason for expressing more enthusiasm was that they thought their potential enemies, Germany and Russia, were planning to reach a commercial agreement, although this did not develop beyond initial talks. Negotiations for the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, meanwhile, progressed remarkably smoothly and after the Japanese cabinet and genro councils met to decide on the final outline between the end of November and 10 December, an approved revised draft was sent by telegram to Hayashi Tadasu, the Japanese Minister in London. Since this provided that the other ally would remain neutral in any military conflict for as long as it was against just one other power, the alliance had the effect of increasing tensions with Russia and creating the danger of Japan fighting such a war alone. What is notable from this decision-making process is that in the final act of driving through a policy to conclude the alliance, the views of the emperor played quite a significant role. On receiving the cabinet’s resolution it was his decision to immediately convene a council of genro on 7 December despite the fact that Ito was then in Berlin. And although he approved the result of this council meeting, it was also his decision to hold a further meeting on 10 December as if to preserve Ito’s honour after a telegram from Ito arrived on 8 December proposing that an Anglo- Japanese alliance should be put on hold until it became clear whether or not a Russo-Japanese commercial agreement could be reached. At this stage, those in favour of sealing an alliance with Britain were the leaders of cabinet diplomacy, Prime Minister Katsura and Foreign Minister Komura Jutaro, together with the armed forces including Yamagata Aritomo, the most powerful genro after Ito, and also two other genro, Matsukata and Saigo. Standing against them and showing a more circumspect approach were the genro, Ito and Inoue together with the Seiyukai, the most powerful party in the House of Representatives. While the former group marginally held the upper hand with its cabinet power base and the support of many powerful figures in the factional world of officialdom, it was nonetheless a critical situation that threatened to split the political world in two. In the midst of this contest it was the support that the emperor showed for the Katsura cabinet and the Anglo-Japanese Alliance that was decisive in ensuring their success.10 The action taken by the emperor in this crisis was to mediate within the traditional framework by according priority to the opinion of the cabinet. Had the genro united against the plan, he would also have been forced to mediate between the cabinet and the genro, but since they were divided over the issue his decision on this occasion was made relatively easy. Katsura, Komura, Yamagata and others distrusted the Russians to the extent that they thought there was a strong likelihood of war unless they stopped their push to the south, so rather than search for ways to prevent it they prepared for the expected confrontation instead by concluding the Anglo-Japanese Alliance.11 In contrast the emperor was, as I show The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 7 later, more worried about the impending confrontation than any of the cabinet ministers, genro or other political leaders, and felt the most negatively about embarking on war. So by adhering to the convention of the Meiji Constitution, he probably decided to support the alliance in the hope that war could still be avoided. Thereafter, the Japanese Government’s mistrust increased still further after Russia failed to comply with the second deadline for troop withdrawal from Manchuria on 8 April 1903. A policy of negotiation with Russia was adopted at an imperial council held on 23 June attended by five of the genro, Ito, Yamagata, Oyama, Matsukata and Inoue, and the four main figures in the cabinet, Prime Minister Katsura, Army Minister Terauchi, Navy Minister Yamamoto and Foreign Minister Komura, and then also at a subsequent cabinet meeting. This was to be on a hard-line stance which recognized Russia’s ‘special interests’ in Manchuria only over railway management, in return for Russian acceptance of Japan’s ‘prior interests’ in Korea including military support and the expansion of the Korean Railway into southern Manchuria. Just as on the occasion of the conclusion of the Anglo- Japanese Alliance, the Katsura-Komura line supported by Yamagata and other genro overruled Ito and Inoue. Needless to say, their outlook was shared by the armed forces. Ito’s own political influence as a genro was also now on the wane as Russia’s second failure to comply with troop withdrawal created a strong sense of mistrust in Japan, and because the Seiyukai had not managed to present a convincingly united front in the Diet during the spring. As a result of a conspiracy by Katsura and Yamagata, moreover, Ito resigned as president of the Seiyukai when he was appointed to the exalted but nominal post of chairman of the Privy Council on 13 July. The emperor had attended just the imperial councils and was not actively involved in plans for negotiating with Russia, but he vacillated over Ito’s new role and called for his appointment only under pressure from the threat of a collective cabinet resignation and the backing Katsura received from the two genro Yamagata and Matsukata.12 His judgment on this occasion was supported by half the genro and followed the customary framework of adhering to the view of the cabinet. It was nevertheless a tough decision for the emperor to call since in effect this forced Ito to resign from his position as president of the Seiyukai which he knew he did not want to lose. Since Ito also knew of the emperor’s feelings on the matter, he accepted the order in spite of being fully aware of Katsura and Yamagata’s plot. As tensions rose between Japan and Russia, another issue that troubled the emperor was the demand by the navy for equal status with the army. Navy Minister Yamamoto Gonnohyoe had submitted a proposal to revise the regulations of the Naval General Staff and replace the name ‘General Staff’ (Gunreibu) with ‘General Staff Office’ (Sanbo honbu). As a result on 12 September 1903, the emperor ordered Field-Marshals Yamagata Aritomo and Oyama Iwao to enquire into the matter in the Supreme 8 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Military Council. The idea of setting up a General Staff Office in the Navy had been proposed once before in 1893 prior to the Sino-Japanese War, but this had not materialized.13 The same month, the Supreme Military Council which consisted only of field marshals from the army, replied that although it could not accept Yamamoto’s proposal there was an urgent need to work on conciliation between the army and navy, but initially the emperor did not approve this response. On 28 September, therefore, Prime Minister Katsura (himself a serving army general) submitted a request that he accept the Supreme Military Council’s recommendation. In the end, the army side compro- mised with a plan on 28 November aimed at improving relations between the two forces by revising the regulations for the wartime Imperial Headquarters. Instead of just the Chief of the General Staff managing the headquarters, now the Chief of the Naval General Staff would also serve with him as an aide to the Imperial High Command.14 This established parity between the army and navy in terms of their supporting role to the Imperial High Command. What is notable in this process was the circumspect approach the emperor adopted in avoiding any personal judgment until a compromise had been reached between the army and navy themselves. The emperor was also one of the most cautious figures regarding the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War. As I have written elsewhere, when Russia’s second reply was presented to Japan on 11 December 1903, it became apparent that, just as in the first answer, this would establish a large neutral zone above latitude 39º north in the north of Korea that would amount to a third of the country’s territory. When the Katsura cabinet received this, the genro were greatly disappointed, believing mis- takenly that Russia was trying to make war with Japan, and they concluded that it would now be difficult to avoid a military conflict. Even Ito, who had been favour of placating Russia, came round to thinking that there was a strong chance of war breaking out by 20 December at the latest.15 As late as 5 January 1905, when the emperor granted an audience to US Governor of the Philippines Taft – who was on way home to take up his new post as US Secretary for War – he disclosed that ‘even until today we have been making efforts to find a peaceful solution, and we are still prepared to do so’.16 After Russia’s response to Japan’s final revised proposal of 16 January 1904 arrived late (on 28 January the Russians scrapped the condition of a neutral zone, which the tsar approved on 2 February), five genro including Ito and Yamagata, together with Prime Minister Katsura, Foreign Minister Komura, Finance Minister Sone Arasuke, Navy Minister Yamamoto, Army Minister Terauchi were all summoned to an imperial council at the Imperial chamber on 4 February and the decision was taken to go to war.17 During this process as well, the emperor did nothing more than give his approval to the policy agreed by the genro and cabinet ministers (a cabinet meeting before this imperial council had already submitted a proposal for war). The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 9

Later that day, after he retired to the inner court (the residential part of the Imperial Palace), he apparently said to himself: ‘this war is not my decision, but matters have already come to this and there is nothing we can do about it’.18

THE EMPEROR’S UNEASE AND INTEREST IN INFORMATION ABOUT THE WAR Once war had broken out, the emperor was extremely worried about the course of the fighting itself. According to lady-in-waiting Yanagihara Aiko, the mother of Prince Yoshihito (the future Emperor Taisho), on the night that war was decided he did not sleep a wink, and on occasion there would later be other such nights as well. At these times he could not eat, and his diabetic condition took a turn for the worse.19 A notable example was the emperor’s reaction when the Japanese battleships Hatsuse and Yajima were sunk by mines in the harbour of Port Arthur on 15 May 1904. Japan had six battleships and it was a painful blow to lose two of them at once. Following a thorough investigation, the incident was reported to the emperor on 18 May in a meeting at the Imperial Headquarters. In the past it has been reported how those present, in their fear that he would be deeply hurt, were struck by his rocklike fortitude as ‘everybody was amazed that while listening the emperor did not change colour throughout’.20 One article in particular which emphasises his natural virtue was ‘The Great Emperor Meiji’ [Meiji Taitei] written by a journalist who based his report on the recollections of Major-General Nagaoka Gaishi (who at the time was attached to the General Staff Office), which appeared in the widely circulated King magazine in 1927.21 However, a rather different account not intended for the Record of The Emperor Meiji [Meiji Tenno¯-ki] was given by Rear-Admiral Saito Makoto (Vice-Minister of the Navy Ministry and Chief of the Bureau of Naval Affairs), who was also present at this meeting at the Imperial Headquarters. Saito later recalled that news of the sinking of the Hatsuse and Yajima ‘appeared to affect his sense of honour deeply’.22 The emperor’s emotions on this occasion thus differ from one observer to the next, and some of those present may possibly have been relieved that his response was not as extreme as had been feared. Nagaoka’s recollections in ‘Meiji Taitei’ (King magazine supplement) present an idealized image. Emperor of Japan though he was in the struggle against the might of Russia, he nonetheless suffered from anxiety and a great amount of stress. Apart from resting to sleep and take his meals, the emperor spent practically all of his time during the war in the outer chamber of the palace attending to state affairs. And even after he had retired, if there was some urgent news to report the relevant authorities would telephone either the chief aide-de-camp or an aide-de-camp who then wrote the purport of the message in large characters before making sure it was personally 10 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 delivered. In cases that were particularly important or difficult to explain, the Chief or Vice-Chief of the General Staff (for army matters), or the Chief or Vice-Chief of the Naval General Staff (for the navy) would enter the Palace to report directly.23 The emperor had two places in the Palace where he conducted state affairs, the outer chamber and the inner chamber located in the inner court where he also led his private life, but besides the Empress and ladies-in-waiting, in principle only the Lord Keeper of the Privy Seal, the Minister of the Imperial Household and the chief aide-de-camp were admitted to the inner court. During the war, however, the emperor did not spend much of his time in the inner court, and in emergencies that required explanation he even admitted the relevant officials inside as well, so there was really very little space for his private life. According to Shirai Jiro, who became an aide-de-camp after the Battle of Mukden in March 1905 – at the time a lieutenant-colonel, but subsequently promoted to lieutenant-general and commander of the Eighth Division – the General Staff Office conveyed to the emperor news of minor army manoeuvres and events at the front or in camps through the chief aide-de-camp, Baron General Okazawa Kiyoshi. Every morning Okazawa would wait on the emperor and give him such news before anything else. To waste as little time as possible, Okazawa would stick large pieces of paper on the maps so the emperor could understand the place names, but he always listened to every last detail.24 In this way he made a conscious effort to understand even quite detailed information on military affairs. As I will explain later, this was not just out of a general concern for the progress of the war, but in order to prepare for eventual- ities when he might be called upon to mediate over conflicts within the military or for occasions when he was presented to war heroes returning from the front. The emperor was passionate, therefore, about learning information regarding the war. He did not, however, follow a procedure of bestowing approval in advance in the case of minor details in the army’s campaign. Once he had approved the overall strategy proposed by the Chief of the General Staff, Oyama Isao, on 10 February 1904 he entrusted decisions to him in practice, and these were then officially presented for imperial approval at some appropriate later date.25 In the case of bestowing Imperial messages following military victories, the Chief of the Naval General Staff Ito submitted a proposal to regu - late the procedure on 23 February 1904 after consulting with the Chief of the General Staff Oyama, Navy Minister Yamamoto and Army Minister Terauchi. This took the form of submitting a recommendation to the emperor which in the case of combined army and navy engagements would be signed by both the Army and Navy ministers, together with the Chief of General Staff and Chief of Naval General Staff. In the case of engagements involving just the army or the navy, this would be signed by either the Army Minister and Chief of the General Staff or the Navy Minister and Chief of the Naval General Staff.26 The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 11

THE EMPEROR AND THE CONTROVERSY OF SETTING UP A ‘MILITARY GOVERNMENT-GENERAL’ IN MANCHURIA In the course of fighting the war, the first major problem to confront the emperor was the conflict within the army over setting up a ‘military high command’ in Manchuria. This occurred in the spring of 1904. After several armies had been sent to the Liaotung Peninsula, the Vice-Chief of the General Staff, Kodama Gentaro, began to think of moving the bulk of the existing Imperial Headquarters to Manchuria. After all, the First Army (including the Imperial Guard, 2nd and 12th Divisions) had already been despatched to Manchuria and he was now trying to add to them troops from the Second Army (including the 1st, 3rd and 4th Divisions and the 1st Field Artillery Brigade). Kodama’s plan was to make the then 24-year-old Prince Yoshihito commander-in-chief of the new unit. At the beginning of April, the General Staff Office drew up a ‘Summary of Requirements for the Military Government-General’ and ‘Order of Service’. According to this the ‘government-general’ would govern those troops that had already been sent to Manchuria and receive powers to control preparations for reinforcements. After consulting with the General Staff Office, however, the Army Ministry voiced its opposition to this plan since it would give too much power to the ‘government-general’, inviting the danger of bringing chaos to the command structure by reversing the existing channels of communication between Imperial Headquarters and the military command. In the ministry’s view, the powers of a ‘military high command’ should correspond to that of each army’s existing headquarters.27 The question of relocating the Imperial Headquarters had already been raised in relation to the venue for convening the Imperial Diet at a cabinet council held on 16 February immediately after the outbreak of war. The following day, Army Minister Terauchi Masatake wrote a letter on these issues to Prime Minister Katsura Taro. He felt that: first of all, it would be convenient in all respects to convene the Imperial Diet in Tokyo; second, it would be best for any ‘relocation of the Imperial Headquarters’ to be coordinated with the timing of the army’s offensive; third, since it was estimated that the offensive would not begin until early in April, by which time the army would have regrouped round Pyongyang, there was no worry about waiting until after the Diet session closed before moving the Imperial Headquarters; and fourth, this information should be conveyed also to General Kodama since they had discussed this and he was of ‘the same opinion’.28 These issues were discussed in the cabinet because during the Sino- Japanese War the Imperial Headquarters had been moved to Hiroshima which was closer to the continent and near the military base at Ujina Port from where troops and supplies were sent abroad. As a result, the seventh session of the Diet (the extraordinary session from 15 October to 21 October 1894) was also held in Hiroshima as the emperor was there at the time. Even though the war had not yet finished, however, 12 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 the following eighth session (the normal session from 24 December 1894 to 23 March 1895) was held in Tokyo. Army Minister Terauchi had said then that it would be better to convene the Diet in Tokyo, and the subsequent tenth (extraordinary) and twelfth (ordinary) sessions were held in the capital as well. When he mentioned moving the Imperial Headquarters, Terauchi probably meant that the emperor would relocate within Japan just as in the case of the Sino-Japanese War. He had suggested that Kodama was of the ‘same opinion’, but in fact the only points on which Kodama agreed were the desirability of moving and the timing involved. As far as location was concerned, though, Kodama was beginning to have the rather different concept of moving to the continent. As we have seen already, it was this that subsequently developed into the conflict between the General Staff Office and the Army Ministry in April 1904. On 13 May 1904, Chief of General Staff Oyama Isao submitted a proposal to the emperor to create a ‘military government-general’ which was to be located in the war zone itself. The import of this was: first, as several armies were trying to integrate their operations it would only be natural for the emperor to take close control by moving the Imperial Headquarters to the war zone so as to synchronize their plans and coordinate their movements more effectively; second, it was not so simple for him, however, to venture overseas at such a demanding time as the present, since the war also involved diplomatic negotiations with the Great Powers that often required his judgment; and third, he therefore wanted the emperor to appoint a military governor-general who would advance to an ‘appropriate location’ and be entrusted with overall command.29 The proposal submitted by Oyama was thus an extension of Kodama’s views. Faced with a conflict between the military administration and military command involving men in the dominant Yamagata (choshu) faction like Terauchi and Kodama (although Oyama was from the Satsuma faction), the emperor consulted Field-Marshal Yamagata Aritomo on the possibility of creating a ‘military government-general’. On 23 May, Yamagata replied that Japan should set up a ‘military high command’ to be situated between the Imperial Headquarters and the army. Stressing that its remit was to be based on the strategy of the Imperial Headquarters, and its powers strictly limited to coordinating operations between armies in the war zone, he presented summaries of the proposed structure of a ‘Manchuria military government-general’ and the job requirements involved.30 This may be said to have taken the General Staff Office’s view into account by setting up a ‘military high command’ in Manchuria, but essentially it reflected the views of the Army Ministry in that the Imperial Headquarters at home would retain effective control. When Kodama heard this he said that the Chief of the General Staff should resign his post if he was unable to carry out his responsibilities to organize and implement operations concerning strategy. His stand was supported by the Chief of the General Staff Oyama and the officers under him. On the other hand, Yamagata won support from Prime Minister The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 13

Katsura (himself an army general), Army Minister Terauchi and Navy Minister Yamamoto (vice-admiral from the Satsuma faction and a leading figure in the navy). The conflict between the two sides focused on the high command of the Third Army (comprising the 1st and 11th Divisions and the Siege Corps), which had been given orders to attack Port Arthur. In the General Staff Office’s view, the Third Army should be under the authority of the military government-general, but Prime Minister Katsura, Army Minister Terauchi and others opposed to such a body insisted that it should be under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Headquarters. In the meantime, in order to mediate between Yamagata and Kodama’s supporters they appointed as Staff Office Attaché to the Imperial Headquarters Major-General Nagaoka Gaishi, Commander of the 9th Brigade (from Choshu−, a graduate of the Military Staff College and then serving in the important post of Chief of the Bureau of Military Affairs).31 Eventually, the emperor summoned Chief of General Staff Oyama and Army Minister Terauchi on 25 May and ordered them to form a ‘military high command’ to be set up in the war zone in order to ‘command the strategy’ of the several armies active in Manchuria.32 The emperor thus reconciled the conflict between the General Staff Office and the Army Ministry into which Terauchi himself had been drawn by consulting with Field-Marshal Yamagata and ultimately he mediated on the issue by accepting Yamagata’s response. This was probably due to the fact that between them Yamagata, Katsura and the Army Ministry, together with Yamamoto and the Navy Ministry (who held jurisdiction over the military command in charge of strategy) held more power than Chief of General Staff Oyama, Vice-Chief Kodama and their staff. In addition, it corresponded with the basic principle of conducting war through cooperation between the army and navy. Subsequently as well, there remained some distance between the General Staff Office and the Army Ministry over the issue of establishing a ‘military high command’ in Manchuria. On 11 June, the Chief of General Staff Oyama and Army Minister Terauchi delivered a proposal to the emperor to form a ‘military high command’ that was to be called the ‘Field Army General Headquarters’. After both men had retired, the emperor conveyed to Terauchi through chief aide-de-camp Okazawa Kiyoshi that he felt the name was inappropriate. Terauchi then consulted with Oyama and presented another proposal for it to be called the ‘Manchuria Military General Headquarters’, which this time received imperial approval.33 The Manchuria Military General Headquarters was formed on 20 June, with Chief of General Staff Oyama now appointed as Manchuria Military Commander-in-Chief while Vice-Chief Kodama was promoted to general and appointed Chief of the General Staff of the Manchuria Army. Thus Yamagata became simultaneously the Chief of the General Staff and also Director of Military Logistics. Furthermore, the General Staff Office’s argument was accepted regarding the command of the Third Army. 14 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Together with the First and Second Armies and the non-affiliated 10th Division, this now fell under the jurisdiction of the Manchuria Military General Headquarters and on 23 June, Oyama officially received his post as General Officer Commanding-in-Chief (GOC-in-C).34 The emperor had therefore allowed the Third Army to fall under the command of the Manchuria Military General Headquarters in view of the dissatisfaction felt by Chief of General Staff Oyama and his office in not having a ‘military government-general’ with strong powers. The issue that resulted in the formation of the Manchuria Military General Headquarters Office had developed into a conflict between the General Staff Office and the Army Ministry, but usually problems concerning the army were systematically resolved internally and did not require the emperor’s intervention. The general rule was for important issues to be presented first to Field-Marshal Yamagata and then laid before a regular council consisting of Yamagata, General Katsura (Prime Minister and former Army Minister), Army Minister Terauchi, Chief of General Staff Oyama and Vice-Chief Kodama. After any relevant consultation with the Navy, Finance and Foreign Ministries, it would then be discussed in the Imperial Headquarters Council. In effect, therefore, this would amount to no more than an official report at the imperial council. In addition, Army Minister Terauchi had given orders that he and Field-Marshal Yamagata were to be consulted in advance on any directives sent from Imperial Headquarters to the military commanders in Manchuria.35

VICTORY AND THE EMPEROR AS A MEDIATOR A conspicuous silence fell over the Imperial Headquarters on 6 July 1904 when GOC-in-C of the Manchuria Army, Oyama Isao, left Tokyo with his Manchuria Staff Office corps. Major-General Nagaoka Gaishi, who had recently become Vice-Chief of the General Staff, now set about devising a strategy for the occupation of Sakhalin. The idea was to strengthen Japan’s hand in the event of peace talks as two or three European newspapers had suggested that Russia might sue for peace if, as expected, the first assault on Port Arthur succeeded. Since this strategy required the cooperation of the navy, Nagaoka secured the agreement of the Vice- Chief of the Naval General Staff, Ijuin Goro, (vice-admiral from the Satsuma faction) around 12 August. The Chief of General Staff Yamagata Aritomo and Army Minister Terauchi Masatake, however, did not want to scatter Japan’s military strength and opposed his plan. Also, Navy Minister Yamamoto Gonnohyoe, the most powerful figure in the navy, responded negatively by saying that he could not give any definite answers until Port Arthur had actually fallen. Nagaoka did secure the support of Foreign Minister Komura on 23 August, but the prospects for his Sakhalin strategy quickly faded the next day when the first assault on Port Arthur, which had been launched on 18 August, was finally called off after the Japanese army had suffered nearly 15,900 casualties. The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 15

Undeterred, Nagaoka continued to lobby officers in key posts like the Army Ministry’s Chief of the Bureau of Military Affairs, Major-General Usagawa Kazumasa and Chief of the Military Affairs Section, Colonel Oka Ichinosuke, and after finally securing the support of the Army Ministry on 8 September, he won the backing of Army Minister Terauchi to form a Sakhalin Expeditionary Force. Essentially, though, this was not clearance to despatch the expedition as such, but at this stage just an agreement to develop research and preparations. The following day, the Chief of General Staff Yamagata, too, reluctantly added his signature. Nagaoka then submitted a proposal to the emperor in which he explained the reasons for going to Sakhalin and in order to cover all even- tualities he called for research and preparations (he added that he was not yet asking for approval to send troops to Sakhalin, but that if it was sent it would need the strength of a combined brigade). On 7 September, the emperor consulted with Prime Minister General Katsura on the issue. The next day, Katsura summoned Nagaoka and told him that his plan would probably not be approved since Yamagata, Terauchi and the army were not enthusiastic while the navy was not convinced it was feasible. When Nagaoka reported this to Army Minister Terauchi on the evening of 10 September, Terauchi told him ‘angrily’ that it had come to this because a plan that neither he nor Yamagata ‘really welcomed, you have rushed through’.36 In the case of this conflict over the Sakhalin expedition, therefore, the emperor did not give his approval as he followed the advice of General Katsura who had taken into account the mood in the army and navy. On the emperor’s part this amounted simply to a passive response in accordance with the weight of opinion in the army and navy. Meanwhile, in late August 1904, there were differences in opinion between Yamagata and Nagaoka of the General Staff Office and Oyama and Kodama in Manchuria on the question of whether to send the 8th Division to Port Arthur or further north to Liaoyang. After several rounds of negotiations, it was the emperor who on 27 September made the decision to send it to Liaoyang.37 On this occasion the emperor’s mediation was once again cautious as he arrived at a final decision only after making both sides engage and converge as much as possible first. It was this 8th Division that would serve as a general reserve force in the Battle of the Shaho (Japanese strength, 12,000 men; Russian strength, 22,000 men) which commenced on 9 October, thus enabling the victory of a numer- ically inferior Japanese army. On 16 September 1904, the Chief of General Staff Yamagata submitted a proposal to the emperor for ‘a rapid increase in troop numbers’ and afterwards he went to the prime minister’s residence to consult with Katsura, Finance Minister Sone Arasuke and Army Minister Terauchi. The following day, the emperor sent his chief aide-de-camp Tokudaiji Sanenori to see Katsura and give him instructions to consult with Sone before delivering his opinion on the matter. Katsura replied through Tokudaiji that he had made Terauchi investigate with instructions to 16 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 implement what was immediately possible while consulting with Sone as and where necessary, and that he would then present his reply after discussing it exhaustively in the cabinet. It was two days later on 19 September that he visited the palace to report on the details.38 With Field-Marshal Yamagata in his role as Chief of General Staff, therefore, the emperor continued with his policy of passive mediation by calling on General Katsura and relevant officials to make any necessary adjustments. The following month, on 30 October 1904, the Third Army launched the second assault on Port Arthur, but this ended in failure with more than 3,800 casualties. By now the news had already reached the Imperial Headquarters that the Second Pacific Fleet (the Baltic Fleet) was making its way eastwards so it became a pressing issue to release Imperial Navy ships from their duties blockading Port Arthur. To achieve this it was vital to destroy the munitions depot in Port Arthur together with the Russian ships that had escaped to the safety of the harbour there before they could be repaired. On 9 November, therefore, Chief of General Staff Yamagata sent a telegram to Manchurian Commander-in-Chief Oyama tacitly urging him to occupy Hill 203 and use this to bombard and destroy the Russian fleet holed up in Port Arthur harbour as quickly as possible so that the Japanese fleet could then pursue a new strategy. Oyama, however, did not respond and continued with his line of attacking the fortifications around the harbour mouth.39 Yamagata next called for the Imperial council to meet with a view to using the emperor’s authority to force Oyama to change his tactics. There were seven men present at this council; Yamagata, Katsura, Yamamoto, Terauchi, Chief of the Naval General Staff Ito and Vice-Chief of the General Staff Nagaoka. The conclusion they reached was to prompt Oyama to change his priorities for, although the assault on the harbour mouth was necessary, it was important first and foremost to take a commanding position on land by occupying Hill 203 and bom- barding the munitions depot and Russian fleet from there. The emperor agreed to this and sent a telegram to this effect, but even then Oyama did not comply.40 While he may be said to have been holding his forces in reserve prior to the third general assault on Port Arthur, it is remarkable that Oyama did not follow the proposal for a tactical change acknowledged by the Emperor Meiji. Even with a sovereign idealized by the people among all modern emperors as a political leader the decision fell to the discretion of the military commander on the spot. The third assault then launched on Port Arthur on 26 November also produced heavy casualties amounting to 4,500 men and this, too, was called off the following morning. The commander of the Third Army, General Nogi Maresuke, had given the order to attack using the brigade headquarters and a foot regiment from the general reserve corps, but the commander of the 9th Division feared that this might be premature. Nogi, therefore, called a temporary halt to the frontal assault and in accordance with Imperial Headquarters’ The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 17 instructions he decided to assign the main force of the 1st and 7th Divisions to the task of first occupying Hill 203.41 It was on 5 December that the Third Army took Hill 203 and then used this vantage point to bombard and destroy the Russian fleet. As a result, the Vice-Chief of the Naval General Staff Ijuin was able to issue an order on 23 December to Admiral Togo Heihachiro, Commander-in-Chief of the Combined Fleet, to leave part of his force deployed around the harbour mouth of Port Arthur and in the Korea Straits, but to return briefly to Japan with the rest of his ships in order to regain their fighting strength.42 It was shortly afterwards on 1 January 1905, moreover, that the Russian garrison in Port Arthur finally surrendered. There is one other example of an occasion when the emperor’s opinion was not observed in practice. On 28 September 1904, he instructed Katsura through his chief aide-de-camp Tokudaiji to submit to the Imperial Headquarters his opinion as the prime minister that the Third Army should be under the direct jurisdiction of Tokyo since it was geographically so isolated from the rest of the Japanese Army under the Manchuria General Command far to the north.43 Although the first assault on Port Arthur had already failed, as we have seen already, this related to the decision made by the emperor on 27 September to send the 8th Division not to Port Arthur but further north to Liaoyang. The emperor probably thought that placing the Third Army under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Headquarters might expedite the fall of Port Arthur. Also, in May and June, Katsura and Terauchi had called on the Third Army to be controlled from Tokyo during the debate about establishing a ‘military government-general’ in Manchuria. After consulting with Yamagata and Terauchi about this proposal, Katsura replied to the emperor on 30 September that this was not an appropriate time to implement such a measure. Despite this, the emperor then ordered Katsura to consult with Oyama on the matter. The next day, however, Katsura visited the emperor and told him his fears that as Oyama was far away in another country and may not fully understand his thinking, any suspicion he might have that this signalled the emperor’s mistrust could potentially have a disastrous effect on the morale of the army. The emperor then followed Katsura’s advice on the subject and withdrew his idea of placing the Third Army under the jurisdiction of the Imperial Headquarters.44

THE EMPEROR’S PASSIVE MEDIATION AND THE ROAD TO PEACE On 10 March 1905, the Battle of Mukden, which engaged the full strength of the opposing armies, culminated in victory for Japan and, despite the huge losses sustained in the process, this practically ensured the result of the war as a whole. It remained only to negotiate the imminent confrontation with the Russian Baltic Fleet that was still making its way to the Far East, so Japan was now able to start devising a new strategy to prepare for peace. 18 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

On 30 March, Chief of General Staff Yamagata submitted to the emperor his proposal for future strategy. In this ambitious plan he proposed: first, to advance the army in Manchuria as far as Harbin, make the Yah Jiang-ho Army merge with the Manchuria Army and, circumstances permitting, join part of the Manchuria Army with forces in northern Korea to form a new army which would cooperate with the navy so as to occupy Vladivostock and environs: second, to occupy Sakhalin as soon as possible and depending on the situation use part of this force to attack the Kamchatka Peninsula: and third, to meanwhile promote training to expand the reserve corps and create six new divisions adequately equipped with officers and supplied with weapons, ammunition, horses, transport vehicles and other military supplies.45 The origins of Yamagata’s proposal can be found in the plans the Vice- Chief of the General Staff Nagaoka had devised and presented to him on 12 March. Nagaoka had also suggested to him that Kodama Gentaro, the Chief of the General Staff of the Manchuria Army, should now be recalled in order to decide on tactical arrangements for this new phase. On his way back from Yamagata’s house, Nagaoka had then called on Katsura and Terauchi to explain the new strategy and he again stressed the need to recall Kodama. Their reaction to these plans was simply ‘no particular expression of opposition’, but they did agree on recalling Kodama. As a result a telegram for Kodama’s recall was despatched on 20 March, the reason being that the emperor wished to hear in detail about the Battle of Mukden. Also, on 22 March a meeting to prepare for the Sakhalin expedition was held at the Imperial Headquarters. Chief of General Staff Yamagata was unwell and did not attend, but there were eight members of the military command present; Army Minister Terauchi, Vice-Chief of the General Staff Nagaoka, Head of the Bureau of Military Affairs Usagawa Kazumasa, Section Chief of Military Affairs Oka Ichinosuke and Chief of the Imperial Headquarters Logistics Department Oshima Kenichi. The conclusion they reached was to mobilize the 13th Division on 1 April for the Sakhalin expedition. Around this time, Nagaoka twice visited General Kodama who was now back in Tokyo to discuss arrangements for the Sakhalin expedition, and he also visited some strategic bases. Due to the uncertainty surrounding the movements of the Russian Baltic Fleet, however, the Navy refused to cooperate for the time being. As a result, on 8 April, it was decided to postpone the Sakhalin campaign at a meeting held between Chief Yamagata and Vice-Chief Nagaoka of the General Staff and Chief Ito and Vice-Chief Ijuin of the Naval General Staff. Yamagata did not press strongly for the Sakhalin campaign at this meeting, and the next day Army Minister Terauchi criticized Nagaoka for his impatient attitude when he gave him a report.46 Meanwhile, on 7 April, Prime Minister Katsura had assembled the genro Ito, Yamagata, Matsukata and Inoue together with senior cabinet ministers Yamamoto, Terauchi, Komura and Sone at his residence to discuss the basic policy Japan should take in the event of either peace The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 19 or war, and this was decided on at a cabinet meeting the following day. The strategy was first of all to protect territory already occupied by the Japanese Army and to take control of more land if circumstances allowed. Second, they should do everything possible to restore peace as quickly and satisfactorily as possible, stepping up diplomatic efforts to achieve their final objective. On 20 April, this received the emperor’s approval when Katsura presented the policy together with an extension of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance.47 The ambitious proposal Yamagata had made on 30 March, therefore, was effectively rejected and it was decided instead to adopt a policy of seeking peace at the earliest opportunity without any further military initiatives. Yamagata himself was in favour of the more positive approach his General Staff Office had proposed. He probably changed his stance, however, due to the strong opposition this had met from the navy and the unenthusiastic response from the genro Ito, Katsura and Terauchi. During this process, therefore, the emperor did not make any positive intervention as such, but entrusted the relevant figures to first adjust their approach in talks between the army and navy or the armed forces and the cabinet, and he only gave his imperial approval when a decision he could endorse finally emerged. In the end, the Sakhalin campaign was finally approved on 17 June, twenty days after the Battle of the Japan Sea, first by leading cabinet figures Prime Minister Katsura, Foreign Minister Komura and Finance Minister Sone, and then by the emperor. On this occasion as well, the emperor did not give his instant approval since he was concerned by reports that a Sakhalin offensive could upset Germany. It was only ‘after nine o’clock at night’ that imperial approval was granted, after Chief of General Staff Yamagata had consulted with Prime Minister Katsura and on Katsura’s suggestion Foreign Minister Komura had explained to him that this report was based on a misunderstanding. The emperor, therefore, was the most cautious member of all the political leaders in the Japanese Government regarding the war and relations with the Great Powers. Accordingly, following the Battle of the Japan Sea, there were no major military operations other than the Sakhalin expedition, and after asking for mediation from America and Britain, on 8 August Japan engaged in the Portsmouth Peace Conference. With the resulting Treaty of Portsmouth signed on 5 September, the territory in Sakhalin below latitude 50˚ north was ceded to Japan.

NOTES 1 For an example of the war viewed as unavoidable due to Russia’s push to the south, see Tsunoda 1967. For an example of the war as an inevitable imperialist conﬂict see Furuya 1966. 2 Ito Yukio 1996; Ito Yukio 2000; Ito Yukio 2004. 3 Chiba 1996. Oe 2001; Inaba 2002. 4 Ito Yukio 1996; Ito 2000. 20 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

5 Asukai 1989; Yasuda 1989; Mitarai 2001; Keene 2001, 2. 6 Ito Yukio 2000: 48–9. 7 Ibid., 50–1. 8 Yamamoto 1972.; Saito 1988; Kobayashi 1996. 9 Kunaicho 1973: 882–3. 10 Ito Yukio 1996: 124–39. 11 Ibid.: 116–28. 12 Ibid.:166–207. 13 Kunaicho 1974, 10: 489–90. 14 Ibid.: 465 & 555–61. 15 Ito Yukio 1996: 221–4. 16 Rinji Teishitsu Henshu Kyoku, 2003, 2: 240–1. 17 Ito Yukio 1996: 224–5. 18 Kunaicho 1974, 10: 598. 19 ‘Yanagihara Aiko Toji Danwa Hikki’ in: Rinji Teishitsu Henshu Kyoku 2003, 3: 288–9. 20 Kunaicho 1974,10: 733–4. 21 Hasegawa 1927: 378–9. 22 ‘Shishaku Saito Minoru Danwa Sokki’ in: Rinji Teishitsu Henshu Kyoku 2003, 5: 122. 23 ‘Moto Jiju Hino Seishihaku Danwa’ in: ibid. 2003, 1: 245; ‘Moto Jiju Bukancho Shirai Jiro’ in: ibid., 2003, 6: 281. 24 Ibid.: 280–1. 25 Kunaicho 1974, 10: 624. 26 Ibid,: 644. 27 Ibid.: 741–2. 28 Terauchi Masayoshi to Katsura Taro, 17.2.1904 in: KTM/NDL, Tokyo, 62–2. 29 Kunaicho 1974, 10: 742–3. 30 Ibid.: 743–4. 31 Ibid.: 744–5. 32 Ibid.: 741–2. 33 Ibid.: 766–7. 34 Ibid.: 777 & 780. 35 Rikugun Daigakko, ‘Tosui Sankosho Soan Dai-sanan,’ vol.1, Ippan Tosui (Kaisen o nozoku), no.1 September 1929 (conﬁdential) in: BBKT, Tokyo, Chuo Zenpan Tosui 3. Here it should be added that these regular meetings between Oyama and Kodama in advance of Imperial councils were before they went to Korea. 36 Nagaoka Gaishi, ‘Bibo-roku’ in: Sen’eki, Nichiro Sen’eki 104: BBKT, Tokyo; Kunaicho 1974, 10: 862–4. 37 Ibid.: 844–5. 38 Ibid.: 867–8. 39 Ibid.: 922–3. 40 Ibid.: 923; Tani 1966: 214–6. 41 Kunaicho (1974), 10: 930. 42 Ibid.: 948. 43 Ibid.: 874. The Emperor Meiji and the Russo-Japanese War 21

44 Ibid.: 874–5. 45 Kunaicho 1975, 11: 105–6. 46 Nagaoka, op.cit. 47 Kunaicho 1975, 11: 116–21. 2 Komura, the British Alliance and the Russo-Japanese War

IAN NISH

n this paper I seek to demonstrate the role of Komura Jutaro, Japan’s Iforeign minister, who was one of the originators of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance and the guiding hand behind the Russo-Japanese War. Put another way, this is an attempt at a fresh look at this period from the information disclosed by Komura to the British minister in Tokyo as a result of the special relationship between Japan and Britain. (Steinberg 2005; Kreiner 2005; Gunji Shigaku, 2004–5)

ANGLO-JAPANESE ALLIANCE, 1902 Prime Minister Katsura in February 1905 told the British minister in Tokyo, Sir Claude MacDonald, that he had fixed up the Anglo-Japanese Alliance with Ito in June 1901 just before he took up office as prime minister in the following month. He had gone down to Ito’s villa (besso) in Hayama and confirmed that, after discussion, ‘Marquis Ito had been the main originator of the scheme [of alliance with Britain] which had been finally decided upon between the Marquis and himself, at his villa at Hayama on 16th June [1901]. He hinted that the Marquis had, perhaps, wavered somewhat during his visit later in the year to St Petersburg; but that by the end of the year all the Elder Statesmen had been brought into line, the emperor’s consent had been obtained, and, so far as Japan was concerned, the alliance was a fait accompli.’ In reporting to London, MacDonald expressed surprise as this differed from his understanding of events which was far from clear until Hayashi Tadasu leaked the information about what had taken place in 1901.1 Katsura’s account is not implausible. His mentor, Yamagata Aritomo, had drafted his seminal memorandum, Toyo domeiron, for Ito in April, drawing attention to the prospect of a clash between Japan and Russia Komura, the British Alliance and the Russo-Japanese War 23

(Katsura, I: 995); and it may be assumed that Katsura approved of this thinking. Meanwhile on 17 April, with the enthusiastic approval of Foreign Minister Kato, Hayashi Tadasu, Japan’s minister in London, put forward his views on the line that could be taken in negotiating with Britain. Kato put Hayashi’s telegram in front of Ito. Ito thought it premature but did not veto it as being unacceptable. So the matter was in Ito’s thoughts at this time and, when he was resting after his resignation on 2 May, it was natural that the matter should be raised by General Katsura as the incoming prime minister. When Katsura formed his new cabinet on 2 June, this opened the way for the appointment of Komura Jutaro, then the minister in Beijing, who was busy with the settlement of Chinese affairs after the Boxer uprising. Komura finally took over on 25 September and immediately assumed control and steered things towards the alliance only to find that Ito was already on his way to St Petersburg. Ito reached the Russian capital on 27 November and had his critical meetings with the Russian ministers. On 4 December, he passed over his ‘personal’ draft to Lamsdorf on the old-established formula of Man-Kan kokan. On 16 December, he received the Russian reply in Berlin. It was in terms that Japan was to become familiar with in negotiations two years later: Russia was prepared to negotiate over Korea but would not give Japan the free hand she wanted there while she would not talk over Manchuria which was purely an issue between her and China. Disconsolate, Ito moved on to Brussels and London, which he reached inconveniently on 24 December.2 Meantime in Tokyo, Komura had prepared for the cabinet a coherent memorandum in favour of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance which was adopted by cabinet and remaining Genro on 7 December. Katsura then wrote a compromise telegram to Ito in Europe, saying that there was nothing to prevent Japan taking up negotiations with Russia after the British alliance was concluded.3 Ito and his party spent New Year’s Eve at the country seat of Lord Lansdowne, the British foreign secretary, at Bowood and had an important private discussion with the foreign secretary himself. Ito made a significant public address at the Guildhall in London on 3 January 1902. He expressed the hope that ‘these friendly Anglo-Japanese feelings and mutual sympathies which have existed between us in the past shall be daily more strongly cemented in future’. Naturally he did not specify the alliance; but those in the British government who heard the speech recognized that this was a blessing for the future alliance on the part of the hesitant Elder Statesman.4 When Minister Hayashi signed the British alliance on 30 January, it was Komura who was its architect along with Ito, Katsura and Hayashi. It is fallacious to divide up the Japanese leadership into pro-Russian and pro-British groups. Like other powers, Japan was opportunistic. She had the option of aligning with Russia or Britain. But, having approached Russia and found her unforthcoming, Japan decided to concentrate on 24 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Britain. The fact that the two approaches were simultaneous was unfor- tunate and damaged Japan’s image. But, though the British alliance held dangers for Japan, it did not close the door on negotiations with Russia and a peaceful outcome. Ito returned to Japan with Lansdowne’s assurances that approaches to Russia could continue provided they did not contradict the underlying tenets of the alliance just concluded.

NEGOTIATIONS WITH RUSSIA The new alliance gave Japan a greater sense of autonomy. She had exercised full autonomy before in 1894 when she declared war on China while all the European powers were beseeching her to keep the peace. But her independent action had then been challenged by a coalition of three European powers, the so-called Dreibund. Komura was determined to exploit Japan’s improved position by opening negotiations with Russia in protest against the Russo-Chinese convention over Manchuria and Russia’s failure to fulfil her undertakings. Minister Rosen in Tokyo wrote that the Manchurian convention was most imprudent and ‘an embarrassing muddle’. (Rosen, I 1922: 203–4) The decision to begin negotiations with Russia was taken on 23 June 1903. But the start was then delayed because of the visit to Japan of Russia’s most senior soldier, General Kuropatkin, and certain cabinet- Genro disharmony and political manoeuvrings. It was 12 August before Komura was clear to instruct Kurino, his minister in St Petersburg, to hand over the draft of a Russo-Japanese treaty. This initiated six months of fruitless negotiations.5 The pattern of negotiations was triangular: Tokyo-St Petersburg-Port Arthur-Tokyo. Initially it was thought that talks would be centred on St Petersburg. But the Russian side, feeling that Admiral Alexeiev, recently appointed Viceroy of the Amur and Kuantung territories based in Port Arthur, had to be consulted, did not want this. Komura agreed to Russia’s request in September that talks should be switched to Tokyo, with the proviso that Japanese drafts would always be addressed to St Petersburg. For the Russian side, consultation between her diplomats and the tsar and court proved to be difficult. On the Japanese side, Komura was determined to keep control of negotiations within the Gaimusho. So Kurino, the minister in Russia, was mainly a post-box. Komura revealed his thinking when he told MacDonald that ‘as Kurino was somewhat easily convinced by the Russian Foreign Office, nothing would be left to his initiative, but each step would be dictated from Tokyo’ by telegram.6 Britain suggested to Japan that her interests in the East were inevitably involved in questions of war and peace there and would like to be kept informed of the progress of Japan’s talks with Russia. It is obvious from the secret correspondence MacDonald passed to London that he was told much about the ongoing Russian negotiations and there was no development of substance which Komura did not pass over to Britain in some form. On the other hand, it was important that Britain should not be Komura, the British Alliance and the Russo-Japanese War 25 seen to be too close to the talks. From time to time when Komura specifically asked for London’s advice, London was cautious and hesitant to offer any. Insofar as Britain did offer advice – and that was not often – it was MacDonald who tendered his personal opinion, not London.7 It is common to read that Komura was the apostle of hard-line diplomacy. I question this on the evidence of his conversations with the British minister about these negotiations in 1903–4. Komura could not avoid being buffeted by contrary forces. On the one hand, by the Elder Statesmen, Ito and the emperor who were determined that no stone should be left unturned before peace was broken. Komura disclosed to MacDonald at the end of the negotiations what was going on behind the scenes in these words:

The Emperor, the Elder Statesmen generally, more especially Ito, the Prime Minister and Minister of Marine had been mainly instrumental in continuing negotiations for so long, notwithstanding repeated rebuffs from Russia.8

They now acknowledged that further talks were pointless. The age-old dispute between Foreign Ministry and Elder Statesmen had asserted itself again. Kasumigaseki wanted autonomy over foreign relations and resented outside interference in its diplomacy. But the restraint of the Elder Statesmen may have been helpful. It appears that the Russians read the situation wrongly and unwisely relied too much on the strength of those favouring a friendly understanding with Russia. (Rosen, I: 230) Apart from the army, the other factors buffeting Komura were over- heated public opinion and the shenanigans of the political parties. To cope with press and popular feeling, which was always more anti-Russian than ofﬁcial pronouncements, government took strong steps to bridle the press and prevent ‘public excitement’ getting out of hand. Komura thought that this was working and the press was becoming responsible. Diplomacy had to have a chance: he wanted to cool down the over- heated temperature of the Japanese military, press and people. Foreign Minister Komura was not content with the old Man-Kan formula because Japan now felt that she too had vital interests in Manchuria on which she was not prepared to yield. He was optimistic until mid-December that war was not inevitable and that some solution could be found.9 What went wrong with these six-month negotiations on the Russian side? Much depended on the advice which St Petersburg received from Tokyo and Port Arthur. I conﬁne myself to assessing the outlook of the Russian minister in Tokyo. Baron Roman Rosen had unusual credentials for the post in 1903, having been attaché, secretary and on two occasions minister in the Tokyo legation. He was popular with members of the Diplomatic Body. MacDonald describes him as being ‘friendly but unyielding’. The Tokyo expatriate doctor, Dr Erwin Baelz, was a life-long friend of Rosen, both being Old Japan Hands. He told the British minister that within a week of the breaking off of diplomatic relations Rosen 26 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 was still saying: ‘Russia has but to mobilize one division and Japan will climb down.’ Presumably he was saying something similar to his home government, MacDonald commented:

... this from a man who had passed nearly the whole of his diplomatic career in Japan . . . If men of this stamp should have fallen into such an error, there would seem to be some excuse for the miscalculations made by Admiral Alexeieff, Generals Wogack and Bezobrazoff. And other advisers of the Czar.’10

On the other hand, in his autobiography Rosen defends himself stoutly by saying that he was always acting under instructions. He speaks up for the judgment of Alexeiev (Rosen, I: 200–1, 227) and is repeatedly critical of Foreign Minister Lamsdorf. (Rosen 1922, I: 200, 206–7,241–2) There is a fascinating parallel here between Komura and Rosen. Komura, with long experience of dealing with Russia in the ’nineties and spending one year as minister at the St Petersburg legation, had the gut feeling that Russia would climb down if Japan was robust and persistent enough. Rosen with his long experience of Japan thought that Japan would never dare to challenge Russia and that the Genro had the upper hand and favoured a peaceful outcome. He was, therefore, a man who defended the instructions he received from the Russian capital with no sign of flexibility. With the benefit of hindsight we know that both these statesmen were wrong. A cabinet meeting held on 3 February received the news that the whole Russian fleet had left Port Arthur and gave instructions to all forts and ships concerned to hold themselves in readiness for immediate attack. Nothing, however, happened and the Russian fleet returned to its anchorage in Port Arthur. (Rosen, I: 237) Prompted by this, Japan decided at an Imperial Conference (Gozen kaigi) next day to break off relations with Russia without waiting for the Russian reply. MacDonald was told that the purport of the Russian message was already known to the Japanese, suggesting that they had the facility for intercepting Russian messages.11 Great Power mediation was broached by France. There was only one British suggestion of mediation. That was in early February when the Russian ambassador in London, Benckendorff, asked Lansdowne whether there was any formula which would prevent war coming about, bearing in mind that Russia would not sign a treaty with Japan over Manchuria and Korea. Lansdowne said that a treaty between Russia and China giving guarantees, which would in turn be underwritten by the Great Powers, might offer a possible formula. This was never put to the test. Japan did not solicit Great Power intervention which had been so prejudicial in 1895. London’s view was that Japan’s demands were moderate and justified and Russia’s response was dilatory and unreasonable. She declared benevolent neutrality and refused to give loans in advance of the war Komura, the British Alliance and the Russo-Japanese War 27 starting, despite intensive lobbying. Britain’s main worry was over Japan’s command of the seas, the straits of Tsushima, the Admiralty thinking that Japan was weaker in battleships and stronger in cruisers and there was a real possibility of Japan being crushed at sea. It was anxious that Japan should purchase two cruisers which had been put on the market by Argentina. This was done and the ships left Genoa under Japan’s commercial flag and any British crew members were taken off the Naval Reserve.12 I reject the remark of historians who argue that the Russo-Japanese War was a proxy war (dairi senso), that is, the allegation that Japan was doing the fighting with Russia on behalf of Russia’s global enemies, Britain and the United States. Japan was, to be sure, fighting with the tacit support of these two. But autonomous Japan was in my view fighting Russia in Manchuria for herself. Admiral Yamamoto Gombei defined Japan’s war aims as to ensure her own security and to develop her trade (boeki hatten). Japan was not a surrogate for other powers: she had her own agenda. (Yamamoto, 2002)

WARTIME DIPLOMACY It is sometimes said that there is little room left for a foreign ministry in time of war. Certainly in the Russo-Japanese War the reverse was true for Japan. During the war Japan was scared that a coalition of hostile powers would be formed and start to intervene as had happened in 1895. (Iikura 2004) So Komura had a busy war. It was opportune for Japan to diversify her foreign relationships during the war. Japan sent Suematsu Kencho to Europe and Baron Kaneko Kentaro to United States. There was less anxiety that the European powers would stage an intervention after Britain concluded the Entente Cordiale with France in April 1904. (Matsumura 1987; Nish 2004: 13–26) From early in the war, it became necessary to cultivate the United States as much as consolidating the relationship with Britain. MacDonald, originally a military man, got on well enough with General Katsura and his cabinet and with Komura personally. But British relations were less prominent during the war months. MacDonald wrote:

Komura is usually very cautious and, owing to his Harvard bringing up, decidedly pro-American. It must also be remembered that the Foreign Adviser to the Japanese Foreign Ofﬁce is a very able American, [Henry W.] Denison, who without doubt drafts most of the despatches and telegrams which emanate from that ofﬁce in the English language.13

This tendency was reﬂected in the Japanese press; speeches made by Japanese at public meetings became pro-American; and a strong bid seems to have been made to enlist American sympathy. (Griscom 1941: 204–5) As the call for peace began to be heard in 1905, it was natural that Japan should cultivate the United States more and more as a possible aid 28 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 in bringing the belligerents together – a task that Britain could not perform. President Theodore Roosevelt showed willing on several occasions in 1905 to perform that function.

PEACE AND THE SECOND ALLIANCE After Japan’s success in the battle of Mukden (Shenyang) in March 1905, Komura followed a twin strategy. His search for peace with Russia had to proceed in parallel with the negotiation of the second alliance with Britain. As Japan’s land victories had been won on slender resources, Komura had to think of Japan’s post-war vulnerability. On 2 April he induced the cabinet to embark on the revision of the British alliance. On 21 April the cabinet reconsidered the terms for peace with Russia. On 24 May it accepted the need for strengthening the terms of the alliance. These decisions were approved and mapped out before the battle of Tsushima took place three days later. Remember that the second alliance was regarded not as a continuation of the 1902 treaty nor as a revision of it, but as a distinct and separate treaty. Both sides referred to it as a new treaty. Komura again wrote the critical memorandum for the cabinet: Japan needed long-term protection against Russia from Britain who in turn was entitled to demand her price; if Britain was to commit herself to an enhanced defensive alliance (koshu domei), she was entitled to receive more equity in the terms, in particular she wanted more assurances of Japanese military help. The course of the alliance negotiations did not go smoothly because Britain wanted balanced beneﬁts if she was to increase her commitment to Japan’s security. In the last stages Britain’s concern was about the nature of Japan’s intentions over Korea. In a frank discussion with Komura, MacDonald pointed out that:

if the new alliance ever came into real existence, Great Britain, having in Article III acquiesced in what was practically a Japanese Protectorate over Corea, would look to Japan to see that such a Protectorate would be for the benefit of Corea and the Coreans. Baron Komura replied that there need be no fear on that account. Japan would profit by the mistakes she had made in the past, and nothing but benefit would accrue to the country and people by being under the protection of Japan.14

Certainly Komura’s intention was to get the renegotiation of the alliance out of the way and to secure the commitment of Britain before the peace terms were drawn up. In fact this did not work; and very little had been achieved by early in June when President Roosevelt got the approval of both parties to peace parleys. The minutiae of bargaining continued until Komura passed over the reins of office at the Foreign Ministry to Katsura on 3 July. Thus, it can be said that Komura initiated the second alliance but did not complete the final stages, which were, of course, the most significant.15 Komura, the British Alliance and the Russo-Japanese War 29

The second alliance was signed in London on 12 August just as the formal sessions opened at Portsmouth. It was naturally kept strictly secret. It was inextricably entwined with the critical denouement of the peace conference at Portsmouth. Britain played an important role in passing over details of the tsar’s willingness to hand over to Japan half of Russian sovereign territory in Sakhalin (Karafuto). Peace with Russia was eventually signed on 5 September. The existence of the alliance was one reason why the Japanese government could climb down gracefully at Portsmouth. When it became public knowledge, it might serve as a deter- rent to Russia which would save Japan (having failed to secure an indemnity) from being forced into another war. As Lansdowne wrote: ‘Our alliance helped Japan to accept’.16 Despite this, when the alliance was ﬁnally announced, the Japanese people were preoccupied with the pros and cons of an unpopular Portsmouth treaty. As a gloss on the peace terms, Admiral Yamamoto, when he came to London on the important naval mission of 1907, sought out Lord Lansdowne, then out of power but on the Tory front bench in the House of Lords, and, talking informally of Japan’s climbdown on the indemnity, explained that ‘Japanese statesmen knew [in August 1905] that they had a good deal to lose and perhaps not much to gain by prolonging the war.’ It seemed to be an apology to Britain for not following through. But there was no sense of criticism on Britain’s part. Lansdowne in reply emphasized that British leaders ‘knew how severe had been the strain upon the resources of the nation [Japan] and fully realized the wisdom of the Japanese in declining to entangle themselves in further military or naval operations.’17 Britain fully recognized that Japan saw no point in going on with the ﬁghting.

AFTERMATH But, great as Komura’s achievements were, the Portsmouth treaty was not a complete settlement. On the one hand, Japan had obtained important advantages over Korea during the war. These were not to materialize until the protectorate treaty of November 1905 and the assumption by Ito of the post of governor-general (tokanfu) in March 1906. But these were not primarily matters dealt with by Komura. On the other hand, the clauses on Manchuria had to have the agreement of China before they could come into force. Thus, when Komura returned from Portsmouth in October, rather disgruntled, he had to turn his attention to negotiating with China. He left for Beijing for the conference which opened on 17 November with the same team that had accompanied him to the United States.18 When he reached the Chinese capital he met Sir Ernest Satow, the British minister. On some issues such as the transfer of the Liaotung peninsula, there were no problems. But, on others, the Chinese put many obstacles in the way and the negotiations were going badly. Accordingly, the British government instructed Satow to help by supporting the 30 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Japanese cause with the reluctant Chinese as the United States had already done.19 Eventually the important Sino-Japanese treaty which is often neglected in Japanese history books was signed on 22 December. Komura told Satow that he had been unable to secure all he wanted.20 But he had obtained, in response to strong journalistic pressure, many things which were not in the Portsmouth treaty, notably the opening to trade of fifteen to sixteen places including Harbin.21 Komura left Beijing on 24 December and announced privately that he wanted to make a leisurely trip round the battlefields, with the intention of visiting Port Arthur and Seoul on his return journey to Japan. Instead, while he was spending two nights in Tianjin, he was recalled immediately to the Japanese capital. He was transported by warship to Yokohama and reached there on New Year’s day, travelling to Tokyo the following day. Katsura congratulated Komura and the minister in China, Uchida Yasuya, for their prodigious efforts in negotiating the final stage of the peace settlement. Komura resumed his place in the cabinet but it fell five days later. This came as little surprise as the ministry had been unpopular for two years and Komura had foreseen its demise in private conversations in Beijing but evidently did not expect it to come so soon.22 For me, the character of Komura that emerges from these five years is different from that popularly believed. His relationship with Britain, Japan’s ally, was proper and relatively cordial. He was preoccupied in 1903 with keeping a controlling hand on the negotiations with Russia; he was cool and unusually optimistic until six weeks before the final breach. It may be that his past dealings with Russia led him to believe that the tsar’s advisers would make concessions in view of their domestic problems. But in the main he was far-sighted and clear-headed. When war broke out, his role became wider – to cultivate goodwill and prevent outside intervention by any of the powers – and, in the second year, to formulate Japan’s war aims and steer her peace terms. These terms became progressively more severe as Japan’s victories mounted. (Matsusaka 2001: 36–9) Though Britain may have made way for the United States in Japan’s firmament during 1905, there was little doubt in Komura’s mind that the alliance was essential for Japan and had to be renegotiated on a basis more favourable to Britain. The alliance of 1905 was an unemotional contract, because Japan like Britain was an unemotional country and Komura was an unemotional man.

NOTES 1 NAK: FO46/673, MacDonald to Lansdowne, 15.2.1905. 2 KG I: 264–75. 3 Ibid.: 282–3. 4 JSP, Vol.139 (2002). 5 KG I: 304–6. 6 NAK: FO46/566, MacDonald to Lansdowne, 13.8.1903. Komura, the British Alliance and the Russo-Japanese War 31

7 Ibid., 29.8.1903. 8 FO46/581, MacDonald to Lansdowne, 5.2.1904. 9 FO46/566, MacDonald to Lansdowne, 13.8.1903. 10 FO46/578, MacDonald to Lansdowne, 7.5.1904. 11 Ibid. 12 FO46/576, Lansdowne to Scott, 13.1.1904. 13 FO46/578, MacDonald to Lansdowne, 19.5.1904. 14 NAK: FO46/591, MacDonald to Lansdowne,19.5.1904. 15 KG II: 176. 16 NAK: PRO30/33/7/4, Satow Papers, 15.11.1905. 17 FO371/270, Lansdowne to Foreign Ofﬁce, 31.5.1907. 18 KG II: 216–53 19 BDOFA, I/E/8, docs.358, 363 & 365. 20 NAK: PRO30/33/16/9, Satow Papers, 21.12.1905. 21 White 1964: 330–42; KG II: 221–51; Ikei, ed. 1969: 107–9. 22 BDOFA, I/E/8, doc.391. 3 Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War

NARAOKA SOCHI

n recent years great strides have been made on research into the out- Ibreak of the Russo-Japanese War. The latest studies have presented new interpretations, such as the view that advocates of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance and a Russo-Japanese agreement were not necessarily as diametrically opposed to each other as once thought, but to a great extent were mutually entangled. Another example is the awareness that a wide perception gap existed between Russia and Japan, for while Japan perceived a greater threat from Russia than actually existed, the Russians did not pay so much attention to the possibility that Japan would embark on war.1 Also, in place of the traditional view that ‘the new generation of Prime Minister Katsura Taro and Foreign Minister Komura Jutaro overcame the elder statesmen (genro) Yamagata Aritomo, Ito Hirobumi and Inoue Kaoru and led the way to war’, a new framework has been presented suggesting wider political support than previously thought. According to this, ‘Prime Minister Katsura and Foreign Minister Komura, having gained the support of the genro Yamagata, the Army and the Foreign Ministry, suppressed Ito, Inoue and the Seiyukai and led the way to war’.2 Even in the most recent studies, however, the role played in the outbreak of the war by Kato Takaaki, the former Japanese Minister to the Court of St James and Foreign Minister, has been left unclear. As a result, his complex position has to date barely been known: in short, a unique standpoint close to the Komura line in promoting the Anglo-Japanese Alliance on the one hand but also close to Ito and the Seiyukai on the other in his lack of enthusiasm for the war. Taking into account the fact that he was one of the key ﬁgures in the outbreak of the war, a reappraisal of his hitherto neglected political role can help us to understand Japanese diplomacy during this period more clearly. So as to address such Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 33 issues, therefore, the theme of this paper is to clarify Kato’s activities before, during and after the Russo-Japanese War.

JAPANESE DIPLOMACY AFTER THE BOXER REBELLION Tensions between Japan and Russia rose significantly after the Boxer Rebellion in 1900 when Russian troops continued their occupation of Manchuria. The man who was responsible for settling the diplomatic aftermath was Kato Takaaki, the former Japanese Minister to Britain (1894–1900) in his current role as Foreign Minister in the fourth Ito cabinet (1900–01). Kato was not a member but was nevertheless closely associated with the Seiyukai, the ruling party of the Ito cabinet, and he pursued diplomatic policy in consultation with men like Ito and Minister of Communications, Hara Takashi (a good friend and a leading figure in the Seiyukai).3 The primary feature of Kato’s diplomacy was to promote the authority of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs by distancing himself from the Army. When he became Foreign Minister in the Ito cabinet, to prevent any interference from the Army he made it a condition of his appointment that all diplomatic issues should be conducted through him. And in the course of settling the Xiamen Incident which had occurred during the second Yamagata cabinet (1898–1900), when the Army had responded to the Boxer Rebellion by occupying Xiamen, he took a strong line against the Army’s military designs with measures such as forcing diplomats who had cooperated with the Army to resign.4 The second feature of Kato’s diplomacy was his strategy to deter Russia’s advance in the Far East by reinforcing links between Japan and Britain. He had enthusiastically promoted such links since his days as minister to Britain, and had built friendships with figures such as Ernest Satow, the British minister to Japan, and Baroness Eleanora Mary d’Anethan, the English wife of the Belgian Minister to Japan, and when he was appointed Foreign Minister he was highly appraised by British diplomats and The Times as having ‘a quite deep knowledge of English’, ‘experience and skill’, ‘knowing Britain very well’ and ‘having wide knowledge and sound judgement’.5 In 1901, tensions between Japan and Russia rose further when the Russians signed a compact with China which they tried to use as grounds for continuing their occupation of Manchuria, but Kato obtained the support of countries including Britain and launched protests against Russia which forced the compact to be dis- solved. Also, just before he resigned as Foreign Minister on the occasion when Germany proposed a triangular agreement between Germany, Britain and Japan, he showed a positive response, thus creating an opportunity for signing an alliance with Britain.6 In this way he constructed a platform for the subsequent Anglo-Japanese Alliance. In May 1901, the Ito cabinet was forced to resign due to internal conflicts and in June the first Katsura cabinet (1901–1905) was formed. When he was first appointed Prime Minister, Katsura asked Kato to 34 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 remain in his post.7 Until then Kato had firmly kept his distance from Yamagata Aritomo and the Army, having refused a post as permanent under-secretary of the Foreign Ministry in the Yamagata cabinet when he resigned as Japanese Minister to Britain. The reason why Katsura, a military man directly linked with the Yamagata faction, should ask Kato to stay on even though he knew of his resistance to Yamagata and the Army was because he held a high opinion of Kato’s diplomatic ideas with his emphasis on links with Britain and had faith in his ability.8 Even Aoki Shuzo who twice became Foreign Minister in Yamagata cabinets said of Kato, ‘he’s a cheeky young monkey, but he has an extremely sharp mind and is skilled in business matters’, so Kato’s administrative ability was even recognized in bureaucracies controlled by Yamagata.9 Kato, however, insisted that the cabinet should take collective responsibility and declined Katsura’s invitation to remain in office.10 Inwardly, he regretted having served for such a short time and Ito urged him to stay on, but he stubbornly refused to listen.11 Having cooperated with the Seiyukai, to now cooperate with a cabinet formed around the Yamagata faction which had opposed the political management of the Ito cabinet was something he could not consent to. It seems that Kato predicted the Katsura cabinet would be shortlived and he hoped in time to serve again as Foreign Minister in a newly reconstructed Seiyu¯kai cabinet under Ito. As a result, in the Katsura cabinet it was the former minister to China, Komura Jutaro, who was appointed Foreign Minister instead. In that he promoted Anglo-Japanese links and was active in rescind- ing the Sino-Russian compact, Kato is often seen as being closer in his diplomatic thinking to Katsura and Komura than Ito. Nevertheless, the diplomacy he conducted under the fourth Ito cabinet followed the policy of the Prime Minister and the Seiyukai throughout. There was thus no conflict between Ito and Kato, and even after the collective resignation of the cabinet Ito continued to hold his diplomatic skills in the highest esteem.12 As Foreign Minister Kato’s mistrust of Russia had been deeper than Ito’s and he tended to lean towards links with Britain, but essentially he should be seen as having worked within Ito’s diplomatic framework.13 Also, as we shall see below, in his appraisal of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance as well, it is hard to say that Kato was close to the line of Katsura and Komura. Here, while paying attention to his relations with Ito and Katsura, I will focus on Kato’s activities in the events leading up to the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War.

THE CONCLUSION OF THE ANGLO-JAPANESE ALLIANCE In November 1901, Ito travelled to Russia via America and Europe. While he still had an alliance with Britain in mind, his aim was to alleviate the tension in Japan’s relations with Russia by exploring the possibility of a commercial agreement and exchanging Manchuria for Korea. It was just at this time, however, that negotiations for the Anglo-Japanese Alliance gathered pace in London between Hayashi Tadasu, the Japanese Minister Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 35 to Britain and the Foreign Secretary, the 5th Marquess of Lansdowne. When the Katsura cabinet called for a halt to the talks with Russia, Ito abandoned hope of signing a Russo-Japanese commercial agreement and he stopped in London on his way back to Japan.14 It was on 30 January 1902, shortly after his departure from Britain, that the Anglo-Japanese Alliance was signed. Kato immediately voiced his welcome for the treaty, but was concerned about Ito’s frame of mind on his journey back from Russia.15 After all, it was easy to imagine how dissatisfied Ito must have been with the train of events leading up to the signing of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance. Kato tried to speak up for him in response to newspaper reports claiming that he opposed the alliance, pointing out how unthinkable this was since it had been during Ito’s term as prime minister that the negotiations had got underway. He also argued that it would be politically dis- advantageous to use the Anglo-Japanese Alliance to attack Ito, warning all parties against any factional conflict.16 Meanwhile, he kept in close touch with allies such as the genro¯ Inoue together with Saionji Kinmochi and Hara from the Seiyukai, who were also anxious about what course of action Ito might take, and he made the journey all the way from Tokyo to Nagasaki to meet up with him on his return to Japan.17 Ito admitted that it was necessary to sign the alliance and during his stay in Britain he had worked to foster cordial relations with Japan, but he was dissatisfied at having been apparently excluded from the progress of diplomatic negotiations.18 His feelings on the subject are borne out well by his tight-lipped response to a reporter’s questions on board the ship from Shanghai to Nagasaki when he commented that ‘it’s nothing but fine’ and ‘it’s the success of the government’.19 On his arrival in Nagasaki on 25 February, Kato immediately held talks with him in which he explained ‘just how enthusiastically the people had welcomed the Anglo-Japanese Alliance’ and persuaded him not to say anything that might give the impression of slighting it.20 It was partly due to this that Ito then made a short speech in which he expressed his backing for the alliance and called on the people to support it.21 He also told Hara that in principle he was not opposed to the alliance when he met him in Kobe the following day.22 Apart from this, however, he did not refer to the alliance in any of the various other speeches he made on his journey back to Tokyo.23 Kato appears to have understood his sentiments well, for although he accepted the alliance itself, Ito was furious with the Katsura cabinet for taking all the credit and with reports claiming that he had opposed it.24 So what did Kato think of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance himself? In his various speeches he accorded it high praise calling it ‘flawless in every respect’ and went on to point out the need to promote military cooperation between the countries with particular focus on the navy. What was most significant, however, were the following three points that he also stressed at the time. The first was that Japan must face up to the responsibility and burdens that accompanied the signing of an alliance. In fact 36 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 the news of the pact with Britain had stimulated Japanese pride and nationalism to such an extent that on occasion reached a frenzy of spontaneous celebration.25 Kato felt that such reactions should be strictly suppressed, saying that ‘the Japanese people have a habit of making a song and dance about the smallest thing’ and he called on them to study the nature and value of the alliance with a more dispassionate eye. On this point he held the same views as Hara. The second point Kato made was that the Anglo-Japanese Alliance should be entirely for peaceful purposes and not for conducting war. With the growing tension between Japan and Russia organizations such as the Tairo Doshikai (Anti-Russian League) were increasingly active and it was possible that the conclusion of the treaty with Britain could encourage them in their strong anti-Russian line.26 Fearful of such a response, Kato insisted that there was no prospect of Russian policy changing and warned against taking a strong stance against Russia just because the treaty had been signed. He also expressed concern that the alliance might provide an opportunity for the Army to extend its power. Kato, in fact, had nurtured fears about the Army’s rise in prominence ever since the Sino-Japanese War. He was concerned by the exaggerated degree of the Army’s prestige after the war when peerages were scattered among military men, and about what he saw as a loss of civilian control as the cabinet, which was supposed to restrain the military and decide policy on armaments, was instead being dragged along by the Army.27 He also criticized the Army on financial grounds, saying that reinforcements to protect Taiwan and improvements in weapons went far enough, but to increase the number of divisions would establish ‘a grand army out of proportion to our country’s future needs’ and put unnecessary pressure on the economy.28 Essentially, he had reservations about Japan holding territory on the Chinese mainland as this would be a source of ‘controversy’.29 At the same time, he recognized that the Imperial Navy needed strengthening and deplored the delays in putting this into effect.30 So as to promote this naval expansion and strengthen relations with her ally, he advocated that Japan should collectively place orders for warships with British shipyards, which produced the cheapest, highest quality vessels within the shortest time.31 His argument, therefore, was to model Japan’s military forces on Britain which curbed the power of the Army and concentrated its fighting strength on the Navy. The third point Kato made was that there was no direct linkage between the alliance and the raising of foreign loans, so no one should have exaggerated hopes of any inflow of British capital. Japan’s finances at the time were severely depressed, and there were strong calls to resort to foreign capital to fund the expansion of the Imperial Navy.32 Kato’s experience as minister to Britain, however, had taught him that Japanese credit did not yet command enough trust internationally to easily attract foreign loans. As a firm believer in balancing the budget, he thought that Japan should reform the administration and budget before resorting to low-priced foreign capital. These views of his appeared in Ito’s Nagasaki Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 37 speech as well as in the Seiyukai’s magazine, and so in effect they amounted to the Seiyukai’s official line. Kato therefore looked on the Anglo-Japanese Alliance with a dispassionate eye. Had he and not Komura been foreign minister at the time, he may have used his far closer links with Britain to conduct subsequent diplomacy with more emphasis on negotiation and may also have been more circumspect about embarking on war. What effect this might have had on the outcome is an extremely complex issue, but unfortunately he did not leave any substantial statements on the gradual rise in tensions between Japan and Russia that followed. One reason for this is that since he was now a member of the Opposition he did not have access to any details of diplomatic negotiations. He frequently called on the government to declare these to the public as far as possible, and he must have felt deeply impatient with the limitations of his role outside the seat of power.33 Kato, in fact, thought that Japan should learn from the British example of the Blue Book and his later efforts as foreign minister and prime minister to promote the public disclosure of diplomatic documents were perhaps based on his experience at this time.34 Another reason why he was silent on Japan’s relations with Russia was that his attention was drawn by domestic issues. He was returned at the 1902 general election as a member of the House of Representatives, and although he did not join the Seiyukai, he kept in close touch with Ito and Hara in promoting opposition to the Katsura cabinet.35 Kato’s new-found enthusiasm for domestic affairs may also have been influenced by his sense of frustration at Komura and Hayashi taking the credit for completing the negotiations with Britain which he had started in his time as foreign minister. Uchida Yasuya, permanent under- secretary of the Foreign Ministry, saw at close hand Kato’s adamant rejection of Katsura’s offer to stay in his post and would later recall:

It is a crying shame to think of how easily the Anglo-Japanese Alliance would have fallen into place if Mr Kato had realized this was such an important time and sacriﬁced his own will slightly for the sake of the country to remain in his post . . . as everyone knows the 1902 Anglo- Japanese Alliance was concluded by Marquis Komura Jutaro, but I really think this role should have been fulﬁlled by Mr Kato.36

Considering the subsequent course of events with the Anglo-Japanese Alliance and the Russo-Japanese War it can be said, as Uchida points out, that Kato passed over a golden opportunity to take centre-stage as a diplomatic leader. He himself felt a deep sense of pride in the role he had played in building the pact, reﬂecting that ‘it was originally me who embarked on the task of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance’.37 This is also apparent in comments he subsequently made in a newspaper on the occasion of Hayashi’s death. Although presumably quite close to Hayashi in political terms he said, ‘in effect we had no private contact’ and confessed that ‘I don’t know much about him except that he had wide 38 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 interests, various hobbies and was an easygoing character’. On Hayashi’s role in concluding the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, too, he said only that ‘his achievement is well-known so there is really no point in my saying anything more about it’. Compared to the comments made at the time by Foreign Minister Makino Nobuaki and Japanese Minister to Italy, Hayashi Gonsuke, Kato’s manner was extremely curt throughout.38

THE OUTBREAK OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR When Kato became a member of the House of Representatives, he made active plans to form a coalition between the two largest parties, Ito’s Seiyukai and Okuma Shigenobu’s Kensei-Honto (True Constitutional) Party. He thought that if the two parties cooperated their overwhelming majority would enable them to topple the Katsura cabinet which had no power base in the House.39 This plan, however, did not work out as he had hoped. He wanted to use his position in a small neutral faction to help unite the two larger parties, but within his own faction there were many who were alarmed by the apparent Russian threat and tried to put pressure on the Katsura cabinet to take a stronger line against Russia. One of these, Kono Hironaka, took the unprecedented action of criticizing the government’s weak diplomacy from his position as Speaker of the House of Representatives at the opening of the new session in December 1903. The Katsura cabinet reacted angrily by dissolving the House, and moreover the cooperation that Kato had hoped for between Ito and Okuma evaporated shortly afterwards with the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War.40 This unusual event appears to have captured the interest of the British public and was reported in detail by the Times and Sir Claude Macdonald, the British Minister to Japan.41 Although he wanted to topple the Katsura cabinet, Kato did not join in with those like Kono in criticizing the government’s ‘weak diplomacy’. Despairing of the chaotic situation in the House of Representatives he decided, after some indecision, to leave it altogether and chose not to stand as a candidate in the general election that followed.42 Other than distancing himself from hardliners such as Katsura and Komura who favoured war, Kato’s diplomatic stance at this time is unclear, although it would seem he remained close to Ito and Hara in urging caution over opening hostilities.43 Just before war broke out he held several meetings with Ito and Hara and he certainly heard Ito’s view that although Japan must be prepared for war it was better to continue with a more cautious diplomatic approach.44 The war with Russia broke out at last in February 1904. When the decision to fight was taken, Ito worked together with the government and travelled to Korea as a special ambassador to confirm the Korean government’s resolve to cooperate with Japan.45 Hara also called on the Seiyukai to support the government in uniting the country behind the war effort.46 Kato as well thought that now war had begun there must Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 39 not be any conflict at home and refrained from making any conspicuous criticism of the Katsura cabinet. An interesting point here is the contrasting perspectives of Kato and Hara on the prospects for the future once the war had come to an end. In Hara’s view ‘war is a fever’ and not entirely bad since it was inevitably accompanied by some progress once the immediate danger had passed. Just as one’s body emerges stronger after recovering from fever, he thought, so must Japan make careful plans for the post-war era.47 Hara thought that Japan must prepare now for such a time so as to emulate the rapid developments that had been achieved in industry and commerce following the Sino-Japanese War. Kato, on the other hand, is thought to have had a rather more negative perspective on the long-term outlook. As mentioned already, after the Sino-Japanese War he was extremely apprehensive about the rise to prominence of the Army. At the same time, although he had essentially supported the second Ito cabinet’s efforts in league with the Jiyuto to develop pro-active economic management, he also feared a rapid expansion in the financial base.48 Moreover, he held a critical view of raising foreign loans and came round to opposing what he called the ‘improper substitute management since the war’.49 From this experience, therefore, Kato feared the growing power of the Army and expansion of the financial base, both points on which he was very much at odds with Hara, and these differences between the two men would later surface once the war was over. Hara also viewed with a critical eye those like Katsura, Komura and Yamagata who had led the country to war and the patriotic fervour of the masses.50 On this point it can be seen that Kato had a similar outlook to Hara. Shortly after the outbreak of the war, for example, when Lieutenant Commander Hirose Takeo fell in action during the operation to blockade Port Arthur (Lushun) the government and press treated him as a ‘war hero’ and the public lauded his noble death.51 Hirose, in fact, had been a cousin of Kato by marriage and the two men had been extremely close.52 As Kato told those around him he deeply lamented his death on a personal level, and subsequently he remained in touch with the Hirose household.53 There is no sign, however, that he took any part in the extravagant public eulogies for Hirose, so he clearly distanced himself from the public’s enthusiasm for ‘war heroes’.

THE PORTSMOUTH PEACE CONFERENCE As outlined above, Kato had a quite balanced outlook on diplomatic affairs founded on the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, but he was critical of the public’s wild response to this alliance and the outbreak of war. Before the ﬁghting started he can be seen as having a keen understanding of the issues surrounding Japanese diplomacy, but later as peace approached he changed to voicing a hard line that was in contradiction to his previous views. Several months into the Russo-Japanese War in October 1904, with a view to building his own future political base, Kato took up a post as 40 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

president of the Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun and began voicing his own views through its pages. Not only did he frequently issue instructions on or dictate the contents of editorial articles, but he was also involved in personnel matters concerning the paper’s journalists and the content of other articles as well.54 As he revealed in person to Sir Claude MacDonald, the British Minister to Japan, the newspaper’s articles during the war unmistakably reflected his own views.55 As the course of the fighting ebbed and flowed at around this time, Kato adopted a strong diplomatic line to both galvanize and criticize the Katsura cabinet. In an editorial in January 1905 opening with ‘a decisive battle’, he urged the government and people to press on until victory was won.56 In an editorial on the Dogger Bank Incident in which Russia had attacked British trawlers in the North Sea, he also endeavoured to support the Japanese Government by employing his knowledge of international law to criticize France and China for violating their neutrality.57 Under the conditions of war therefore, he was beginning to move closer to the patriotic spirit of popular opinion. When the end to the war came in sight Kato’s criticism of the government increased as his messages became gradually tougher in tone. He was quick to look forward to the post-war peace negotiations, and in editorials entitled ‘Sakhalin must be occupied straightaway’ (13 February) and ‘The defeated nation has no right to submit the terms for peace’ (15 February), he stressed the need to occupy the whole of Sakhalin in order to secure advantageous terms. The Japanese Government began considering peace negotiations in March following the occupation of Mukden and in May preparations began in earnest after victory in the Battle of the Japan Sea.58 Kato responded by adopting a tough line, warning in an editorial on 3 June that if Russia sued for peace, it must be unconditional, and then in an editorial on 16 June demanding ‘The acquisition of the right to pass through and conduct trade in the Amur River’.59 After the Portsmouth Peace Conference got underway in the United States on 9 August, he insisted that Japan must persevere in its demands for compensation and the cession of all Sakhalin Island in a series of editorials entitled ‘No room for concessions’ (20 August), ‘Don’t give way on compensation and cession’ (25 August), ‘Don’t partition Sakhalin’ (28 August) and ‘Finally give up or not?’ (31 August). When the peace treaty was signed on 5 September with no compensation and the cession of only the southern half of Sakhalin, Kato expressed his bitter disappointment by calling the agreement ‘against Japan’s interests’ and ‘a humiliating concession’.60 At the same time the Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun also criticized the financial policy of the government for the haphazard way it was continuing to raise foreign loans.61 In an editorial on 14 September entitled ‘The failure of diplomacy’, Kato posited the two choices facing Japan of either withdrawing its demands or continuing with the war. Although neither was ideal he argued that it would be slightly less onerous to back down and admitted that it would be difficult to continue fighting against Russia now. Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 41

Nevertheless he strongly criticized the Katsura cabinet for its ‘failure’ to obtain the demands it had set itself over compensation and the cession of all of Sakhalin. Above all, he attacked the ineptitude at the negotiating table of Komura and the other plenipotentiaries over obtaining the cession of only the southern half of Sakhalin.62 Kato had initially voiced optimism when Komura was appointed plenipotentiary for the peace talks, but in hindsight it would appear that he felt he could have won better terms had he been foreign minister himself and he took to hounding the Katsura cabinet over its responsibility for the Treaty of Portsmouth. At around this time, Ito was also dissatisfied with the government and in a meeting with Hara after the talks claimed that he could have won compensation if he had been a plenipotentiary.63 Ito, however, did not make his displeasure as obvious as the more emotional Kato, who channelled his feelings into direct attacks on the Katsura cabinet. Although he deplored the Hibiya Park Riot and called for a prompt return to law and order, Kato sympathized with the public over the terms of the peace treaty which had prompted the incident.64 He thus not only called on the Katsura cabinet to resign for its failure in diplomacy and responsibility for the public disorder, but claimed that an extraordinary session of the House of Representatives should be announced in order to annul the treaty.65 The day after the contents of the treaty were officially announced on 16 October, he laid out in an editorial a detailed criticism of its terms.66 With this he finally drew a veil over his campaign of criticism of the peace treaty in his editorial articles. Among the various newspapers that were for the war and against a peace, the Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun cannot be said to have been particularly conspicuous in its opposition to the government, but Kato certainly pushed for quite a tough diplomatic line at the end of the war and was persistent in his criticism of the Katsura cabinet. Katsura himself formed a deeply unfavourable impression of Kato who, even though he had agreed to the peace terms, he saw as leaning towards the masses in order to sell more newspapers.67 If the Japanese Government had indeed approached the peace negotiations with the stance that Kato demanded, it is probably no mistake to assume that a compromise could not have been achieved. To have pressed for such an unrealistic policy, in fact, was a failure on his part as a leading figure in Japanese diplomacy. If he himself had been foreign minister at this time, he may conceivably have ended up making a grand error of judgment such as on the occasion during the First World War when he presented the Twenty-One Demands. And the truth of the matter is that he himself probably realized vaguely that his own demands lacked conviction, but by this stage he was in no position to retract them. This is perhaps why after 17 October his criticism of the peace treaty vanished completely from the pages of the Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun. Subsequently it continued its attacks on the government’s domestic politics such as its financial policy until on 21 December the Katsura cabinet, which was planning a reshuffle of personnel, collectively resigned and 42 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 handed power over to Saionji Kinmochi, the president of the Seiyukai.68 Just as before the war it seems that Kato was hoping for a coalition between the Seiyukai and the Kensei Honto Party, but he had not foreseen the formation of a Seiyukai cabinet at this stage. He had, in fact, mis- judged the state of affairs both at home and abroad. The demeanour of Hara during this period was in marked contrast to that of Kato. He had already met with Prime Minister Katsura in December 1904 and drawn up a compact promising the transfer of power to the Seiyukai after the war in return for cooperation with the cabinet. And in contrast to the Kensei Honto which strongly criticized the Treaty of Portsmouth the Seiyukai forbore from attacking the government and welcomed the peace. In other words, given the knowledge that it was impossible to continue the war anyway, Hara cared less about any unreasonable terms of peace and chose instead to become involved in post-war political management by accommodating to some extent Katsura and his power base, Yamagata and the Army. Ito, who had by now retired from the presidency of the Seiyukai, also supported this approach. Meanwhile, Hara did warn Kato not to listen to the arguments of the Kensei Honto, since he was not a member of the Seiyukai he did not reveal to him anything either about these negotiations to transfer power.69 Even during the Russo-Japanese War, therefore, as the political structure that would become known as the Saionji System started to take shape, Kato gradually grew apart from Hara and Ito and began to drift into the political wilderness.70

AFTER THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR On 19 December 1905, Prime Minister Katsura summoned the Seiyukai President Saionji and informed him of the cabinet’s intention to resign. The following day Saionji met with Hara to begin selecting personnel for the new cabinet, and on the same day Hara visited Kato and asked him to join.71 In various respects it was problematic to include a man who had so ﬁercely criticized the Katsura cabinet, and the genro Ito and Inoue were apprehensive about appointing him.72 Despite such reservations, however, the reason why Hara still ventured to negotiate Kato’s entry into the cabinet was not just to save a friend from political limbo but probably because he hoped that by using his skills to confront the genro Katsura and Yamagata and the Army, his inclusion could serve to promote the political control of the Seiyukai. Although Kato responded to Hara by accepting the post of foreign minister he nevertheless retained his own stance, saying that ‘I may yet refuse depending on the personnel in the cabinet’. In fact, he was hesitant about joining the cabinet due to the contradictions in his standpoint during the war, and for this reason as well he expected to receive a request from the Seiyukai to become ﬁnance minister. Hara was disappointed by Kato’s dithering response to the formation of this unforeseen Saionji cabinet. On the same day he wrote in his diary that ‘he is Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 43

unexpectedly juvenile, and as he is not such a wonderful politician as the world holds him to be, what he is saying is completely out of keeping with the times’.73 On 22 December, Kato met with Saionji and accepted a place in the cabinet, promising a change of attitude in the Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun and to leave the choice of personnel entirely up to him. The first Saionji cabinet (1906–08) was then formed early in the new year on 7 January. As Hara observed, ‘in short he probably feared being left out of the cabinet’, so in his apprehension over any further political decline Kato decided, while continuing his tenacious campaign to accommodate and resist the Army and officialdom, to participate in the planning of the post-war political management.74 This resolve was soon to founder, however, soon after the new cabinet was formed, because shortly after his appointment he resigned his post as foreign minister on the grounds of his opposition to plans for the nationalization of the railways. Railways in Japan had hitherto been built mainly with private capital and plans for nationalization had been delayed due to financial difficulties. Calls for this had grown, however, largely due to the Army’s desire to standardize and improve the efficiency of the transport network, and a railway nationalization bill had already made considerable progress under the Katsura cabinet.75 The Saionji cabinet also recognized the need for this legislation and soon after taking office steps were taken to pass the bill. Although it was outside his own remit as foreign minister, though, in cabinet discussions Kato strongly opposed this for three reasons: first, it infringed on the private rights of the people to invest in the railways; second, it would increase the burden on the national debt; and third, government operation was not as efficient as private enterprise.76 Minister of the Interior Hara and others tried to persuade him on several occasions that these were not such vital problems, but Kato stubbornly refused to listen and he resigned as foreign minister on 1 March. As he had been in office a mere 56 days, one cabinet minister called his resignation ‘extreme’.77 The reasons Kato had given for opposing the bill were all based on classic English-style liberal economic thought, with its emphasis on healthy finance and the belief that increasing public expenditure exerts pressure on private enterprise.78 His arguments for deflation, however, were too extreme to win support since the weight of opinion was already in favour of nationalization, even in the Ministry of Finance where there was apprehension over financial growth and among railway companies that would claim compensation as a result. In reality, this economic issue was in part just a pretext for Kato to resign as foreign minister since his real motive was to cut his ties with Yamagata and the Army due to his apprehension over the military’s control in Manchuria. After his resignation, he remained at odds with the Army on this point and was pessimistic for the future, despite several discussions with the genro, Minister of War Terauchi Masatake and acting Vice-Chief of the General Staff, Kodama Gentaro.79 Kato had 44 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 also revealed his conflict with Terauchi when Hara tried to persuade him to remain in office, and in Hara’s view his resignation was ‘due to his dislike of a government under factional control and because he wanted to restrain the Army’, as well as ‘his pessimistic view of the management of Manchuria, Korea and the conclusion of the Russo-Japanese Fisheries Agreement’.80 After he resigned as foreign minister, Kato wrote editorials in the Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun on ‘A Governor-general of Kwantung’ and ‘The organization of the government-general of Kwantung’.81 In these he criticized the Army’s control of the management of Manchuria, calling for the limited jurisdictional powers of the government-general of Kwantung to be expanded following the withdrawal of troops and the end of military administration. Moreover, Hayashi Tadasu, the former ambassador to the court of St James who succeeded him as foreign minister, also clashed with the Army over the appointment of an adviser to the government-general of Kwantung, and he resigned from his post in September 1905 on the grounds of ill health. Kato may have been partly recalling his own case when he told his close friend Mutsu Hirokichi that ‘there may indeed be some substance to popular rumours that Hayashi is not ailing but in robust health and there is another reason why he should wish to retire from view’.82 In any event the deepening conflict with the Army on issues like the management of Manchuria would confirm Kato’s worst fears.83 According to the celebrated journalist, Maeda Renzan, who later interviewed Hara on the subject, on one occasion he and Kato had a bitter argument over his resignation. When Hara had encouraged him ‘Why not try it out anyway and if this does not work start over again’, Kato apparently replied, ‘it is that way of thinking that is the difference between you and I’.84 This exchange reveals just how much Kato disliked Hara’s exhortations to tenaciously accommodate and resist the Army and officialdom. With these essential differences on how to manage the country after the Russo-Japanese War the two men finally parted ways, with Hara lamenting that Kato’s way of thinking was ‘extremely juvenile’.85 As we have seen, Kato had feared the rising power of the Army before the war had even begun. In the post-war climate, however, it was a failure on his part to take up the post of foreign minister without fully resolving to compromise with the Army. If he could not compromise he should not have entered the cabinet, and if he had made up his mind to compromise he should not have resigned. Hara wrote in his diary that ‘recently Kato has been in ill-health and suffering from too much stress’, so he seems to have been on course for a nervous breakdown and was ultimately unable to maintain any consistent stance throughout. His close friend, Mutsu Hirokichi, regretted the fact that he had resigned and feared for the future.86 He was popularly remembered, though, as having been ‘uncooperative’ and ‘capricious’ for resigning, so that subsequently he reached the nadir of his fortunes, lost in a state of political isolation. Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 45

His movements from the Portsmouth Peace Conference until his resignation as foreign minister, in fact, had been extremely confused as they were contradictory to his actions before the war. It was not until 1908 that he returned to the centre-stage of diplomacy when he became ambassador to Britain, but it is ironic that the decision to appoint him should be taken by his hitherto political enemy Katsura.87

CONCLUSION This paper has examined Kato’s activities from before the Anglo-Japanese Alliance until after the Russo-Japanese War. Kato had called for an alliance with Britain from an early stage, and in that he wanted to employ this to contain Russia his outlook on diplomacy was in tune with that of Katsura Taro and Komura Jutaro who led Japan to war. Previous research, however, has placed too great an emphasis on his close ties with Katsura and Komura, for before the Russo-Japanese War his diplomatic stance was rather closer to that of Ito, Hara and the Seiyukai. In short, while he welcomed the Anglo-Japanese Alliance he remained to the last opposed to declaring war, and was not so optimistic either about the effect the alliance would have. After the war broke out he also looked on the nationalistic public mood with a critical eye. Within Japanese aca- demia in recent years there has been a reappraisal of Ito Hirobumi’s attempts to reach a settlement with Russia, and it has been suggested that the Russo-Japanese War might have been avoided.88 The close relations between Kato and Ito revealed in this paper may be said to complement such a view in that they demonstrate how Ito, who was circumspect about embarking on the war, had a stronger political base than previously thought. Even if Kato had been foreign minister, however, it is doubtful whether the deep mistrust that existed between Japan and Russia could have been resolved through diplomatic negotiations, so realistically the chances of avoiding the war were probably not so high. Also, if he had been foreign minister he might possibly have provoked conflict with the Army over the outbreak of war due to his insistence on the Foreign Ministry’s leadership on diplomatic affairs. This is suggested by the fact that he took a quite hard line over the peace negotiations, then failed to come to an arrangement with the Army after the war and subsequently resigned his post as foreign minister. His activities from the peace talks until the aftermath of the war, in fact, exposed his weaknesses as a diplomatic leader, as he showed an inability to compromise while on occasion his tendency to focus too much on domestic affairs significantly clouded his judgment on diplomatic issues. Seen in this light, had he been foreign minister during the war he might even have made a grand error of judgment such as on the occasion during the First World War when he submitted the Twenty-One Demands. Studies in recent years have developed a strong emphasis on interpreting the Russo-Japanese War within the wider context of the First World War.89 It is necessary, and quite possible, 46 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 to look at Kato as well in such a context, since he was deeply involved in both these conflicts. Unfortunately, there is no more space to develop this theme here so for now a paper on Kato’s diplomacy during the First World War will have to wait.

NOTES 1 On the history of research on the Russo-Japanese War see Nichirosenso Kenkyukai, ed., 2005, VI. 2 Ito Yukio 2000. 3 For Kato’s diplomacy in the fourth Ito cabinet see ibid.: 75–95. 4 Murota Yoshibumi-o Monogatari Hensan Iin, ed., 1938: 224. On the Amoy Incident see Saito 1988. 5 Nish 2002; Naraoka 2005; see also Trench to Kimberley, 20.11.1894: NAK: FO46/438 and the memorandum by A. H. Lay, 22.10.1900: FO46/528 and The Times, 30.11.1900. 6 Nish 1966: 99–142. 7 Uchida 1926; Makino Nobuaki to Ijuin Hikokichi, ca. 7.7.1909 in: Shoyu Kurabu et al., eds., 1996. 8 Ito 2000: 92. 9 ‘Aoki Shuzo’s “Talks with Maeda Renzan”’, Taiyo 20–9 (July 1914). 10 Ito Masanori, ed., 1929: 366–8 & 458–62. 11 Kato Takaaki to Makino Nobuaki, ca. 12.9.1901: MNM/NDL. 12 Inoue Kaoru to Fujita Denzaburo, Iwashita Seishu, June 1901 in: Hara Takashi Kankei Monjo Kenkyukai, ed., I, 1984. Hara Keiichiro, ed., II, 1981, entry for 5.8.1901. 13 Kato’s biographer, Ito Masatoku, generally portrays his diplomacy as being more hard line than it really was. This reﬂects Ito’s own taste for hard-line diplomacy. 14 For Ito’s visit to Europe see Nish, 1966: 185–203; Kimizuka 2000. 15 Kato’s main speeches and recorded views on the Anglo-Japanese Alliance are as follows: ‘Nichiei Kyoyaku ni tsuite’, Jiji Shimpo, 13.2.1902; speech to the Keizai Gakkai on 15.2.1902 in: Tokyo keizai zasshi, March 1902: 1123–4; Osaka Mainichi Shimbun, 17.2.1902; speech to the Toho Kyokai on 16.2.1902 in: Osaka Mainichi Shimbun, 21.2.1902; Toho Kyokai Kaiho, no.85, March 1902; ‘Interview with Kato Takaaki’ in: Osaka Mainichi Shimbun, 21.2.1902; speech to Osaka Keizai Kai on 28.2.1902 in: Osaka Mainichi Shimbun, 1.–2.3.1902 16 Tokyo Keizai Zasshi, no.1124, (March 1902); Toho Kyokai Kaiho, no.85, (March 1902). 17 Hara Takashi Nikki, 1–25.2.1902; Saionji Kinmochi to Ito Hirobumi, 18.2.1902 in: Ito Hirobumi Kankei Monjo Kenkyukai, ed., 1977. 18 The Times, 25.12.1901; 4. & 7.1.1902. 19 Osaka Mainichi Shimbun, 26.2.1902. 20 ‘Kato Takaaki Nikki’, entry for 25.2.1902 in: Ito Masanori 1929: I: 478. 21 Speech by Ito Hirobumi in Nagasaki on 25.2.1902 in Seiyu no.18 (March 1902). 22 Hara Takashi Nikki, 26.2.1902. 23 Osaka Mainichi Shimbun, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 26.2.–9.3.1902. Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 47

24 Hara Takashi Nikki, 3 .4.1902. 25 Katayama 2003. 26 For the anti-Russian hard line in this period, see Sakeda 1978. 27 Kato Takaaki to Okuma Shigenobu, 26.9.1895, 10.6.1896 in Nihon Shiseki Kyokai, ed., 1935, VI. 28 Ibid., V, Kato to Okuma, July 1895 (this is recorded as written in February by mistake). 29 Kato to Toyokawa Ryohei, ca. 9.5.1895, TRM/NDL. 30 Kato to Okuma, 12.2.1895, OSKM/NDL, VI. 31 Ibid., Kato to Okuma, 23.9.1895. 32 On the problem of foreign loans at this time see Suzuki 1994 and Kamiyama 1995. 33 Speech by Kato to the Toho Kyokai on 14.12.1903 in: Toho Kyokai Kaiho, no.106 (December 1903). 34 Greene to Grey, 7.7.1916: NAK: FO371/2690. Naraoka 2002, note 79. 35 Ito Masanori, ed., 1929, I: 479–512. 36 Uchida 1926. 37 Koyama Kango nikki 1955; interview with Kato’s close friend, Yamamoto Tatsuo, on 29.5.1937. 38 Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun and Jiji Shimpo, 11.7.1913: interviews with Kato, Makino and Hayashi Gonsuke on the occasion of Hayashi Tadasu’s death. 39 Kato Takaaki, I: 508–12. 40 Uchida Kenzo et al., eds., 1991, I: 327–8. 41 The Times, 13.1.1904; MacDonald to Lansdowne, 18.12.1903: NAK: FO46/567. 42 Saeki 1928: 601–3; Hochi Shimbun, 20.12.1903; Mainichi Shimbun, 26.2.1904. 43 For Hara’s cautious views on starting the war see Ito Yukio 2000: 242–6; Yamamoto 1996: 59–63. 44 Hara Takashi Nikki, 5. & 20.5.1904. 45 Shunpokotsuishokai 1970: 639–43. 46 Speech by Hara Takashi to the Seiyukai on 16.2.1904, Seiyu, no.44 (March 1904). 47 ‘Hara Takashi-kun o Tou’, Taiyo, 10, no.7 ( May 1904). 48 Kato to Mutsu Munemitsu, 16.4.1896: MMM/NDL. 49 Kato to Okuma, 9.10.1896, OSKM/NDL, VI. 50 Hara Takashi Nikki, 11.2.1904. 51 Oe 1990. 52 A cousin of Kato married Hirose Katsuhiko’s elder brother: Saeki 1928: 10. 53 D’Anethan 1912, diary entry for 31.5.1904; Takagi 1980: 18. The Hirose family is still in possession of notes entitled ‘Wamyo shu’ and ‘Tanshin chutei wo idaku’, ‘Kaiko Junencho’ (Hirose Jinja, 1914). For allowing me to see these valuable documents, I am deeply grateful to Hirose Tomoko and also to Yasumoto Toshihisa of the Sankei Shimbun for introducing me. 54 Ito Masanori, ed., 1929, I: 530–50; Tatsui Raizo, ‘Jihitsu kaikoroku’ (Tatsui Raizo Papers), Historical Archive Centre, Faculty of Law, Tokyo University. Kato Takaaki to Tanaka Inaki, 11 March (year unknown): TIM/NDL, Tokyo. 55 MacDonald to Lansdowne, 20.9.1905: NAK: FO46/593. 56 ‘Kessen ron’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 20.1.1905. 48 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

57 ‘Churitsu Ihan Mondai’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 1905. 58 On the diplomatic negotiations at the Portsmouth Peace Conference see Nish 1985: 192–237. A detailed account can be found in Matsumura 1980. 59 ‘Rokoku hatasite wa o hassuruka’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 3.6.1905. ‘Kokuryuko no tsuko oyobi boekiken no kakutoku’, 16.6.1905. 60 ‘Wagi naru’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 1.9.1905. ‘Sumiyaka ni wayaku no yoko wo shimese’, 3.9.1905. ‘Wayaku to rekkoku no yoron’, 4.9.1905. 61 ‘Shijo no hencho’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 28.8.1905. 62 ‘Kowa joyaku no happyo’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 17.10.1905. 63 Hara Takashi Nikki, 10.10.1905. 64 ‘Keikan o yurusazu’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 6.9.1905. ‘Kaigen rei no tekiyo,’ 8.9.1905. ‘Shako no heigai’, ‘Seifu no ishin o ikan’, 6.9.1905. 65 ‘Gaiko-jo no fuseiko’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 14.9.1905. ‘Zokuron o haisu,’ 17.9.1905. ‘Rikken no hongi o siruka’, 27.9.1905. ‘Kakushin no shintai’, 5.10.1905. ‘Rinji gikai no shoshu wa ikagasesizo’, 5.10.1905. 66 ‘Kowa joyaku no happyo’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 17.10.1905. 67 MacDonald to Lansdowne, 10.9.1905: NAK: FO46/593. 68 For example, ‘Zusan naru sengo zaisei no hoshin’, Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 12.11.1905; ‘Rikken no jodo o wasururu nakare’, 24.11.1905; ‘Gaishi yunyu ni tsuite’, 9.12.1905. 69 Hara Takashi Nikki, 19.2.1906. 70 Ito Yukio 2000: 255–67; Yamamoto Shiro 1996: 292–7. 71 Hara Takashi Nikki, 20.12.1905. 72 Ibid., 24.12.1905. 73 Ibid., 20.12.1905. 74 Ibid., 23.12.1905. 75 On the passing of the railway nationalization law see Noda Masaho et al., eds., 1986: 101–25; Kobayashi 1988. 76 Ito Masanori, ed., 1929, I: 566–7. 77 Takase Nobuhiko, ed., 1998: Matsuoka Koki Nikki, entry for 28.2.1906. 78 This has been pointed out by Wakatsuki Reijiro, the permanent under- secretary of the Ministry of Finance at the time and Ta Kenjiro, the permanent under-secretary of the Ministry of Communication: Wakatsuki 1983: 100–2; Ta 1926. 79 Ito Masanori, ed., 1929: 582–6. 80 Hara Takashi Nikki, 19.2. & 1.3.1906. Even afterwards Hara explained to Yamagata that Kato’s resignation had been due to his hostile relations with Terauchi: ibid., 30.9.1914. 81 ‘Kanto Totoku’,’ Tokyo Nichi-nichi Shimbun, 29.6.1906; ‘Kanto Totokufu no Soshiki’, 2.8.1906. 82 Kato Takaaki to Mutsu Hirokichi, 5.9.1906: KTM/NDL. 83 For the subsequent conﬂict between the government and the army over the management of Manchuria see Kitaoka 1978 and Kobayashi 1996. 84 Maeda 1943, II: 85–6. This exchange was probably on 19.2. or 1.3.1906: Hara Takashi Nikki. 85 Ibid., 19.2.1906. 86 Mutsu Hirokichi to Hara Takashi, 14.2.1906, HTKM/NDL, III. Kato Takaaki and the Russo-Japanese War 49

87 Katsura Taro to Yamagata Aritomo, 28.8.1908, YAM/NDL. Subsequently Kato moved closer to Katsura and in his position as the leader of the Doshikai which Katsura founded (later the Kenseikai), he clashed with Hara and the Seiyukai with a view to fostering two-party politics. For details on this process, see Naraoka forthcoming. 88 Nichirosenso Kenkyukai, ed., 2005. 89 Steinberg et al., eds., 2005; Neilson 2005. 4 Theodore Roosevelt and the Portsmouth Peace Conference: the Riddle and Ripple of His Forbearance

MATSUMURA MASAYOSHI

n the summer heat of 1905, the peace negotiations between Russian Iand Japanese plenipotentiaries were being held across a large table at the Portsmouth Naval Base, New Hampshire. Talks had progressed in fits and starts with some animated debate, but now on 10 August, during the very first week of the conference, they appeared to be heading for deadlock. The possibility of finding a resolution rested on two key issues, the payment of a reimbursement rather than an indemnity and the partition of Sakhalin. At this critical juncture, the US president Theodore Roosevelt, who had been instrumental in bringing the two sides together, feared that the situation might deteriorate still further and that the talks could break down altogether. On 19 August, he invited the Russian plenipotentiary, Roman Rosen, to his house at Sagamore Hill in Oyster Bay on the outskirts of New York and set about directly brokering a peace agreement by calling on the Russians to make concessions to Japan. This attempt at mediation began in earnest two days later on 21 August after Baron Kaneko Kentaro, a member of the House of Peers, visited Roosevelt at his house to find out the import of his conversation with Rosen.1 That evening, having heard Kaneko’s opinion, Roosevelt sent a telegram to George von Lengerke Meyer, the US ambassador in St Petersburg, instructing him to present a personal message on his behalf to the tsar and persuade him to achieve a peace settlement by making concessions to Japan. That same night Roosevelt also sent letters to the French and German ambassadors in Washington enclosing copies Theodore Roosevelt and the Portsmouth Peace Conference 51 of this message. In these he called on the governments of both countries to use their special connections with Russia – France as an ally and Germany since Kaiser Wilhelm II was a relative of the tsar – to persuade Nicholas II to conclude peace by making concessions to Japan.

THE COOL STANCE OF THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT In his efforts to achieve peace with this strategy, how would Roosevelt approach Britain, a country that on the one hand had a special relationship with the United States but also saw Russia as an adversary from her position in the Anglo-Japanese Alliance? When Ambassador Meyer replied, he sent him a second telegram two days later on 23 August about one-third the length of the first message but with the same import. At the same time he wrote a letter to Henry White, the US ambassador in Britain, in which, while lamenting Britain’s apparent reticence to use her influence as an ally to persuade Japan to be more reasonable, he stated that he would do whatever he could himself.2 On the same day, in another line of approach, Roosevelt wrote to Sir Mortimer Durand, the British ambassador in Washington, emphasizing that he thought Japan was justified in continuing to fight if the objective was territory in Sakhalin rather than financial gain. Durand promptly sent a telegram to London reporting this message, but the British Government responded coolly to the president’s artful challenge. The following day, Foreign Secretary Lansdowne replied: ‘This is a suggestion that we should press the Japanese to make further concessions. Were we to do so our advice would not be taken and would be resented.’3 Lansdowne’s uncooperative attitude is thought to have been due to his lack of trust in Roosevelt and also because of the curious relations that existed between Britain and Japan, which were hardly close considering that the two countries were supposed to be allies.4 Britain’s leaders repeatedly questioned Roosevelt’s role on the stage of world politics, a doubt exacerbated by a touch of jealousy at his conspicuous activities in not just arranging but directly intervening in the peace talks between Russia and Japan. At any rate their cool stance towards him can be seen from the fact that right until the end of the peace conference Roosevelt was unaware that on 12 August, two days after talks had begun in Portsmouth, a revised Anglo-Japanese Alliance had been signed in London, converting what had been a defensive arrangement into an alliance that enabled offensive operations not just within the Far East but over a wide area including India.5 Despite the British Government’s lukewarm attitude towards the Russo-Japanese peace talks, however, Japan’s relations with Britain took an immediate turn for the better when Sir Claude MacDonald, the British Minister to Japan, revealed some top-secret news to Ishii Kikujiro, Chief of the Bureau for Commerce and Head of the Telegraph Section in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Albeit received in the informal guise of a 52 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

‘private message’, this information that Nicholas II, in an ‘historic moment’, had pledged his agreement to cede the southern half of Sakhalin resulted in deeper trust and also a sense of gratitude towards Britain. At the same time, as I will discuss later, for the Japanese Government this could not help but quietly foster increased suspicion and mistrust of Roosevelt’s unpredictable behaviour.

DO NOT CONTINUE FIGHTING FOR FINANCIAL GAIN In any event, at 11 o’clock at night on 22 August Kaneko received a top- secret letter from Roosevelt, which contained some ‘important’ information. Following their discussion the previous day Roosevelt had drafted a personal telegram to the tsar which he had then sent to Meyer in St Petersburg that same evening. In his letter to Kaneko he now proposed that Japan should rescind its claim for an indemnity as a condition of peace with Russia. This was little short of astonishing given that this topic had not even featured in their discussion the day before. Roosevelt cautioned Japan against continuing with the war effort for financial gain, stating that he did not think it ‘advisable for Japan to insist on an indemnity’, or that ‘Japan should demand or receive such a sum as 600,000,000 dollars [at the current exchange rate of 1$ US ϭ ¥2]’.6 According to the various notes taken by his attendant, Sakai Tokutaro, when Kaneko received this letter at his lodgings in the Hotel Leonori in New York, he was ‘at turns amazed then struck with disbelief’ and briefly driven into a fit of rage.7 For Kaneko, in fact, ‘it was difficult to compre- hend how a president who only yesterday had passionately agreed with Japan’s demands could possibly voice such an opinion today’. Moreover, two days later at 9 o’clock in the morning on 24 August he received another letter from Roosevelt dated the previous day, which again called for Japan to ‘make concessions’. Resolving in characteristic fashion to confront the president in person on the issue, Kaneko called at Sagamore Hill at 11 o’clock in the morning on 25 August. Kaneko, first of all, asked Roosevelt to explain why, in such contrast with his previous views, in these two letters he should now be calling for Japan to retract its demands for an indemnity. Judging from his response and attitude, however, ‘not only did it appear as if the president’s position had not particularly changed at all’, but rather that just as before he ‘seemed totally sincere in his sympathy for Japan’. He then related to Kaneko as follows the telegram from Meyer describing his interview with the tsar on 23 August: ‘After two hours of discussion with Meyer the Russian tsar protested strongly, saying that he could not agree at all with his compromise proposal, and that rather than agree to this he would summon the entire Russian population to resist and lead them himself to march on Manchuria’. Roosevelt also reported to Kaneko: ‘I have sent copies of my personal telegram to him [the tsar] on to the Emperor of Germany and the President of France pleading for their support. The Emperor of Germany agrees and moreover has called on the tsar to accept. Theodore Roosevelt and the Portsmouth Peace Conference 53

From the President of France all I have is an acknowledgment of receipt.’8 Roosevelt, however, said no more than this, making no reference at all to the tsar’s agreement to cede the southern half of Sakhalin Island.

JAPAN, THE COUNTRY CONCERNED, WAS THE ONLY PARTY THAT DID NOT KNOW What Roosevelt did not mention was the comment made by the tsar towards the end of this interview on 23 August when, in response to Meyer’s observation that Sakhalin was not really an integral part of Russian territory having been acquired just thirty years before by the Russo-Japanese Treaty of 1875, he conceded that if it was a question of just the southern half this could be ceded to Japan. It would appear, in fact, that the tsar’s agreement to cede the southern half of Sakhalin did not feature at all in his discussion with Kaneko on 25 August. By this stage, however, not only did the British government know, of course, all about Meyer’s interview with the tsar but Kaiser Wilhelm and the French Government knew the details as well. Alvensleben, the German ambassador in St Petersburg, heard about this interview from Meyer himself on 24 August, the day after the event. On the same day he sent a telegram to Berlin, where Foreign Minister Bernhard von Bülow then informed Kaiser Wilhem II the following day.9 Also on 24 August, the French Minister in St Petersburg had heard about the decision to cede the southern half of Sakhalin from Russian Foreign Minister Vladimir N. Lamsdorff, while Sir Charles Hardinge, the British ambassador, received this information when he met Meyer the next day. According to Russian sources, Sergei Witte told Komura Jutaro in an informal discussion in Portsmouth at 3 o’clock in the afternoon on Saturday 26 August that Russia could cede the southern half of Sakhalin but would refuse to pay any indemnity other than the cost of provisions for prisoners-of-war.10 There is no sign of Komura having communicated this to Tokyo, however, since no records of informal discussions have been preserved in Japanese sources. While all the powers already knew, therefore, only Japan, the country concerned, did not have the key information from Mayer’s interview with the tsar. If Roosevelt had told Kaneko during their discussion on the 25 August that the tsar had agreed to cede the southern half of Sakhalin, there is no doubt that the uproar which broke out three days between key ﬁgures in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the cabinet would not have occurred. Between 23 and 28 August, however, Japan was unfortunately excluded from the rapid exchange of top-secret information in the inner circle of international diplomacy and power politics.

WHY DID ROOSEVELT NOT TELL JAPAN? So if Roosevelt had learned of the tsar’s agreement to cede the southern half of Sakhalin late at night on 23 August or at the very latest early the 54 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 morning after, why did he not mention this when he met Kaneko the following day? After all, was this not the same man who had won Kaneko’s implicit trust by demonstrating such wholehearted friendship and offering Japan such useful advice and encouragement? Even 100 years later, this remains an intriguing debate and no clear answer has yet emerged, despite the theories proposed to date by diplomatic historians and other researchers. Of course, as a general argument it may easily be deduced that Roosevelt, looking at the state of international affairs at the time, was perhaps afraid of Japan becoming too powerful in East Asia. Given the context of global politics, however, even if Japan did acquire the southern half of Sakhalin would this really amount to a signiﬁcant increase in her power in the region? This might be said to be the case if she gained not just the south but the whole of Sakhalin together with the entire Russian Far East including the naval base of Vladivostock and the Maritime Province of Siberia. Moreover, two months before the opening of the Portsmouth Peace Conference was it not Roosevelt himself who had strongly urged Japan to occupy the whole of Sakhalin? And it was also Roosevelt who, at a time when he was still unable to reveal it in public, had given Kaneko a detailed explanation of the Monroe Doctrine when he stayed the night at Sagamore Hill on 7 July. Just before the start of the Portsmouth Peace Conference when Komura paid a courtesy visit to the president at Oyster Bay on 27 July, it was Roosevelt in fact who had advised him to use the term ‘reimbursement’ rather than ‘indemnity’. And when Komura then employed the term ‘reimbursement’ two weeks later during the peace negotiations in Portsmouth, Russian Plenipotentiary Witte immediately responded by agreeing to pay the expenses Japan had incurred in interning 76,000 Russian prisoners-of-war and then promptly left. If Komura had spoken of an indemnity instead, Japan may not even have received anything to cover these costs since Witte insisted throughout that Russia would never agree to such a payment. Indeed, without having to depend on the assertion of Tyler Dennett, the great American authority on US foreign policy in Asia, it seems very probable that Japan owed a very large share of her victory at Portsmouth to President Roosevelt.11

ISHII KIKUTARO’S THEORY As Chief of the Bureau for Commerce and Head of the Telegraph Section in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, Ishii Kikutaro had distinguished himself in Tokyo where, quite by chance, he almost played a key role in acquiring the southern half of Sakhalin for Japan. What, then, did he make of Roosevelt’s not only strangely inconsistent but suspicious behaviour? In his diplomatic memoirs Ishii concluded:

If he [Roosevelt] had told Japan the news from Ambassador Meyer that the tsar was willing to cede the southern half of Sakhalin, he would of Theodore Roosevelt and the Portsmouth Peace Conference 55

course have received Japan’s everlasting gratitude, but it would not necessarily have achieved an immediate peace. Since humans are greedy by nature, if Japan had seized on this information to demand even more it would have made peace even less likely. He probably thought that if he kept it to himself for now he could play this card in any ﬁnal attempt to mediate if the peace negotiations broke down altogether. I rather think, therefore, that it was only natural for the President not to reveal this precious information to our plenipotentiary.12

Given the critical situation in which the Japanese Government found itself, however, having been told that ‘an indemnity was out of the question’ and that ‘territory (Sakhalin) too was out of the question even though it was under Japanese occupation’, it seems doubtful that it would have reacted to hearing of the possibility of receiving the southern half of Sakhalin, as Ishii suggests, by then demanding still more. In passing, I wish to mention how relations between Komura and Ishii shifted during the course of the Portsmouth Peace Conference. As the talks reached their final stage and right up until 28 August Komura still had not received any detailed information about the agreement the tsar had made in his interview with Meyer on 23 August to cede the southern half of Sakhalin. Although the tenth and final session of talks was due to start at 3 o’clock in the afternoon that day, he postponed it for twenty-four hours after receiving an urgent telegraph message from Tokyo to await further orders by telegram. Early the next morning, a telegram with these revised orders arrived, and in the final session com- mencing at 1 o’clock that afternoon the compromise solution of the Portsmouth Treaty was reached at last when Komura announced to Witte that Japan would renounce its claim for an indemnity on condition that Russia ceded the southern half of Sakhalin. It is not difficult to imagine Komura’s overwhelming sense of fury, however, when it transpired that it had been Ishii who had secured the top-secret news about the tsar’s agreement to cede the southern half of Sakhalin directly from Sir Claude MacDonald, the British Minister to Japan. According to Ishii, for such a strong and unyielding character as Komura the scene that unfolded near the end of the Portsmouth Peace Conference ‘was a complete disaster as he totally miscalculated on the issue of Sakhalin, for him a failure on a scale he had never encountered during his long years in service as Minister of Foreign Affairs’. The full extent of Komura’s resentment on this point may be gathered from the fact that on his subsequent return to Tokyo, he addressed Ishii by saying ‘thank you for all your efforts while I was away’, but ‘although he talked cheerfully enough at length on various issues he never so much as once mentioned the Sakhalin issue’. Moreover, ‘I [Ishii] served under Komura for three of the remaining six years of his life after the Portsmouth Treaty, but in the course of all his discussions with me he never mentioned the Sakhalin issue’.13 Furthermore, would it be an exaggeration to assert that Komura’s distrust of Roosevelt may have been such as to act as a 56 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

psychological factor in converting his foreign policy toward Manchuria – dare it contradict the pre-war agreement with the US Government – from the Open Door to one of an exclusive nature during his re-appointment as foreign minister in the second Katsura Cabinet? Incidentally, the memoirs of Komura’s second son Shoji entitled Kotsuniku [Flesh and Blood] have now been published in 2005 by Komyaku Press under the supervision of the Komura Jutaro Memorial Museum in Nichinan City, Miyazaki Prefecture. Amounting to a collection of stories that Komura told him from a father’s perspective, readers cannot help but laugh at the various episodes it contains which again bear witness to his stubborn character.

THEORIES BY AN AUTHORITY ON DIPLOMATIC HISTORY AND A CELEBRATED WRITER The authority on diplomatic history, Professor Nobuo Ryohei, suggested that ‘he [Roosevelt] would have concealed it [the Sakhalin card] for a while if he really intended to use this to open a new front of negotiations in the event of talks eventually breaking down’.14 Also, according to the celebrated writer Yoshimura Akira, Katsura, the other genro¯ and cabinet ministers, had the following theory on why Roosevelt made no mention of Sakhalin after receiving the telegram from Meyer: ‘Perhaps it was Roosevelt’s intention in the event of the conference breaking down and both ambassadors retiring to New York to then put forward a proposal to partition Sakhalin and quickly complete a peace deal . . . In this event Roosevelt would have been surrounded by plaudits, and on a domestic level, too, it would have reinforced support for his presidency.’ In Katsura’s judgment the chances of this being the case were extremely high, which is why in his telegram order to Komura he instructed him to reject Roosevelt’s counsel and present the compromise proposal retracting an indemnity in return for the southern half of Sakhalin on behalf of the Japanese Government alone.15 This calls to mind, however, the plans laid by Witte who, in the event of peace talks breaking down, was to adjourn immediately to a waiting room and instruct his attendant to ‘bring me some Russian tobacco’, the prearranged signal to give the order for tens of thousands of Russian troops to advance south through Manchuria.16 It seems extremely doubtful, therefore, that Roosevelt would have had enough time to broker a peace if talks had broken down and the ambassadors retired to New York. In this connection, if talks broke down, Komura also had it in mind to adjourn to New York and then call on Roosevelt to mediate, but it seems highly unlikely that Russia would have waited before launching a fresh military advance. Roosevelt, though, cannot really be said to have played the role of a mediator since throughout the Peace Conference he never visited Portsmouth and looked on the progress of the negotiations from his summer retreat at Sagamore Hill. Moreover, as part of the background to his attitude of forbearance, there is also the point of view that Theodore Roosevelt and the Portsmouth Peace Conference 57

Roosevelt’s pro-Japanese feelings were converted to pro-Russian ones in the middle of the peace conference. But, as already pointed out, this conversion had already taken place at Sagamore Hill on 25 August 1905.

ROOSEVELT POSSIBLY OVERLOOKED THE GRAVITY OF THE SITUATION The American diplomatic historian, Eugene Trani, believes that Roosevelt did not tell Kaneko about the tsar’s willingness to cede the southern half of Sakhalin because he did not view this as a significant offer. According to Trani, when Kaneko visited Roosevelt on 25 August, another important event was preoccupying the president’s thoughts. It was on this day that USS Plunger, America’s first submarine, arrived in Oyster Bay and, to the dismay of his security guards and secretaries, Roosevelt insisted on testing the craft himself, not only boarding but spending nearly two hours underwater in the Long Island Straits. He was so pleased with this excursion, therefore, that he probably did not remember other matters from that day so clearly.17 Finally, another diplomatic historian Raymond A. Esthus, while criticizing Roosevelt’s puzzling behaviour as ‘one serious mistake’, suggests that the president felt the cession of only half, not the whole, of Sakhalin was beneath notice, hence his failure to mention it to Kaneko on 25 August.18 He finds evidence for this in the fact that in a letter to Komura dated 28 August, five days after receiving Meyer’s report of his interview with Nicholas II, he was still insisting that ‘The Czar has answered each [proposal] by declining my suggestion, and asserting that he would neither cede any territory nor pay an indemnity under no matter what form’.19

DISSATISFIED WITH THE CESSION OF ONLY THE SOUTHERN HALF OF SAKHALIN? In the end, after taking into consideration these various theories I feel that the following interpretation is the most natural explanation. Judging from the telegram that Roosevelt received from Meyer on 23 August conveying that he had not secured an indemnity and only the southern half of Sakhalin, it would appear that Meyer himself did not consider the interview to have been a particular success. And the president, too, was perhaps not so satisﬁed with having secured only the southern half of Sakhalin from Meyer’s initiative. My view, therefore, is that when Kaneko asked him about the result of Meyer’s interview with the tsar two days later at Sagamore Hill, Roosevelt would indeed have told him about any prospects of receiving an indemnity or securing the whole of Sakhalin, but since he considered the southern half alone beneath notice he did not consider it worth reporting. In fact, Meyer’s reference to the southern half of Sakhalin appears only very inconspicuously right at the end of the telegram he sent to Roosevelt on 23 August: 58 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Closeted with the Emperor two hours, at the end of which time he informed me of the terms on which he would conclude peace. Acceptance of the eight points substantially agreed upon by the plenipotentiaries at Portsmouth, [no?] payment of war indemnity but a liberal and generous payment for care and maintenance of Russian prisoners but not such a sum as could be interpreted for a war indemnity, withdrawal of Japan’s claims for interned ships and limitation of naval power in the Paciﬁc, Russia to possess north half of Sakhalin while Japan to retain southern half (that portion which formerly belonged to Japan)’.20

The cession of the southern half of Sakhalin is certainly not written here with any particular emphasis. Meyer himself could not have thought this to have been a particularly notable outcome. In addition, we can glean the president’s train of thought from his correspondence with Meyer. Although he was aware from Meyer’s telegram on 23 August that the tsar had agreed to cede the southern half of Sakhalin, he did not seem satisﬁed and expected more. The next day and the day after that as well, he sent further telegrams to Meyer, instructing him to meet the tsar again and tell him that since the whole of Sakhalin was currently under Japanese occupation anyway, a partition would in effect entail ceding the northern half back to Russia in exchange for a sum payable to Japan to be decided by a special committee at a later date.

HAD THE DREAM OF A VISIT TO JAPAN MATERIALIZED In any event, one cannot but quietly shudder to think of how Roosevelt’s dissatisfaction on this occasion cast a long shadow over the future of US- Japan relations. This is because, in the general course of diplomacy while it is usually best to hold cards close to one’s chest, nevertheless his unpredictable behaviour unquestionably provoked a certain level of mistrust among the leaders of the Meiji Government. Five days after the Treaty of Portsmouth was signed, as he took his leave of Roosevelt after the farewell banquet held at Sagamore Hill on 10 September, Baron Kaneko, who had trusted the president so implicitly, told him, ‘You once mentioned in private that you would like to go to Japan, but if you do make a visit once your term is ﬁnished, I and the Japanese people will give you a warm welcome.’21 Why such a visit ultimately never materialized was conceivably affected to some degree by the Meiji leaders’ suspicions over Roosevelt’s behaviour in the last days of the Portsmouth Peace Conference. If he had visited Japan, moreover, the subsequent deterioration in US-Japan relations over issues such as Japanese emigrants and the Manchuria Railway may also have taken a slightly different path. This calls to mind Japan’s continuing suspicions over the unpredictable behaviour of Germany as the Tripartite Intervention of 1895 and the Yellow Peril controversy were still fresh in the memory. On 31 March 1905, at a time when Japan’s victory over Russia was practically assured, Theodore Roosevelt and the Portsmouth Peace Conference 59

Kaiser Wilhelm II provoked the ﬁrst Morocco Crisis when he suddenly arrived in Tangier and criticized French colonial policy, and on 24 July, shortly after the start of the Portsmouth Peace Conference, the emperors of Germany and Russia met to sign the Bjørkø Secret Pact on Bjørkø Island in the Bay of Finland. During the Portsmouth Peace Conference, however, Roosevelt treated the Kaiser with a surprising degree of trust and friendship in order to gain concessions from Russia. As mentioned already, he sent a copy of his proposals for the tsar to make concessions to his cousin Wilhelm II and called on him to help achieve a compromise. Also, when the Portsmouth talks were on the point of breaking down on 27 August, Roosevelt held an emergency session with Kaneko and Melville Stone, the manager of Associated Press, and even tried to send a personal letter to the Kaiser through the German chargé d’affaires to the United States.

RECIPIENT OF THE NOBEL PEACE PRIZE, BUT . . . In 1906, Roosevelt received the Nobel Peace Prize for his contribution to ending the Russo-Japanese War due to the active arrangements he had made for the Portsmouth Peace Conference. This, of course, was a laud- able achievement. Although he received this notable international distinction, however, he received nothing in the way of prizes from the Japanese Government. And this despite the fact that after the war it would have been entirely natural to invite him to Japan as an honoured guest to award him the highest medal available, such as the Order of the Imperial Crest. Why this did not happen is puzzling indeed. It is certainly in marked contrast to the case of the Jewish financier Jacob Schiff who, because the Tsarist government was responsible for torturing Jews, provided substantial support for Japan from his private fortune during the Russo-Japanese War. In response to an invitation from the president of the Bank of Japan, Schiff then spent a total of three months on a trip to Japan with his family (including a month at sea) at the height of the cherry blossom season during March and April 1906. Not only was he feted by the public and officials wherever he went, but as a special courtesy he became the first foreign non-government official to receive an audience with the emperor and to be awarded the Order of the Rising Sun Second Class.22 Certainly, visitors to Roosevelt’s house at Sagamore Hill located on a low hill overlooking Oyster Bay, can see on display, in addition to the hides of various animals that bear testimony to the president’s love of hunting, a Japanese sword of national treasure class presented by the Emperor Meiji after the Russo-Japanese War, a miniature suit of armour dating to the Era of Warring States sent by Togo Heihachiro, and a large black chest said to be a gift from the Tokugawa family. Roosevelt, however, received no tangible mark of gratitude from the Japanese Government in relation to the war or his contribution to the Portsmouth Peace Conference. What would have been the case, one wonders, if 60 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Roosevelt had passed on the top-secret information from Meyer about Sakhalin to the Japanese Government through Komura or Kaneko? Unfortunately, it can be said that any sense of gratitude and praise that the leaders of the Meiji Government may have felt for Theodore Roosevelt ultimately went no further than this. The sad part of it all is that, in his youth, Roosevelt had been attracted to Japan and things Japanese after reading the English translation of Saito Shoichiro’s Chushingura [The Loyal Ronin] and during the Russo-Japanese War as well he deepened his knowledge by reading Nitobe Inazo’s famous Bushido.23 And yet it was this very same Theodore Roosevelt who held Japan in such high esteem that demonstrated such puzzling behaviour towards Japan between 23 and 25 August 1905. Had this not occurred and had he gone on to visit Japan before or after the end of his term as president, Japan may well have won not just a great military victory but also the diplomatic and ﬁnancial support of the United States. If that had been the case then the road to the Paciﬁc War which broke out thirty-six years later may also have taken a different path.

NOTES 1 Kaneko Kentaro 1960: 757. 2 Theodore Roosevelt to Henry White, 23.8.1905 in: Morison 1951–54, 4: 1313. 3 Sir Henry Mortimer Durand to Lansdowne, telegram, 24.8.1905: BDOW, 4: 104–5. 4 Esthus 1988: 138. 5 Durand to Lansdowne, telegrams, 16.8. & 11.9. 1905, BDOW 4: 170 & 179–181. 6 Kaneko 1960: 759. 7 Sakai 1951. 8 Kaneko 1960: 765. 9 Shinzaburo & Osakazu, eds.1959: 412; also Romanov 1955: 568. 10 Korostovets 1943:150. 11 Dennett 1925: 327. 12 Ishii 1930: 89. 13 Kajima Wahei Kenkyusho, ed. 1967: 111–4. 14 Ryohei 1928, 444. 15 Yoshimura 1979: 219–20. 16 Gaimusho, ed. 1953: 127. 17 Trani 1969: 149–150. 18 Esthus 1988: 148. 19 Roosevelt to Komura, August 28.8.1905 in: Morison, ed. 1951–54, 4: 1319–21. 20 Dennett 1925: 270–271. 21 Matsumura 1987: 476–480. 22 Matsumura 2002: 19–24. 23 Matsumura 2003: 215–24. PART II Facets of Neutrality

5 American Capital and Japan’s Victory in the Russo-Japanese War

RICHARD J. SMETHURST

or some years now, I have been researching and writing a book on FTakahashi Korekiyo, seven times finance minister and once prime minister between 1913 and his assassination in 1936. The point of my forthcoming book is that Takahashi became one of the most rational, progressive, imaginative, and ultimately tragic figures in pre-Second World War Japanese politics although, unlike most of his colleagues and competitors, he did not have a formal education. Too young and low- ranking to receive a late-Edo period education in the Chinese classics, and too old to study at a modern university in the Meiji period, he learned largely from the ups and downs of life, and from a series of men and women he met along the way: Clarissa and James Hepburn, Mori Arinori, Guido Verbeck, David Murray, Maeda Masana, Inoue Kaoru, Schuyler Duryee, Alexander Allan Shand, Jacob Schiff and Fukai Eigo. This list of mentors reveals something important about Takahashi’s rise from illegitimacy and the bottom stratum of the samurai class to the top of the pre-war political hierarchy – over half of his important ‘teachers’ were American and British. It was Takahashi’s command of the English language, which he began to learn in the foreign concession of Yokohama at age ten in 1864, which provided the key to his success. Fluent English-speakers were in short supply in Japan as it began the process of modernization after the Meiji Restoration. The subject of this essay is a chapter in the story of Takahashi’s fascinating life that depended on his English-language ability: his fundraising activities in the City of London and on Wall Street in 1904–5. Looking at a variety of sources: the English-language diary, address book and vocabulary list Takahashi kept while abroad; the letters and cables he sent to his superiors in Tokyo, stored in the Archive of the Institute for Monetary and Economic Studies of the Bank of Japan (BOJ); two later accounts of his 64 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 time in Europe and North America, one written in English in Cyrus Adler’s biography (1929) of Schiff and the other in Japanese in Takahashi’s memoirs (TKJ); materials from the Ing Baring (IBAL), NatWest (NWBL) and HSBC archives in London; letters and other materials related to Jacob Schiff, including the fascinating Schiff-Takahashi correspondence in the American Jewish Archives in Cincinnati (AJAC) and the Constitutional history archive (kensei shiry¯oshitsu) of the National Diet Library in Tokyo (NDL) (I have in my possession copies of 52 letters between the two men between 1906 and 1920); and secondary works such as Naomi Cohen’s recent (1999) biography of Schiff and path-breaking articles by Gary Dean Best (1972) and A. J. Sherman (1983), I have been able to put together a day-by-day account of Takahashi’s efforts to sell Japanese treasury bonds abroad to defray the costs of the war against Russia – which I condense here from two book chapters. The bottom line, if I may give it at the beginning of the paper, is that foreign capital paid for almost one-half of the total cost of Japan’s victory in 1905 – Jacob Schiff’s New York firm, Kuhn, Loeb, and his daughter’s husband’s family in Hamburg, the Warburgs, underwrote sixty per cent of this, and thus over one-quarter of the total of Japan’s wartime fundraising. The efforts of men like Togo Heihachiro and Nogi Maresuke not withstanding, without Takahashi and Schiff Japan would not have defeated Russia in 1905. On 12 February 1904, the Japanese government appointed Takahashi its financial commissioner to sell war bonds abroad, and on February 24, he and his assistant, Fukai Eigo, left Yokohama for London via the United States. Takahashi faced formidable odds when he arrived in New York and London. No Anglo-American financier thought Japan had a chance of defeating the Russians in the war that had just begun. Takahashi, however, did have allies, although he knew only one of them at the time. The known supporter was Alexander Allan Shand (1844–1930), a Scots banker ‘the Japanese could trust’ (Checkland & Tamaki 1997). Shand had served in 1864, at the age of twenty, as the acting manager of the Chartered Mercantile Bank’s branch in Yokohama. From 1872 until 1877, as an adviser to the Ministry of Finance, he persuaded the Japanese to abandon the American national bank system for the British model, based on a central bank, as a method of controlling the issuance of paper money and inflation, a major problem for Japan in the 1870s. After Shand returned to Britain in the late 1870s, he joined the Alliance Bank, which merged in 1892 with Parr’s Bank, and for the rest of his life served as an important ally in the City for Japanese financial officials. In 1904, when Takahashi arrived in London, Shand served as manager of the Lombard Street branch of Parr’s Bank, and was the first non-Japanese Takahashi met after his arrival in London. With Shand’s help, by mid-April, an arrangement to issue Japanese bonds began to take shape, but given most bankers’ doubts about the possibility of a Japanese victory, the terms suggested were harsh, and met only a third of Japan’s immediate financial needs: three million pounds American Capital and Japan’s Victory in the Russo-Japanese War 65 at six per cent interest, repayment in five years, selling price of ninety- two pounds (that is, the Japanese government paid principal and interest as if they received one hundred pounds, buyers paid ninety-two, and the Japanese government received eighty-nine or ninety), customs duty revenues as security, and most insulting to the proud Japanese, only then regaining from the Western powers the treaty right to set their own customs duties, the appointment of a British tariff commissioner like Sir Robert Hart in China to oversee the Japanese government’s collection of its own import duties. Given his government’s pressing need to pay for imported weapons, the concomitant outflow of Japan’s gold reserves, which fell under seven million pounds in May 1904, and the widespread view in London that Japan would have to leave the gold standard, Takahashi was not in a position to quibble over the terms, but he ‘would not hear’ of the appointment of a tariff commissioner. Takahashi wrote that ‘the bankers agreed with me and backed down, saying the pledge of security is enough’. He then cabled the terms to his government in Tokyo, which replied that it could not do with less than five million pounds, which was still only half of what it urgently needed, that the principal should be repaid in seven, not five years, and at a price of ninety-three, not ninety-two pounds. The London bankers agreed to these changes, and the loan negotiations moved forward. Still, as Imamura Takeo, one of Takahashi’s early biogra- phers, wrote, these were ‘colonial’ terms, that is, the kind imposed by Western powers on Asians; a typical loan by London bankers to North American and other European countries would bear only four or five per cent interest, with repayment in twenty-five years, and often with no security required at all. Over the next few weeks, Takahashi continued to carry out daily negotiations to iron out the details of the first of four sets of Russo-Japanese War loans. As one reads through his diary, one finds the names of many of the most prominent London financiers (Lord Rothschild and his brother, for example) – but no offers to supplement the meagre bond consortium being put together by Shand. Then on 3 May, a new, non-London, name, Takahashi’s second angel, appeared in his diary. Takahashi wrote, ‘At dinner at Hill’s, many distinguished guests, among whom Mr Shipley of New York, Green of Rothschild, Junior Levita and his father who is a director of the Chartered Bk., Curzon of Panmure Gordon and Company, Speyers, etc.’ Shipley is crossed out and Schiff inked in below. At Arthur Hill’s dinner party, Takahashi met Jacob Schiff, senior partner of Kuhn, Loeb of New York. Schiff not only turned out to be the key to Japan’s fundraising success in 1904–6, but also became Takahashi’s lifelong friend and mentor. Born into a middle-class Jewish family in Frankfurt in 1847, Schiff emigrated to New York as a teenager in 1865, and by 1904 had become one of the richest men in the world. Through hard work, marriage to Therese Loeb, daughter of his employer, in 1875, and a discerning eye for a good investment, Schiff made Kuhn, Loeb the primary rival to the 66 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

House of Morgan as one of New York’s two great investment banks by the turn of the century. Like Morgan, Schiff and the investors he brought into his circle helped finance the building of the American railroad system – and reaped the benefits as America expanded westward. And like many other rich men at the turn of the century, Schiff became a generous philanthropist who invested millions in various causes. Although Schiff contributed extensively to Christian and secular charities, the primary focus of his largesse was Jewish organizations, especially those that helped the new Jewish immigrants driven to America from eastern Europe by its pogroms. Schiff was committed to the idea that Jews should assimilate into American society, but without giving up their own religious beliefs, and that he personally had a duty to help newer and poorer immigrants go through this process. He was also committed to using his financial leverage to reform, or if necessary, bring down the anti-Semitic Russian monarchy. References to Schiff continue on 4 May: ‘American firm is Kwun-Rose and Company. 1st rate financier in America.’ Then on 6 May: ‘American business is almost settled. Agreement between the American House and the issuing Bk. here. Has been settled on at 5 P.M. Prospectus was approved by the Americans.’ 7 May : ‘Cameron when he came said Sir Ernest Casttle [sic] (a second of Takahashi’s previously unknown bene- factors) said if only English he will not take a penny but as Americans came in he will take 50,000 . . . Schiff [written in katakana] after audience to the King yesterday going to spend Saturday at Casttle’s with family.’ 9 May: ‘Mr Shand came with Mr Schiff. He was the person with whom I dined with Mr Hill’s. He said last Monday was Bk holiday and not in the city. One Tuesday he met Lord Revelstoke (John Baring, a third angel) and told him that he sent telegram to his American house that now is the time to open business with Japan. Customs security and 6 per cent treasury bond will go very well. What do you think. Revelstoke looking at him told him the loan on something same basis has just been concluded. Want you take half of 10,000,000 . . . On Thursday everything was settled. When Schiff saw the King in Audience, he was told the King was satisfied to the American participation. That show Anglo- American combination in the Far East. The King was glad that his country alone was not to supply money to Japan.’ And finally on 10 May: ‘Mr Schiff came with Mr Otto H. Kahn and Shand. They brought telegram of full prospectus . . . Agreement was duly drawn and signed and exchanged at this date . . . Mr Kahn says the King was very much pleased to see the Americans coming in.’ Amazingly, within a week of meeting Takahashi at Arthur Hill’s dinner party, Schiff had agreed to help the Japanese raise their need ten million pounds by underwriting five million pounds of Japanese bonds, an amount equal to that of all three issuers in London, through Kuhn, Loeb in New York; he had arranged for a contract to be drawn up and signed and a prospectus to be written in New York and cabled to London. And Edward VII even gave his approval. How and why did this happen so quickly? American Capital and Japan’s Victory in the Russo-Japanese War 67

Takahashi left us two other accounts of his meeting with Schiff, both more coherent in their exposition because written after the fact. One comes in Takahashi’s memoirs, published in the 1930s serially in the Tokyo Asahi Shinbun, and then reissued as a book in 1936 after his assassination. The other, ghostwritten for Takahashi by Fukai Eigo, and revised by Takahashi, appears in Volume 1 of the official biography of Schiff, drafted by his close associate Cyrus Adler and published in 1929. Takahashi went to a party at Hill’s, where he ‘happened to sit by the side of Mr Schiff. Over dinner, he asked me detailed questions about the Japanese economy, the conditions of our production, and the people’s morale during the war. I answered as well as I could. Near the end, I told him about my satisfaction over the agreement with the London bankers to issue five million pounds of bonds, but that the Japanese government wanted to issue ten million. The London bankers at this time thought that more than five million was out of the question, and I had reluctantly agreed. We talked of other things and parted.’ The next day Shand came to see Takahashi and told him that ‘Schiff of Kuhn, Loeb, which was the Parr’s Bank agent in New York, wants to issue five million pounds of Japan’s bonds in New York.’ Takahashi was ‘dumbfounded’ because he had never heard of Schiff or Kuhn, Loeb before Hill’s party. Takahashi had no idea to what he should attribute his fortuitous meeting – he concluded after his talk with Schiff at Hill’s dinner that Japan’s ‘good fortune occurred because of an accidental meeting.’ But the meeting was far less accidental than Takahashi knew. It is widely accepted that Schiff supported Japan in 1904–6 because of his hatred of the Romanov dynasty and its anti-Semitism. The sceptical historian, who thinks people tend to act out of personal self-interest and not for idealistic reasons, may question such a ‘truism’, but hard as I have tried to test it, the evidence I have seen tends to support the view that Schiff lent money to the Japanese out of his desire to help his co-religionists in Russia. From the 1890s until the Russian Revolution in 1917, Schiff was a leader in the movement to end the persecution and suffering of Jews in the Russian empire. He compared the plight of Russian Jews to that of their ancestors in Egypt, and according to Naomi Cohen, his most recent biographer, ‘doubtless saw himself as another Moses’. Cohen quotes Schiff as writing in 1907, ‘I am so grateful to God that He so placed me to be able to be of some help to our co-religionists’ in Russia. She then adds, his ‘struggle for Jewish liberation in Russia took on the emotional overtones of a personal crusade, almost as if the czar were hounding him, Jacob Schiff’. For over twenty years, Schiff poured millions of his dollars and hours of his time into lobbying officials like Presidents Roosevelt and Taft and their successive secretaries of state, into battling the public views of successive pro-Romanov journalists and American ministers to St Petersburg, and into using his power in the world of money to prevent investment in Russia by New York and London banks and financiers. 68 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

In the first week of February 1904, just before embarking on one of his frequent trips to Europe, Schiff held a meeting at his home of important New York Jewish leaders. He told them: ‘Within 72 hours war will break out between Japan and Russia. The question has been presented to me of undertaking a loan for Japan. I would like to get your views as to what effect my undertaking of this would have upon the Jewish people in Russia.’ In other words, a month before Takahashi arrived in Great Britain, and two months before Schiff and Takahashi met at Hill’s, Schiff was already considering a loan to Japan, and considering it although almost every other financier in New York thought the inevitability of Japan’s defeat made the risks of such a loan too great. Waiting for Schiff in Europe was his close friend and frequent travelling companion, Ernest Cassel. While Cassel did not actually underwrite Japanese war bonds (he was one of the largest purchasers, however) and although he never came out of the shadows into the forefront of our story (Cassel and Takahashi apparently did not even meet until ten months after the latter’s arrival in London, and when they did, it was at Schiff’s home in New York), he appears to have played an important role in bringing the key players together to form a loan syndicate. Cassel like Schiff was born in Germany, in 1852 in Cologne, and also emigrated as a teenager, in his case to London. He met Schiff in 1879, because of their mutual interest in investing in North American railroads. Over the next forty years the men made many investments together (including to Pittsburgh’s Westinghouse Electric Company), Kuhn, Loeb handled Cassel’s financial affairs in America, and the two men exchanged over 1,500 letters (in German) on finance, family and politics. In addition to being one of the richest financiers in London and along with Lord Rothschild and Lord Revelstoke, one of three key advisers to the Treasury and the Bank of England, Cassel served as primary financial adviser to Queen Victoria’s son, both when he served as Prince of Wales and reigned as King Edward VII – thus his sobriquet, ‘Windsor Cassel’. Schiff arrived in London in 1904, in the aftermath of the 1903 pogrom at Kishiniov, outraged over both the complicity of the Russian government and its repeated denials that there had been any atrocities at all. He arrived, however, not directly from New York, but from Germany, where he had gone after the February meeting with Jewish leaders. On his way back to New York via London, he met his friend Cassel in Frankfurt. Although there is no evidence that the two spoke of loans to Japan at the time, given Schiff’s prior interest in the possibility of a loan and Cassel’s own anger over the Russian pogroms, it seems likely they did. Moreover, before meeting Schiff in Germany, Cassel had been in contact with Lord Revelstoke. Baring Brothers wanted to help the Japanese government, but hesitated from active participation for two reasons: they had extensive investments in Russia that they did not want to endanger, and they and their government did not want Britain to side with Japan unless New York money came in. Given the silence of the Morgans and other Protestant New York financial houses, Schiff’s interest seemed god-sent. American Capital and Japan’s Victory in the Russo-Japanese War 69

Thus, Cassel and Revelstoke became the go-betweens in bringing British and American capital together to support Japan. While this is shadowy, there are fascinating bits of evidence that seem to indicate that Schiff’s meeting with Takahashi was not accidental, but was arranged, probably by Cassel and Revelstoke, and these conjunctions explain why the loan arrangements moved forward so quickly. The Baring journals are instructive here. They indicate that on Tuesday, 3 May, the very day on which Schiff and Takahashi met at Hill’s in the evening, Revelstoke wrote a letter to one of his associates in which he stated that a loan to Japan of ten million pounds had been arranged, half to be handled by Parr’s Bank and the Hong Kong and Shanghai Bank in London, the other half through Kuhn, Loeb in New York. In other words, Schiff and the banks had completed an agreement to issue the bonds before Schiff and Takahashi met that evening. The next day, 4 May, Schiff wrote from Claridge’s Hotel to tell Revelstoke that ‘things were falling into place in New York’. He also said that he had met Takahashi the night before at Hill’s, and that Sir Ewen Cameron, Manager of the London office of HSBC, was also there. And again on 4 May, a note to Revelstoke from the Foreign Secretary, the Marquess of Lansdowne, to say that he had informed the Prime Minister of the ‘admirable arrangements’, and that the latter wanted Revelstoke to brief him. Then on 5 May, a meeting took place between Cameron, Schiff and Revelstoke to work out the final terms of the loan. And finally on 8 May, Whalley of Parr’s Bank wrote that Schiff, Revelstoke, Cameron and ‘the Japanese gentleman’ were coming to see him. This was Takahashi’s first meeting with Schiff since the dinner party five days earlier. The details of the loan had been worked out without the two key players meeting again – and with one entirely outside the loop. My interpretation of this evidence is as follows: Schiff wanted to lend money to the Japanese because of his hatred of Russian anti-Semitism. Through Cassel and Revelstoke he learned of the London plans to issue Japanese bonds, which did not provide the Japanese with all the funds they needed. Schiff agreed to provide the other half of the money, and did so even before he met Takahashi. Cassel and Revelstoke arranged for Schiff and Takahashi to meet at Hill’s dinner party to bring the Japanese government into the picture. While Cassel’s role is nebulous, the Japanese government recognized its importance. It presented decorations for services to Japan to Revelstoke, Schiff, Sir Thomas Jackson, Chairman of HSBC, Cecil Parr of Parr’s Bank, A. M. Townsend of HSBC and Cassel. I should add that Revelstoke and Cassel had an additional motive for supporting Japan – the desire to bring about closer cooperation between London and New York finance. Cassel, who as we have seen would not buy Japanese bonds in May 1904 unless the Americans came in, explained it as follows in a letter to Takahashi in the summer of 1905:

I was not in London at the time of the ﬁrst issuance of Japanese bonds. I telegraphed Baring Brothers and bought 50,000 pounds worth. There 70 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

was a reason for this. I wanted to bring the British and American people closer together. I saw that the Americans (Schiff?) burned with true sympathy for Japan early in the war. I helped bring about the issuance of Japanese bonds in the two countries to unify their sympathy for Japan and to create intimacy between the United States and Great Britain, which had been previously estranged.

It was the efforts to achieve this goal that impelled both Edward VII, who after all was related to the Russian dynasty, and Lord Lansdowne to praise Cassel, Schiff and the others for their ‘admirable arrangement’. The first Russo-Japanese War loans were issued on 11 May 1904, one- half by Parr’s Bank, HSBC, and the Yokohama Specie Bank in London, and the other half by Kuhn, Loeb in New York. The Japanese government, desperately in need of money to meet wartime expenses, agreed to terms it would not have accepted three months earlier. Because the lenders considered the loans to be risky, they issued ten million pounds of bonds at six per cent, a selling price of ninety-three and one-half pounds, issuing fees of three and one-half per cent, so that the Japanese government received nine million pounds but paid back ten, for seven years, with customs duty revenues as hypothecation. Schiff’s investment turned out to be a sound one. Several days before the bonds went on the market, the Japanese won a resounding victory at the Battle of Yalu River. When the bonds went on the market in London and New York on 11 May, investors stood in queues two or three blocks long to place their orders, and the issuing banks closed by mid-afternoon. Demand reached twenty-six times the supply of bonds in London, nine times in New York. The chance to buy reasonably low-risk, six-per cent bonds at ninety-three and one-half came to market rarely. Almost immediately, the Japanese government began efforts to raise more money. While there is not space to trace the ensuing negotiations over the next eighteen months, let me summarize. Japan made three more bond issuances before the war ended in August 1905. It received better and better terms so that the two 1905 issuances, for a total of sixty million pounds, were made at four and one-half per cent interest and for twenty-five years. All together, the Japanese government borrowed eighty-two million pounds in four tranches. Of this amount, Kuhn, Loeb underwrote thirty-nine million, two-hundred and fifty thousand, or just under forty-eight per cent. Ten million pounds’ worth, one-third of the final issuance in July 1905, was issued in Germany, where Schiff’s son-in- law’s family, the Warburgs, served as primary underwriters. It is probably safe to say that Kuhn, Loeb and related investment houses underwrote over half of Japan’s foreign borrowing, and thus over one-quarter of the total cost of its victory over Russia. Without Schiff and his New York colleagues, Japan would not have defeated Russia in 1905. Schiff ended up having the best of both worlds. On the one hand, as he said to Takahashi, he bought the Japanese bonds for reasons other than making money. ‘I am not buying Japanese war bonds simply for American Capital and Japan’s Victory in the Russo-Japanese War 71 profit. I do so because Japan is at war with Russia. Thus, my loans are indispensable money (for Japan). We are Jews. We have many Jewish brethren in Russia. But the Russians torment our brethren. The Russian tsars have a history of persecuting Jews. Saying “stop torturing Jews”, we sometimes lend money to the Russians. But after they have taken our money, they start the persecution again. Jews are disgusted with the tsars. We pray for the fall of the Russian monarchy. Now Japan has gone to war with Russia. If Japan wins the war, a revolution will surely break out in Russia. Thus, the monarchy will be buried. Because I pray for this, I am lending money to Japan.’ And Schiff made money too.

EPILOGUE The Japanese government invited Schiff to Japan in 1906, and his account of the journey (Schiff 1907) makes it sound like a progression of royalty – which it was, financial royalty. Schiff travelled across America in a private train on a series of railroads he had helped finance; the president or vice-president of each one boarded the train as it entered his territory, exited as it left. He sailed sumptuously across the Pacific to Yokohama, stopping only in Hawaii to meet Lilioukalani, the deposed queen of the new American colony. In Tokyo, he met with most of Japan’s major leaders and many minor ones: the elder statesmen Ito, who came from Korea expressly to meet Schiff, Yamagata, Inoue and Matsukata; the wartime prime minister, General Katsura, and his successor, Prince Saionji; the wartime military leaders, General Oyama, and Admiral Togo, but oddly, not General Nogi; important members of the financial world with names like Mitsui, Iwasaki, and Shibusawa; various government ministers, past and present – Kato Takaaki, who had recently resigned as foreign minister to protest the rail nationalization, and two successive finance ministers, Sone and Sakatani, for example; Ozaki Yukio, the mayor of Tokyo; and of course, his new friend, Takahashi, Vice-Governor of the Bank of Japan. The Meiji emperor entertained Schiff at a Western-style luncheon, and he became the first person ever to toast the emperor: like George Washington, ‘First in war, first in peace, first in the hearts of his countrymen’. The emperor presented Schiff with the highest decoration any foreigner had received from him up until that time. Schiff and his entourage then travelled to Kyoto, in another private train, this one provided for them by the Japanese government, which had nationalized the railways while Schiff was in Japan. Takahashi’s wartime experience and his budding friendship with Schiff (e.g. Takahashi’s adolescent daughter Wakiko returned to New York with the Schiffs and lived with them there for three years) influenced Takahashi in ways too numerous to present in this essay. But I want to mention one of these influences here. Takahashi, while certainly a nationalist – if one can identify an overriding purpose to his career, it was to make Japan and the Japanese rich enough to stand up to the West – learned in 1904–6 in London and New York the importance of cooperation with the British 72 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 and Americans. For the rest of his life, Takahashi preached that Japan’s economic development and national defence depended on Anglo- American capital, markets, raw materials, technology and good will. Because of these views, young army officers brutally murdered Takahashi in 1936, and their superiors led Japan in a more autarkic, and ultimately disastrous, direction thereafter. Luckily Schiff was not alive when Takahashi was assassinated, nor Takahashi alive when Japan met crushing defeat by the countries he thought should be its allies. 6 Preparing for the Next War: French Diplomacy and the Russo-Japanese War

PATRICK BEILLEVAIRE

t is a commonplace observation that the Russo-Japanese War marked a Iturning point in modern history. Japan’s victory not only shook the domination of the Western powers in Asia and beyond, but it also cast doubt on the legitimacy of their claim to be the driving force of history on account of their cultural and scientific achievements. In spite of the geographical distance, the Russo-Japanese War, by its diplomatic sequels, also durably affected the balance of power in Europe and contributed directly to the shaping of the situation that nurtured the First World War. For France, it appeared at once as a threat to the still precarious restoration of her influence on the international scene. Since the calamitous war she had launched against Prussia in 1870, which caused the loss of her two eastern provinces of Alsace and Lorraine, along with the payment of heavy indemnities, the bulk of French energies had been devoted to the reinforcement of national defence and to the building of a colonial empire in Africa and Asia.1 Meanwhile French diplomacy had endeavoured to contain the continental hegemony and colonial ambitions of Germany through the working of various agreements with other European countries, among which Russia stood in the first place. The latter’s involvement in a conflict with Japan was in itself a matter of serious concern to the French government, for it reflected a weakening of her interest with the European situation. But when the conflict turned out to be a complete military disaster for the precious ally, it is the core orientation of the French foreign policy that could seem to have led it up a blind alley. This article aims at describing how the course and aftermath of that conflict eventually resulted in both the confirmation of France’s escape 74 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 from diplomatic confinement and the strengthening of an alliance strategy meant to isolate the central empires, the logic of which would eventually lead, barely a decade later, to another tragedy on a much grander scale.

PRE-WAR POSITIONS: FRANCE’S RELATIONS WITH RUSSIA AND JAPAN Since the 1890s the linchpin of France’s foreign policy was her alliance with Russia. Such a partnership between the secular French Republic, heir to the Revolution, and the Holy Russia did not fail, at first, to appear somewhat surprising to more than one observer. Tsar Alexander III himself, who had no liking for republican regimes, had shown some reluctance to endorse an official linkage between countries so disparate politically, although, thereafter, they were soon to be celebrated as ‘sister nations’. The idea of entering into an alliance with Russia in order to counterbalance Germany’s power dated back to the years following France’s humiliating defeat of 1870. Yet, it is not until 1890, when Russia was already heavily dependent on French loans to improve her industry and transportation network,2 that Germany’s renunciation of the Reinsurance Treaty with Russia, in the wake of Bismarck’s resignation, offered a breeding ground allowing the French government to place its cards on the table. The negotiations started at a sluggish pace, and for some time the prospect of reaching an agreement remained uncertain. Eventually, in addition to the discreet financial pressures exerted by the French government, two events prompted the Russian authorities to conclude an alliance with France: the renewal, in May 1891, of the Triple Alliance, or Dreibund, binding Germany, the Austro-Hungarian Empire and Italy, and the disclosure by the Italian government of the existence, since 1887, of a so-called ‘Mediterranean Agreement’ between Britain, Italy and the Austro-Hungarian Empire. Concluded on 27 August 1891 in Paris, the agreement, not yet a formal treaty, was completed by a military convention, or ‘Defence Pact’, signed on 17 August the following year in St Petersburg. That convention had no binding effect until January 1894, when the tsar officially approved its diplomatic ratification. Although its exact details were kept secret, it was known that it required from both countries ‘an immediate and simultaneous mobilization’ in case either one would be attacked, understandably by Germany or the Austro-Hungarian Empire.3 Such a military agreement, by forcing Germany to fight on two fronts, appeared as a perfect guarantee against the risk of a war.4 Later on, though, it was to assume a more offensive character. Despite France’s initial willingness to conclude an alliance with Russia, and the frequent visits of officials that subsequently took place in Paris or in St Petersburg – among which the much feted visit of Nicolas II with the Tsarina to the French capital in October 1896 – little attention was Preparing for the Next War 75 actually paid, during the 1890s, to the development of an active military cooperation as prescribed in the Defence Pact. In addition to permanent ministerial instability, the main reason for that unexpected disinterest from French governments was the growing influence of the socialist forces on French politics. To those for whom the ideals of peace and pro- letarian solidarity prevailed, the recovery of the lost provinces no longer seemed to be worth a war. Yet, their nationalist opponents were never at a loss to keep warm the idea of taking revenge on Germany. As a consequence, the successive French governments of that period showed signs of hesitation about the strategy to adopt towards Germany – either to compromise with her or to isolate her – all the more so as the attitude of Kaiser Wilhelm and his subordinates towards France appeared unsteady, sometimes acrimonious and threatening, sometimes accommodating and reassuring. But things were to change with the nomination to the Foreign Ministry, in June 1898, of Théophile Delcassé, a convinced Anglophile despite his association with the colonial lobby – he was a former Minister of Colonies – and a hardliner as regards Germany (Teyssier 2001: 186–187). The constant goal of his policy would be the revision of the Treaty of Frankfort and the dismantling of the alliance system bequeathed by Bismarck. A skilful and determined politician, Delcassé inclined to secrecy, as reflected in the undisclosed clauses attached to each of the international agreements that he concluded. Although many diplomats of his time shared the same inclination, this attitude earned him frequent accusations of being disdainful of the Parliament, an institution, it is true, which he thought inappropriate for the discussion of serious international issues (Claeys 2001: 176). He was to stay in office for a surprisingly long period of seven years until June 1905, leaving on French foreign policy the stamp of his orientations down to the conflagration of 1914. Delcassé’s nomination really marks a watershed in French foreign policy. In contrast with his predecessor, Gabriel Hanotaux, who had been looking for arrangements with Germany in order to thwart Britain’s colonial expansion and promote French overseas interests, Delcassé’s course of action aimed, with no ambiguity, at both isolating Germany and securing Britain’s support on European and colonial issues.5 In his view, the question of Alsace-Lorraine had to be solved prior to any attempt at a rapprochement with Germany. The first diplomatic achievement that gave Delcassé’s policy concrete shape was the de facto separation of Italy from the Triple Alliance. An initial agreement concluded with Italy in December 1900 established a mutual recognition of each country’s special interests in North Africa, that is, in Libya for Italy and in Morocco for France. Two other agreements, signed in June 1901 and November 1902, the latter on the same year as the renewal of the Triple Alliance, ensured that both countries would remain neutral if a war caused by a third party, understandably again Germany or the Austro-Hungarian Empire, were to occur. In compensation, France granted financial facilities to Italy (Paléologue 1934: 33). 76 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Looking now at the relations between France and Japan, it could almost suffice to say that they were at their lowest ebb in all respects since the 1860s. A series of factors contributed to tarnish the image of France among the Japanese: her military defeat of 1870, the lesser dynamism of her industry, her obstinacy to delay the revision of the unequal treaties, her intervention beside Germany and Russia to safeguard China’s interests in 1895, and, last but not least, her present alliance with Russia, Japan’s enemy. France’s share in Japan’s foreign exchanges had steadily deteriorated, so that by 1905 she ranked far behind the USA, Britain and Germany. Moreover, the trade balance between the two countries was overwhelmingly to Japan’s advantage (Li 1977: 240 ff.). Unlike other Western powers with stronger and more liberal traditions of commerce, France proved slow or unable to adjust her products and trade methods to the changing needs of the Japanese. For what concerns the orders for ships and armaments placed by Japan after her war with China, France ranked at about the same level as Germany: in value, the orders placed to French shipyards represented about 12 per cent of those placed in British shipyards, and the orders placed in French armament factories slightly under 10 per cent of the orders placed in Britain (ibid.: 354 ff.). Unsurprisingly, French industry would not receive a single order from Japan for the whole duration of the Russo-Japanese War. But for France there was another matter of serious concern stemming from Japan’s growing power: the menace to her domination over Indochina. Those French colonial possessions, and in the first place the Vietnamese regions of Annam and Tonkin, seemed likely to arouse Japan’s greed, especially as the French governments had paid only scant attention to their military protection. In addition to the visits of inquis- itive Japanese officials, a number of Japanese merchants had already settled in the French colony. This, along with the attractiveness of Japan’s modernity for the local elites, led the French authorities to harbour suspicions that the whole colony might be swarming with Japanese spies carefully collecting information in preparation for a planned invasion of Indochina (Castex 1904).6

FRENCH FOREIGN POLICY IN WARTIME, 1: MAINTAINING NEUTRALITY WHILE RUSSIA’S ALLY Delcassé, who was utterly convinced that negotiations could overcome any potential conflict, remained optimistic until the last moment. The discussions he held with Motono Ichiro, the Japanese representative in Paris, in January 1904, at the request of the tsar, made him confident that Japan was still open to compromise (Zorgbibe 2001: 198–199). As late as 5 February, during a Cabinet meeting, he vouched for the preservation of peace in the Far East. His words, swiftly reported to financial circles by Finance Minister Rouvier, caused an immediate rise of the stock market (Claeys 2001: 175; Zorgbibe 2001: 202). No surprise, then, that the out- Preparing for the Next War 77 break of the war caused intense agitation among French investors and stockholders, not to mention the anger of the Finance Minister. As to the politicians, their immediate preoccupation lay in the military implications of the alliance with Russia. On 16 March 1902, in response to the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, France and Russia had made public a joint declaration stating both the necessity to maintain ‘the status quo and overall peace in the Far East’ and their right to take action in order to protect their interests in that region.7 As soon as the news of the war reached Paris, rumours arose concerning a secret agreement attached to the 1902 declaration binding France to bring military assistance to her ally wherever she would be attacked. In no time, the government came under fire from all the benches at the Chamber of Deputies to provide further information. For several days Prime Minister Emile Combes and his Foreign Minister Delcassé devoted themselves to soothing the deputies and the senators as well as public opinion. While Parliament renewed its support to the Franco-Russian Alliance by a large majority in both chambers, the government solemnly declared that France would maintain strict neutrality under all circumstances. It made it also clear that the alliance remained ‘the immutable basis of French foreign policy’, but that it had no relevance to the Far East as long as a third country would not step in the conflict (Beillevaire 2000: 194–195). For Deputy Jean Jaurès, the influential leader of the socialists, then passively backing up the left-wing coalition government, there was no reason for France to intervene on the Far Eastern front and any secret military clause in the Franco-Russian agreement had to be considered as ‘null and void’. In his opinion, Germany was having no hostile intentions towards France, so that the Franco-Russian Alliance had become an ‘unwise provocation’ and an ‘unnecessarily exclusive’ bond. It had to be seen as a ‘danger’ and no longer as a ‘safeguard’. The solution to the recurring disputes between France and Germany could only spring, as he saw it, from the diffusion of socialist ideas on both sides of the Rhine and in all Europe. Consequently, Jaurès urged the government ‘to loosen’ the alliance with Russia, a statement that immediately triggered the harsh- est criticism from right-wing politicians. Still, his position was not firm enough for the uncompromising leftists – the hardliner revolutionaries, internationalists and pacifists – who called for no less than a final dis- missal of the alliance in the name of peace and working-class solidarity. At the outbreak of hostilities, public opinion, impregnated with more than a decade of lulling proclamations about the grandeur of tsarist Russia, was dominantly Russophile. The French were generally not so much worrying about the Yellow Peril than hostile to Germany as well as traditionally defiant about Britain. In the press, the latter was commonly held responsible for the war in the first place, because of her alliance with Japan that would have given the latter’s expansionist drive a free rein, making thus impossible any peaceful settlement of her dispute with Russia (Pinon 1906: 247). 78 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

There is no doubt that the news of the surprise attacks at Port Arthur and Chemulpo, which could be interpreted as bearing witness to an insufficient preparation of the Russian forces, came as a disappointment for many people of all conditions. However, the confidence in the ally’s military superiority was so great that the incipient anxiety soon abated. Delcassé himself welcomed those attacks as an event that could only give momentum to the patriotic fervour of the Russians (Zorgbibe 2001: 204). Of course, left-wing politicians and activists had reasons not to share such anxiety or confidence. In their meetings and publications, the tsarist regime was routinely stigmatized as being the very embodiment of Reaction and Despotism. Like their leaders Jaurès and Vaillant, the parliamentary socialists never failed to express deep concern about the organized massacres of Jews and the fierce repression of other ethnic minorities condoned by the Russian higher authorities. Their complaints became even louder after Bloody Sunday in January 1905. In stark contrast, Japan tended to be seen as a champion of progress, a country of Western civilization on the way to secularization, whose elites, thought to have genuinely assimilated the ideas of the Enlightenment, if not those of the French Revolution, openly professed rationalism and atheism.8 Her colonial ambitions were not ignored, but they appeared as a legitimate reaction to Western imperialism. Her victory was expected to be a blessing even for the Russian people, the liberation of which it could only hasten (Chun 1970; Beillevaire 2000, 2007). Up until the fall of Mukden – the ‘disaster’ of Mukden – and despite the accumulation of ill-omened news, the popular press, shamelessly bribed by tsarist agents on pretext of promoting Russian loans (Paléologue 1934: 275–276), applied itself to assure its readers of the invincibility of the Russians and of their final victory over the Japanese. The popular sympathy for the Russian ally expressed itself through the whole the country, whether from individuals, municipalities or associations engaged in actions of solidarity. At the same time, a multitude of small investors subscribed to the new Russian loans floated on the French market. By 1904, France had become Russia’s main creditor and it is estimated that the total of loans and direct investments gathered by Russia amounted to one fourth of all French foreign assets (Tardieu 1910: 25; Paléologue 1934: 5).9 Despite the importance of that financial involvement, no great benefits were ever expected from the war. Yet, when it became apparent that Russia had no chance of winning whatsoever, newspapers expressed the general disappointment of lenders at the waste of their money, which could have been better used, it was thought, for the improvement of the transportation and communication network between the heart of the country and its Western frontier (Nish 1989: 234). From the outset, officials of the French Foreign and War Ministries, well informed about the state of preparation of their ally, tended to doubt Russia’s military superiority over the Japanese. It was generally believed, as evidenced by the popular press, that it was Kaiser Wilhelm II who had shrewdly encouraged Nicolas II to launch his country on a Far Eastern Preparing for the Next War 79 expansion, then on a course of direct confrontation with Japan. His motivations, supposedly, were altogether his personal fear of the Yellow Peril, Germany’s territorial and financial interests in the Far East, and his relief in having Russia’s attention diverted from the Balkans (Paléologue 1934: 26; Driault 1908: 337). At the beginning of 1905, the publication by the daily L’Echo de Paris of a confidential report attributed to Marshal Kodama and addressed to Count Katsura came at the right time to rekindle the pro-Russian sympathy of a French population, fairly disillusioned with its ally’s military capacity. The document outlined a plan of conquest of all East Asia, including French Indochina. Rapidly denounced at the time as a forgery emanating from the tsarist secret police, it nonetheless proved to be a fairly accurate blueprint of Japan’s military expansion later in the century (Kerr 1945). While the war was raging in Manchuria, Europe went through a very active period on the diplomatic front. On 8 April 1904, despite their opposed alliances with the countries at war, Britain and France managed to conclude a series of agreements, not yet an alliance, which marked the beginning of the so-called Entente Cordiale. This would remain the greatest achievement of Foreign Minister Delcassé’s policy, his magnum opus as one of his close collaborators puts it, for which he benefited from the valuable assistance of Paul Cambon, the French ambassador in London (Paléologue 1934: 48). Although the idea of forming an alliance between Britain and France had been mentioned more than once on both sides of the Channel since the days of Napoléon III, the outcome of that diplomatic initiative was not a foregone conclusion. Not only was Delcassé confronted with Britain’s insular reticence, but in France, too, he had to go against public opinion and representatives that were far from looking favourably on an alliance with ‘Perfidious Albion’, as Britain was humorously referred to in the press. In addition to the age- old rivalry between the two countries, the French kept a vivid memory of the humiliating withdrawal of their colonial troops under British pressure that had taken place in Fashoda as recently as 1898. In 1902, however, as the Boer War was coming to a close, faced with the rapid growth of German naval armaments, the British government itself began to show more willingness to strengthen its links with France. The following year, London and Paris collaborated actively to prevent the war between Russia and Japan (Nish 1989: 225 ff.). Both governments had their reasons to worry about the consequences of a conflict in the Far East, although the uncompromising attitude of their respective allies prevented any attempt at a joint mediation.10 The same year, King Edward VII, who had expressed an active interest in an Anglo-French rapprochement, was warmly received in Paris. The much acclaimed diplomatic event of April 1904 was first of all a solemn acknowledgement of the previous settlement of all the main issues of contention on overseas territories that had been harming the otherwise fairly good relations between the leaders of the two countries. 80 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Among the various matters involved in that extensive ‘colonial barter’, France promised in particular not to impede Britain’s plans in Egypt in return for the recognition of her own political and financial influence in Morocco (Paléologue 1934: 54; Claeys 2001: 166–171). A secret clause stated that France would have Britain’s consent to take possession of the Moroccan territory in case the ruling monarchy would collapse.11 The same year 1904, in October, a comparatively minor agreement was also concluded with Spain, whose positions on international matters were then largely dependent on Britain’s policy. It recognized the claims and rights of both countries over Morocco – Spain being apparently content with a narrow coastal strip in the North and a few ports in the South – and initiated a permanent cooperation between their governments. During the Russo-Japanese War, France had to face two major international complications, one following from her links with Russia, the other caused by Germany. In September 1904, St Petersburg, through Nelidov, its ambassador in Paris, requested the French government to assist the Russian Admiralty with the preparation of the route for the Baltic fleet placed under the command of Admiral Rodzhestvenskii. This implied that the Russian ships were to be allowed to call at French overseas ports where they could receive, so the Russians hoped, the covert help of French consular agents and colonial administrators. The request was no doubt putting the French authorities in a predicament, but the long-term importance of the Russian alliance was too great to risk jeopardizing it by a flat refusal on the pretext of neutrality. Preparations in Paris were carried out in relative secrecy under the responsibility of Paléologue, Delcassé’s closest adviser, and Freycinet, a commanding officer. The French first tried to keep the Russian fleet at distance from France’s overseas territories by suggesting a route through Cape Horn and the Pacific (Paléologue 1934: 130–131). Too hazardous, the project was soon discarded in favour of the safer route along the Western coast of Africa and across the Indian Ocean. Inevitably the Russian fleet was thus bound to make frequent stops in French waters, but it was understood that the assistance with the supply operations, merely a matter of ‘hospitality’, diplomatically speaking, would be kept to a minimum. However the very presence of the Russian fleet in French ports could hardly pass unnoticed, making a prompt reaction of the Japanese government most likely. As early as 10 November 1904, as the Russian fleet called at Dakar, its representative in Paris, Motono Ichiro, protested in strong terms against the assistance it was given by France, what his government considered as a blatant breach of neutrality concerning ‘a vital question’ for the Japanese (Paléologue 1934: 174).12 Meanwhile, Japanese newspapers published articles regretting the alliance of France with Russia and contrasting the dubious neutrality of its government with the expressions of sympathy addressed to Japan from Britain and the United States. The following year, when the Russian fleet successively put in at Nossi-bé (Madagascar) and Camranh (Annam), the Japanese government renewed Preparing for the Next War 81 its protestations. They were then accompanied by harsh anti-French attacks from the press and by popular demonstrations in front of the French embassy in Tokyo and on the streets of other Japanese cities. With obvious embarrassment, the French government objected that helping to supply the Russian fleet with coal, water and food was nothing else but ordinary humanitarian assistance. In fact, the coaling of the Russian fleet was provided all the way, save for a few units sent in March 1905 that stopped in Algeria on their way to the Suez Canal, by the German company HAPAG (Hamburg- Amerikanische-Paketfahrt-Aktien-Gesellschaft), not without some legal complications and the implicit expectation of diplomatic benefits on the part of Berlin (Cecil 1964). But this could scarcely restrain the Japanese from complaining to the French authorities. On several occasions the relations between Paris and Tokyo became so tense that the anxious Foreign Minister Delcassé was expecting an ultimatum to arrive from Tokyo at any moment (Paléologue 1934: 216, 185, 296–297). Never- theless, as one gathers from Paléologue’s diary, he was personally determined to help the Russians and, even if he occasionally gave vent to some discontent, always chose to adopt a dilatory attitude in the face of the diplomatic difficulties resulting from the lingering calls of their fleet at French overseas ports. When the Russian fleet was stationed on the Vietnamese coast, for instance, he gave instructions ‘officially’ to ignore its location and keep surveillance of it at a minimum in order not to limit the duration of its stay. As with the Moroccan crisis examined below, Delcassé’s policy was severely criticized by the Left for putting the country at risk. At the Chamber of Deputies and in the columns of the socialist daily L’Humanité, Jaurès, the most vocal opponent, warned the government against the resentment that the assistance provided to the Russians might arouse from Japan and enjoined it ‘to strictly uphold neutrality’ (Zorgbibe 2001: 221). An unforgotten episode, which augured badly for the expedition, took place less than a week after the departure of the Russian Baltic armada on its long migration. On the night of 21 October 1904, on the Dogger Bank in the North Sea (in the vicinity of Hull), Russian ships opened fire on British trawlers mistaking them for Japanese torpedo boats. One trawler was sunk and several others damaged. Two fishermen died, six others were wounded (one of them was to die later from his wounds). The British navy instantly began shadowing the Russian fleet and locked it up in the inlet of Vigo on the Spanish coast.13 The incident was most serious and could have led to an armed conflict between France’s closest allies. In order to prevent it from going beyond the diplomatic level, Delcassé hurried to mediate between the two parties, urging the Russian government not to dwell on the humiliation and to comply rapidly with the British demand of investigation. Upon its agreement to the setting up of an international commission of investigation, which started to meet in Paris in December, and to the payment of compensation, the Russian fleet was allowed to leave (Paléologue 1934: 141 ff.). 82 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

FOREIGN POLICY IN WARTIME, 2: COPING WITH THE GERMAN ENEMY The second complication came from the German side and was prompted by the succession of crushing defeats sustained by the Russian troops. The weakening of France’s ally could likely let the German government think that the time was ripe to push its pawns forward on the colonial chess- board. It was immediately after the fall of Mukden, on 10 March 1905, that it eventually decided to go on the diplomatic offensive against France (Teyssier 2001: 230–237). The thrust was directed at the latter’s claim over Morocco. After a preliminary round of verbal attacks by German officials against France’s aspirations to take full control of Morocco, Kaiser Wilhelm in person visited Tangier on 31 March. There, in an address to the representative of Sultan Moulay Abdel Aziz, he straightforwardly expressed his wish that Morocco could remain an open and free country, and his intention ‘to efficiently defend Germany’s interests’ (Tardieu 1910: 210). The Sultan himself made it known quickly that he approved the declaration, hence allowing German officials to keep France under constant pressure during the following weeks for the purpose of obtaining the holding of an international conference on Morocco. Refusing to yield to any German injunction, which he considered as merely ‘bluff’, Foreign Minister Delcassé was taken to task by the deputies, especially by Jaurès and the socialists who deemed his attitude to be a useless provocation of Germany (Paléologue: 293).14 Meanwhile he also found himself accused of secretly negotiating a military and naval agreement with Britain. Eventually his supposedly ‘warmongering’ policy was openly disapproved by Prime Minister Rouvier after the latter had been told by an envoy from Chancellor Bülow that any closer association of France with Britain would be regarded as a casus belli by the German government (Paléologue: 349). Delcassé was then left no other choice but to resign, and on 6 June 1905, it was Rouvier himself who took the portfolio of Foreign Affairs.15 Thereafter, France and Germany reached a provisional agreement: France accepted the holding of an international conference on Morocco while Germany recognized that she had some rights over that country. The conference took place in Algeciras from mid-January to early April 1906. On that occasion, the British, who had remained silent when Delcassé was in trouble, gave full support to France, so that the outcome of the Algeciras Conference was not quite what the German government had expected. All the attempts of its representatives eventually failed to dismantle the agreements previously secured by France. On the contrary, her so-called ‘special rights’ over Morocco, which paved the way to a full- fledged protectorate, were now given a larger international sanction that included their recognition by the USA. France was thus authorized to set up a state-owned bank, thereafter placed under the control of Paribas Bank, for the management of the Moroccan loans and French investments (Rebérioux 1975: 154).16 About four months after the Tangier affair, and less than four weeks after the Tsushima disaster, the German diplomatic offensive went on Preparing for the Next War 83 through a further and almost farcical episode, this time directed against both the Franco-Russian and the Anglo-French Alliances. On 24 July 1905, while the Russian and German monarchs were vacationing on their yachts in the Gulf of Finland, Kaiser Wilhelm took the initiative of inviting his ‘cousin’ Tsar Nicholas aboard the Hohenzollern. During their meeting, near the city of Bjørkø, Wilhelm presented his guest with the draft of an alliance between Germany and Russia. The agreement, he explained, was first of all intended to restrain Britain’s ambitions and to counterbalance the Anglo-French Alliance. Upon reading the document, Nicholas, it is said, found it ‘excellent’ and made no difficulty over putting his signature on it in the presence of Henri de Tschirschky, a German high official, and Russian Navy Minister Aleksei Birilev. To alleviate qualms he might possibly have concerning Russia’s alliance with France, Wilhelm also suggested him that his government could afterwards ask the latter country to join the Russo-German Alliance. Only four days later, officials of the French Foreign Ministry were confidently informed of the meeting and of the agreement concluded by the two monarchs. This prompted no reaction from the French authorities. Three months later, on 16 October, Prime Minister Rouvier was actually sounded out cautiously, of course without any success, by the Russian Ambassador Nelidov about the possibility that France could join an alliance with Russia and Germany. More details about the ‘Bjørkø meeting’ would eventually be known with the publication of documents by the Soviets years later. It is reported that, upon his return to Tsarskoe Selo, Nicholas handed the draft of the treaty to his Foreign Minister Count Lamsdorff who simply could not believe his eyes. Realizing that what he had done amounted to no less than a betrayal of the French ally, Nicholas felt compelled to repudiate his signature, thus angering Kaiser Wilhelm who telegraphed him right away that the treaty had been signed before God and, with such a witness, could no longer be cancelled (Paléologue: 390–392, 402–403). For its lack of consequences, the French officials soon interpreted the Bjørkø affair as a proof that the Franco- Russian Alliance was now receiving strong support in St Petersburg. Besides these wartime diplomatic complications, it is interesting to note that in early March 1905 Grand Duke Paul, at the behest of the dowager empress Maria Fedorovna, approached Delcassé to ask him if he could find a way to conclude a peace agreement before it was too late. With some hesitation about the person with whom to intercede – it could have been Count Lamsdorff for instance – Delcassé decided to write to Tsar Nicholas himself. To that intent, a letter was prepared by his right- hand man, Paléologue, in which it was very tactfully suggested that the situation of the Russian forces in Manchuria appeared desperate and that, consequently, it would seem appropriate not to wait any longer to find a ‘fair settlement’ of the conflict. Four days later, after he had once again read the draft of the letter, Delcassé eventually chose not to send it, explaining that, as an ally and a friend of the Russians, he could not allow himself ‘to deprive them of the possibility of taking revenge’ and 84 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 let them simply ‘kneel in front of Japan’. But at the same time, he also expressed his fear that a defeat might trigger social unrest in Russia and give Germany a powerful trump card in the European diplomatic game (Paléologue 1934: 252–263).

BEYOND THE WAR: EXTENDING THE JIGSAW PUZZLE OF DIPLOMACY The Russo-Japanese War threatened to throw France’s foreign policy off balance by weakening her patiently cultivated alliance system. The mobilization of the Russian forces far away from Europe, the risk of a war between Russia and Britain, the ensuing impairment of France’s relationship with Britain: all these factors were likely to put Germany back in the saddle as the hegemonic power in continental Europe and to allow her, as in fact did occur, to meddle in France’s interests in North and Sub- Saharan Africa. The end of the war, despite heavy losses on both sides, was opening new doors to diplomats keen to consolidate their strategies. For France, the first move was to prevent the possibility that some obstinate Russian officers would consider the end of fighting as a mere truce. Conversely, Japan had to obtain the assurance that her territorial advantages would not be contested and that Russia would not try to take revenge. The renewal of the Anglo-Japanese Treaty, as early as August 1905, contributed precisely to appease Japan’s anxiety. With the signature of the Portsmouth Treaty on 5 September 1905, Russia had recovered enough credit, both moral and financial, to safely raise new loans in Paris. Her former adversary, whose finances were in a most critical situation, could now also have access to the affluent French market. However, the French government gave its old Russian ally political priority, so that Japan’s first post-war loan of November 1905 was again issued in London. It was not until February 1907 that the Japanese government was actually authorized to operate in Paris (Li 1977: 388; Esmein 1990: 12–13). The French government first intended to subordinate the issuance of that loan to the completion of the negotiations between Japan and Russia over the executive measures that had to be decided on in various domains such as economic rights, fisheries or railways, and which the French diplomats applied themselves to facilitate (Matsui 1976). But Japan, in urgent need of liquidity, had made it clear that the operation should have taken place before the end of March 1907. As the negotiations were well under way, Japan, whose reliability as a borrower was solidly established, eventually obtained satisfaction a little prior to their full completion and to the signature of a Russo- Japanese agreement that took place on July 30. France, for her part, managed to sign a treaty with Japan on 10 June 1907.17 Like the other agreements reached by Western countries with Japan, the Franco-Japanese Treaty aimed at guaranteeing both peace in the Far East and China’s independence and integrity, or, in more realistic terms, at preserving the status quo in the region, that is, the possessions Preparing for the Next War 85 and interests of the foreign powers in China, Manchuria, Korea and Indochina. The most favoured nation clause granted to Japan also applied in Indochina to persons, but not to commercial exchanges. Negotiations over a commercial convention between Japan and Indochina were expected to follow soon, but because of the protectionist bias of local French authorities, it was not until 1931 that such a convention was eventually concluded (Esmein 2004: 36). For the French leaders, the shift in emphasis of Russia’s foreign policy from Asia to Europe – her widely acclaimed ‘return to Europe’ – which did ease the settlement of post-war issues, was far from sufficient to ensure stability in Europe. The diplomatic jigsaw puzzle remained to be completed with a major piece, which was former Foreign Minister Delcassé’s ‘dearest dream’: the reconciliation between Russia and Britain. In fact, the post-war situation made that aim rather easy to achieve. The stunning victory of Japan had indeed led the British government to realize that her ally’s lust for expansion could well be fraught with future dangers. Abandoning Lord Curzon’s ‘Great Game’ policy, it consequently began to consider that an alliance with Russia was no longer inappropriate in order to counterbalance Japan’s power, as well as to contain Germany’s feverish agitation in the West. Negotiations thus opened, which focused mainly on Middle Eastern and Central Asian issues and led, at the end of a long and difficult path, to the conclusion of the so-called ‘alliance of the elephant and the whale’ – or of ‘the bear and the whale’ – on 31August 1907, an event that marks the birth of the ‘Triple Entente’ among Britain, France and Russia (Williams 1966).18 The three agreements signed in 1907, together with the renewed Anglo-Japanese agreement of 1905 and the French agreement with Italy, provide the basis of the new international framework in which the First World War was set. History proved consistent enough by allowing the return of Delcassé, the main architect of the Triple Entente, to the Foreign Ministry in August 1914, at the dawn of the European catastrophe. As to the Japanese, drawn by their treaties into the Anglo-Franco- Russian coalition against Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire, they were also to participate in that war, yet without sharing the worst of it.19

NOTES 1 The Franco-Prussian War ended with the Treaty of Frankfurt signed on 10.5.1871. The territory that France ceded to Germany comprised Alsace and the eastern part of Lorraine, an area inhabited by a German-speaking population. 2 Russia had borrowed 1.4 billion francs from the French banks in 1889, 5.7 billions in 1892, and 10.6 in 1895 (Mayeur 1973: 224). 3 The condition of secrecy was stated in the last of the seven articles. 4 The agreement remained vague as to the actual conditions of entry into war. The French, whose potential enemy was Germany, not the Austro-Hungarian Empire, were in fact reluctant to be plunged into a conﬂict over the Balkans 86 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

that would have been triggered by the Austro-Hungarian Empire alone. However they thought it very unlikely that this could happen without the simultaneous involvement of Germany (Zorgbibe 2001: 133). 5 A favourable appraisal of Hanotaux’s policy is found in Pinon 1906: 57–58. 6 As one author suggests, the French had better thwart Japan’s influence by ‘Japanizing the Vietnamese themselves’, that is, by offering them access to higher education and to responsibilities within the state administration (Pinon 1906: 426). 7 As pointed out by Ian Nish, the possibility that France might somehow be under the obligation to intervene militarily in East Asia induced her to ‘veer more and more towards some understanding with Britain’ on the dispute between Japan and Russia (Nish 1989: 132). On the practical value of the Franco-Russian declaration of March 1902, see Chéradame 1906: 109–110. 8 In July 1905 the deputies passed a law on the separation of Church and State that was promulgated in the following December. 9 In 1905, out of 45 billions francs of exported capital 12, more than one fourth, went to Russia (Rebérioux 1975: 123). Of the loans and direct investments collected by Russia, about 65% went to heavy industry and mining or oil industry. But the share of French products in the Russian imports stagnated at about 5%. 10 Ian Nish’s careful study of pre-war diplomatic activities shows that neither Britain nor France carried enough weight to dissuade their respective ally from engaging in a war. 11 Delcassé was opposed to a military conquest of Morocco. His plan was to gradually take control of the country by means of financial assistance to the Moroccan government before gaining international recognition of a de facto protectorate. The Sultan was already assisted by French advisers, among whom was Saint-René Taillandier who had been sent on purpose from Tangier to Fez (Paléologue: 210; Teyssier 2001: 232). In fact, the agreement concluded by Britain and France already contained secret clauses, concealed until 1911, allowing for the transformation of Egypt and Morocco into protectorates (Claeys 2001: 166). 12 As Motono Ichiro revealed to Paléologue in 1914, when both were ambassadors in St Petersburg, the Japanese were in fact receiving detailed information on the Baltic fleet from an informant who could gather ‘intelligence from all the bureaus of the Russian Admiralty’ (Paléologue 1934: 174–175, note). 13 Delcassé would have been confidently asked by the Russian ambassador in London, Benckendorff, to contact the Russian government and insist that the Baltic fleet call at Vigo (Zorgbibe 2001: 213). 14 In April 1905, the main components of the socialist movement united to form the French Socialist Party. In February Jaurès had already withdrawn from the group of left-wing deputies supporting the government. 15 Maurice Rouvier succeeded Emile Combes as Prime Minister on 24.1.1905. The Tangier crisis, with the Russo-Japanese tragedy in the background, resulted in the stiffening of the ideological cleavage between pacifists and nationalists, with a growing advantage to the latter. 16 In April 1911, France occupied Fez in violation of the international agreement of Algeciras. Germany reacted quickly by sending a gunboat to Agadir. It was Preparing for the Next War 87

followed by a new diplomatic deal that led to an agreement on the respective spheres of influence of the two countries in Sub-Saharan Africa. 17 The treaty was prepared by a young adviser at the Gaimusho, Yoshizawa Kenkichi, who was to become the ambassador in Indochina in 1941. In 1907, at the age of thirty-three, he was given the award of officier de la Légion d’honneur by the French government in return for his good offices. During the Second World War, the Franco-Japanese Treaty of 1907 justified that Indochina was administratively kept in the sphere of Japan’s foreign relations and not considered as an ‘occupied country’ (Esmein 2004: 39). 18 A thorough exposition of the arguments justifying, after the Portsmouth Treaty, that France reinforce her links with Russia and Britain and reject a rapprochement with Germany is found in Chéradame 1906: 530–547. 19 A brochure published in France during the First World War seriously examined the possibility for the Japanese troops of joining the French and British forces on the European front (Anon. 1916). 7 German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War

GERHARD KREBS

THE GERMAN ATTITUDE BEFORE THE OUTBREAK OF WAR t first glance, Germany was in no way involved in the Russo-Japanese AWar, having promised to observe strict neutrality, though without issuing an official declaration.1 If one examines the political context more closely, however, one finds that Germany had been trying for several years to turn Russia against Japan. These attempts had been successful as early as 1895 with the Triple Intervention against the peace treaty of Shimonoseki, when Germany had succeeded in inciting Russia against Japan, with France falling into line, so that Japan had to return the Liaotung Penisula to China. When Germany acquired Kiaochow/Tsingtao in 1898, Russia responded to this provocation with the lease of Liaotung with Port Arthur, while Great Britain took over Weihaiwei. The connection from Siberia to Port Arthur was established via railway. After the Boxer War in 1900, Russia kept her hold on Manchuria, the vast Chinese area through which the railway ran, in contradiction to international commit- ments – thereby provoking not only Japan but also the United States which had extensive economic interests in the area under occupation. Emperor Wilhelm understood from an interview with his cousin Tsar Nicholas II that the Russian monarch was following developments in East Asia with special interest considering the consolidation and expansion of Russian influence there as the key task of his government. The tsar was clearly irritated by Japan not only because of the rival claims to Korea but also because he himself as crown prince had been the victim of an assassination attempt and was wounded during a visit in 1891 to Japan.2 It is unlikely, however, that Nicholas reckoned with an outright war since, to Germany’s disappointment, his attitude thereafter tended to be hesitant rather than intensifying tensions with Japan. German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 89

The motivation for Germany’s interest in a Russo-Japanese war lay in her isolated position in Europe: the Russo-French alliance of 1894 had raised fears in Germany of a two-front war. Efforts, however, to strengthen its own position by concluding an alliance with Great Britain had failed in 1901 due to Germany’s naval rearmament and the reluctance of Britain to be tied to the Central Powers for fear of becoming embroiled in Balkan affairs. On the other hand, Germany did not agree to a variety of Entente Cordiale of that kind Britain was to sign with France in 1904. Although the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902 had a basically anti-Russian character, it also had a certain degree of anti-German bias, since it allowed Great Britain to pull its naval forces back from East Asia to European waters, in order to defend herself against the expanding German fleet. The short-lived German interest in joining this block proved illusory as a result of German naval rearmament. In this situation, a Russian engagement in the Far East would distract the attention of the tsar’s empire away from the Balkans, where it would confront Germany’s ally, Austria-Hungary, as well as from the Turkish Straits at a time when Germany had begun to gain influence in the Ottoman empire by con- structing the Baghdad railway. (Stingl 1978, II: 506–07) Furthermore, a Russo-British rapprochement would become almost impossible. In East Asia, a Russian victory would be welcome to the Germans, since a Japanese victory could endanger Germany’s colony of Tsingtao and her privileged position in Shantung province. Already at the planning stage of the Triple Intervention against the treaty of Shimonoseki, Wilhelm had assured Nicholas in a letter that he would do everything in his power to keep Europe quiet and also guard the rear of Russia so that nobody should interfere with Russia’s move towards the Far East.3 As Bernhard von Bülow, German Chancellor from 1900 to 1909, claimed, in the late 1880s Bismarck had already hoped that Russia would be involved in Asian affairs so that peace in Europe would not be endangered. (Bülow 1930, I: 130–31) Bülow himself expected one decade later that Russia would have to rely on German benevolence the stronger Japan became.4 In 1900 the German legation in St Petersburg had noted that the Russian Baltic fleet had already lost its significance since all newly built ships had been sent to Far Eastern waters in expectation of a clash with Japan, although Russia was interested in delaying the outbreak of conflict as long as the Trans-Siberian railway was not ready.5 Therefore, Germany, and particularly Kaiser Wilhelm, pressed Russia for several years to defend Europe, the Christian faith, and the predominance of the white race against Asian barbarism, emphasizing the ‘yellow peril’. (Gollwitzer 1962: 42–43, 206–213; Shinobu/Nakayama 1959: 164; Iikura 2004: 45–100) Though Wilhelm did not invent the catchword he made it popular, reviving the fear of the hordes of Attila, Genghis Khan and Tammerlane. This ugly term was initially linked to China, but began to be directed more and more against the rising power of Japan, where the term was seen as an insulting expression of extreme 90 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 racism and led to mistrust up to the years of the alliance between Nazi Germany and Japan in the Second World War. It is doubtful, however, how far Germany seriously believed in the existence of the yellow peril since it held at the same time deep sympathies for the Japanese – considered to be the ‘Prussians of the Orient – or if the concept was used as part of the agitation for selfish aims. It is possible that Wilhelm and his government feared the economic and military dominance of Japan as a great power regardless of the skin colour of the inhabitants, and in particular they had a horror of eventual Japanese control over China. (Stingl 1978, I: 106, 109) Also in Russia, there was a tendency to become a European bulwark against the ‘yellow tidal wave’ by annexing parts of China and Korea. This tactic was propagated at Nicholas II’s court (Schimmelpenninck 2001), though an aggressive course against Japan was opposed by War Minister Aleksei Kuropatkin who warned in vain that wasting Russia’s strength in the Far East would benefit only Germany, Russia’s most dangerous strategic rival. (Kuropatkin 1909: 80, 112, 169) A consensus in favour of retreat from Manchuria was not achievable within Russia’s leadership circles. The dominating figure of Russian politics, Finance Minister Count Sergei Witte, had successfully demanded a shift in the direction of expansion from Europe to the Pacific and therefore pushed the construction of the Trans-Siberian and Chinese Eastern railways instead of risking a pan-European war by provoking Germany and Great Britain. His so-called ‘peaceful penetration’, however, was a chimera considering the interests of other countries involved in Far Eastern affairs. Witte was dismissed in August 1903 and tensions in the Far East were rising. Though Germany officially called for a peaceful solution to the Russo- Japanese frictions, she did everything in her power to hamper an understanding. Emperor Wilhelm urged Tsar Nicholas to take an uncompromising stand against Japan and at the same time Germany encouraged Japan to resist Russian pressure and Russian imperialism in Manchuria and Korea. (Stingl 1978, I: 322) Wilhelm, meeting the tsar in 1901 and 1902 tried to convince him that Germany would remain neutral in case of a Russo-Japanese conflict.6 Germany in her agitation also highlighted the image of a future Sino- Japanese war coalition and economic block. (Mehnert 1995: 35–37; Stingl 1978, II: 450–51) Indeed, after the war of 1894–95 a détente between the two countries had begun – similar to that one between Prussia and Austria after the 1866 war – leading to a close and often friendly cooperation until the eve of the First World War – hampered only temporarily due to Japan’s participation in the Boxer War. Japan became China’s teacher in a variety of fields but especially in the modernization of its armed forces and their supply with modern weaponry was particularly effective. In Germany, Chancellor Bülow fearing international complications took a more moderate attitude than his emperor. In March 1903, he German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 91 warned him to exercise restraint instead of arousing the mistrust of other countries by urging one side – either Russia or Japan and Britain – to go to war. (Stingl 1978: II, S. 446–47) So, even when Russia sent signals to Germany in the summer of that year that it wished a rapprochement with Berlin, fearing a conflict with Japan and Great Britain,7 no practical steps were taken. Behind the scenes, however, German policy unequivocally encouraged both sides to go to war. (Vogel 1973: 154–61). In particular, Wilhelm obviously still hoped for a clash between Russia and Japan. In early January 1904, he wrote a letter to the tsar stressing Russia’s natural right to an outlet to Far Eastern waters to control the har- bours of Vladivostok and Port Arthur, the ‘Hinterland’ of Manchuria for railway building and the ‘tongue of land’ in between, Korea. He expressed his conviction that it was a foregone conclusion that Korea would be Russian, just as the occupation of Manchuria was irrevocable.8 When, in contrast to Wilhelm’s interest, Tsar Nicholas expressed his hope in his reply that a calm and peaceful understanding with Japan would be possible in the end, Wilhelm was disappointed.9 Since the continuation of peace was not in Germany’s interest, on the eve of the war Chancellor Bülow pondered what sort of assurances could be given to Russia to prevent at any price an understanding of the tsar’s government with Japan, Britain and the USA, as well as further concessions for France.10 Even after the outbreak of war, Wilhelm feared that Russia would not fight seriously concluding after weak resistance a hasty and unfavourable peace instead of defending the white race and Christian civilization.11

THE OUTBREAK OF WAR IN 1904 AND THE BEGINNING OF GERMAN-US COOPERATION The outbreak of war in February 1904, with Japan’s attack on the Russian fleet in Port Arthur and the subsequent landing of a large invasion force, meant the fulfilment of Germany’s wishes since a rapprochement with Russia to overcome Germany’s isolation seemed possible, despite the existence of the Russo-French alliance. It even seemed possible to destroy this alliance because Russia’s military engagement in East Asia strengthened Germany against France, which could not hope for Russian support for the near future. German hopes, however, suffered an early setback: the conclusion of the British-French entente cordiale in April 1904, two months after the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War, surprised Germany for whose political planning the continuation of the age-old British- French antagonism had been seemed to be guaranteed. On the other hand, the Russo-Japanese War would deepen the rift between the tsar’s empire and Great Britain, Japan’s ally, more than ever ending the danger of isolation and encirclement for Germany. The long- term policy intended, however, could only work in case of a Russian victory after a long military engagement in East Asia, while a defeated Russia would turn her attention to Southeastern Europe and Turkey 92 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 again. At first, however, a Russian defeat seemed to be out of the question. A Russian victory would have had the additional benefit for Germany of weakening Japan, thus making her worthless as an ally and thereby weakening Great Britain at the same time. This policy was not undisputed within Germany. Many diplomats feared an alienation from the United States in the case of a German- Russian alliance, opening the way to an Anglo-American Alliance. Furthermore, the United States had great economic interests in Manchuria and were anxious to avoid a Russo-Japanese war at all. This would be fought primarily in Manchuria and could result in the taking over of Manchuria by a victorious Russia. Though Germany assured the USA again and again that she had an interest in a peaceful solution of the crisis, she did everything in her power to incite the rival nations. Japan mistrusted the German assurance to maintain neutrality and the Japanese newspapers showed an anti-German stand, claiming that Germany was instigating instead of appeasing. (Stingl 1978, II: 473–74) Japan also complained about the uncertain German policy when con- tacting the United States but basically the USA had similar aims to Germany. Both had an interest in the weakening of the two nations at war with each other and hoped that they would continue to check each other after the war, so that neither of them would be able to endanger either German or US interests and territories. President Roosevelt disclosed this conviction after the outbreak of war in an interview with German Ambassador Sternburg adding explicitly that in that best case scenario Japan would not endanger Tsingtao nor the American-held Philippines while Russia could not exert pressure in Europe on Germany/Austria.12 Nevertheless, while Germany was more pro-Russian during the conflict, the USA were more pro-Japanese – though the United States disliked the Anglo-Japanese Alliance – fearing the growing influence of Russia in China and in the Pacific. The USA, however, were also more and more alarmed by the growing Japanese sea power in the Pacific. For a while, it was also useful that President Theodore Roosevelt liked – or at least pretended to do so – Germany and especially Emperor Wilhelm with whom he personally had corresponded on the eve of the Russo- Japanese War. (Lammersdorf 1994: 157) As he told the German ambassador confidentially, he hoped that Germany together with Austria would build a bulwark in Europe against Russia and Turkey. (Lammersdorf 1994: 155). The propaganda of the ‘yellow peril’ had not fallen on deaf ears in the USA, where growing fears of Asian immigration and cheap labour existed (Mehnert 1995: 49–53), but compared with Germany this was a friction with a rational background. The ‘yellow peril’ never dominated decision-making in the USA which did not fear a race war with the Japanese, but rather the economic and military dangers arising from the Japanese expansionism. In German policy conception, the USA became more and more a kind of substitute ally – though without an official treaty – after the failure of German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 93 an alliance with Great Britain. (Stingl 1978, II: 446) Both had an interest in the ‘open door’ principle in China (Mehnert 1995: 109ff.), having neither the will nor the military and financial resources for expansion by war. So they effectively cooperated to secure Chinese neutrality but while Germany was interested mainly in economic activities in the Yangtse valley, where Britain was the great rival, seeing China as part of their informal empire anyway, it was Manchuria which was of the greatest importance for the USA but was foreseen in German planning as war prey for Russia. So Germany was quite egoistic when, several days before the outbreak of war, she proposed Chinese neutrality but not including Manchuria,13 thus disregarding the American special interest there. The USA, however, succeeded in changing the German proposals into an appeal made to the most important nations immediately after the outbreak of war to guarantee the neutrality for all of China and stressed that the proposal had originated with Germany.14 The Russian government, which was asserting not only control of Manchuria but also complained that Korea was not included in the guarantee of neutrality, was embar- rassed about the joint German-American step.15 Japan was not content either, since she claimed full freedom of action over Manchuria and did not want to see it included in the neutral area.16 It seems that the information about the German origin of the idea had strengthened the opposition of most European countries, particularly that of France and Russia. (Lammersdorf 1994: 162–64) Roosevelt’s role in directing international relations was facilitated by the arrival of the politician Kaneko Kentaro in March 1904, since both had studied together at Harvard University in the 1870s. The reason for his dispatch by the Japanese government was to act as a spokesman for his country and there was hope that Kaneko with his personal connections could influence American public opinion. Though the Japanese Minister to Washington, Takahira Kogoro, did not like this interference in his own diplomatic work, one must conclude that Kaneko’s activities were to become advantageous for Japan. (Matsumura 1987)

THE ANGLO-GERMAN WAR SCARE AND THE IDEA OF A GERMAN-RUSSIAN ALLIANCE The Japanese gained the correct impression that Germany was siding more or less with Russia. Germany indeed had given vague assurances to Russia to stay at peace while the tsar ’s forces were ﬁghting in East Asia but Japan was suspicious that more concrete secret bilateral agreements had been made.17 Japanese and British fears, however, that Germany could join the war on Russia’s side (Esthus 1966: 45) were without any foundation. Actually the warnings by Chancellor von Bülow, who had pressed for neutrality already in 1903 (Stingl 1978, II: 445–47) against any far-reaching guarantees for Russia, had succeeded, which would either have meant the risk of war with Britain, or arouse Japanese mistrust, driving eventually the USA into the British camp. 94 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Germany in late 1903 had seen the danger that Great Britain would join a Japanese war against Russia and send its forces into the Baltic Sea. It was doubtful if Germany could remain neutral in such an event. But to avoid such an eventuality, Emperor Wilhelm proposed a German- Russian guarantee to Denmark so that the British fleet would have no right to advance through Danish waters, a plan that had the agreement of the Danish king.18 The idea, however, did not materialize until the opening of hostilities when Japan attacked the Russian fleet in Port Arthur in February 1904. After a large part of the tsar’s Far Eastern fleet had been sunk and his troops found themselves under heavy pressure in great land battles taking place in Manchuria, Russia decided to send its Baltic Fleet to East Asia to win a decisive victory over Japan. Germany, officially observing neutrality, closed the channel between the Baltic Sea and the North Sea to ships of the two nations at war but that decision worked only against Russia. On the other hand, the journey of the Baltic Fleet to the Far East was made possible only through the supply of coal on the way to the Far East by the German steamship company HAPAG based on a private contract. Japan protested against this trade as a breach of neutrality and the German Foreign Ministry exerted pressure to cancel the coal delivery contract.19 However, the personal intervention of Emperor Wilhelm II secured supples for Russia (White 1964: 183). Ammunition was also exported to Russia while, on the other hand, Germany gave in to Japanese pressure when it disarmed Russian warships which had escaped into the harbour of the German colony at Tsingtao. Furthermore, Germany also found friendly words for the Japanese side and admired her military successes (Stingl 1978, II: 462–63), so that deep frictions with Tokyo could be avoided. It was also helpful that the Japanese army admired Germany, was trained by Prussian officers and established on the Prussian model. (Krebs 2002) German observers were sent to the troops of both sides (Krebs 2002: 139–40) and Japan was honoured that a Hohenzollern prince who was received by Emperor Meiji was joining her army. (Hohenzollern 1912: 5–6) In the reports arriving at home the Japanese were by far the better fighters and military leaders. The admiration, however, was mixed with fear of Japan’s future position and policy. Emperor Wilhelm still dis- dained and mistrusted the Japanese, as was even more evident from his infamous marginal notes on public documents than in his speeches. In one of them he expressed his conviction that one day Germany would have to fight with Japan to the death.20 In contrast to him, his younger brother Heinrich, who had travelled to the Far East several years earlier, advised him to keep good relations with Japan whom he held in high esteem, expressed his understanding for Japan’s claim to be recognized as a great power and found her efforts for territorial expansion legitimate. (Bülow 1930, I: S. 436–8) The supply of coal was only one proof that Germany was very much interested in a continuation of the East Asian war. Shortly before the German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 95

Baltic Fleet left Russian waters, Wilhelm II had encouraged Nicholas to resist Japanese peace feelers. In his answer the tsar emphasized his determination to fight the war to the end until the last Japanese was driven out of Manchuria before opening peace negotiations.21 When the Baltic Fleet on its way through the North Sea fired in error at British fishing vessels off the Dogger Bank, sinking two of them and killing several fishermen, the danger that Great Britain would enter the war on Japan’s side seemed imminent. Military actions against Germany considered to be a kind of half-ally to the tsar also seemed possible. Therefore, the British mood became more and more hostile to Germany.22 Germany feared a British pre-emptive attack on the German fleet and the kaiser, losing his head as he often did without consulting the chancellor, held talks with the leaders of army and navy to consider if it was advisable to occupy large areas of Denmark and pull back German fleet units from Southwest Africa. The German Foreign Ministry calmed down the mood stressing that no indications of a British attack were visible so the panic fizzled out. (Steinberg 1966) In the meantime, however, Wilhelm had come to the conclusion that an alliance with Russia would be favourable to Germany compared with the eventuality of being attacked by a power like Great Britain without a strong ally. It could also serve as a measure to obstruct the Anglo-French entente. Therefore, using the coal supply to present Germany as Russia’s true friend, he proposed to Tsar Nicholas an alliance of the ‘three strongest continental powers’, Russia, France and Germany. Facing such a powerful combination, he reasoned, the Anglo-Japanese group would think twice before acting.23 The proposal was welcomed by Nicholas who also had to fear facing Great Britain alone. Concerning French participation, he was optimistic that France was bound to join as soon as the proposal was accepted by Russia. He therefore asked Wilhelm for a treaty draft which he received within days.24 In Germany, opposition to this was expressed by the foreign ministry, the army and the navy seeing Russia as no great use against the British sea power. (Kestler 2002: 264; Vogel 1973: 207–08) When Britain, eager not to drive Russia into Germany’s arms, made it clear that it would not allow the crisis to lead to war, Germany as well as Russia lost interest in the alliance idea. The tsar was also under pressure from France which had opposed the plan, warning against risking their mutual alliance. At this time France felt relieved since the entente with Britain had lessened the danger that Britain and France would be drawn into the Russo-Japanese War on opposing sides. While Wilhelm’s initiative failed in the winter of 1904–05, Great Britain for the first time considered an understanding with Russia in order to drive a wedge between Russia and Germany.25 When in the following months Russia suffered catastrophic defeats in Manchuria and a revolution broke out in the tsar’s empire, it appeared doubtful if Russia would be an alliance partner of any worth for Germany. Therefore, renewed efforts for a rapprochement with Great Britain seemed more attractive though they were hampered by Germany’s naval 96 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 rearmament and wavering foreign policy. Furthermore, Anglo-German relations never recovered from the shock of the war scare during the winter of 1904–05. Germany was not only seeking a new rapprochement with Great Britain, but also tried to avoid a break with Japan, fearing the loss of an export market, the more so when Japan unexpectedly was able to stand her ground and gradually was getting the upper hand. Furthermore, Russia was considered ungrateful having not agreed to the German alliance proposals. Thus German banks lent money to Japan, but much less and much later than American and British banks.

GERMAN-US RELATIONS AND THE CHINA PROBLEM The more isolated Germany became in Europe the more it looked to the United States. After the first exchanges of opinion in February 1904, Germany’s attitude was still unclear about the status of Manchuria while it became more and more inclined to recognize Korea as belonging to the Japanese sphere of influence considering the Japanese military successes. Roosevelt, fearing – as much as the Japanese did – a German intervention on behalf of Russia, was seeking a common policy with Germany which would guarantee that ‘Japan would not be deprived of her legitimate fruits of victory’. To win Berlin over and to prevent Germany from joining the Russian side, President Roosevelt in August 1904 proposed the neutralization of Manchuria and maintenance of the Open Door under a Chinese viceroy who was to be named by Germany.26 Though taking the American proposal for cooperation as a compliment, Germany stressed that its interest in the Open Door policy was limited. Germany held the opinion that Manchuria should be returned to China but had to admit that in case of a Russian defeat, Korea would fall to Japan, but with the reservation of the Open Door there. Germany refused the proposal concerning the viceroy, being eager not to meddle too much in East Asian affairs, especially since the war was still undecided.27 Actually, Germany did not fully resist the Open Door for Manchuria but hoped that support for the American plan would be paid for by the USA with a guarantee for the Yangtse valley.28 In the following months, German-US contacts on the neutralization of China continued. (Lammersdorf 1994: 187ff.) The dilemma that German policy faced after the Dogger Bank incident to seek an alliance with Russia, which was incompatible with any cooperation with the United States, was solved by Russia’s refusal. A rapprochement with the United States was the last option left to Germany through which a common policy towards China could be a suitable platform. At about this time, in December 1904, Roosevelt let the Germans know confidentially that in his opinion it would be in the interest of America as well as Germany if Japan would win the war but would be weakened considerably by it. (Lammersdorf 1994: 190) Compared with German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 97 his words of May 1904, he did not show an interest in weakening Russia as much as Japan since the tsar’s empire obviously was already weakened sufficiently. The situation became clear on 2 January 1905 when Port Arthur surrendered to the Japanese, a catastrophe which could have led to termination of the war. Three days later, Wilhelm proposed to President Roosevelt for all neutral nations interested in the Far East to declare they would not demand territorial or other compensation from China in case of any mediation attempt. The US president welcomed the idea which seemed to demonstrate that Germany was not so close to Russia as had been feared in America, and within a very short time he obtained such a commitment from all countries.29 Germany, appearing to be selfless at this time, had a good reputation in the USA in the following weeks but when she continued to warn against alleged British intrigues for an eventual partition of China presenting all kinds of conspiracy theories, Roosevelt lost confidence in the Kaiser, considering him to have hallucinations – the more so when the Moroccan problem arising from German pressure escalated into a major world crisis: Germany, opposing French efforts to gain influence in Morocco believed that France could be blackmailed since her ally Russia was tied down militarily in the Far East. Since the Anglo-French entente, however, had led to an understanding over colonial questions and giving France a free hand in Morocco, Emperor Wilhelm’s agitation only isolated Germany further. (Esthus 1966: 67–68; Lammersdorf 1994: 217–18, 222–24, 235–36) President Roosevelt slowly became interested in closer relations with Great Britain. In all the years he had more fear of a Russian foothold in China, particularly in Manchuria, than a British one. Concerning Manchuria, the USA and Britain could even be said to have common interests: to restrict Russian influence. Now the president was interested more and more in an early Russo-Japanese peace.

GERMANY AND PRESIDENT ROOSEVELT’S PEACE MEDIATION The main reason for President Roosevelt’s interest in a peace was the fear that Japan would become too powerful in the Paciﬁc and East Asia as could be imagined after the decisive victory of Mukden on 10 March 1905. His calls for peace, however, remained unheard by both sides for a while. When he recommended a German mediation attempt in March 1905, Germany refused, claiming the decision must be left to the tsar, but the true reason for the reluctance was that a continuation of the war would still meet German interests more, due to the Morocco crisis.30 Germany rather encouraged Russia to continue the war, as the special mission of Prince Heinrich to St Petersburg in April showed. (Vogel 1973: 173) The government in Berlin, however, gradually recognized that Japan had prevailed in the struggle and could in the end demand concessions from Russia. In March, Chancellor Bülow hinted at German understanding for a demand for the cession of Port Arthur to Japan; furthermore 98 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 he denied an often reported antipathy the emperor held for the Japanese.31 When the Russians suffered another catastrophic defeat in late May 1905 when their Baltic Fleet was annihilated in the battle off Tsushima in the Korea Strait, Germany became interested in a peace solution in order to avoid a victory of the revolution in Russia. Wilhelm now offered his good services to the tsar for peace mediation, stressing his good relations with Roosevelt.32 The German government also offered support for a peace mediation to President Roosevelt but that step seems to have been unnecessary since the President himself had offered a mediation after the battle of Tsushima several times.33 Roosevelt, however, stressed towards Japan that a peace was also in accordance with German wishes34 and he was polite enough to thank Wilhelm for his cooperation and calmed down Japanese fears that Germany would demand concessions in Shantung as compensation.35 Japanese Prime Minister Katsura, an old admirer of Germany and the Prussian military, also thanked Wilhelm II for backing the peace process, adding that no frictions existed between Japan and Germany. (Stingl 1978, II: 514) Germany, however, actually did not exert any inﬂuence on the peace conference held at Portsmouth, New Hampshire, which ended with the signing of the peace treaty on 5 September 1905.

A NEW ATTEMPT AT A GERMAN-RUSSIAN ALLIANCE Before the peace conference convened, Emperor Wilhelm and Tsar Nicholas met on board their ships near Bjørkø in Finland in July. The Kaiser renewed his offer of an alliance for any future wars to be fought after the end of the war in East Asia, though it would be a treaty restricted to the case of an attack by a European power and would limit military assistance only to Europe. The tsar, taken by surprise, signed the draft presented to him. This agreement could only be realized if France would be included since it otherwise would be a contradiction to the existing Russo-French alliance. So in article 4 it was foreseen that the tsar would try to get the French consent for entry.36 In contrast to Wilhelm’s joy, the draft met stiff opposition back home in Germany. The chancellor and the German foreign ministry were not content, since the treaty would become effective only in Europe. That would mean that Russia would not be obliged to advance towards India after the outbreak of war, but in the case of a Russian attack on Persia and India, Germany would have to fight Britain. Since an eventual German-British war would be a worldwide war, the treaty would be superfluous and would not deter Britain since Russia had no fleet at her disposal any more.37 Though Bülow at first personally had supported the alliance plan and also the foreign ministry had seen several points of advantage, the government finally gave up the idea.38 Wilhelm in vain stressed the advantages which would have arisen: safety in Germany’s rear in case of war with France and/or Britain. The emperor only gave in when Bülow threatened to resign.39 German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 99

Finally both governments opposed the idea of their respective monarchs, the Russian government even more so since the alliance would collide with that with France and it was doubtful if France would join a German-Russian pact. Nicholas made it clear that he could stick to the treaty only under the condition that it should not be effective in case of a German-French war but such a pact would not be of any worth for Germany.40 Though the treaty was stillborn, the contents discomforted Japan when they became known after the First World War. As late as 1936, the fear of a second Bjørkø was one of Japan’s motives for concluding the Anti-Comintern Pact with Germany to prevent a German-Russian understanding. It was known at that time that Wilhelm in 1905 had promised to the tsar to take measures to ease the situation of Russia while she was ﬁghting Japan by not engaging in any aggressive action on Russia’s western border so that Russia would be able to concentrate her military efforts in East Asia. (Miyake 1991: 6)

THE RESULT OF THE RUSSO-JAPANESE WAR FOR GERMANY The positive result of the Russo-Japanese War for Germany was that Russia was so much weakened that she could not consider military action in Europe for the near future. At the end of the war, Germany resisted the temptation to ﬁght a preventive war against isolated France for which the Morocco crisis could have served as pretext. Such a step was widely discussed in the German press, but not considered seriously by the political and military leadership. Germany rather preferred to use her power only as a threat to intimidate France, but a war could have provoked Great Britain to participate. (Wippich 1997) Later, on the eve of the First World War, many military leaders regretted that Germany had hesitated instead of using the good chance, and that regret was repeated by Adolf Hitler between the world wars. (Hitler 1961: 172; Speer 1975: 221) The Morocco problem which Germany had hoped to solve gaining advantages for herself deepened Berlin’s isolation even more. At the conference of Algeciras in 1906, though Germany was able to reach a con- ﬁrmation of the Open Door policy, she became even more isolated, while the entente was strengthened. France was able to get the support of Great Britain as well as Russia, thus preparing the entrance of the tsar’s empire into the entente, which became thereby the Triple Entente in 1907, something Germany had over many years believed to be an impossibility. Instead of being isolated by Russia’s war and the German threat, France had become the link between Russia and Britain. The last chance for a German-Russian rapprochement had gone. The attempts to win over the USA – the Kaiser again showed great activity – by stressing the danger arising from the strengthening of Japan and the alleged common interests in China did not succeed since an isolated Germany was not an attractive partner for Washington. Germany’s attempts to stress the 100 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

‘Japanese peril’ even trying to revive the yellow peril fear towards the USA, thereby driving a wedge between Washington and Tokyo as well as between Washington and London, did not succeed since they were easily recognized as a policy to overcome their own isolated position. (Mehnert 1995: 127–131, 134–150) The German plan to escape isolation could only have worked in the event of a Russian victory, followed by a long engagement in the Far East. The opposite happened, however, so that the German policy had only led the rival great powers to move closer together: Russia lost the war, revived its interests in the Balkan region and the Turkish Straits as Germany had feared. (Bülow 1930, 2: 170) The Russian defeat in East Asia had strengthened Great Britain, which in its aftermath could pull her navy back to European waters – the more so as the alliance with Japan was now renewed under different terms so that India would fall within the area where Japan would be committed to give support. The Russo-British, Russo-Japanese, Japanese-French and finally also the Japanese-US understanding of the years 1907–08 were all based on the experiences of the war years, 1904–05. Germany had to be content that at least her attitude during the war did not disturb the relations with Japan for a longer time, since at least a new intervention in favour of Russia on the model of 1895 was not tried. The exchange of officers between Japan and Germany was resumed under the condition of reciprocity but was reduced to a minimum only two years later. It was feared, particularly by Wilhelm, that the Japanese could spy for Britain. (Stingl 1978, II, 484–89) Normalization was also supported by the fact that Germany admired very much Japan’s military successes and was proud to have been the teacher of the Japanese army. Emperor Wilhelm awarded the order Pour le mérite to the conqueror of Port Arthur, General Nogi, but so as not to hurt the Russians also to its defender, General Stoessel. The Japanese victory in 1905 was even welcomed by German Socialists since it had been won over autocratic Russia (Stingl 1978, II: 467–68), while the fact was ignored that Japan was also an autocratic country. A young Greater Germany nationalist like Adolf Hitler was also jubilant since the war was won against a Slavic nation. (Kojima 1976: 9–10).41 He later only regretted that Germany had not attacked Russia at that time when it could be defeated easily as Japan had demonstrated, thereby becoming a world power instead of Germany. (Hitler 1961: 171–72) The impression of Russia’s weakness might have contributed to the underestimation of the Red Army in the Second World War, when Hitler was convinced that he could defeat the Soviet Union within a couple of months. In Japan after the war of 1904–05, suspicion against the alliance with Britain grew among the Japanese army and the traditional pro–German policy began to surface again. Several influential officers, among them Tanaka Giichi, who was to rise to the position of prime minister and foreign minister in the 1920s started to think about the advisability of an alliance with Germany. Since the tensions with Russia eased after the war German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 101 of 1904–05 the idea developed into a conception of a German-Russian- Japanese block, a plan which was revived from time to time well before the years of the Second World War, but was never actually realized. (Kobayashi 1992; Miyake 1991: 7–12) When in 1914 Japan attacked German positions in East Asia, it was a by-product of the alliance with Great Britain, and not a result of the war of 1904–05.

CONCLUSION During the war, Germany tried several options but all of them ultimately failed: an offer of an alliance with Russia under the condition of Russia’s break with France, Emperor Wilhelm’s favourite solution, was rejected by the tsar’s government. Wilhelm’s alternative idea, a continental block involving France, Germany and Russia against Great Britain and Japan did not materialize either, though this solution was welcomed by the Russian tsar. Efforts for a rapprochement or a revival of the idea for an alliance with Great Britain were made only reluctantly since it would have imposed restrictions on German naval rearmament and renunciation of meddling in overseas affairs. Common interests with the United States were promising for a while but did not lead to any long-term bonds due to the unpredictability of the German emperor and his government; in the long run Great Britain was a more reliable partner for the USA. The German dilemma was also that policy lacked coordination among the different power groups. Wilhelm’s ‘personal regime’ trying to dominate German foreign policy was feared by many German politicians. Though the emperor never succeeded in dictating German policy, his boasting and his numerous faux pas frequently damaged Germany’s foreign relations. The struggles of Wilhelm, chancellor von Bülow, the Foreign Ministry and the military leadership resulted in total chaos and the deepening of Germany’s isolation.

NOTES 1 Richthofen note of 7.2.1904: GP 19,1: 57–58, no.5956; Inoue (Berlin) to Komura tels. of 7., 11., 12., 14..2.1904: NGB I: 599–601, 602, nos. 520–522, 524; Arco (German Minister in Tokyo) to Komura, 14.2.1904: ibid., 601–2, No.523. It should be noted here that obviously the editors of GP had carefully selected those documents which appear as proof that Wilhelm was very cooperative in the search for peace. 2 Bülow to Metternich (London), 8.8.1902: GP 18,1: 64, no.5416. 3 Wilhelm’s letter of 16.4.1895: Wilhelm 1920: 12. 4 Bülow note of 2.1.1898: GP 14,1: 137, no.3744. 5 Tschirschky note of 27.2.1902: GP 17, 524–26, no. 5336. 6 Richthofen note of 3.4.1902: GP 18, 1: 47–50, no.5408; McLean 2001: 43–44; Warner 1974: 132–3. 102 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

7 Mühlberg note of 15.7.1903: GP 19, 1: 10–12, no.5924. 8 Wilhelm to Nicholas, 3.1.1904 in: Wilhelm 1920: 333–5. 9 Nicholas to Wilhelm, 12/24.1.1904: GP 19,1: 52–3, no.5952. 10 Bülow note of 16.1.1904: ibid.: 34, no.5943. 11 Bülow note of 14.2.1904: ibid.: 62–3, no.5493. 12 Sternburg to Bülow, 31.3. & 9.5.1904: ibid.: 112–4, nos.5992 & 5994. 13 Bülow to Mumm (Beijing), 5.2.1904: ibid.: 98–9, no.5977. 14 Sternburg to Foreign Ministry, 8.2.1904: ibid.: 101, no.5980; Mehnert 1995: 145–6; Lammersdorf 1994: 161. 15 Alvensleben (St Petersburg) to Foreign Ministry, 12.2.1904: GP 19,1: 106–7, no.5986; Bülow to Alvensleben, 13.2.1904: ibid.: 107–9, no.5987. 16 Hayashi (London) to Komura, 10.2.1904 and Komura to Hayashi and Takahira (Washington), 11.2.1904: NGB I: 746–9, nos. 675–6 & 678–9. 17 Arco to Foreign Ministry, 10.2.1905: GP 19,2: 407, no.6183; Inoue (Berlin) to Komura, 23.9. & 20.11.1904: NGB I: 634–5 & 646–8, nos.555 & 570. 18 Wilhelm to Nicholas, 17.12.1903: GP 19,1: 71, no.5965. 19 Cecil 1964; Inoue to Komura, 16.9.1904: NGB I: 627–8, no.552. 20 Marginal note on Arco letter to Bülow, 11.8.1904: GP 19,1: 212, no.6047. 21 Wilhelm to Nicholas, 19.10.1904: GP 19,2: 384–95, no.6163; Nicholas to Wilhelm, 30.10.1904: ibid.: 385, no.6164. 22 Metternich (London) to Bülow, 1.11.1904: GP 19,1: 291–4; Metternich memorandum of 18.12.1904: ibid.: 332–40, no.6140. 23 Wilhelm to Nicholas, 27.10.1904: ibid.: 303–4, no.6118. 24 Nicolas to Wilhelm, 29.10.1904: ibid.: 305, no.6119; Wilhelm to Nicholas with attachment: 308, no.6121. 25 Schulenburg note of 13.12.1904: GP: 19,2: 359–66, no.6154; Eulenburg note of 15.12.1904: ibid.: 366–7, no.6155. 26 Bülow to Wilhelm, 31.8.1904 with attached pro memoria: ibid: 535–40, no.6264, with Wilhelm’s attached notes: 537–40. 27 Ibid.; Esthus 1966: 46–7. 28 Bülow to Sternburg, 5.9.1904: GP 19,2: 541, no.6265. 29 Bülow to Bussche-Haddenhausen (Washington), 4.1.1905: ibid.: 556–7, no.6276; Bussche-Haddenhausen to Foreign Ministry, 11.1.1905: 557, no.6277; also Esthus 1966: 57–9. 30 Sternburg to Foreign Ministry, 21.3.1905: GP 19,2: 582–3, no.6295; Bülow to Sternburg, 22.3.1905: 583–5, no.6296. 31 Bülow to Arco (Tokyo), 14.3.1905: ibid.: 412–3, no.6188. 32 Wilhelm 1920: 370–3; draft in: GP 19,2: 419–22, no.6193. 33 Bülow to Sternburg, 3.6.1905: ibid.: 607, no.6312. 34 Takahira to Komura, 5. & 6.6.1905: NGB V: 149–50, 151 & 234–5, nos. 142, 144 & 210. 35 Sternburg to Foreign Ministry, 5.6.1905: GP 19,2: 608–9, no.6336; Bülow to Alvensleben, 9.6.1905: 425–6, no.6197; Bülow to Foreign Ministry, 30.8.1905: 628, o.6335. 36 Tschirschky to Bülow, 24.7.1905: ibid.: 454–7, no.6218; Wilhelm to Bülow, 25.7.1905: 458–65, no.6220. 37 Ibid.: 467–501, partcularly Holstein’s note, 28.7.1905: 474–6, no.6227. German Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 103

38 Bülow to Holstein, 20.7.1905: ibid.: 435–6, no.6202. 39 Bülow to Foreign Ministry, 30.7. & 2.8.1905: ibid.: 477–81, nos.6229–30. 40 Nicholas to Wilhelm, 24.9./7.10. & 10./23.10.1905: ibid.: 512ff & 522–4, nos.6247 & 6254. 41 Kojima was Japanese naval attaché in Berlin from 1936 to 1939 and again from 1943 to 1945. 8 Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War

LEE SUNG-HWAN

hat kind of event was the Russo-Japanese War for Korea?1 Not only Wwas Korea not a direct cause of the war, but it was not directly involved in the fighting. It nevertheless held great significance since it not only turned the country into a battleground, but determined the fate of modern Korea as a nation. It was through victory in this war that Japan decisively tightened its control, forcing Korea on the road to becoming a colony. This expansion of Japanese power in the peninsula destroyed the self-defence strategy Korea had developed of playing Japan off against Russia, and in its turn fundamentally changed the international order in East Asia. Research on the Russo-Japanese War in Korea to date has focused on its role in Japan’s wider encroachment on the peninsula and there has been no work directly linking the country with the conflict itself. Since the Korean problem, however, was an underlying cause of the war, it is difficult to consider it without taking the country into account. This paper re-examines two points related to the connections between the war and Korea. In Korean academic circles, there has been a strong tendency to view the Korean government’s foreign outlook in the lead-up to the Russo- Japanese War as entirely pro-Russian. This is because research on the war has by and large been approached in the same context as Japan’s encroachment on Korea. It has been seen as part of Japan’s policy of continental expansion, with an emphasis placed on Korea’s resistance. The first purpose of this paper is to re-examine Russo-Korean relations with regard to the Russo-Japanese War. At the same time, there has been a lot of notable research on the neutrality policy that was the Korean government’s basic diplomatic stance in the lead-up to the war.2 Work to date, however, has concentrated mainly on analysing the content and Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 105

character of this policy, and none have employed a multi-layered analysis that relates Russia and Japan’s respective policies to their power relations within Korea. In other words, the neutrality policy has been viewed in isolation. This was probably the result of looking at the war entirely as a conﬂict between Russia and Japan without taking the existence of Korea in between into account. Furthermore, to some extent the pro- Russian policy and neutrality policy could not co-exist. Judging how compatible they really were also needs examination. This paper considers these points to re-evaluate the relations between Korea’s neutrality and pro-Russian policies in the lead-up to the Russo- Japanese War from a new perspective in an effort to throw into relief the direct connections between the war and Korea. To this end, an attempt will be made to present a logical framework rather than a detailed historical narrative.

A REAPPRAISAL OF KOREAN-RUSSIAN RELATIONS The mutual border between Korea and Russia came into existence as a result of the Treaty of Aigun in 1858 and the Treaty of Peking in 1860 when the coastal province became Russian territory. Formal relations between the two countries followed in 1884 with the signing of the Korean-Russian Commercial Treaty, after which Russia became an import ant part of Korean foreign policy. At the time there were two opposing perspectives on Russia. On the one hand was the so-called fear of the Russian threat and on the other the argument for a diplomatic policy of cooperation. A major reason for the fear of a Russian menace was the racism that had formed in Japan and the wholesale transmission of this image of Russia to Korea.3 Such an outlook had taken root in Korea since almost all the information on international affairs at the advent of the modern age was received from Japan. A particularly large impact was made by Huan Zunxian’s Chaoxian celüe [Korea Strategy] which Kim Hong-jip brought back from the delegation sent to Japan in 1880. This argued that Korea should adopt a foreign policy of ‘friendship with China, ties with Japan and alliance with America’ based on caution towards Russia. The book provoked a strong reaction within Korea, where there was a lack of information on international affairs. Widely distributed in Korea as a result, Chaoxian celüe was written in Chinese by a Chinese writer, but its content, vocabulary and international outlook was strongly inﬂuenced by Japan.4 On his return to Korea, Kim Hong-jip produced a report on his observations in Japan, which largely concurred with Chaoxian celüe. In this he wrote: ‘Recently, Russia has stationed troops in the vicinity of the Tumen River (in the northern part of the Korean peninsula), and is trying to attack Peking by aiming for Shantung Province across the southern [Yellow] Sea.’ He added that ‘if that happens, Korea and Japan would suffer damage and the Western powers too would look on Russia as a menace.’5 106 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

In the press, fear of Russia had been articulated from an early stage in newspapers such as Doklip Sinmun [Freedom Newspaper], which led the campaign for Korean autonomy. The anti-Russian sentiment in the newspapers gave the public a strong impression of the Russian menace.6 Doklip Sinmun, for example, rang alarm bells by warning that ‘Russia’s motive for building the Trans-Siberian Railway and setting up an army base in Dairen is to take possession of all the countries of the Orient.’7 Following the Boxer rebellion, the Russian occupation of Manchuria which shared a land border with Korea posed a great threat. Furthermore, the sense of crisis was reinforced by events such as the Russian occupation of Yongampo in 1903, which directly threatened Korean security.8 Such a fear of the Russian menace was one of the basic elements in the Korean people’s outlook on foreign affairs up until the Russo-Japanese War. At the same time, this made people overlook Japan’s increasing influence and it must not be forgotten that this in turn was a factor in the people’s support for Japan when war broke out.9 Russia’s prime concern at the time, however, was not Korea but Manchuria, and the issue of Korea was seen only as a lever for resolving the Manchurian question. In this context, Korean fears of the Russian menace can be seen to have been greatly exaggerated. In one sense, the influence of Japan cannot be ignored here, for the Japanese used the idea of the Russian menace to win Koreans to their side. Moreover, it served to legitimize the Japanese invasion by facilitating the argument that Russia would have occupied Korea if Japan had not attacked first. Meanwhile, at the same time as fear of the Russian menace grew, there was also a strong body of opinion among the ruling class of the Korean government that favoured a diplomatic strategy of building links with Russia. Drawing on the experience of the 1882 anti-Japan riot and the Sino-Japanese War, the argument for this was the view that in order to prevent one country from occupying Korea, it was necessary to create links with another power of equivalent strength. Here the influence of foreign advisers employed by the Korean government was very influential.10 From an early stage, they realized the reality of Japan’s aims to invade Korea and in order to prevent this, called on Korea to strengthen its ties with the Western powers. They insisted that, for Korea to maintain its autonomy, a balance of power was needed within the country involving several states.11 On this point, the Russian drive to the south concurred with Korea’s interests.12 It was especially important to employ the might of Russia to contain the prodigious growth of Japanese power since the Sino-Japanese War. This was why in October 1895, at the time of the Triple Intervention, the pro-Russian faction championed by Myeong Sung hwang-hu (Queen Min) had emerged and the Korean government rapidly swung towards Russia. Japan’s extreme response in assassinating Queen Min served only to reinforce the government’s pro-Russian stance. Afterwards, in February 1896, King Gojong escaped from Japanese threats by seeking refuge in the Russian Legation and stayed there for about a year. This, the so-called Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 107

A-ban Pachun [Flight to the Russian Legation] symbolized Korea’s dependence on Russia at the time. Relations between Korea and Russia, however, were to change dra- matically with the request for Russian aid that was made during the king’s stay at the legation. In June 1896, Gojong sent Min Yeong-Hwan as a special envoy to attend Tsar Nicholas II’s coronation and place a request for military and financial support. Since this included military experts to train the army and financial advisers, together with a ¥3 million loan, it demonstrated the high expectations the Korean government had of Russia. The Russians, for their part, had no option but grant the request, promising to send army officers and financial advisers and to establish a Korean-Russian Bank. In terms of scale and content, however, this aid fell far below the Korean government’s expectations and left the government deeply disappointed.13 The negative attitude the Russians showed had the effect of cooling the government’s pro-Russian stance. Also in line with this, ever since the king had found refuge at the legation, there had been a growing sense of caution over the expansion of Russian power, and under the leadership of the Doklip hyeop-hoe [Freedom Society], which had developed as a people’s intellectual movement, there followed a reaction against the government’s dependence on Russia.14 It was against this background that Gojong left the legation in February 1897, an act that also served as an expression of the Korean government’s disappointment over its requests for Russian aid. The fact that immediately afterwards, and this while Min Yeong-Hwan was still in Russia, Japan announced that it had secretly signed the Yamagata- Lobanov pact only served to reinforce the Korean government’s mistrust of Russia. It was under these conditions that a plot to poison the king was uncovered in February 1898, involving his Russian interpreter Kim Hong-Ryuk. The Korean government used this opportunity to inform Russia that it was refusing its offer of aid. Since Kim Hong-Ryuk was highly thought of in Russia, relations between the two countries deteriorated.15 The Korean government had decided that dependence on Russia was no longer viable, so it was clear that a foreign policy of building links with Russia would have to be abandoned. Russia showed resistance by recalling the financial advisers and military officers it had sent to Korea and also the Korean-Russian Bank. This response was in marked contrast to the positive attitude Russia had shown when the king sought refuge, indicating that it no longer felt such a need for links with Korea.16 As a result, relations between the two countries deteriorated and Korea’s policy of dependence on Russia was effectively scrapped. In fact, in the build-up to the Russo-Japanese War, although Russia had claimed some vested interests, in political and military terms it had given Korea no strategic consideration at all. 17 Moreover, in response to their disappointment with Russia, there were some in the Korean government who called instead for closer ties with Japan. 108 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

KOREAN AUTONOMY AND THE BALANCE OF POWER BETWEEN RUSSIA AND JAPAN The above breakdown of cooperative links between Korea and Russia sig- nified that Russia’s strategic interests had shifted away from Korea to Manchuria.18 This can be seen from Russia’s attitude to Korea’s request for aid at the coronation of Tsar Nicholas II. It was underlined, moreover, by the fact that even as Korea was asking for this aid, Russia was covertly sealing a pact with Japan. Agreed in the same spirit as the Weber-Komura memorandum, signed in Seoul in May the same year, the Yamagata- Lobanov pact essentially prescribed the rules for a collective approach to the issue of Korea. More specifically, Russia and Japan were to cooperate in addressing Korea’s financial problems with both powers to station equal numbers of troops on Korean soil.19 The pact also prevented Russia from responding positively to Korea’s request for aid. This pact is generally seen in terms of Japan making significant concessions to Russia with the result that Russia achieved equal status with Japan in Korea.20 However, if we consider the political situation of the two powers at the time, it is difficult to say that Japan necessarily ceded any ground to Russia’s advantage. Anti-Japanese sentiment was still strong in Korea following the assassination of Queen Min and the king revealed his wish for dependence on Russia when he sought refuge at the legation. Nevertheless, despite holding the upper hand in political terms, this was not reflected in a pact which secured for Russia only equal rights with Japan. By contrast, a more convincing interpretation may be to view this pact in terms of Russia ceding ground to Japan. Why did Russia make such concessions? As we have seen, Russia at the time was concentrating on expanding its power in Manchuria and progressively losing interest in Korea. As such, Russia probably had no need to create friction with Japan by strengthening its relations with Korea. This stance would become apparent once again with the signing of the Nishi-Rosen pact in April 1898. This was concluded at the suggestion of Russia in order to contain the Japanese reaction to Russia’s occupation of Dalian and Lushun and its lease of the Liaotung Peninsula. With this, Russia recognized Japan’s prior status in Korea. In political and military terms, the pact maintained the equal status prescribed by the Yamagata- Lobanov pact, but Russia made significant concessions by clearly recognizing Japanese dominance in the sphere of commerce and industry. So, in return for Japanese recognition of Russia’s lease of Dalian and Lushun, Russia acknowledged Japan’s superior economic status in Korea, thus establishing in effect a form of Manchuria-Korea exchange. As a result, Japan and Russia achieved a certain balance of power in Korea with the creation of a mechanism for bilateral containment.21 The established view is that with this Korea became a condominium, or rather a joint protectorate, of both Russia and Japan.22 In other words, at this stage Korea was already on track to becoming a colony of either Russia or Japan and could only preserve its nominal independence so Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 109 long as the balance of power between Japan and Russia was maintained.23 This is to interpret subsequent developments as nothing more than Korea’s inevitable path towards becoming a colony. Such a perspective would see the Russo-Japanese War in terms of irreversibly destroying this power balance and beginning the colonization of Korea. However, there is a danger here of overlooking Korea’s existence in subsequent developments and leads to ignoring Korea’s own diplomatic efforts to preserve its autonomy such as through its neutrality policy. It may even be seen as a perspective on the Russo-Japanese War, a war that arose over the Korean question which does not consider Korea at all. The arguments for Russia and Japan to administer a condominium or joint protectorate concealed the logical possibility of weakening their hold over Korea. Taking into account their conflicted relations, a situation in which neither side achieved dominance and there were no clear divisions of responsibility or jurisdiction could produce a mechanism not so much for cooperation but for collision or containment. This could provoke a further power struggle that might easily weaken their overall control and influence over Korea. Subsequently as well, for example, just as at the time of the Sino-Japanese War and the king’s ‘flight to the legation’, in their respective attempts to promote their influence they failed to intervene actively in Korean domestic politics and simply caused friction at a diplomatic level. Examples of this included the intense conflict between the two powers over Russia’s attempt to lease Masanpo and the Yongampo incident. The first article of the Nishi-Rosen pact can also be understood as articulating a mechanism of bilateral containment since it stated that ‘both Japanese and Russian empires recognize Korea’s sovereignty and complete independence and moreover promise not to interfere whatsoever in the internal administration of the country’. Reporting on the situation in Korea an article in the 1 September 1899 edition of The Times in London observed that ‘since last year the power of the two rivals [Japan and Russia] has been quite evenly matched.’24 Such a collision or containment mechanism gave rise to a structure that conversely threw into relief the autonomy of the Korean state. In other words, it was possible for Korea to exploit gaps in the conflict between Russia and Japan and secure enough space politically and diplomatically to develop its own autonomous policies. This was symbolized by the occasion in October 1897, just after Gojong left the Russian Legation, when an independent path was strongly proclaimed by renam- ing the state as the Great Empire of Korea. At the same time, the government embarked on internal reforms known as the Kwangmu Reforms as well as formulating a neutral diplomatic policy. Previous internal reforms like the Kapsin coup (1884) and the Kabo Reforms (1894) had been conducted under the wing of foreign powers such as Japan, but the significant feature this time was that the reform was carried out autonomously by the Korean government. The fact that the Korean government was now able to act with more autonomy than on previous occasions was largely due the formation of the bilateral containment 110 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 system between Russia and Japan. This was also reflected in the fact that in December 1899, the government signed the Korea-China Commercial Treaty, the first treaty it had ever made on equal terms. Moreover, it was probably in this context that Gojong embarked on a neutrality policy in 1898.25 The Kwangmu Reforms launched various projects to modernize the state, including plans to rebuild finances through a land survey, the creation of the Northwestern Railway Company, construction of the Keigi Railway and plans for the urban development of Seoul. From 1899, the scale of the country’s fiscal base grew as a result. Military expenditure in particular grew rapidly as part of efforts to build up the armed forces to the extent that from 1900 onwards it accounted for nearly 40 per cent of the country’s entire budget.26 As part of military development, a generals’ base was created around the monarch and in 1898 a modern officers’ college was also established. Furthermore, plans were made to expand the army and in August 1900 the government actively studied the introduction of conscription.27 After 1903, however, this reform policy was soon abandoned mainly due to financial difficulties. In addition, on account of the deteriorating relations between Russia and Japan, state policy now concentrated on diplomatic efforts to preserve Korean autonomy. While financial problems limited the effect of the Kwangmu Reforms, they can nevertheless be seen as having achieved certain results.28 From this perspective, there is a case for arguing that if the Russo-Japanese War had not broken out Korea may have been able to modernize to the extent that it could protect its new autonomy. Against this background of internal reform, the Korean Government used the Boxer Uprising in 1900 as an opportunity to develop its neutrality policy. The outbreak of this rebellion had a tremendous impact on Korea. First of all, just as on the occasion of the Sino-Japanese War, the government feared the possibility of foreign intervention if such an uprising occurred in Korea. Another fear was that the Russian troops now occupying Manchuria would cross the border into Korea. In either scenario, a Russian invasion was envisaged. Here the fear of the Russian menace surfaces again. As soon as such an invasion occurred, a clash between Japan and Russia would inevitably follow in Korea. It was in the context of this situation that, in July 1900, a newspaper reported the secret pact between Russia and Japan which established their respective spheres of influence on either side of the 39th parallel.29 This not only revealed Russia and Japan’s attempts to maintain and expand their influence in Korea but showed that there was even a possibility that they would partition the country. This, indeed, was a direct threat to the security of Korea. Under pressure to somehow maintain its autonomy the government deliberated over a choice between an alliance with Japan and a tripartite pact. The conclusion it reached was that a neutrality policy was desirable to prevent the country from becoming a battleground for a showdown between Russia and Japan. This was natural in Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 111 one sense: it was through this process that the Korean government for the first time officially adopted the neutrality policy that would remain its fundamental approach up until the Russo-Japanese War.

KOREAN NEUTRALITY AND THE MANCHURIA-KOREA QUESTION From the time Korea became a member of the international community, there had always been discussion on the question of neutrality. Various arguments were put forward not only from observers at home like Kim Ok-gyun and Yu Gil-jun but also from foreign governments such as Japan and Germany, which had vested interests in Korea.30 These, however, were not established as the government’s official foreign policy. In Korea, there had always been some dominant foreign power that was deeply involved in the country’s foreign policy and internal affairs – before the Sino-Japanese War this was China, followed by Japan and then Russia after the Tripartite Intervention. As a result, it had been difficult for the Korean government to embark on and develop an autonomous policy. It was for reasons such as this that, against the background of Russia and Japan’s bilateral containment mechanism, a neutral stance was established as the country’s foreign policy with the creation of the Great Empire of Korea. A significant contribution to formulating the neutrality policy was made by W. Sands, a former secretary at the US Legation in Korea, who in October 1899 was appointed as an adviser to the Korean government. His plan was to seek the security of neutrality on the international stage while forging ahead with domestic reforms and strengthening the country’s defences. To this end he proposed raising $10 million by forming an international consortium led by Collbran and Bostwick Co., a US firm which was then moving into Korea. At the same time as integrating relevant parties into Korea’s neutrality policy, the strategy was to rebuild the country’s finances with foreign loans and use this as a platform to strengthen the armed forces and promote domestic reform.31 When he raised the idea with the foreign legations in Korea, however, the only country to show any interest at all was France.32 Russia and Japan in particular were strongly opposed since they feared this loan would invite US interference in the Korean question and as a result the plans for foreign funding fell through. Despite the failure of Sands’ plans for a foreign loan, the Korean government maintained its neutral foreign policy, although this certainly now had a much more limited effect without the funding envisaged. The king despatched Jo Byeong-sik to Japan to propose neutrality for Korea, but this was rejected with demands made instead for a Japan-Korea defensive alliance. In Japan’s view, Jo’s proposal was a device for Russia to buy time for an advance on Korea while it resolved the problem of its occupation of Manchuria. In Tokyo, Jo Byeong-sik also met with Russian and US representatives but with no result. Russia, too, suspected that the proposal of neutrality had been engineered by Japan with a view to 112 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 promoting its links with Korea and tried to prevent Jo from going to Japan in the first place.33 Meanwhile in Seoul, Sands also made representations to the US and other legations, but these were rejected and his plans for Korean neutrality foundered. Again, the principal cause of this failure was the suspicions that both Japan and Russia held against the proposal due to their own aims for expansion in Korea. In January 1901, Russia made its own suggestion for Korean neutrality on very much the same lines, as if assuming that Korea’s proposal had failed. In an effort to replace the Yamagata-Lobanov pact and build Russo-Japanese relations in Korea, Russia suggested to Japan that the Great Powers should work together to ensure Korean neutrality. It is not clear how these Russian and Korean plans for neutrality, both proposed at around the same time, related to each other. They might appear to be linked in some way considering the fact that, subsequently, both Russia and Korea repeatedly presented such plans for neutrality right up to the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War. So far, however, no records have come to light to support this view. So why did not Korea and Russia collaborate to present their neutrality plans together? In fact, this would have had no chance of success since the proposal and promotion of any joint Korea-Russia links would inevitably have been opposed by Japan. Russia’s proposal for Korean neutrality was rejected by Japan, which saw it as a device to preserve the status quo in Manchuria and remove Japanese influence from Korea.34 At the same time there were positive thinkers led by Komura Jutaro, the Japanese minister in Peking, who emphasized the linkage between Manchuria and Korea by claiming that ‘the Korean question cannot be satisfactorily resolved unless it is linked to the issue of Manchuria, for the Japanese government will never accept Russia’s proposal until Russia also makes Manchuria a neutral territory’.35 Thus, if Korea was to be neutral, Manchuria should be so as well, making Korean neutrality a possibility in exchange for Russian withdrawal from Manchuria. In a way, this was an argument for a Manchuria-Korea bloc. In previous negotiations with Russia, such as in the Nishi-Rosen pact, whenever Japan had adopted the stance of exchanging Korea for Manchuria, the primary focus had been on the Korean question. Seizing on this Russian proposal for Korean neutrality, however, Japan now made clear a shift in policy in which Manchuria and Korea were to be treated in unison.36 It is not clear whether Japan’s argument was just a strategy to force Russia to cede ground on Korea altogether or a change in policy to address the Manchuria issue and resolve that as well. Clearly, however, the conflict between Russia and Japan over the argument for a Manchuria-Korea bloc was a direct cause of the war, so here one can find a direct link between the Korean question and the Russo-Japanese War. In response, Russia evaded Japan’s claim by maintaining that the Manchuria issue should be resolved between Russia and China while insisting that the Korea question was a problem for Russia and Japan. The two approaches to Manchuria and Korea, which Japan viewed together Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 113 and Russia viewed apart, threw the question of Korean neutrality into sharp relief. These were the policies that the two powers would adhere to right up to the outbreak of war, with increasingly little room for compromise. It is not clear how the Korean government, which was not involved in the talks, reacted to these negotiations between Russia and Japan. Subsequently, Russia proposed a neutral zone consisting of all Korean territory north of the 39th parallel. Japan responded by making its own proposal for a neutral zone within a distance of fifty kilometres on either side of the border between Korea and Manchuria, but the two sides failed to reach a compromise.37 Both Japan and Russia can be said to have offered some concessions in an attempt to find a compromise, but the discussion was essentially confined to the arguments that saw Manchuria and Korea as a bloc or separate territories to be exchanged. Viewed logically at least, Japan’s Manchuria-Korea bloc argument reduced the possibility of Korean neutrality. This was because, as long as Japan maintained this stance, Korean neutrality was impossible without a solution to the Manchuria issue, something Korea itself could do nothing to resolve. So in spite of this, why did Korea continue to persist in advocating neutrality? Or in other words, even after the government’s aim of neutrality had been rendered impossible by Japan’s Manchuria- Korea bloc policy, why did it insist on neutrality right up until the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War? One possible explanation for this is that the Korean government of the time saw the conflict between Russia and Japan as being fought not so much over the Korean question but over the Manchuria issue. This is closely related to the question of whether the real reason Russia and Japan went to war was over Manchuria or Korea. This is an issue of such importance that I will address it in more detail in another paper and present just a brief outline here. Russia and Japan’s respective ‘segregation’ and ‘bloc’ arguments over Manchuria and Korea were nominally based on the premise of resolving the Manchuria issue with some scope left for Korean neutrality. Seen schematically, Korean neutrality was a common item of both arguments, with a compromise a possibility depending on how the Manchuria issue was resolved. Logically, therefore, in terms of Russo-Japanese relations, Korean neutrality was a real possibility. Even though Japan had reduced the odds by presenting the Manchuria-Korea bloc argument, it would be inconceivable for the Korean government to have maintained its neutrality policy right up to the Russo-Japanese War unless it believed that this was still an attainable goal. By extension, the Korean government’s efforts to maintain a policy of strict neutrality when war broke out was probably because it held out hope for independence once the conflict had resolved the Manchurian issue.38 This can be surmised from the fact that at the time of the Sino-Japanese War which broke out over the Korean question, Japan demanded not Korea but the cession of Taiwan and the Liaotung Peninsula, and Korean independence, moreover, was outwardly guaranteed. In terms of timing as 114 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 well, this is supported by the fact that Korea’s neutrality policy really developed immediately after the Boxer Rebellion, which had placed a focus on the Manchurian issue. Furthermore, the reports of imminent war between Russia and Japan over the Manchurian issue which spread through Korea between March and April 1901 indicates that the cause of Russo-Japanese conflict was thought to be the Manchurian issue, not the Korean question. Based on these facts, it can be surmised that the Korean government, too, thought that the Manchurian issue, not the Korean question, was the cause of the conflict between Russia and Japan. If at this stage the Korean government had considered the Korean question to be at the root of the conflict between Russia and Japan, a strategy conceivably worth exploring would have been not the neutrality policy but rather an alliance with Russia. This is because the Russians had presented their own proposal for Korean neutrality and because their prime interest was not so much in Korea as Manchuria. In other words, such an alliance would be based on the perception that Russia at least had no territorial designs on Korea.39 This, however, is purely hypothet- ical and is not to reject the view that a policy of neutrality was realistically the only possible strategy open to Korea. Meanwhile, the Anglo-Japanese Alliance was signed in January 1902, and judging from the Franco-Russian statement delivered in response in March, Korea considered that the chances of achieving neutrality had improved.40 The Korean government thought that a balance of power on both sides would bring favourable conditions for neutrality and it showed its strong desire for moving in this direction by then forming a cabinet which placed equal distance between Russia and Japan. With the exception of Russia and Japan, Gojong presented Korea’s plans for neutrality to the other powers including France, the United States, Italy, Germany and Belgium. The strategy was to secure guarantees of the country’s neutrality from these other powers first before gaining the approval of Russia and Japan, the powers with vested interests in Korea. In practice, however, only Germany and Belgium showed any interest. Also at around this time in September 1902, Russia again suggested Korean neutrality to Japan. Of course, these Russian and Korean plans for neutrality were conducted separately, but they met strong resistance from Japan which saw them as a joint project. Tensions between Russia and Japan intensified following the Yongampo incident of May 1903. Faced with the threat of war between the two powers, the Korean government maintained a show of neutrality on the surface, even though conditions were now becoming critical. The argument for neutrality was losing its influence as the government split into different factions, one supporting an alliance with Japan, another advocating alliance with Russia and a third in favour of neutrality.41 The pro-Russian faction led by Lee Geun-Taek promoted a secret Korean-Russian alliance and called on the governor-general of the Russian Far East to send troops. At the same time, Korea’s minister to Japan Lee Ji-Yong led the campaign for a Japanese-Korean alliance. In Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 115 contrast to these developments, Lee Yu-yoku, Gojong’s trusted adviser and leader of the neutrality strategy, strongly opposed an alliance with Japan, which he saw as a threat to Korean independence. At the same time, he was particularly critical of the call for help from Russian troops, and Gojong agreed with him when he insisted that ‘as this crisis concerns China alone, Korea must keep its position of non-involvement. To invite Russian troops into Seoul, therefore, would run the risk instead of bringing calamity to the Korean court.’42 This clearly shows that the perception of Manchuria and not Korea as the cause of Russo-Japanese tensions was a factor in promoting the neutrality policy. Meanwhile, on 14 November 1903, Gojong sent a secret message to Tsar Nicholas II. With Russo-Japanese dialogue breaking down, he wrote that ‘in the event of war, we will cooperate with your country’s army.’ He thus called for ‘even closer cordial relations at this time of impending crisis for Korea.’43 This demonstrates that even while he outwardly championed neutrality, Gojong, was leaning sharply towards a position of dependence on Russia, which was not seen as having any territorial ambitions in Korea, in an effort to contain Japan and protect the country’s independence.44 That Gojong was trying to rely on Russia can be seen also from the fact that at the outset of the war he gave orders to regional officers in the north of Korea to cooperate with Russian troops.45 While maintaining outward support for neutrality, this attitude of his was unquestionably an attempt, in the light of changed conditions, to preserve Korea’s independence at all costs, even if this meant depending on Russia.46 Perhaps we can call the neutrality policy that Gojong had been a central figure in promoting a ‘pro- Russian neutrality policy’. As war loomed at the start of 1904, however, the Korean government was no longer in a position to maintain its neutrality policy. Ultimately, therefore, the government sent out a telegraphic message to the powers on 11 January from Chifu in China to prevent any Japanese interference, declaring that Korea would preserve strict neutrality in the event of war between Russia and Japan. This, of course, differed from the neutrality policy that the Korean government had followed previously, and was just a temporary measure to prevent the country from becoming a battlefield. It was significant, nevertheless, in that it made the Korean government’s stance clear to the international community. In response, some countries sent back positive replies.47 However, from those countries that were in a position to guarantee Korea’s neutrality – Japan, Russia and the United States – there was no reply at all. When war broke out, Japan insisted that the Korean government must ignore its declaration of neutrality and sub- scribe to a Japanese-Korean alliance, which was duly signed on 23 February 1904. This stipulated, in much the same way as had happened in the Sino-Japanese War, that Korea must become an ally of Japan and the neutrality policy be abandoned. Russia protested that the Korean government was trying to sign a secret alliance with Japan. At the same time, it rejected Korea’s wartime neutrality, insisting that, as it did not 116 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 have the power to ensure its own neutrality, it should be dependent on Russia instead.48 Gojong was nevertheless heartened by the positive responses from countries like France to hold out the hope that neutrality might still be possible.49 Newspapers of the time also reported that, since the war was an issue between Russia and Japan, Korean independence could indeed be protected.50 This shows how deeply Gojong cared for the illusion of a neutrality policy and the extent of his misunderstanding about the war. In other words, it reveals that he continued to harbour the mistaken belief that the Manchurian issue and not the Korean question was the true cause of the Russo-Japanese War.

CONCLUSION Korea’s neutrality policy was formed after the strategy of dependence on Russia broke down, accompanied by the construction of the containment mechanism between Russia and Japan. In practice, however, it proved extremely difﬁcult to realize due to Japan’s argument for a Manchuria-Korea bloc. And yet, the Korean government adhered to this neutrality policy right up to the Russo-Japanese War, a stance closely linked to its inability fully to understand the nature of the conﬂict. In other words, it believed that the causes of the confrontation between Russia and Japan lay in the Manchurian issue, not the Korean question. By extension, it never lost hope that a Korean neutrality policy might be achieved if only the Manchuria issue was resolved. This shows how the Russo-Japanese War appeared in the eyes of the ruling class in Korea. Essentially, Korea’s neutrality policy was based on the premise of breaking its links with Russia in 1898 and no more cooperation between the two countries in real terms. In the process that led to the Russo- Japanese War, however, the Korean government continued to pursue a diplomatic strategy that effectively leaned towards Russia. Two overlapping points can be raised to justify such an interpretation. Firstly, both Russia and Korea repeatedly proposed neutrality policies; and secondly, Gojong took an anti-Japanese and pro-Russian stance during the war. Finally, it may be added that the Korean neutrality policy which developed in the space between Russia and Japan was not enough to prevent the war. It can nevertheless be seen in its own terms since it did not allow Russia or Japan any pretext for going to war either. In this sense, it could even be asked in the context of rising tensions between Russia and Japan how effective the neutrality policy actually was as a strategy for preventing the outbreak of war. This is a question to be addressed in another paper.

NOTES 1 The ofﬁcial name of the country at this time was ‘Great Korean Empire’. In general it is known as Choson, but for the sake of convenience I use Korea in this paper. Korea’s Neutrality Policy and the Russo-Japanese War 117

2 There has been much research on Korea’s neutrality policy. A systematic presentation can be found in Kim Chang-su 1997. 3 See Gang Dong-guk 2004. 4 Gang Dong-guk 2004a. 5 Kokushi Hensan Iinkai, Dobun iko, vol.4, 1978, supplementary volume – Envoy Kim Hongjip’s observations. 6 Kim So-ryeong 2001: 34–5. 7 Doklip Sinmun, 29.2.1899. 8 Kim, ‘Yongampo Sakeon’. This thesis argues that Korea’s response to the Yongampo incident was part of Gojong’s pro-Russian approach in order to contain the influence of Japan. Also Kim Won-su 1997. This thesis takes the view that the Russians’ action in the Yongampo incident was a preventative measure to stop the Japanese advance on Euiju. Kim Do-hyeong 2000: 17. 9 See Lee Sung-hwan, ‘Nichiro senso to Chosen minzoku shugi no zazetsu’ [The Russo-Japanese War and the collapse of Korean nationalism], Gunji shigaku, vol.40, no.1. 10 See Kim Hyeon-Sook 1998: 230–8. 11 Ibid.: 232–4. 12 The first to counsel links between Korea and Russia was the German Paul Georg von Mollendorff, the first foreign adviser appointed by the Korean government in December 1882 following the recommendation of Li Hongzhang. 13 Details of this incident can be found in Gwon Mu-hyeok 1994. 14 Japan was seen as having been behind this Russian action. Moreover, this anti- Russian sentiment was just a temporary phenomenon and in time it was recognized that Korea had no choice but to seek Russian support. Bak Jong-hyo, trans., 2002: 4–5. 15 Ibid.: 245. Fearing a loss in its power as a result of such Korean action the Russian Legation in Korea considered occupying Gensan but did not carry this out. 16 Mackenzie 1987: 92. 17 Woo Cheul-gu 1989: 143. 18 Song Geum-yeong 2005: 287. 19 Gaimusho, ed. 1965: 175–6. 20 Choe Mun-hyeong 2004: 83. 21 Song Geum-yeong 2005: 286. 22 Clyde 1927: 190; Malozemoff 1958: 88; Choe Mun-hyeong 2001: 211; Song 2005: 145. 23 Gwon, 1994: 148. 24 The Times, 1.9.1899. 25 Eom Chan-ho 2002: 90. 26 Kim Ok-geun 1992: 46–8; Seo In-han 1996: 119. 27 Hyeon Gwang-ho 2002: Chapter 4 ff. 28 Lee Tae-in 2000: 387–9. 29 Hwangseong Sinmun, 30.7.1890. 30 See Kim Chang-su 1997. 31 Sands 1930: 120–124; Kim Hyeon-suk 1998: 170. 32 Bak Hee-ho 1997: 121. 118 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

33 Moriyama 1987: 125–6. 34 Gu Dae-yeol 1999: 39. 35 Gaimusho, ed. 1956: 527. 36 Seok Hwa-jeong 1999. 37 Gaimusho, ed. 1956, 36, Book 1: 22–3 & 27–8. 38 Daehanmaeil Sinbom, 19 October 1904, ‘Jeonjaeng Ihu Hyeongpyeon’ [Post-war outlook]. The Korea Daily News, 14.11.1904, ‘Korea’s Future’; An Jung-geon 1979: 133. 39 The Russian Foreign Ministry and Army Ministry gave priority to the view that maintaining Korean independence was desirable until such time as Russia had gained a ﬁrmly established status in the Far East. Bak Jong-hyo, trans. 2002: 268–9 & 276. 40 Horace Allen papers no.7–2 / [microform.367], 9 October 1902, p.486 (Korean Assembly Library). 41 Hyeon Gwang-ho 2001: 177. 42 Hankook Guksa Pyeonchan Wiwonhoe, ed. 1991: 431–3; Gaimusho, ed., 1957, 36, ch.1: 767. 43 Seo Yeong-hee 2003: 140. 44 Ibid.: 143. 45 Hankook Guksa Pyeonchan Wiwonhoe, ed. 1987: I: 109. 46 Gojong’s leaning towards Russia during this period was inﬂuenced by the Belgian Conseilles Deleoigue who served as an adviser to the Korean government with the support of Russia and France from the summer of 1903 until January 1905. Kim Hyeon-Sook 1998: 179–80. 47 Korea University Asia Munje Yeonguso, ed. 1965: II: 118 & 618. 48 Kim Jeong-myeong, ed. 1965, V: 31. There is a Russian record, however, which holds that Russia actually approved Korea’s neutral stance: Bak Jong-hyo, trans. 2002: 101–2. 49 Gojong instructed Korean Minister to France Bun Ei-san to consult with the French government on the rights and duties of neutrality. Lee Chang-hun 1986: 112. 50 Hwangseong Sinmun, 13.2.1904. 9 Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War

JOHN FERRIS

Follow the Japanese fighter where we may he commands our reasoned admiration. Are the Germans more thorough, have the French more dash, are the English more stubborn, or the Dutch more slim? The Russians are out of luck to have encountered and first proved the mettle of such a foe. The Russians have been beaten – to put it with brutal frankness – because their army, though good, is not good enough for the Japanese. Patriotism, valour, constancy, are all fine qualities, and the Russians yield to none in their possession; but all are wasted in modern war if not united with intelligence – and here Russia fails.– Colonel Charles à Court Repington, Military Correspondent, The Times, 1904.1

uring the Russo-Japanese War, British observers assessed Japan and Dits power.2 Soldiers discussed cultural issues and correspondents military ones: indeed, journalists, some retired ofﬁcers or old hands from British campaigns, wrote stories like military estimates, with their political sympathies plain. Both sets of observers used impressionistic interpretations to explain a new phenomenon to a home audience. This paper discusses their observations about the war, and how they shaped views at home. It will assess perceptions and the process of perception, and the interactions between military and cultural history. As the war began, one correspondent in Tokyo urged Britain to use ‘the unique opportunity afforded by the present situation for studying the development of an immense military enterprise’.3 So it did. Britain, as ally to Japan, had unusual access to events, and aimed to exploit it. Where other foreign states attached one to four ofﬁcers to the Imperial 120 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Japanese Army (IJA), fifteen Commonwealth officers observed the war, including senior ones from Britain, like W.G. Nicholson, head of British Military Intelligence, one of his leading staff officers, Aylmer Haldane, and a well-known general, Ian Hamilton; junior officers, attached to the IJA to learn the Japanese language, and Canadian and Australian personnel. The Commonwealth contingent almost equalled that from every other major power combined, and outnumbered the five British officers attached to the Russian side. So too, British journalists comprised almost half of the international press corps reporting on the war from Japan. These observers were divided in many ways. Soldiers steered wide of journalists – Nicholson ‘particularly warned the officers under my orders to have as little to do with these gentlemen as possible’.4 The leading journalistic commentator on the war, the London-based Military Correspondent of The Times, Charles Repington, an ex-officer made to retire after a scandal, was mistrusted by many of his late confreres (Morris 1999: 1–10). In its efforts to cover the war, a Times reporter, Lionel James, on a specially equipped ship in neutral waters, sent wireless reports home on events at sea. These reports, ostensibly using a radio system neither side could intercept and not published in London until 36 to 48 hours after filing, were of intelligence value to both sides. James’s penchant for reporting on tsarist naval movements outside Port Arthur, prompted a threat of arrest by Russia, and treatment as a spy. The British Admiralty thought that threat a good thing, alarmed by the precedent of ‘press steamers fitted with wireless telegraphy apparatus’ monitoring its own wars at sea.5 Nicholson described the Australian observer, Colonel Hoad, as ‘an officer of inferior education and small military capacity, but much political favour. . . . He is in fact a typical product of a military system which is more a pretence than a reality, and which is run on political lines.’6 Not many trusted Hamilton. Haldane condemned Nicholson for failure to overcome the Japanese delays in getting officers to the front, while Hamilton spitefully noted, ‘I can hardly believe in Nick actually taking the field & marching, & bivouacing in ice & snow. Nor does rice & rotten fish seem quite a “suitable” diet for our lascivious friend.’7 And Nicholson, stricken by six weeks in Manchuria, did return early to Tokyo. Several matters restricted their view of the war, especially the limits to British comprehension of Japanese language. Only the language officers had any grasp of Japanese, usually a limited one. When Haldane tried to learn Japanese, he noted, ‘the Japanese must think queerly as their expressions when translated literally into English are meaningless.’ When British officers talked with Japanese generals, ‘some giggling went on, as the soldiers do more of that than serious talk’ . . . The sailors – curiously enough – do not giggle and (the Minister of the Navy) Yamamoto, who understood but could not talk English, talked seriously for 20 minutes on hopes and prospects.’8 Ian Hamilton thought the language ‘awful and I fear it is not much use tackling it seriously’.9 These officers, and all journalists, trusted in translators. Again, Japanese obstruction kept most observers from the front until July to September 1904, when the war was half over, which Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War 121 angered and divided them.10 Some observers left long before the war ended. Japanese censorship of messages on campaign angered journalists and attachés, causing correspondents to become less pro-Japanese, and Haldane to hold his tongue until back in Tokyo, ‘as at the front the Japanese would have read what I had written, and in consequence perhaps have given me less information, and in any case would have given me matter which could not lay them open to criticism’.11 Elsewhere, self-censorship reigned. Hamilton kept critical comments from his letters out of his book. Repington later admitted that his articles were ‘necessarily influenced and coloured’ by the fact that ‘every one whose duty it was to comment on these great events in the British press was bound, from first to last, to keep before his eyes the terms of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902, and to write nothing which might directly or indirectly serve the cause of Russia or injure that of Japan’. (Repington 1905: x) These observations were shaped by a framework of ideas and images, especially about race, but in no simple manner. Edwardian views of ‘race’ and ‘races’ are best understood not through schematic definition, but by focusing on their vagueness, contradictions and range of argument.12 In modern usage, racism means the idea that a people must evince certain characteristics, invariably or statistically, for genetic rather than environmental reasons. Edwardians did not share our sense of genetics, nor those of scientific racists. Where Theodore Roosevelt Jr. spoke ‘of races, not nations’, generally, they used ‘race’ as a euphemism for ‘nation’, within a loose discourse of ‘national characteristics’. (Cf. Cannadine 2001) The latter mostly were described as stemming from environment. Without notice or noticing, Edwardians used the same words in different ways, discussing genetics or culture without differentiating between them. One could mean genetics when discussing national characteristics, or culture when talking race. Edwardian ideas of race stemmed more from a grotesque extension of concepts of national characteristics than from the usual suspects, ideas like classical or scientific racism, or social darwinism. The latter did shape ideas of national or racial characteristics, but less so than did observation of behaviour during sports or work or war. These ideas took the form of images. Those images could change. Images, means by which people picture and interpret evidence on things, are complex, inchoate, multiple, overlapping, conflicting and unstable. They are built from many ideas about specific issues, joined into greater wholes. Rarely is there just one image of any nation’s characteristics, because no single one easily explains everything. In order to explain most things, several images co-exist at any time, like cards in a deck, some hidden, others in play. They tend to swing between two poles, which embody binary forms of categorization – good or bad, male or female, weak or strong, malevolent or arrogant. Images are most stable and numerous regarding issues one thinks one understands, least so regarding matters about which one knows little. After sudden or surprising experiences, images can be replaced by others, including their opposites. In Edwardian Britain, this often occurred in war. It did so during this war. 122 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Between 1856 and 1895, Britons rarely thought of Japan. Its prevailing images were the barbarian, toyland (exotic-feminine-diminutive), or student, eager, gauche, promising but derivative. Between 1895 and 1903 new images emerged: a negative but weak one, referring to the yellow peril, ruthless, treacherous, a deep but hidden threat; and a stronger image of manliness; but the predominant one remained toyland. In Britain, the Russo-Japanese War shufﬂed that image to the bottom of the deck and the manly one to the top. The negative one stayed more in the deck than it did on the continent, but its latent strength was revealed by British anger about Japanese deviousness in delaying their movement to the front. As Haldane wrote:

I believe nothing I hear when stated by a Japanese for we have had too many yarns spun to us to put faith in what they say. It is, however, as well to have had this experience as otherwise my first and incorrect opinion of this people would not have been entirely falsified . . . They are idiotically mysterious about things that are known to all the world and it is almost impossible to get on intimate terms with them . . . They are orientals and must be treated firmly and not like honest Englishmen.13

The manly image rested on a deliberate contrast of contradictory principles, implicitly suggesting a synthesis: feudalism – modernity, ancient culture – industry, east – west, static– dynamic. The roots of Japanese behaviour invariably were described as environmental, not genetic. Echoing a Victorian fashion, commentators used archiac language, comparing Japanese to favoured warriors of ancient days, like Spartiates. One journalist wrote that despite ‘wonderful changes . . . we are often reminded that old Japan is still with us, and that its survival adds not merely a picturesque, but also a noble, element to the character of the nation’.14 Another noted regarding Japanese surgery, ‘this extraordinary people . . . seem to combine the hardihood of an almost prehistoric period with a skill and intelligence of an age yet to come’. (Ashmead- Bartlett 1906: 110) The negative image treated Japan as wholly eastern; the manly one, as eastern and western. It pictured Japanese as modern, hence white, more so than Russians. This image rested on two naive tendencies. It took Meiji ideology for the tradition and reality of Japan, and described Japanese behaviour as an idealized version of characteristics Britons admired. They compared the reality of Britain to its reflection in the mirror of Japan; the idealization looked better. Much of this image also was self-referential. In effect, Britons transferred their own positive self-image to Japan, an island ally fighting a common foe. Thus, journalists often called Japanese soldiers ‘tommies’. (Wilkinson 2001: 41) This happened because the only strong image of Japan, toyland, no longer applied, and a new one was needed. Observers, striving to understand something significant and unexpected, grasped for stereotypes like drowning men, while those with knowledge tended to be Japanophiles Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War 123 hoping to build Japan up. B.H. Chamberlain, the leading English scholar of Japan, and an able one, knew many Japanese traditions were inven- tions, but also made rhapsodic statements about their military perform - ance. (Chamberlain 1905) The self-referential image was reinforced later as journalists and military commentators used Japan as a model for Britain. Edwardians placed peoples on a scale, Britons on top and Africans at bottom: but intermediate rankings were less clear. Though Europeans stood at the upper end of the scale and most Asians in the middle, by 1903 the British rated the Japanese alongside many white races and by 1905, before Slavs and equal at least to the leading Latins. They ranked peoples by a synthesis of four elements, combining power with progress: the ability to handle technology; civilization (ethical and religious standards); military prowess, manliness and leadership. The point was strength not in one element, but in the whole, where even negative matters could play a positive part. After meeting Japanese officers, the American President, Theodore Roosevelt, said General Kuroki ‘had a fine face, a face which according to our ideas was one not only of daring and resolution but of great intelligence and benevolence; while certain of the men with him tho’ evidently good fighting men, may perfectly well have borne high rank in the armies of Genghis Khan’.15 This touch of the tar- brush added to a manly image. The British ranked Japanese high in these parts, and the whole. In assessing Asians, they distinguished between masses and elites: con- ventionally, peoples were praised and leaders damned. Here, Japanese were respected, unlike Turks or Chinese. As a journalist, Valentine Chirol, wrote about the Sino-Japanese War of 1894 ‘There can scarcely be a stronger proof of the moral bankruptcy of China than her inability to produce a single man at such a crisis in her fortunes’, while Japan had many. (Chirol 1896: 20) During 1904–05, Britons invariably referred to Japanese leaders with respect, and applied the Victorian cult of the naval hero to Admiral Togo Heihachiro. Russian leadership was condemned – it had, wrote Repington, too few good officers ‘to leaven the lump’.16 Again, clearly the Japanese had progressed, and could combine modern technology with manliness in war. The turning point from the toyland image came when Britons observed Japanese military prowess in 1894. When reference was made even to the touchstone of Christianity, British commentators, including the Anglican Bishop Awdry of South Tokyo, praised Japanese civilization and its religions.17 As The Times noted, when refuting the idea of the yellow peril:

Japan has done what no other Oriental nation has ever made even an honest attempt to do. She has effectually and completely reformed herself from within, and the mere fact that she has accomplished this transformation, which is absolutely unique in the history of mankind, is a palpable and conclusive proof that she is not as they are. For years 124 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

the nations of the West have been exhorting the peoples of the East to tread in their footsteps, to copy their civilization, and to adopt the great leading principles of their moral code. The Japanese alone have hear- kened to this counsel.18

Meanwhile, correspondents deliberately humanized Japanese soldiers. Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett emphasized their ‘love of fun and joke’. Their self- sacrifice stemmed not from ‘something almost supernatural in his nature’; they loved life. ‘In reality, he is a very ordinary person, like the private of most other armies.’ (Ashmead-Bartlett 1906: 477, 480–81) Another noted how Japanese soldiers in the field celebrated with festivals and paper flowers:

It is as natural for the soldiers of this ever-victorious army to do these things as it is for them to fight. The inconsistency, as it seems to us who have settled deeply into the ruts of the steam age, would have been less palpable to some of our ancestors of medieval times, who, one day, went forth to slash at their enemies regardless of quarter, and on another day, devoted themselves to such trivialities of manners and polite accomplishments in the presence of ladies as are now practised only by a few social butterflies. Those tourists ‘doing’ Japan who cannot yet regard the toyland as the home of the gamest and most enduring of warriors might have seen here the same men who sat for hours fashioning the petals of an iris blossom stripped to a breechclout and devoting their strong limbs with primeval fury to winning a prize in a wrestling tournament . . . This army that fights in a European way and wears European clothes enjoyed itself in a thoroughly Japanese way . . . In his tour of the sights no soldier overlooked the altar, where he made his obeisance to his Shinto gods. This worship of his country with its honourable mountains, waterfalls, and gardens, must have appealed to him on this day, when a dreary waste of verdure-bare hills and kao- liang fields underneath flags and fluttering pennons spoke of the characteristics of the land for which so many of his comrades had fallen; for which, according to his idea, he joyfully lives; for which he will joyfully die. On one of the crests a half-circle of red blankets hung on a scaf- folding represented the sun whose goddess gave birth to the first of the Emperors. On that trellised hillside with its arbours, or on one of the bits of landscape work on the plain, was a vista quite like that which he saw daily at home. My servant kept pointing to the far end of the field and saying ‘Matsushima’. Then he would laugh that little inscrutable Japanese laugh which is equally characteristic of army commanders and Parliamentary leaders. My Oshima comes from Matsushima. Finally we went there and saw the susbstitute which a division had created for the sea and islands of one of the spots noted in the guidebooks for its surpassing beauty. Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War 125

There was a corner of the little gardens which brought home to me most clearly what this war means to all – a scene with which all are familiar, many as husbands and fathers. Here were the ﬁgures of Japanese women picking irises, while in the background was a farmer, and tugging at his hand was his little boy, who had gone to meet him as he returned from the day’s toil. The Emperor, so runs the Japanese idea, has given us this paradise – which was made by the industrious hands of his subjects – to dwell in: and in return for the happiness he gives us we must be happy in dying for him and for the continued happiness of those who follow us. That same skill which was devoted to making waterfalls and paper ﬂowers, that trick of ready improvisation, with the patriotic determination at the back of it all, will be turned tomorrow into scouting the dead spaces in front of the enemy’s works and to desperate charges in the night. ‘But what good is the happy land to the man who falls?’, the casuist may ask. And the only answer is that this point of view does not win battles or keep the gardens at home sacred to your wives and children for generations to come.19

Upon arriving in Japan, British soldiers also were charmed by images of toyland. Hamilton wrote, ‘It is too funny being in Japan. It is just as if you fell into a trance & found yourself living in a Japanese fan or candle shade. Absolutely the same. The funniest, dearest little girls walking about smiling in little high wooden slippers or leaning in the conventional attitude against bronze vases or something equally suitable. The temples, the trees, the ships, the houses, the lanterns. It is all what one imagined but hardly dared hope it would be.’20 Haldane wrote, ‘The streets are the same in appearance everywhere and full of shops just like each other, almost all built of wood and like large doll’s house. Those that have not their goods displayed have a low stage on which the owners sit on beautifully clean fibre mats. Everything looks exquisitely clean. The only warming arrangement is large brass or bronze pots, like large flower pots (hibachis) full of charcoal. The streets are very level and clean and the small amount of traffic helps to keep them so. The hedges where there are any are beautifully trimmed, and where there are no hedges there are bamboo fences.’ ‘It is pleasant being among a people who are so quiet – no street cries, except a rare seller of newspapers, or a hand-cart with a steam apparatus on it which keeps up a continuous feeble whistle to let the inhabitants know that the apparatus for cleaning their pipes is at hand. Children do not seem to cry and are carried on the backs of women and children bigger than themselves, and seem quite happy.’ ‘There is no crowd so sweet as a Japanese one.’21 Observers were charmed by the people, and impressed, as Hamilton noted, ‘by the calm, steady way with which they go on with their ordinary business with these tremendous events happening’.22 One journalist noted ‘a deep determination which is not demonstrative. The Japanese have entered upon the struggle with clenched teeth.’ Another wrote: 126 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Considering the great contrast that exists between the apparent strength of the two belligerents, people in England will probably expect to hear of much excitement and even trepidation in Japan. There is nothing of the kind, however: nothing visible at all events. Everything is placid, everyone is unperturbed, as usual. The language of the newspapers is not violent, deﬁant, or timid. Their prominent tone is one of relief and satisfaction that the period of injurious hesitation is at an end, and that action is to take the place of talk, which they never trusted. For two or three hours before a regiment marches from its barracks to entrain at a neighbouring station there is bustle, there are some tearful eyes of mothers and wives, and there are cheering crowds. But almost before the echo of the men’s war song has become inaudible, the place that may never see them again has reverted to its old life of patient resolution and undemonstrative endurance. Of course the Japanese expect to win. They have left nothing undone, nor neglected any precaution to ensure success. But it has all been unostentatious, and the calm with which they face this stupendous crisis in their national career is as remarkable as the secrecy that has enveloped all their preparations.23

George Sansom, who first entered Japan in 1904 as a British consul in training and later became an eminent scholar of Japan, said fifty years later: ‘A curious thing – looking back – although they were greatly excited and pleased, at that time they were not vainglorious. They were happy in the success, but not boastful. They were rather modest about it. Quite impressive, really.’24 These observers also assessed military institutions and operations, from which they sought to derive lessons. This was no easy matter. Few people learn by others’ errors: most do so only after making the same mistake twice. Observations of foreign wars always are limited, and subject to the third party problem. When one sees others trying to solve problems for which one already has a solution, one may go wrong by underrating their quality or difficulties, or the limits to one’s response. Estimates always compare others to oneself. Mistakes about any party may wreck the whole; if one exaggerates what one can do, one may know how another army fights but not why, and thus miss key lessons. What one expects is simpler to see than what one does not. It is easy to learn details about known matters; harder to extrapolate along the trends of ‘known unknowns’; hardest to understand ‘unknown unknowns’. Observations must be interpreted and plugged into predictions about trends in war, where they serve as an input to policy; which is formulated through politics. Nor were the right lessons easy to draw from this war. Europeans took it and the belligerents seriously. They thought it a modern conflict, and that all foreigners could learn lessons from Japanese. They thought Russian forces mediocre and Japanese ones good, that the navies applied sound tactics with obsolescent kit, while the armies used modern Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War 127 equipment in old fashioned ways. Yet the circumstances at sea were unlike anything in Europe – as though Britain could trap the German fleet at Willhelmshaven and take it by siege, while checking its army in Hanover. On land, neither side could establish for long a thick front with high force to space ratios and firepower. The operations around Port Arthur were seen as a special case, of an obsolete approach toward besieg- ing a fortification, rather than an illustration of how fire would affect men and movement. Everyone generalized on that matter from the operations of armies with low firepower, force to space ratios and casualties, and open fronts, where a few battles could end a war, and stalemate be sidestepped, far more even than on the eastern front between 1914–18. Few drew the correct generalizations about the killing effect of defensive firepower, or the cost and length of major war.25 In 1904, an island overthrew a continent by seapower. This interested Britain. Through confusion and accident, however, it did not fully exploit its chance to observe the war. It had no naval attaché in Tokyo for part of the conflict and attached just three RN officers to the Imperial Japanese Navy (IJN). They missed much of its hardest times while seeing its easiest ones, including the turkey shoot off Tsushima. Their reports were good on technical issues, less so on tactical ones. Thus, preconception and observation of the battle of the Yellow Sea led the Naval Attaché, Captain Pakenham, to denounce centralized fire control for warships. Still, the RN gained much useful data from the IJN by watching it. Some points confirmed expectation, for example, that battles would occur at long range, or provided empirical evidence on known unknowns, such as how wireless or mines would affect naval dispositions, or coastal operations; others were unclear. All entered a debate on fundamentals within a factionalized navy, driven by Admiral John Fisher’s attempts to reshape the fleet on his terms. His views about trends in seapower shaped his reading of these reports, and this idiosyncratic combination of preconception and interpretation governed policy. Though often through unspoken influence, these reports shaped Fisher’s planning between 1905 and 1915, especially his ideas to rely on mines and torpedoes for close warfare off the German coast.26 The RN’s assessment of this conflict and its own policy for future war had weaknesses, far outweighed by successes, in part because only extraordinary errors could sink so strong a seapower. In any case, the war was most influential at subliminal levels, by reinforcing British confidence in how a navy and seapower could shape a continental war. Thus, Repington noted: ‘The threat of invasion by way of the sea is the most terrible weapon in the armoury of national strategy, if its use is properly understood and the weapon deftly wielded ... The Japanese are singeing the Viceroy’s beard with a vengeance . . . the Russians for the first time in their history are getting an attack of nerves. That is the usual result of the defensive against a maritime Power in a position to strike with both hands.’27 These comments and confidence had truth, but emotional identification with navies and Japan, led Britons to overrate how fast and far seapower could affect a continental 128 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 conflict. Corbett’s Official History emphasized the slow and indecisive nature of these operations, and the IJN’s difficulties against even an inferior fleet in a vulnerable position; but this was a minority position. (Corbett, 1914, Vol.I: 107, 290, 384–6, passim.) Military observers too viewed operations through the prism of preconception. In particular, they sought to determine how far the lessons they thought they had derived from the Boer War would be repeated in Manchuria. The answer to that question was important to British debates about how to prepare for their own next war. The most influential of these officers, Ian Hamilton, believed these campaigns had identical lessons, for example, that cavalry was more effective as mounted infantry than in launching charges with sword, while high explosive shell was ‘only morally effective against unseasoned troops’.28 Others had different views. Haldane felt ‘there will be much to be learned from this war, and, as a great deal of what we did in South Africa was wrong and not calculated to teach one to wage war quickly and successfully, I think that our impressions may be corrected, and I am quite open to imbibe new ideas as our infantry, as at present instructed, does not strike me as right’.29 In the decade before the war, the reputation of the IJA was mixed. In 1895, one military attaché assessed the IJA more favourably than British officers would have done any other non-western army, or many western ones. Captain Du Boulay thought cavalry and artillery below the British standard. Infantrymen were ‘bad shots, but otherwise . . . good soldiers’, courageous, hardy, good marchers and intelligent, whose units moved with speed and discipline. IJA officers were well trained, if overly concerned with theory.30 So too, in 1896–7, two British officers praised Japanese infantry and artillery but thought their cavalry ‘useless’.31 In 1900, Claude MacDonald, British minister to China and commander of the Peking Legation during the Boxer rebellion, thought his Japanese soldiers able and courageous, and their work ‘splendid’.32 In 1896, however, British officials reporting on the Formosan uprising noted that Japanese soldiers ‘broke & fled in different directions & were slain like sheep’. ‘They have not during this outbreak, the first occasion on which, since the beginning of the war with China, they have come into collision with superior forces, distinguished themselves for courage, and the rebels have now lost all idea of their invincibility.’33 In 1898, the French Military Attaché, Count Pimodan, thought Japanese soldiers perhaps superior in ‘training and intelligence’ to Russian ones, but not in discipline or physique. ‘The Russian officers he considered to be greatly superior in knowledge of their profession and capacity of turning into account ... (Pimodan) was convinced that Japanese troops would come off second best in a conflict with an equal number of European troops’, unless directed by allied European generals. ‘Of course their campaign against China must be looked upon as a game of chess without an adversary’.34 So too, in 1902, the British Naval Attaché in Tokyo, Captain Troubridge, thought ‘the Japanese army would be unequal to the task of Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War 129 coping with the Russian army. It is an unpleasant fact that among Europeans out here it is the practically unanimous opinion that the value of the Japanese army as a fighting force is much overrated, in short that they have won their reputation very cheap, and that at the first shock with European troops they would “crumple up”. I cannot speak of that of my own knowledge, but it is the opinion of our military attache, and according to him, of all the foreign attachés.’35 Conversely, his minister, MacDonald, just transferred from Peking, thought ‘the Japanese infantry in time of war are second to none in the world’. Foreign observers rated Japanese forces as mediocre to decent in quality, their strength being infantry, their weakness being generalship. During the war, British assessments of the IJA rose, in a complex fashion, affected by their views of the proper way to fight and by some contempt for Russians, whom they thought too passive and unable to hold good ground. This raised the questions, how far were the British watching a bad Russian army as against a good Japanese one? and how far could general lessons be drawn from the clash between these two armies? In November 1904, the senior British observer in Russia commented:

I formerly imagined that the almost bovine lethargy of the average Russian peasant rendered him too unemotional to give way in a panic –but from my recent experience they are as susceptible to them as any other troops are on earth .... As one of my colleagues summed up, these men are not soldiers they are simply armed peasants. The Rank and File are hardy, brave, obedient, and enduring, but they seem devoid of Military instinct, and seem to regard this Campaign at least, as a disagreeable necessity. The Officers are far and away the weakest point, and are not only very deficient in the line Regiments, in birth and breeding, but the personnel is also deficient in point of numbers . . . our good Indian Troops are decidedly more than a match for any equal Force of the Army to which I am attached . . . Japanese prisoners – generally wounded – seem well clothed and particularly clean and smart, even severely wounded men pulling themselves together and saluting officers whom they may encounter.36

Across the front a language officer, a gunner, emphasized the Russians were fighting poorly. Tough terrain forced the Japanese ‘to discard all the advantages they have from superior “fighting skill” and go in for night fighting, where not much tactics are required, and in which thoroughly defeating your enemy and effectively pursuing him is almost impossible, especially be he a Russian’. ‘The Japanese infantry are good, but I think our artillery could teach both Japanese and Russians a good deal.’ ‘The cut and dried plans of the Japanese have never been seriously interfered with nor have their telephones been cut, though an enterprising army could have made their line of communications through the mountains 130 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 a far more difficult proposition.’37 Journalists were struck by the combination of Japanese self-sacrifice and bullheadness. At Port Arthur, ‘the Japanese endeavoured to combine modern weapons and methods of attack with unprecedented carnage’; on the Liau-yang, ‘the sole spirit of the Japanese tactics . . . was sledge-hammer frontal attacks. That General Oku commands the finest infantry in the world I am satisfied, and I do not believe that any other army could in five consecutive days deliver eight unsuccessful general infantry assaults, and still persevere.’ Repington thought ‘the Japanese seem to be people of curiously fixed ideas and to have only a single plan of campaign in their heads’.38 So too, Haldane believed Japanese infantry first rate – ‘the men will win against odds that most armies would not care to face’ – but its generals ‘mediocre’, lacking in boldness or decisiveness, bound to ‘bungle’ and ‘waste time at the wrong points’.

The reason of this failure of the Generals is the family system in this country where the individual is sacriﬁced for the good of the family. Thus no individuality of character is produced and there is little origi- nality in the race. All is wonderful copying. I don’t think the Japanese will be a nation that will go far in consequence. They have not the genius among them to do so. There are few very clever men, but the whole nation lacks that knowledge of science and other deep subjects which have produced great minds in the West. They are a people, as it were, suddenly born into the world who have not had time to go into the causes as have the nations in the West. They therefore only concern themselves with things of immediate utility and have gone about the world copying what is best suited to themselves but not absorbing very deeply or having had the basic training in ﬁnding out things for themselves, such as those they have found ready to hand and have copied. In consequence, they have not got the intellect of the West. Their leaders, on land and on sea, have not reliance on themselves and never undertake the least risk and the man who will not do that cannot in the end be great and may be a great failure. I do not think they will lose the present war but they can’t win, say the next if they have one . . . Their battles are run by Councils of War and not by individuals and Councils of War have always been Councils of weakness.39

Haldane, the toughest British critic of the IJA, still thought them good by any standard, and better than almost anyone had thought before 1904. Other observers were even more impressed, praising Japanese soldiers for a high synthesis of intelligence and initiative, courage, discipline and hardiness. The two most influential observers were particularly enthusiastic, Repington in The Times, and Hamilton in his reports, and a book which became an international best seller, A Staff Officer’s Scrap Book. On reaching Tokyo, Hamilton was ‘immensely struck with the fore- thought, completeness, wisdom, economy’ of the IJA and ‘by the discipline combined with patriotic fire of their personnel’. ‘Given competent Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War 131 leadership they will thrash an equal number of any European army excepting always the British army at its best.’ The infantry were ‘superb, the artillery good & the cavalry indifferent’. The Generals were ‘still youngish men’ with recent experience of modern war. ‘In fighting an ounce of practice is worth a ton of theory . . . The junior officers are intensely keen with a high standard of honour & with the respect of their men’, who ‘are solid – wonderfully disciplined – at the same time they are not merely mechanical but possess the native fighting instinct and quickness & initiative so especially necessary under modern conditions of great dispersion. They are intensely patriotic.’ Before he saw the front, Hamilton predicted Japanese success. When he got there, he thought ‘the Japanese infantry are simply superb. There is none better in the world. Whether as marchers-climbers-carriers of heavy kit-marksmen and plucky fighters they would be hard to beat, if indeed they could be beat at all by equal numbers under equal conditions. The Russians are disappointing as soldiers. They seem to have absolutely no go or initiative and the men are not well trained as individuals & probably could not be really well trained as they have not the intelligence. They have however one very fine military quality. They are not easily discouraged or demoralized.’40 Britain learned more from the Russo-Japanese War than anyone but the belligerents. Its observers provided intelligent reports which the services interpreted and applied effectively. Their histories of the campaign were excellent – that of Corbett is a classic of seapower as history and strategy. The war occurred when the army and navy were rethinking all aspects of war and policies. It influenced their thought and actions by reinforcing preexisting ideas and policies, useful enough, since these were good to excellent, while the services were open to persuasion on known unknowns, like the role of radio and telephone in war. Observation of foreign forces, however, could not change basic views, only British experience, for good or ill. The RN ignored Pakenham’s views on centralized fire control because that was key to Fisher’s concept of the battle-cruiser: so too, the arme blanche school credited the absence of cavalry charges to the incompetence of both sides rather than its obsolescence. (De Groot 1988: 94–113) Both services missed lessons about unknown unknowns which emerged from the campaign rather than battles, such as how slow and costly attritional war could be, and how hard to avoid. These observations contributed to debate and to action, varying with each service. Fisher forced his views on the RN and applied these lessons straight to construction programmes, warship designs and war plans. His Navy gained much from its correct readings and lost little from its bad ones. It was so strong that it could set the rules for seapower, reducing the price paid for mistakes. Even if it misconstrued the lessons about the value of capital ships or the nature of fleet engagements, this error was nullified because everyone followed its example. It was well prepared for a prolonged war of attrition against a continental foe, even though it was not really preparing for one. 132 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

The Army, conversely, was more divided in its ideas about war, its observers provided more contradictory views than did naval ones, while South Africa rather than Manchuria remained their template for thinking about tactics and operations. From both wars, the Army drew useful lessons, such as the strength of trenches and firepower on the defence, and the need for thorough preparation before attack; linked to false beliefs about the power of the sabre and machine gun, and of the ability of brave men with bayonets, and the well bred horse, to break the enemy’s zone of fire. The Army had to prepare for a wide range of imperial duties and yet, as a weak player in a game whose rules were set by others, to match the strengths of continental powers in great wars. As 1914 proved, it met these needs fairly well – it understood the power of the tactical defensive and how to make it work and did so better than anyone else, mostly because it was too weak to attack. In 1915–16 Britain paid a heavy price for its mistakes, but the greatest of them, ignorance of how to train and use mass armies, could not have been corrected in peace. The war was most influential at the subliminal level. British observers used Japan as a mirror to gauge their own approach to war and fitness for one: in particular, comparison with Japanese self-sacrifice and patriotism caused British officers to fear for that of their own people, touching a deep chord in Edwardian England, a fear of national decline. Social darwinism had little impact on British observations of the Russo-Japanese War, but the latter spurred on national darwinism in England. Britain first followed a Japanese model not in 1980, but in 1904. All British officers thought they had much to learn from the IJA about their central tactical problem, to get infantry through the enemy’s killing ground. One of their solutions was to find ways to make their men as courageous and self-sacrificing as Japanese ones had been in 1904–05. On the western front between 1914–18, they would succeed in turning their men into Japanese.

NOTES 1 The Times, 7.9.1904: 8, ‘The War in the Far East’. 2 The best recent accounts of the war are Connaughton 1988 and Westwood 1986. The best study of its maritime aspects remains Corbett 1914/1988. Useful assessments of the IJA, of the western process of observing Japan, and of Japanese attempts to shape this process, are Lone 1998, Reinhold 1997 and Valliant 1974. For Commonwealth observers, cf. Towle 1982 and Hitsman Morton 1970. For reporting on wars in Britain, especially those between western and non-western peoples, cf. Wilkinson 2001. 3 The Times, 16.2.1904: 3, ‘The Military Operations’: 4 NAK: FO 46/579, British embassy, Tokyo, to Foreign Ofﬁce, dispatch No 280, 22.9.1904. 5 NAK: FO 46/589 Admiralty to Foreign Ofﬁce, 22.4.04, ‘IMMEDIATE & CONFI- DENTIAL’ The Times, 28.3.1904, p. 5, ‘The War, The Russian Squadron at Sea’, Turning Japanese: British Observation of the Russo-Japanese War 133

30.3.1904, p. 3, ‘The War, The Port Arthur Operations’; 14.4.1904, p. 3, ‘Bombardment of Port Arthur’; 15.4.1904, p. 3, ‘The Attack on Port Arthur’; 16.5.1904, p. 5, ‘The War, Review of the Situation’; 27.5.1904, p. 3, ‘The Japanese in Liau-Tung; 16.4.1904, p. 7, ‘The Russian Government and Wireless Telegraphy’ 27.8.1904, p 6, ‘The Times and Wireless War Telegraphy’; cf. Slattery 2004. 6 NAK: FO 46/579, British embassy, Tokyo, to Foreign Office, dispatch No 280, 22.9.1904. 7 BLHCMA: Ian Hamilton Papers, 3/2/3, Ian Hamilton to Lady Hamilton, 25.2.1904. 8 NLS: Aylmer Haldane diary, entry 4.4.1904, MS 20255. 9 BLHCMA: Ian Hamilton Papers, 3/2/3, Hamilton to Lady Hamilton, 24.3.1903. 10 NAK: FO 46/ 578, British embassy, Tokyo to Foreign Office, No 208, 7.7.1904. 11 NLS: Aylmer Haldane diary 13.2.1905; Valliant 1974: 431–44; Towle 1982?: 24. 12 NLS: Aylmer Haldane diary, 9.7. & 10.9.1904. 13 The Times, 8.9.1904, 8: ‘The Old and the New in Japan’. 14 BLCMH: Ian Hamilton Papers 4/3/1, Theodore Roosevelt to Ian Hamilton, 15.5.1907. 15 The Times, 7.9.1904: 8, ‘The War in the Far East’. 16 The Times, 25.6.1904: 4: ‘Christianity and the Russo-Japanese War’, 19.8.1904,9: ‘Japan and the Christian Nations’. 17 The Times, 12.5.1904: 9. 18 The Times, 26.8.1905: 6, ‘The Army at Play’. 19 BLCMH: Hamilton Papers, 3/2/3, Ian Hamilton to Lady Hamilton, 15.3.1904. 20 NLS: Aylmer Haldane diary, 4.4.1 & 29.4.1904. 21 BLCMH: Hamilton Papers, 3/2/3, Ian Hamilton to Lady Hamilton, 15.3.1904. 22 The Times, 12.2.1904: 3, ‘The Japanese Military Mobilisation’; 11.3.1904, ‘Japan on the Eve of War’. 23 SACO: George Sansom Papers, File 9; ‘Reminiscences of Sir George Sansom, Oral History Research Office, Columbia University, 1957, by Dr Allan Nevins, Palo Alto, 11.6.57,’ : 6. 24 For discussions of intelligence estimates, cf. Ferris 1993 & 2005. 25 For classic statements of military ideas between 1904 and 1914 about future war and the influence of assessments about the Russo-Japanese War, cf. Travers 1979: 264–86, Snyder 1984 and Howard 1984: 41–57. The best account of this topic, especially of British thinking, is Neilson 1991: 17–37. Other useful studies include Cosson 2003: 127–47; Cox 1992: 389–402; Echevarria 2002: 199–214; Hall 2004: 563–77. 26 Lambert 1995: 639–60, provides a useful context, though he overlooks the influence of the Russo-Japanese War on these matters. 27 The Times, 17.2.1904: 7, ‘The War in the Far East’; 19.2.1904: 14,;29.3.1904: 6. 28 NAK: FO 46/595, British embassy, Tokyo, to Foreign Office, 14.2.1905. 29 NLS: Aylmer Haldane diary entry, 29.4.1904. 30 NAK: WO 33/56, Captain N.W.H. Du Boulay, ‘Report on the Japanese Army’, 5.12.1895. 31 FO 46/485, Foreign Office minute on No 254, 15.12.1897. 32 FO 46/529, Tokyo Embassy to Foreign Office, despatch No 235, 24.12.1900. 134 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

33 FO 46/469, Consulate Anping, to British Legation, Tokyo, 11.7.96, No 93, Consulate Tainan, to Legation, Tokyo, 14.9.1896, No 124. 34 FO46/496. British legation, Tokyo, to Foreign Ofﬁce, No.2, 8.1.1898. 35 FO 46/ 560, Troubridge to Custance, 1.10.1902. 36 WO 106/39, General Gerard to WO, 30.11.1904 & 27.2.1905. 37 FO 46/579, Berkeley Vincent to MacDonald, 13. & 14.9.1904. 38 Ashmead-Bartlett 1906: 470; The Times, 6.6.1904: 10, 10.9.1904: 5, ‘The War in the Far East’. 39 NLS: Aylmer Haldane diary, entries 28.7. & 24.8.1904 & 13.2.1905. 40 BLHCMA: Ian Hamilton Papers, 3/2/4, Hamilton to Spenser Wilkinson, 30.3.1904; 3/2/3 Hamilton to Lady Hamilton, 24.3.1903, 15.4. & 4.9.1904. PART III The Power of Intelligence

10 Issues of Strategic Intelligence: Anglo-German Relations and the Russo-Japanese War

John W. M. CHAPMAN

‘Finally, it is grand strategy that is decisive for the power position of a country and that more or less supports its military exertions.’1

THE ANGLO-INDIAN-JAPANESE TRIANGLE he Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902 was hailed in the Japanese press Tas a step of huge significance for naval strategy and undoubtedly its acceptance in Britain followed support by Lord Selborne, First Lord of the Admiralty in the Salisbury cabinet in 1901. Prime Minister Salisbury went along with majority opinion, but openly regarded admirals as unre- liable and would have postponed the alliance until after the South African War. Having also served as foreign secretary, Salisbury was primarily responsible for the adoption in the 1880s and 1890s of the special relationship between the Foreign and War Offices under which part of the annual allocation of funds by the Commons for secret service activity was shared with the War Office. The architect of this arrangement had been Sir Henry Brackenbury, who had fashioned a coordinated worldwide arrangement for the collection of military intelligence with the Indian Army which provided a significant element in a British Imperial strategy where the British and Indian armies could muster rather small trained forces in relation to France and Russia, regarded as the main threat to British national security between 1890 and 1903. Defence against French and Russian expansionism, however, had principally involved the Royal Navy which claimed the preponderance of the British military budget in peacetime. But Russian expansion towards the Pacific could not readily be contained by the fleet alone and the threat to British 138 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 interests in China and India could more clearly be designated as an issue only to be met with a major input from the British and Indian armies.2 In such a strategic context, the cabinet’s need for accurate information on the scale and nature of the threat was greatly aided by the linked arrangement for the supply of secret service data by the War Office in London and by the Indian Intelligence Bureau at Simla whose wartime cooperation against the Boer leadership had proved so effective.3 There was certainly admiration in London for the efficiency of the Japanese secret services since the 1890s and it was greatly reinforced by the experience of the primarily Indian intelligence staff of the China Field Force under Major Alfred Wingate at Tientsin during and after the joint operations with the Japanese 5th Division under General Fukushima in the Boxer Expedition.4 Proposals for closer collaboration with the Japanese network in China in 1902 were enthusiastically pushed by the Indian Army, especially after the reception of Fukushima by Curzon and Kitchener on his way home from London. The British-Indian authorities, however, did not have the last word on the implementation of these proposals as an attempt by Major Utsunomiya Taro, the Japanese military attaché in London, in May 1903 to put forward a detailed plan for a ‘joint system of secret service’ was unacceptable to the War Office.5 Indian Army views unfortunately are unavailable in public archives, but it is evident that Fukushima’s proposal of July 1902 for the appointment of a military intelligence officer to Simla was implemented from February 1904. Probably the existence of such a close liaison would not have caused any great remark were it not for the fact that one of his reports was seized by a Russian cruiser off Hong Kong on 2 June 1905. London was only alerted as a result of the British naval attaché at St Petersburg being summoned at dead of night to the Russian Navy Ministry and informed that the Japanese were employing spies in India ‘collecting information with a view to a possible invasion of that country’. An examination of the captured document confirmed that it contained material from the Indian Intelligence Bureau, but Simla advised that this resulted from the Japanese having been ‘given great facilities for obtaining information’. Other reports in the Japanese archives also confirm that regular contact was maintained with the head of the Intelligence Bureau and personal interviews were granted by Lord Kitchener, the C-in-C, who was subsequently thanked by Field-Marshal Yamagata for his assistance.6 Kitchener’s successor, General Creagh, however, took the Japanese leak of Indian Army secrets, the result of which was ‘that much information of military value concerning the Army in India and the N.W. Frontier is now in the archives of the Intelligence Bureau at Petersburg’, as a serious warning against allowing foreign officers to be attached to headquarters in the future, though it has to be observed that the exchange of Indian and Japanese military officers continued until 1941.7 While Simla was willing to go much further than London in terms of secret service cooperation with Japan, it appears not to have extended to Issues of Strategic Intelligence 139 an explicit sharing of such secrets as the interception and decryption of hostile communications.8 London was inhibited by the fact that the legal basis for interception in the British Isles in peacetime prior to 1911 was absent, but the position in the colonies and India, as well as at sea, was much more positive. Just as significant an inhibition on official clandes- tine collaboration lay in the fact of British neutrality, a matter on which Britain was closely pressed from the outset of the conflict by the Russian authorities. The Foreign Office was far from wishing any extension of the Russo-Japanese War, strenuous efforts were made to preserve the outward appearance of neutrality and Britain almost bent over backwards to avoid clashes with Russia in the knowledge that any breakdown could only promote German dominance of Europe.9 British counter-intelligence personnel were aware of the revolutionary activities of exiles from Poland and Finland: but orders were issued to break off such contacts early in the war and it is clear that Britain sought to dissociate itself from efforts to promote revolution in Russia.10 Nevertheless, it is also clear that Britain wanted a rigorous ban on the export of contraband to Russia, but the efforts of Russian warships to strengthen a naval blockade of Japan also confirmed that Britain was continuing to supply Japan through trade in industrial goods and even arms. The sinking of British vessels strengthened the resolve of private individuals to provide materials and information to Japan to the extent that contracts were secretly entered into with the Japanese intelligence networks in Europe and Asia, in some cases even before hostilities opened.11 Nevertheless, the official British line was consistently pursued, from the prime minister down, that the basis of the alliance entailed an obligation to aid Japan only if Japan were attacked by France. Lord Roberts adhered firmly to this line in July 1903 by refusing to send a British field officer to Japan in case it misled the Japanese into believing that ‘they can rely with certainty on British military reinforcements being sent to their assistance’, not least because a promise had already been given for reinforcement of India from the British Isles in the event of a Russian attack on India.12 When Utsunomiya proposed a joint system of secret service in May 1903, the guidelines contained in the memorandum, ‘Secret Service in the Event of a European War’, laid down that Britain’s ‘peace requirements in the matter of secret service, unlike those of Continental nations having extensive land frontiers to guard, differ much from our War requirements.... It is not necessary for us, as it is for them,’ it continued, ‘to maintain an army of spies constantly in our neighbour’s territory to report his slightest movements.’13 While these guidelines had been employed successfully against France and Russia in Europe, thanks to British naval supremacy, they were quite unsuitable for the possibility of war in Asia involving the defence of lengthy frontiers. In the course of the Russo-Japanese War, the network of British agents controlled by the British consulate at Batum to determine whether or not the Russian Army planned to attack Afghanistan and India via Central 140 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Asia proved inadequate and had to be reinforced by General Grierson, the new Director of Military Operations, by the dispatch of observers controlled from Berlin who were placed along the main railway lines inside Russia to check the movement of forces eastward.14 Grierson was also responsible for the dispatch in May 1905 of agents to appraise the Bagdad Railway project15 and later to check the build-up of German forces behind the Belgian frontier during the 1905 Morocco Crisis. Close observation of German support for Russia against Japan during the war, when the Japanese had come to the conclusion that Germany rather than France was most closely allied to Russia, had led in London to growing disgust, which came to a head in April 1905 with the news that Germany demanded the lease of a Moroccan coastal port.16 Admiral Fisher proposed using the demand as a reason for a pre-emptive strike against German naval bases, but prime minister Balfour would only go so far as to agree that ‘the Germans are behaving abominably, and we must do what we can to prevent them squeezing any illegitimate advantage out of the situation they have endeavoured to create’.17 The first serious reports about German espionage in Britain date from the autumn of 1904, when a German diplomat, Viktor Graf zu Eulenburg, was expelled for spying on combined manoeuvres in Essex. However, the reappraisal under Grierson of the somewhat complacent policy of splendid isolation in the course of the Russo-Japanese War marked a radical departure from previous British policy on secret service. By the opening of the peace negotiations at Portsmouth, the War Office had prepared new draft proposals for the future of the secret service and submitted them for the approval of the Foreign Office under the title, ‘Secret Service Arrangements in the Event of War with Germany’.18 The battle of Tsushima, hailed in London as ‘the Trafalgar of the East’, provided the clearest possible basis for the ending of the war and resolved all the complications which had prevented a closer strategic alignment with France. Consequently, Grierson was able to forge a closer alignment from which the so-called WF Plan for the commitment of British military forces to the European continent emerged and by 1912 Anglo- French military intelligence collaboration had reached a point which surpassed the levels in Japanese cooperation with London and Simla.19

GERMANY, RUSSIA AND JAPAN While it is justly argued that the impression made by the Japanese defeat of Russia on the peoples of Asia and Africa provided a vital spark to the revival of nationalism, it is important also to draw attention to the changed attitude of Germany to Japan. In 1902, Wilhelm II had ordered all secondments of Japanese Army officers to the Prussian Army ended in retaliation for the signing of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, giving rise to apprehensions in the Japanese Army about being cut off from advanced technical developments.20 When the Kaiser heard about a conversation on 25 December 1903 between his naval attaché in Russia and the Chief Issues of Strategic Intelligence 141 of the Russian Naval Staff, Admiral Rodzhestvenskii, that foreign naval attachés would be allowed to observe any military engagements in the event of war with Japan, he ordered that preparations be made for the secondment of German military and naval officers to both sides in due course. His motivation was informed by a recognition in Berlin that this would be ‘of great value for the acquisition of positive and more rapid intelligence about the conduct of the war, but especially about the effec- tiveness of modern weapons against modern targets that would enable significant lessons to be drawn for our tactics’.21 Russo-German military intimacy prior to the outbreak of war can also be gauged by the fact that the Russian military attaché in Tokyo showed his German colleague, Major von Etzel, the handbook compiled by the Russian Army on Japan.22 In addition to his close sympathy with the concept of the ‘Yellow Peril’ favoured by the Russian autocracy, the Kaiser made numerous gestures of support for Russia in the early months of the War.23 But when Japanese forces were poised to seize Port Arthur, the Kaiser began backpeddling by awarding a medal to General Nogi, assuring the Japanese Minister in Berlin that the German Army had found things it could learn from Japanese operations in Manchuria. After the victory at Tsushima, Wilhelm claimed that he had had a bet with his own admirals that Togo would defeat Rodhzhestvenskii.24 After the war, the Kaiser restored Japanese access to the German Army, but only on a basis of strictly reciprocal exchanges. Consequently, the well-known German geopolitician, Karl von Haushofer, was sent to Japan with a number of Prussian staff officers who came to prominence in the 1930s and 1940s.25 British and Indian officers similarly seconded to the Japanese Army after 1904 reported that all important equipment and training manuals they encountered continued to be of German origin and that the German Army continued to be the model for professional soldiers in Japan.26 Even in the Japanese Navy, which had always viewed the Royal Navy as its model, increasing reports of German efforts to sell naval technology to Japan emerged out of the deepening Anglo-German arms race. From late 1913, revelations began to reach the press about bribes received from German sources by senior Japanese naval officers and by Admiral Yamamoto Gonnohyoe, the prime minister, who had received training in the German Navy in his youth but had been a principal exponent of the alliance with Britain. This shocked the British naval and military attachés in Tokyo, who reported home in alarm that ‘if those infernal scoundrels will sell their own country like this, how much more gladly will they sell ours, and any information we may be foolish enough to give them’.27

THE GERMAN SUBVERSIVE COUNTER-STRATEGY There were undoubtedly long-term anxieties in Britain about the reliability of the Japanese as allies and about the suspicious liaisons with Germany. Many were opposed to Japanese methods of sabotage and subversion and some argued by 1908, on hearing from French sources about 142 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 the Franco-Prussian War, that the Japanese had learned these tricks ‘from their masters in the art of war, the Germans’.28 No one obviously could have predicted the future impact of the impression created by the Russo- Japanese War on a neophyte German nationalist named Adolf Hitler, who was quoted as saying to Prince Chichibu on 13 September 1937:

During the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, I was in a public school in an Austrian village – I was in opposition to my fellow schoolchildren and a friend of Japan. I jumped for joy when the Japanese Navy pulled off its decisive victory in the Sea of Japan. Even then I felt that Germany and Japan must lead the world in joint cooperation.29

There was certainly opposition to the notion that Britain should rely on Japan for the defence of the Indian Empire, but there was support for the expansion of the Department of Criminal Intelligence at Simla from 1903 and extensive surveillance of Indian independence groups by the Indian Political Intelligence Unit after 1909.30 The Viceroy, warned in 1907 of the dangers of foreign information-gathering, was alerted to the increased German efforts to obtain secondments for junior military officers in India and other oriental areas.31 The inroads made by Germany in the Ottoman Empire were a source of growing concern in London and the dispatch of a German military mission there was every bit as alarming as the previous Russian efforts to threaten Persia and India. Even after the efforts, particularly by Edward VII, to promote an Anglo-Russian entente and a subsequent Russo-Japanese entente, there was every right to remain concerned about continuing internal Russian support for the past liaisons with Germany and continuing antipathy towards Britain in the light of the humiliation of Russia in 1905.32 The Kaiser’s pose as the protector of Islam since the 1890s was well received in Turkey, where a group of middle-ranking officers led by Enver Bey played a significant part in resistance to efforts by the Entente Powers to browbeat Turkey and in ensuring the onset of an Anglo-Turkish conflict. British demands for naval passage through the Dardanelles were rebuffed and the German High Command decided that one of its principal tasks in the war was to ‘weaken Britain by slow degrees through the raising of unrest in India and Egypt’.33 Some went so far as to believe that revolution on a large enough scale could induce Britain to withdraw major naval units from the North Sea to the Indian Ocean in order to protect the Indian Empire. These ideas were incorporated in a detailed study of the problem by Max Freiherr von Oppenheim in October 1914, which stuck to the prevailing view at headquarters that the way ahead was to foment rebellion primarily via an Islamic jihad in line with the role of the Sultan as Caliph.34 The existence of Muslim populations in the territories of Russia, Britain and France was seen as the key route through which insurrection and the breakdown of the colonial empires could be accomplished. The Turks, for their part, were well aware of the plans of the Entente Powers to dismember the Ottoman Empire, sought Issues of Strategic Intelligence 143 to persuade the Germans of the importance of the majority Hindu nationalist movement and warned the Germans of the deadly nature of religious division in Indian society. The British authorities also were only too aware of the resurgence of Hindu nationalism and sought to curb its effects through cooperation with other countries concerned about the manifestation of nihilistic and anarchist movements. This was the ground, for example, on which Major Wallinger, the head of the Indian counterintelligence unit in London, sought to persuade the Swiss authorities to agree to the extradition of Ajit Singh in May 1913.35 The British Embassy in Tokyo had regular contacts with the Japanese Ministry of Justice to receive reports via police agencies about the visit of Indians to Japan. With the approach of war, however, the India Office, which already had a longstanding commitment to share equally with the Foreign Office the costs of intelligence-gathering in Persia, allocated an additional sum of £34,000 to the Secret Service budget by 1915.36Approximately half of the budget was spent by British missions and consulates abroad and the remainder on the secret intelligence-gathering mainly by the Admiralty and coun- terespionage funds administered by the War Office. The German Foreign Ministry also expended secret funds abroad on similar projects, such as influencing the foreign press.37 As part of German efforts to raise rebellion in India, over 100 Indian citizens caught up in Germany and Switzerland were organized into an Indian Independence Committee and funds were allocated by the Foreign Ministry at first mainly to support the production of propaganda. At first, elaborate plans for the dispatch of German expeditions to Afghanistan, Egypt, Sudan, Tripolitania, Baluchistan and the Caucasus from Constantinople, but the Turkish authorities remained sceptical about many of these efforts and subsequently insisted that they be undertaken only with prior consultation. The long distances and poor communications, given that Britain controlled the bulk of the cable network, meant that few were willing to undertake the hardship and dangers involved in trying to reach India overland. As a result, the prospects for influencing Indian opinion came to be centralized in Berlin and resort was made to communications with India through neutral countries. At first, the efforts at influencing Indian opinion were largely confined to the production of leaflets and pam- phlets, but as many of the Indian residents were professional people who were academics, students and chemists the committee members sought to organize links with Indians in North America, the Far East and South- East Asia in addition to the links with Constantinople.38 Ingenious methods were found to transfer funds to these Indian communities via Switzerland, Sweden, the Netherlands and Italy and steps were taken to try to make contact with Indian civilians and soldiers in Iraq, Mecca and France. Two routes were accorded priority: those via the USA, which facilitated contacts with Japan, China and Siam; those via the Netherlands and the Netherlands East Indies which provided sea communications 144 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 and made it possible for individuals to pose as returnees or to be infiltrated by means of sailing boats involved in the supply of foodstuffs to Ceylon and India. By the end of 1914, a number of Indians had succeeded in moving to the USA and it was planned to send messengers to Japan ‘in order to organize among groups hostile to the war’. Of considerable importance was the fact that not only was there a small group of Indian activists in Japan, but also the presence there of a group of Chinese revolutionaries headed by the son of Sun Yat-sen provided prospects for the establishment of a revolutionary centre at Shanghai. From the outset, the proposals for nationalist propaganda and subversive agitation were also combined with plans to supply funds for transfer to India itself and to purchase arms and ammunition for delivery to nationalist groups in India. Although it was already clear that the vast bulk of US production of modern weapons was being bought up by British and French purchasers, nevertheless opportunities for acquiring older rifles and pistols were identified by the German Army and instructions were issued in October 1914 to Captain Franz von Papen, the Assistant German Military Attaché in Washington, to buy 11,000 rifles, four million rounds of ammunition and 750 pistols, some of which could be considered for shipment to India via the Far East.39 This, however, did not solve the problem of how these could be transported to India and Indians in Europe were talking at this time of the likelihood of bribing Gurkha battalions to hand over weapons in India direct. Although the purchase had already been approved by Captain Nadolny of the General Staff, von Oppenheim learned from Shanghai that the Indian agent, Marathey, who had gone to the Far East via the USA, was reported as talking about the possibility of purchasing 60,000 guns in Japan. This news triggered alarm bells at German Army Headquarters because it was recognized that Japan was enemy territory and no super- visory role could be played there, as in the case of the USA, with the result that orders were issued to dispatch arms to China with immediate effect.40 Arms purchased for India were understood by London to have arrived at Shanghai only in the course of 1915, but it is clear that there had been concern about sedition among Malayan units since early December 1914.41 The War Office, however, felt that in the light of the elimination of the German Pacific Squadron off the Falkland Islands, the seizure of Tsingtao and the German colonies in the Pacific and of the sinking of the cruiser Emden (which had shelled Madras), there was no longer any serious military threat in the Indo-Pacific region and it anticipated that ‘hostile action would be limited to action by enemy agents’. The officer in command at Singapore responded by saying that it would now be safe to reduce the garrison to a single battalion and to withdraw him and his staff home. Within two months, however, messages from Singapore were received in London that men of the 5th Light Infantry battalion of Rajput Issues of Strategic Intelligence 145

Muslims and of the Malay States Guides (numbering about 500) had mutinied and killed or wounded numerous military and civilian personnel. It took several days before the mutineers were rounded up or neu- tralized but not before Britain had suffered a considerable loss of face in the Far East. The mutiny was put down with a number of executions and lengthy terms in prison announced in June 1915 in addition to some sixty soldiers who were drowned or shot when on the run. These events also provoked widespread enquiries and greatly tightened up security procedures in Singapore. It was noted that the mutineers had released a number of German prisoners-of-war and it was regarded as suspicious that some of these had quickly been able to obtain boats which enabled them to sail the short distance to the neutral Netherlands East Indies. In particular, the name of August Diehn, manager at Singapore of the German trading firm, Behn, Meyer & Co., who had already been courtmartialled in January 1915 was prominent among the escapees. The regional head office of the firm at Batavia was run by a man named Helfferich, whose brother was German Consul-General at Batavia. Subsequent enquiries confirmed that Diehn was ‘very intimately connected with the revolutionary scheme’. British counterintelligence officers working closely with the Director of Security, Brigadier Cockerill, and the representative of the Indian CID, David Petrie, were able to detect the movement of German and Indian personnel operating via the Netherlands and South-east Asia and a number of highly significant arrests were made at Singapore in the autumn of 1915. Two high-profile arrests were made: a man of joint Dutch and German nationality, Georg Friedrich Vincent Kraft, on 2 August when en route to Shanghai. His lengthy interrogation and subsequent agreement to go to China and report back on German activities in China laid bare the structures of German intelligence activity in South-east and East Asia. It was confirmed that the USA was the principal conduit for the supply of funds and arms for India and Singapore was tipped off about the movement of personnel, funds and arms on shipping that was controlled from Fort Canning. Included among subsequent arrests was a German officer named Boehm who was intercepted on his way to Bangkok in late September 1915, his papers and maps seized and forced to make a detailed statement on his activities in Thailand which was held to be ‘of the utmost value’.42 Further investigations led to subsequent arrests and interceptions of funds and arms, but perhaps the most significant advance emerged from the provision by Kraft and others of enciphered messages which prompted enquiries about how German secret communications were being channelled to the operational peripheries. Messages from Shanghai to Batavia were found to be enciphered in German naval code, the codebooks for which had been forwarded to the Admiralty from the Russian Baltic Fleet. German Army and Foreign Ministry materials had also been forwarded to London, but monitoring of German wireless 146 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 traffic failed to detect the precise routes employed for secret messages connected with sabotage and seditious operations. By early December 1915, MO6b (responsible for the interception and decryption of cable and radio signals) obtained independent confirmation of German operations through a reading of messages at Shanghai.43

THE COVERT ROLE OF SWEDEN It was not until late 1916, however, apparently ‘by accident’, that the successor groups MI1b and MI1e succeeded in detecting that secret German communication with the USA was being conducted via the lines and ciphers of the Swedish Foreign Ministry. German records indicate that the link with Washington via Stockholm had been in place virtually since the outbreak of war and confirm the existence of an intelligence collaboration with Sweden and Norway pre-dating this arrangement.44 This was the linchpin of the German secret communications system and once identified in London it opened up the floodgates of information about German methods, systems and targets. British counterintelligence operations in the USA, which had initially relied on the employment nationwide of the detectives of the Pinkerton and other agencies could pinpoint targets for surveillance from Washington and New York and avoid the embarrassments arising from ignorance about the activities of Irish, Indian, Egyptian and other nationalists. The involvement of Captain Boy-Ed and Captain von Papen in sabotage and subversive activities was exposed, the officers withdrawn and consciously not replaced, but it was not until Colonel House and President Wilson were convinced by the evidence of German plans that a radical yet reliable change in US foreign policy could be effected. The US decision for war was directly influenced by the revolution in Russia, but there can be little doubt that evidence supplied about Japanese activities in China, South-east Asia, India and Mexico garnered by agents and intercepts and fed to the US authorities was of crucial significance in tilting the balance in favour of the Entente Powers. Britain had become increasingly concerned about the political reliability of Japan from the spring of 1915 with public evidence of ultranationalist criticism of Britain, support for the Kuomintang against Yuan Shi-kai, the protection of Indian nationalists from extradition from Japan and reports of suspicious provision of funds and arms beyond what was already known to have been supplied via the Deutsch-Asiatische Bank in Shanghai to Chinese and Indian nationalists.45 Its management was delegated to the Minister at Peking, Rear-Admiral Paul von Hintze, with the support of the German colony at Shanghai, which remained in close touch with German citizens interned in Japan under very loose restrictions until 1917, as well as with German personnel in neutral Siam, the Netherlands East Indies and especially the USA. What is seldom noted is the connection between Hintze, who had been German naval attaché in Scandinavia and Russia up to 1904, and a Issues of Strategic Intelligence 147

Swedish naval officer named Wallenberg who served as secretary of legation in China from the autumn of 1916 but was subsequently transferred to a consular post in Japan. Wallenberg was described by British observers as someone who had never held a diplomatic post abroad until that date and as ‘openly pro-German’ and reflected the fact that Swedish policy, which had been strongly anti-Russian and pro-Japanese during the Russo-Japanese War, remained strongly anti-Russian but pro-German during the First World War.46 Sweden was also one of the most important of the neutral states where efforts were made on the German side to pursue diplomatic discussions aimed at ending the deadlock in land warfare by trying to reduce the number of Germany’s enemies. In the spring of 1915, a former German naval attaché in Japan, Commander Fischer, had already been employed to make contact with Professor Nagai, the President of the German- Japanese Society (nichi-dokukai), who had a German wife. This effort had the approval of Chancellor von Bethmann-Hollweg but had no direct result.47 A renewed effort in Stockholm by a brother of the Hamburg banker, Dr Fritz Warburg, in the course of 1915 to employ the issue of the service of past German loans to Japan as a hook for wider negotiations resulted in eliciting a number of interesting statements from Uchida Yasuya, the Japanese minister at Stockholm. Uchida made it clear that Japan had already promised to return the German lease at Kiaochow to China and indicated that this was motivated in part as an act of revenge for the German involvement in the Triple Intervention at the end of the Sino-Japanese War. Uchida also confirmed that Japan’s participation in the war was directly connected with Japan’s obligations under the Anglo- Japanese Alliance. Japan had no obligations to Russia and felt as justified in supplying munitions to Russia as a neutral in precisely the same way that Germany had acted in the course of the Russo-Japanese War. Uchida dismissed all talk of Japan sending troops to Europe as ‘idle chatter’ with the observation that:

Only if Germany or her allies attack India and threaten the British control of India are we bound by our treaty obligations to assist Britain and actually to have to dispatch troops to Europe under these circumstances.

Their initial meeting ended with Uchida stressing repeatedly that the Japanese had no deeply hostile feelings toward Germany, that it was only force of circumstances that had dictated Japan’s entry into the war and that German prisoners of war in Japan were being treated like friends.48 Warburg returned to Sweden for further discussions and Stockholm was the scene of tentative German-Russian peace negotiations during 1916 which made no headway and proved no substitute for the German General Staff’s approaches to Lenin in exile in Switzerland in order to emulate the revolutionary successes of the Japanese Army in 1905.49 148 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

CONCLUSIONS War between Russia and Japan provided the most important test since 1899 of the meaning and application of the concept of neutrality in twentieth century international relations within the context of the wide- ranging international legal discussions and agreements at The Hague between 1899 and 1908. Britain and France as allies of the belligerent states demonstrated most clearly the capacity to manipulate neutral status to promote the interests of their allies short of involvement in conflict. However, the policies pursued by other neutral states also demonstrated the range of potential outcomes that neutral status could confer. Korea and China were undoubtedly examples of unproductive or counter-productive outcomes, while the USA, Sweden and Germany shaped their policies to seek to promote their national interests in a variety of negative and positive ways which were heavily dependent on the course of the conflict. One of the most important features of neutrality lay in the use made by the belligerents themselves of operating within neutral territory and the competition and skills of the belligerents came to include covert methods of harming one’s enemy and of promoting one’s own interests. British attention was drawn to these covert activities very forcibly between 1904 and 1909 and the opinion in the War Office was that it had been the German General Staff in 1870–71 that had been the key progenitor of the use of ‘dirty tricks’ before and during conflict, that the incorruptible Japanese had learned these tricks from the Germans, but that the Russians, though equally if not even more capable in these arts, were also capable of being bought. German archives indicate that the policy of German support for sedition and revolution abroad had been focused initially on Russia and was strongly influenced by diplomatic and military observation of the Japanese successes in 1905 against the Russian Empire. Following in Japanese footsteps, files were accumulated about conditions in Poland, Finland, the Ukraine, Caucasus and Siberia.50 But the fact that German penetration of the Ottoman Empire had also proceeded so rapidly after 1895 pointed to the high value assigned to collaboration with the Turks against Russia, where large numbers of Muslims had been colonized. This condition was matched by large Muslim populations in the French and British Empires. German support for Russia against Britain prior to 1905 had provided insights into Russian contacts with the Irish and Boer nationalists which could be expanded rapidly on the eve of war to include Egypt, Sudan, Persia, Afghanistan and the Muslim borderlands of India.51 Suspicions about Germany were strongest within the Indian administration, especially in East and South-east Asia, where the Indian army and police organizations had a long and unmatched expertise. Their investigations were independently, if belatedly, confirmed through access to German diplomatic, military and naval code and cipher systems. German Issues of Strategic Intelligence 149 efforts to promote subversion and engage in acts of sabotage were shown briefly to involve the collusion of political groups in Japan and were also aimed at providing territorial incentives in the Pacific region to the detri- ment of British and US interests, which was to prove crucial in bringing the USA into the First World War and changing forever the international balance of forces.52 Their covert efforts, subsequently viewed by successor German secret agencies themselves after 1919 as inadequate in the conduct of the form of ‘total war’ experienced between 1914 and 1918, had been in considerable measure derived from a narrow study of the modern features of the Russo-Japanese War. Partly as a result of the Imperial German obses- sion with Islam as their key to success, nevertheless, their efforts always remained rather tangential to the wider political and economic dimen- sions of a global conflict and lacked the cohesive vision of the Allied concept of grand strategy.

NOTES 1 Memorandum by the Chief of the German Naval Command, Marineleitung AII 325/27 G.Stbs., Anl.1 of 16.5.1927 on ‘The Naval Intelligence Service of the Naval Staff’: BA/MA/RM: Abt.III-1: Etappenwesen, Allgemeines, Bd.1, (1927– 1937). Original documents were repatriated to Germany after 1958 but selective film copies were retained by the USA, Britain and other former Allied states in different archival centres. 2 Major-General Nicholson to Earl Roberts, 14.2.1902: National Archive, Kew (NAK): WO106/5549/Case 3. For an understanding of the reasons for the inadequacy of Admiralty intelligence about Russian maritime activities in the Far East, see Chapman 2004: 17–55. The suggestion that this could be overcome by agreement with Japan and that it would not upset the European balance of power originates in correspondence between Admiral Seymour, C-in-C of the China Fleet, and Lord Selborne, who successfully argued for the alliance in cabinet in September 1901. Selborne was insistent that it be progressed provided that it was approved in advance by President Theodore Roosevelt: see Roosevelt Papers, Library of Congress, Washington DC (LCW). 3 Captain Church was transferred by the Indian Army Intelligence Bureau to Aden to decipher cable traffic between South Africa and Europe and worked closely with Major Anderson in the War Office. Both were recruited to work on enemy communications at the outset of the First World War. 4 Dr Morrison, The Times correspondent at Beijing, who had met Wingate in 1898, informed J.O.P. Bland at Shanghai on 2.6.1902 about Wingate as ‘the head of the Intelligence, an incomparable ass – though a good friend of mine – the most detested man in the North . . . is training a staff of the most god-damned sneaks’. See Lo Hui-min, ed., 1976: I: 94 and Mitchell Library, Sydney (MLS), MSS312, Vol.46, Item 1, pp. 148–9 and see Creagh to India Office, 24.4.1902 which talked of Wingate as a ‘most capable officer’: NAK: ADM1/7626B. 150 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

5 Colonel James Trotter to Sir Thomas Sanderson, 19.5.1903: HD3/124. 6 The memorandum from Captain Azuma Otohiko, alias Major Higashi, in Simla to Tokyo was seized from the British vessel, St Kilda, which was sunk by the Dnieper (ex-Petersburg): FO46/657. Comments on the report from Captain Calthorpe in St Petersburg were sent to the Foreign Office by Colonel Davies (War Office) and Captain Nicholson (Admiralty): Hardinge Papers, Vol.7: 528–31: Cambridge University Library (CUL). Yamagata to Kitchener, 9.2.1906: NAK: Kitchener Papers, PRO30/57/31, f.BB28. In 1907, it was reported to the Foreign Office that Major Hayashi Senjuro, who was a member of the Japanese delegation to London to update the military agreement attached to the 1905 Anglo-Japanese Alliance, had actually been the liaison officer sent to Simla in 1904. 7 Gaiko Shiryokan, Tokyo (GST), File 5.1.4.23–1, Gaikoku bukan hompo taitsuki kankei zassan, Eikoku no bu. See O’Moore Creagh confidential report no.2007 of 25.11.1907 in: Oriental & India Office Library, File L/MIL/71077, ‘Attachés’, British Library, London (BLL). 8 Azuma (Simla) to Yamagata, Report No.33 of 13.6.1905: GST, File 5.1.10.7, Zaigai bukan hokoku. 9 Bertie memorandum of 9.11.1901 in: Lansdowne Papers: NAK: FO800/115: 98–110. This early statement provides background to the reasons why Britain was prepared to avoid war with Russia at all costs. A key change in attitudes can be directly linked to the replacement of Queen Victoria by King Edward VII, who strove with might and main to utilize links with Nicholas II and maintain peace. A significant element, particularly in the critical first year of the Russo-Japanese War, was the King’s employment of the services of Prince Louis of Battenberg, the Director of Naval Intelligence, who was married to the favourite sister of the Empress Alexandra. 10 Melville memorandum of 31.12.1917: NAK: KV1/8. 11 GST, Meiji 36-nen zai-Eikoshi raiden 7–12 gatsu: Hayashi (London) Tel.Nos.357, 386, 387, 397 of November–December 1904; File 5.2.7.3, Nichi-Ro seneki kankei teikoku ni oite mitteisha shiyo zakken. 12 Roberts minute of 1 July 1903 at: NAK: WO106/48/G3/4. Britain promised to send 100,000 troops to India, but only after the end of the war in South Africa. 13 Memorandum by Colonel Francis Davies relayed by Trotter to Sanderson, 19.5.1903: NAK: HD3/124. Grierson to Sanderson, 18.4.1905; Davies to Sanderson, 13.5.1905: ibid., HD3/130. 14 Grierson, who had been British military attaché at Berlin from 1896 to 1901, came to detest Germany and succeeded in being posted to South Africa and China from 1900 to 1901 while still nominally at Berlin. He knew Fukushima well and was invited by him to Japan on his way back home. He was appointed to replace Sir William Nicholson on 10.2.1904 on the orders of the Esher Commission, set up by Prime Minister Balfour following pressure from King Edward VII. Nicholson had been Director of Mobilization and Military Intelligence but was packed off as chief British Army representative to the Japanese field forces in Manchuria, while Sir Ian Hamilton, also sacked by Esher, represented India and was the first foreign military officer on special secondment to arrive in Japan in March 1904. Issues of Strategic Intelligence 151

15 See Auswärtiges Amt (AA): Akte Türkei 152 geh.: ‘Eisenbahnen in der asiatischen Türkei’, Bde.1–6, (1902–1914). Sir Ian Hamilton, the senior representative of the Indian Army attached to Japanese forces in Manchuria, reported to Lord Kitchener, C-in-C of the Indian Army, on 6.12.1904 that he had learned that the Germans had brought pressure to bear on Russia not to oppose the Bagdad Railway scheme: NAK: Kitchener Papers, folio HH/36. 16 No one in London, not even Admiral Fisher, believed that the Russians could successfully supply the Baltic Fleet to enable it to reach the Far East. The German Navy, however, had set up a naval supply and intelligence organization, the Marine-Etappendienst, to service the East Asia Squadron since 1894 with the aid of the major German shipping lines, Nord-Deutscher-Lloyd and Hamburg-Amerika Lines. These lines made coal contracts with British firms and consigned fuel indirectly to the Russian vessels either at sea or in French colonial ports despite Admiralty opposition. The greatest causes for resentment included harsh treatment for British neutral vessels as opposed to benevolent treatment of German neutral ships, but were focused especially on the fact that the Germans kept urging on the Baltic Fleet even after Port Arthur had fallen. GST, File 5.2.2.20.1–5, Nichi-Ro seneki kankei rokoku Baruchikku kantai toko kankei ikken and see BA/MA/RM: Marine Archiv: Akte III.1.24c: ‘Vm- und Etappenangelegenheiten in Ostasien’. Some of these issues are covered in Vol. I, Chapter 6. When the war ended, Rodzhestvenskii tried to complain that his fleet had been inadequately serviced. The German rebuttal of 12.1.1906 provides detailed information on the cooperation provided by the German shipping lines, which claimed substantial losses and put support down mainly to the relationship between the Kaiser and Albert Ballin: AA: Akte Japan 20/Nr.7 geh.: ‘Krieg zwischen Rußland und Japan: Kohlenversorgung der Schiffe der kriegführenden Mächten’, Bd.8, (1906). 17 Fisher correspondence with Lansdowne and Balfour in: Fisher Papers, FISR1/4, f.154: Churchill College, Cambridge (CCC). The depth of Anglo-German antagonism at this date was not understood by President Roosevelt, who saw Wilhelm II as but a poor substitute for Bismarck, but was alerted by the Kaiser to reports of British pre-emptive attack threats: see Roosevelt to Taft, 20.4.1905 in: Roosevelt Papers, Series 1: LCW. It is unclear how Fisher’s threats were forwarded to Berlin, but subsequent War Office monitoring established links between the Kaiser and various exiled German princely families in London and these links were curtailed subsequently prior to 1914. The German archives, scrutinized at Whaddon Hall after 1945, confirmed that Bismarck had elaborated a complex intelligence network after 1864 and established the so-called Guelph Funds to procure information about the activities of the Hanoverian and Hessian families and reports of subsequent internal intrigues among the princely houses were collected up to the end of 1918: see AA: Welfenfonds: Rep.II.Gen.184: ’Speziale Ausgaben’, Bde.1–37, (1868–1918) and Welfenfonds Rep.II.Gen.137.ganz geh.:‘Gen. Fonds Allg.’ (1894–1908). 18 The papers were drafted by Major Burnett-Stewart and sent to Sanderson on 21.9.1905 prior to a secret consideration of them by ministers in diplomatic posts surrounding Germany: NAK: HD3/131. The original memorandum on Germany appears to have been removed from the files and it is presumed now 152 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

to be in the files of the Secret Service, not available to the public. The National Archives released a file of 1906 in March 2005 which dealt with ‘Secret Service Arrangements in Northern Europe in the Event of War with Germany’: FO1093/45. Other releases indicate, nevertheless, that the personnel to man ports in Scandinavia were not put in place until the very eve of war. German diplomatic records contain files which seek to estimate the impact of war with France on relations with Belgium and the Netherlands: cf. AA: Akte Deutschland 121/Nr.12 geh.: ‘Maßregeln für die Eventualität des Krieges’, Bde.1–14, (1886–1914). 19 The initial work on operational cooperation appears to have been done by Grierson with the French military attaché in London, Major Huguet, followed by an inspection of facilities in northern France for the arrival of a British Expeditionary Force. The plan was elaborated by Grierson’s successor, General Sir Spencer Ewart, according to Ewart’s diary, kindly made available to the author by the late Lord Monro of Langholm. The contemporary German interpretation of events may partly be seen at: AA: Akte Frankreich 116–1 geh.: ‘Abschluß eines engl.-franz. Bündnis und Hinzuziehung Rußlands’, Bde.1–4, (1901–1914). 20 GST, Meiji 34-nen, raiden 7–12 gatsu, pp. 253–4. 21 The German naval attaché in Japan, Commander Trummler, was nominated in Berlin Tel.No.11 of 14.1.1904 to Minister Arco for attachment to Japanese naval headquarters, but efforts in late February 1904 to gain access to units at sea were denied by Foreign Minister Komura – a position permitted only to Trummler’s British colleagues, Captains Troubridge and Pakenham. The nomination to the Russian side of Commander Paul von Hintze, the German naval attaché in Scandinavia, was much more successful: Hintze gained a position of great trust with the tsar and he was appointed as the Kaiser’s personal liaison until 1911. Hintze’s conversation with Rodzhestvenskii in 1903, at which he was told as a matter of great secrecy of the Russian Navy’s feelings of anxiety about Admiral Makarov and its inability to replace him at this date, demonstrates very clearly the closeness of Germany to the Russian leadership. See AA: Abt.B: Akten betr.Krieg zwischen Rußland und Japan: Entsendung von fremden Militärs auf den Kriegsschauplatz,’ Bd.1 (bis 29.Februar 1904). Grand-Admiral von Tirpitz, the German Navy Minister, claimed in his memoirs that Rodzhestvenskii had subsequently proposed that von Hintze be invited to sail with the Baltic Fleet, but this had been turned down by the Kaiser. He also argued that von Hintze had more influence at the Russian court than the German ambassador, von Alvensleben: Tirpitz n.d.: I, 171. 22 Etzel Report J.No.98/03 of 1.10.1903 in BA/MA/RM: Admiralstab der Marine: Abt.B: ‘Japan – Militärisches’, (1894–1914) observed that ‘the fact that Russia is finding ways and means to collect information at any price is obvious and appears certain to me following a brief glimpse I was provided by my Russian colleague a little while ago into his staff handbook’. One Japanese agent of the Russians in Japan was arrested and there appears to have been another continuing to submit reports after the outbreak of war. However, Russian military and secret police agents appear to have secured access to Japanese codes and communications in both Europe and China and evidence of this was detected Issues of Strategic Intelligence 153

in the captured papers of General Kuropatkin following the battle of Mukden. Russian secret police made break-ins at the British, US and Swedish missions in St Petersburg to photograph reports and codebooks and the tsar was reported to have chaired a weekly meeting which reviewed all information obtained by photographic and decrypt methods. The Russian Consul-General at Hong Kong was later found to have run an agent named Komarov who gained access to British China Fleet signals dealing with the war. A Japanese double agent in Shanghai named Yokoi in close touch with the Russian military agent, General Dessino, in 1905 was in possession of a cipher for direct wire links with the Japanese Navy and was able to report on developments in the China Sea on the eve of Tsushima. Matsuoka Yosuke, deputy consul- general at Shanghai, demanded to be provided with a copy of the cipher and appears to have been credited with supplying information about the movements of the Baltic Fleet in the days and weeks preceding the engagement off Tsushima. See also Alexseev 1998, which concentrates on military intelligence as opposed to the civilian network run by A.I. Popov, as described in Chapter 11 below. 23 Von Tirpitz said that he had been sent by the Kaiser to St Petersburg in 1903 and had warned the tsar of the weakness of the Russian fleet. Nicholas II had responded that he believed the danger was now over in this respect and argued that he considered ‘that he was now too strong for the Japanese to do any more’. He claimed that the Kaiser had subsequently had a discussion with Chancellor von Bülow and his diplomatic adviser, von Holstein, on 31.10.1904 at which he suggested a Russo-German alliance against Japan. Tirpitz n.d.:.I, 171 & 165–6. 24 Berlin Tel.No.231 of 30.5.1905: GST, File 5.2.2.15–3, Nichi-Ro seneki ni okeru teikoku kaigun sento joho, Nihon-kai kaisen, pp. 94–5. 25 GST, File 5.1.4.23–2, Gaikoku bukan hompo taitsuki kankei zassan, dokukoku no bu. 26 Calthrop report of April 1907: NAK: WO33/432. 27 Sommerville to War Office, 29.11.1913: WO106/5553. Richter, the Siemens clerk in Tokyo who was accused of stealing the firm’s papers, was publicly sentenced to two years’ hard labour in Germany, which prevented the scandal from being suppressed. AA: Abt.1A, Akte Deutschland 141, No.13: ‘Strafverfolgung des Carl Richter wegen Entwendung von Briefen der Firma Siemens-Schückert in. Tokio’, Bde.1–3, (November 1913–1.Juni 1917). Its publication preceded the fall of the Yamamoto administration and after the war it was claimed in Germany that this facilitated the Japanese declaration of war. See the discussion about East Asia held in the Peace Negotiation Bureau of the German Foreign Ministry on 12.4.1919: BA/MA/RM: Etatsabteilung III: Akte 6006: ‘Schutzgebiet Kiautschou’, (1917–1919), pp. 72–125 and Kokumin Shinbun, 23.1.1914. This spin on past events, however, is highly questionable as contemporary documents indicate that the British side was as anxious as the German side to avoid public questions about similar practices having been followed by British firms such as Vickers. 28 Edmonds memorandum of January 1909 on ‘Espionage in Time of Peace’: NAK: KV1/2, p. 24. Edmonds had been brought up in Switzerland and did not 154 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

believe the British were any good at espionage. At least in part, the liaison with the French Ministry of War after 1905 provided data about German clandes- tine methods during the Franco-Prussian War and the French appear to have supplied information about the German Nachrichten-Bureau, in particular the knowledge about the establishment in 1900 of a third section based in Brussels which collected secret intelligence about Britain. Both the War Office and the Admiralty, for their part, claimed in 1908–9 to have agents in German military and naval organizations: see HD3/136, KV1/2, FO1093/29 and Ewart Diary, entry for 12.7.1909. 29 Von Dirksen (Tokyo) Report J.No.1999 secret of 30.10.1937: AA: Pol I g Verschiedenes: ‘Politische Angelegenheiten Ostasiens’, (1936–1938). This was an extract from a report by Ambassador Mushakoji Kintomo which, as observed by Professor Krebs, omitted explicit references by Hitler to the desirability of jointly hammering the Slavs. 30 In May 1913, efforts were made by Major Wallinger to extradite the ‘Indian anarchist’, Ajit Singh, from Switzerland and there was a regular contact between the British Embassy in Tokyo and the Japanese Ministry of Justice to keep tabs on Indians visiting Japan. Ajit Singh, together with about 100 Indians trapped by the outbreak of war, formed the Indian Committee in Berlin and received substantial funds to promote agitation and sabotage among Indian populations worldwide. Considerable tension among Hindus was generated by German support for Islam and the German desire to use widespread uprising in India to force Britain to withdraw substantial naval forces from the North Sea to the Indian Ocean proved abortive. 17 per cent of the British Secret Service budget in 1914–15 was supplied by the India Office, mainly for counterintelligence worldwide and for joint activities in Persia. MI1c in the USA employed principally the Pinkerton detective agency to keep Indian and Irish nationalists under surveillance during the war: see NAK: FO1093/35 & 60–62. 31 The names of German military reserve officers in the professional consular and diplomatic services who were increasingly appointed to the Consulate- General at Calcutta were highlighted by the C-in-C, General Creagh, who had served as head of the China Field Force and had drawn attention to the value of cooperation with Japanese Army agents in China. Military Department memorandum of 18.12.1907 to the Viceroy: BLL: L/MIL/ 71077, ‘Attachés’. 32 The close liaison between Nicholas II and Wilhelm II was maintained until 1911 by the stationing of Admiral von Hintze at St Petersburg: see AA: Abt.A.: Akte Rußland No.98:’Die deutsche Militärbevollmächtigter in Petersburg und seine Berichterstattung’, Bd5,(1892–1910). But German records indicate that even after war broke out, there were contacts in neutral countries between the two sides: in Switzerland, for example, there was contact with a man named Edgar Brun, a former employee of the Russo-Asiatic Bank and a supporter of Count Witte, who expressed views in favour of a separate Russo-German peace in 1914–15. Wesendonk memo A33700 of 6.12.1914 in: AA: Abteilung A: Akte WK11f geh.: ‘Unternehmungen und Aufwiegelungen gegen unsere Feinde–Indien’, Bd.6, (1.-23.12.1914): 41–44. Issues of Strategic Intelligence 155

33 Bethmann-Hollweg Tel.No.33 of 4.9.1914 to Foreign Ministry instructing that these efforts should be controlled from the German Embassy in Constantinople: ibid., Bd.1, (August-10.September 1914). However, it can be seen that German strategy had been switched to the Near East when Britain unexpectedly abandoned the internal dispute over Ireland and concentrated on the German attack on Belgium. Orders were issued on 3 August 1914 to the German warships Goeben and Breslau on their way from Sardinia to attack French North African ports to set sail immediately for the Dardanelles instead of rejoining the High Seas Fleet: see van der Vat 1985: 97. This book discusses the role of Admiral Troubridge commanding the 1st Squadron in the Mediterranean. Troubridge had been British naval attaché in Japan and went to sea with the Japanese Combined Fleet in the opening months of the Russo- Japanese War. It does not, however, discuss the British appeal to international law at that time for evidence that the Russians were in breach of the use of the Dardanelles by disguised warships, a precedent that directly contradicted the British demands of 1914 on Turkey. Cf. the Admiralty War Diary of the Russo- Japanese War at: NAK: ADM 1/7813. 34 Oppenheim study of October 1914, ‘The Revolutionizing of the Islamic Territories of Our Enemies’, observed that if Britain experienced serious difficulties in India and tried to obtain Japanese military support, this would be seen as the signal for the collapse of the British Empire. AA: Akte WK No.11 Allgemeines: Bd.1, (Juli-30.November 1914). Oppenheim had served as a Middle East specialist in the Consulate-General in Egypt for several years prior to 1914. 35 NAK: FO1093/35. 36 The budget for the secret service was only about £2,000 in 1907, rising to £4,763 in 1910. By 1914, it had risen to £102,000, to £435,000 by 1915 and to £710,000 in 1917–18. FO1093/29 & 60. 37 The overall budget can be gleaned from AA: Abt.A: Akte Deutschland 126 geh.: Geheime Ausgaben (Pressezwecke und Maßregeln zur Beeinflussung der ausländis- chen Presse) Bde.1–3, (1905–1911). In the case of Japan, some ¥2,089 was allocated in 1909 rising to ¥5,076 in 1911: Akte Japan No.11, Geheime: ‘Die Presse in Japan,’ Bde.1–2, (1908–1916). 38 See the ‘Brief Resumé of the Plans of the Indian Committee in Berlin’ (undated) in: AA: Akte WK11f Indien, Bd.5, (1.-30.November 1914): 48–55. 39 Papen appears with the assistance of an Irish-American called Garritty in Philadelphia to have purchased rifles used by the US Army in the Spanish- American War: see Wesendonk memo zu A31634 of 23.11.1914 in: ibid.,: 109. Consideration was being given to send some arms to Ireland and to make purchases on behalf of Turkey. 40 Zimmermann (Berlin) Tel.No.376 of 13.12.1914 to Washington: ibid.: 86. Advice was received from Professor Barkatullah, who had taught in Japan for three years and was aware of the connections with Sun Yat-sen and Toyama Mitsuru, as well as the support from Dr Terao in the Upper House of the Japanese Diet. Despite the preference of the Indian Committee for purchase of arms from Japan, warnings were issued about Japanese spies and British control of the Chinese Customs. 156 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

41 In September 1914, the Muslim Malay States Guides had offered to serve abroad, but this offer had at first been turned down. Later, when consideration had been given to their dispatch to Egypt or Kenya, they themselves withdrew their offer allegedly as a result of the rumours of heavy casualties. The Governor of the Straits Settlements had reported on 7.12.1914 that ‘there is a certain amount of seditious feeling among certain members’ and submitted on 14.12 the advice from his police chief that as a precaution he was asking the Indian CID to send an experienced European officer ‘to ascertain to what extent sedition may be proceeding here’. NAK: WO106/1412. 42 Ridout to Jerram, 30.9.1915: NMM, Jerram Papers, JRM16/5. Primarily employing financial incentives, British counterintelligence personnel at Singapore turned interrogated suspects with the aid of their Sikh employees. 43 MO6 to GOC Singapore, 4 & 17.12.1915: NAK: WO106/1413. These intercepts confirmed the German plan to land weapons at Balasore, where they were duly intercepted. The main hurdle to overcome was that of finding neutral vessels to transport arms to the vicinity of India, but various Dutch, US and Swedish ships proved useless. 44 Sweden was consistently suspicious of Russian designs against Scandinavia and prior to the Russo-Japanese War had been identified as the place where Japan ‘could get much better information either official or private and even help than in any other countries perhaps except England’. Kurino (St Petersburg) Tel.No.31 of 14.1.1904 to Komura in: GST, File 5.2.7.3: Nichi-Ro seneki kankei teikoku ni oite mitteisha shiyo zakken. Minister Kusasabe reported in Stockholm Tel.No.33 of 21.4.1904 favourable press coverage and the fact that in a conversation with the Crown Prince he had stated that the Russians were a ‘common enemy of Japan and Sweden and Norway’: ibid., File 5.2.2.15–1: 328–9. Swedish diplomats expressed concern from 1910 that Russian expansion might justify the invasion of Sweden in the event of the outbreak of war in Europe, but the opportunity for close Swedish collaboration with Germany and Austria arose in 1913 with the arrest of Swedish collaborators of the Russian military attaché in Stockholm, Colonel Piotr L. Assanovich, who from December 1912 to April 1914 controlled a network of Russian agents in Scandinavia, Germany and Austria: see Alekseev 1998, II: 519. 45 Hintze and his deputy, Ugo von Maltzahn, conducted discussions at Beijing with Hioki Eki, the Japanese minister there, until the entry of China into the First World War followed hard on the heels of the US declaration of war. British observers were well aware of the supply of German funds to the Kuomintang, but given also the Japanese support for Sun Yat-sen and opposition to Yuan Shih-kai, the weakness of the British position in the Far East resulted in Foreign Office restraint on Army and Navy officers and secret agents from cooperating with fresh Japanese proposals to combine in efforts to engage in covert attacks on German agencies and thus indirectly expose the Chinese government to Japanese as well as German intrigues. NAK: WO32/5347–8. In February 1916, German Ambassador Bernstorff in Washington proposed an allocation of $20,000 to be used to influence the Japanese press and Diet members. He also confirmed at the same time that a number of small attacks had been made on the Manchurian Railway: AA: Abt.A: Akte Japan No.11 geh.: Issues of Strategic Intelligence 157

‘Die Presse in Japan’, Bd.2. News of such actions was relayed back to Britain from China but it was clearly also available in Tokyo: see GST: File 5.2.2.54: Oshu senso no sai dokokujin no toshin kintetsu hakaihaikaku ikken; cf. NAW: RG38, Entry 38, C-10-d/6034. 46 Tokyo Tel.No.112 of 18.2.1918 to Foreign Office, referring to an earlier telegram from Minister Aston, who had observed that the selection of a naval officer for a diplomatic post in China ‘seemed to me strange’. NAK: WO106/869. The US embassy at St Petersburg had previously noted on 18.3.1904 in a comparison of naval observers: ‘It is rather odd the great interest shown by the Swedes in this affair.’ NAW: RG38: entries 104–5 & 98, C-10- d/6034. It was concluded in London from analysis of German and Swedish decrypts that ‘of all neutral statesmen, Wallenberg was the most trusted by the Germans’. ‘It was easy to persuade the Swedish Foreign Office to lend its services and transmit in both directions German official telegrams between Washington’. Room 40: ‘The Fleet in Action,’ Vol.1, ch.IX: 9–10. NAK: HW7/2. German records also indicate evidence of cooperation between Swedish and German army officers in Persia during the war, when Field-Marshal von der Goltz (who had previously served as an adviser in Turkey) was sent to Persia with gold to persuade Persia to support Germany and Turkey. 47 Tirpitz-Bethmann-Hollweg exchange of May 1915 at BA/MA/RM: Reichsmarineamt: ZA: ‘Politische Fragen aus Anlaß des Krieges’, Heft 1, (1915–1916). 48 German naval attaché in Sweden to von Tirpitz, 26.11.1915: ibid. This account of Uchida’s views is at variance with statements made by him in conversations with the German, Austrian and Turkish ministers in Stockholm, as reported in Iklé 1965: 62–76. Warburg, as may be seen in Chapter 5 above by Professor Smethurst, was closely related to the German-American banking house of Kuhn & Loeb. 49 Togo Shigenori, who had been attached to the Japanese mission in Switzerland during the war, was asked by a German contact during his stay in Berlin in 1919 if he had ever spoken to Lenin. ‘He replied he had not been in conversation with him, but had observed him; he saw Lenin as a very intelligent and energetic person and looked from the expression in his eyes to be an idealist.’ Eltzbacher to Simons, 26.4.1919 in: AA: Abt.A.:‘Bolschewismus’, Bd.6, (6.4.- 14.5.1919). See also Hayashiyama 1982. It is clear from German records that control over subversion and sabotage remained with the German General Staff and liaison with the Foreign Ministry was conducted mainly by Section IIIb. 50 These files were initially collected under the heading ‘Rußland 63’ (Finland); ‘83’ (Poland); ‘97’ (Caucausus & Central Asia); ‘104’ (India). 51 Some aspects of the wider German strategy may be found in: AA: Abt.A: Akte WK No.11 Allgemeines. Separate files were compiled for individual areas. 52 The history of the Zimmermann telegram has been explained mainly by reference to British and US records. Post- 1919 German investigations, closely followed in London, had identified a loss of German diplomatic cipher secur ity: NAK: HW7/2, pp. 8–9. But the defection of the Russian Captain Novopashchenny to Berlin after 1917 also confirmed the loss of naval codes in the Baltic in 1914 and he aided the Cipher Section of the German Army with 158 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

the decryption of Soviet signals during the early 1920s. The German Minister at The Hague had referred to Japanese ambitions for absolute mastery of the Paciﬁc, desire for a base near the Panama Canal and alleged intrigues in Mexico as early as August 1916: BA/MA/RM: Admiralstab der Marine: Abt.B: ‘Amerika:Amerkanisch-Japanischer Konﬂikt,’ Bd.1, (Juli-August 1916). German interests in Japan during the First World War were looked after by the Dutch, but unfortunately the records of the Dutch mission in Tokyo were lost when it was burned down. The conduct of German diplomats in Mexico can be examined in: AA: Abt.I A: Akte Mexico 16: ‘Beziehungen Deutschlands zu Mexico’, Bde. 1–3, (1917–1919) and details of the telegram may be seen in: Akte Mexico 16 geh.: ‘Geheime Handakten des Geh.LR Dr.Göppert (Zimmermann Note)’, Bd.1, (Januar 1917). For US suspicions about Japan and Mexico, see NAW: RG38: Entry 98: C-9-b: 908. 11 Russia and Korea in 1904–1905: ‘Chamberlain’* A. I. Pavlov and his ‘Shanghai Service’

DMITRII B. PAVLOV

he purpose of this chapter is to focus attention on some unknown Tpages of Russian-Korean relations. Its central figure is Aleksandr Ivanovich Pavlov, a highly placed Russian diplomat who was First Secretary of the Russian Embassy in Beijing in the mid-1890s, then minister to Seoul, and finally, during the years of the 1904–1905 Russo- Japanese War, the founder and chief of a branch of the Russian secret service in China dubbed ‘The Shanghai Service’. This former member of the navy who was still far from being an old man at the beginning of the twentieth century (he was born in 1860) succeeded in becoming one of the key figures in Russia’s Far East policies. Despite this, until very recently, the name A. I. Pavlov seemed doomed to obscurity, and was practically forgotten.1 To a large extent this was due to the fact that at the end of the Far East conflict, the Russian military bureaucracy sought to vindicate itself after its defeats in the field in Manchuria by blaming him, a civil servant, with large-scale financial misdealings. The circumstances of the case were examined by a secret government commission, but details of its investigations, which were largely distorted and misinterpreted, made their way into the press, and in 1907–1908 ‘The Pavlov Affair’ was subject to widespread and scandalous reporting both in Russia and western Europe.2 As a result, the whole Shanghai period of Pavlov’s story was besmirched, and his reputation undeservedly and hopelessly ruined. In the absence of any kind of transparent and

*The Russian title kamerger (chamberlain) from the German Kammerherr, had become, by the late-nineteenth century, a symbolic title signifying very high status in the court of the tsar. 160 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 unbiased legal investigation, he was forced into retirement. Until 1917, Pavlov worked as the head manager of Count Sheremetev’s properties and then emigrated to France, where he died in complete obscurity in 1923. In naming Pavlov as one of the key Russian figures on the Pacific coast at the turn of that century, a question unavoidably arises – that is, to what extent was he involved in the provocative policies in the Far East so closely identified with the activities of the ‘Bezobrazovites’, or with those of the Finance Minister, S. Iu. Witte, and the foreign dealings of Count V. N. Lamsdorff, who, as the Bezobrazovites’ main opponents, pursued a more balanced and peaceful policy in the region? It is clear that being an official representative of Russia in Korea, Pavlov could not, in the course of his regular activities, have failed to take into account the personal interests of the upper echelons of Russia’s ruling elite (court ministers, some of the more powerful princes, and, ultimately, the emperor himself) in the northern Korean timber concessions which were the official cover for the Bezobrazovites’ shady Far Eastern ventures. It was indeed his given task to ensure the prolongation of these notorious concessions, and he certainly did more than fulfil his obligations in this regard. In April 1901, the Korean government announced that they would be extended to 1904. At the same time, it would be wrong to consider Pavlov as a Bezobrazovite. Obviously, in the conditions described, he would have been unable to give public voice to any disagreement he may have had with them, but in personal conversation with members of the Russian cabinet (with the War Minister A. N. Kuropatkin, for example) he definitely accused them of seeking personal gain at the expense of the state’s interests (though of course he did not have in mind Nicholas II and the members of the royal family as far as this was concerned).3 He clearly understood that further flexing of Russia’s muscle in the Far East, which was being insisted upon by the Bezobrazovites, could cause irreparable damage to both empires, Russian and Korean, and, as we know, he was not mistaken in holding this view. At the same time, the Russian envoy never tired of repeating the view that Korea would inevitably lose its independence without the support of Russia, and therefore stood up against plans to neutralize the Korean peninsula under international guarantee. He could not, however, have foreseen in the years leading up to the war that later, similar guarantees would have had a chance of preventing Korea becoming a Japanese protectorate. ‘If the Korean emperor loses the trust and good will of the Russian state, and if the Korean government loses the support of the Russian government, then Korea’s ruin is unavoidable,’ he wrote in a private letter to a Korean dignitary in 1903.4 Regardless of the ever–growing presence of the Japanese in Korea (or, more accurately, very much as a result of it) his view was largely shared by both the Korean emperor, Gojong, and the Russophiles in his immediate circle, with whom Pavlov enjoyed a very close and trusting relationship. On the night of 10 February 1904, on the eve of his forced Russia and Korea in 1904–1905 161 departure from Seoul (at the onset of the Russo-Japanese War), he was secretly visited by one of the Korean monarch’s agents, who confirmed Gojong’s intentions of henceforth being ‘actively cooperative’ with Russia. In the course of their conversation, Pavlov passed on a secret code which the emperor could use for direct telegraph contact with Petersburg,5 and, probably, specified in general terms what form Russian–Korean cooperation would take under the conditions of the coming Japanese occupation. The Korean monarch’s sympathies towards Russia, and his hope that it would intercede, continued to comfort him, both after Japan had occupied his country, which happened immediately at the onset of the Russo- Japanese War, and even after the signing of the Portsmouth Treaty. Finding himself to all intents and purposes under arrest by the Japanese, Gojong, in his secret messages to Nicholas II (which also, to a large extent, were passed on via Pavlov’s Shanghai-based organization), underlined his ‘consistent devotion to Russia’, and in the summer of 1904 he even sent word that he was personally ‘secretly preparing a general uprising’ of his subjects against the Japanese.6 ‘Now, as peace is about to be declared,’ he wrote to Nicholas II a year later, when the peace talks in Portsmouth had already begun, ‘I am deeply convinced that my country can only be saved by Your Majesty’s gracious cooperation. At this difficult time I have decided to turn to Your Imperial Highness in the hope that, thanks to your good will, my country can succeed in maintaining its independence.’7 Gojong’s loyalty to Russia was stimulated further by Japan’s chosen policy of open and simultaneously repressive curtailment of his country’s independence – a policy that at the time also served to create fertile ground for mass anti-Japanese demonstrations in Korea. Only a few months had passed since the Japanese forces had landed on the Korean peninsula, but the local authorities already had a whole list of serious complaints against the Japanese military and civil administra- tions, whose behaviour often offended the Koreans as a whole, from Gojong’s ordinary subjects to the monarch himself and the members of his family. From the first days of the occupation, Japanese representatives insisted on the swift abandonment of all agreements between Korea and Russia. Gojong stubbornly resisted this, and at the beginning of April 1904 his palace was set alight in the hope that the Korean monarch might just happen to perish in the ensuing conflagration. Surviving three months of ‘siege’, Gojong gave up his resistance on this point only on 5 May 1904, and, if we are to believe the account of one witness (Viscount de Fontaine, the French chargé d’affaires in Seoul), only when he became convinced that ‘further resistance would lead to him being forcibly removed from the throne, or even killed’.8 At the end of June that year, the Korean emperor sent a handwritten list of other Japanese excesses to Nicholas II via Pavlov. The list included the following; ‘The Japanese have forcibly seized land and fields belonging to the emperor’s youngest son; the Japanese have seized all the fisheries on the Korean coast; they are seeking to be granted the right to 162 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 build a military port on the island of Kargodo; they have forced the Korean government to accept Japanese advisers; they are demanding the formation of a Japanese police force throughout the entire country and the establishment of Japanese garrisons in all Korean towns; very recently they blinded and then killed two Korean governors.’9 Soon they were demanding the handover of all uncultivated land in Korea for the purpose of Japanese colonization, which, in the words of the same French diplomat, provoked ‘the strongest indignation in the Korean people’.10 This situation of mass discontent with the heavy-handedness of the Japanese and their open infringements of Korean sovereignty allowed the ‘Shanghai Service’ to expand its intelligence work and subversive activities on the Korean peninsula, the chief object of which became the Japanese occupation forces. The Russian secret service in Shanghai had been founded at the beginning of April 1904 by personal order of Nicholas II on the initiative of his Viceroy in the Far East, E. I. Alekseev. The organization’s main task was to gather all kinds of secret information about Japan and its armed forces, not only in Japan itself, but also in China and Korea. While carrying out its chief objective, Pavlov’s secret service engaged in the covert ‘guidance’ of the Chinese and Korean press ‘in a manner favourable to Russia’, directed the work of Russian consuls and its own agents in detecting hidden movements of large groups of Japanese servicemen in the countries of the Far East, South-east Asia and the Netherlands East Indies (Indonesia), as well as laying in stocks of coal and buying up maritime support vessels for Admiral Z. P. Rozhestvenskii’s fleet, which had set off for the Far East from Europe in the autumn of 1904. It also worked at creating diversions in the rear of the Japanese army and destroying Japan’s underwater telegraph cables, bought and supplied (as contraband) provisions and medicine to Port Arthur (which was being block- aded by the Japanese), and after its surrender took part in the evacuation to Russia of injured soldiers from the garrison as well as several thousand civilians. Most of these operations were carried out secretly, in extremely unpleasant conditions and at great expense. In order to carry them out, the ‘Shanghai Service’ was given a budget of some tens of millions of roubles, the lion’s share of which was swallowed up not by its main, intelligence gathering operations, but by such ‘economic’ activities. One direction its activities took was the moral, organizational and financial support of the anti-Japanese partisan movement on the Korean peninsula. In addition to all this, Pavlov and his colleagues were forever being deluged with requests from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Viceroy of the Far East and the command of the Manchurian army on foreign policy and military questions. No sooner had Pavlov settled into his new role than, at the beginning of May 1904, the Viceroy of the Far East sent him a query ‘regarding the strength of the Japanese forces that had landed at Pitsewo and other locations ‘which were preparing for action against Port Arthur’.11 Very soon, the Director of the 1st (Asian) Russia and Korea in 1904–1905 163

Department of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, N. G. Hartwig, began to take a very keen interest in China’s plans to annul all the agreements it had reached with Russia in the previous eight years, and asked Pavlov and his colleagues to keep an eye on this matter.12 Two weeks later, the commander of the Pacific fleet, Admiral H. I. Skrydlov urgently needed to know ‘when, how, and why Marshall Oyama is going to Manchuria’.13 And there was more besides. In February 1905, the Commander-in-Chief made an inquiry of Pavlov by telegraph concerning the formation in Japan of ‘six divisions, in addition to the three that had already left for Korea, and also in which region the latter were concentrated, where they were going or where they were proposing to go’.14 Whatever question might interest the various branches of the leadership, they always expected to receive completely reliable information in the shortest time, and the ‘Shanghai Service’ rarely disappointed them. The staff of the ‘Shanghai Service’ included diplomats who had previously served at the Russian mission in Seoul or who were serving in China, as well as civil servants from the Ministry of Finance working at the Shanghai and Peking branches of the Russian-Chinese Bank. In addition, it also had at its disposal a good number of secret agents of various kinds, who worked in all the countries within its wide ‘zone of responsibility’. Depending on the nature of the intelligence collected, the leadership of the ‘Shanghai Service’ passed it on to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Russian embassy in Peking or to the army and navy command, as was deemed appropriate. At the same time, Pavlov sent all his reports to the headquarters of the Viceroy who was responsible for the overall funding of these activities from the multi-million rouble ‘special funds’ that he had at his disposal. ‘In order to avoid arousing the suspicion of the Chinese and other foreigners’ regarding the purpose of his being in China, Pavlov even enciphered his name at the end of his reports, and all his correspondence went under the signature and in the name of the Consul-General in Shanghai, K. V. Kleimenov. After Alekseev’s recall to Petersburg in October 1904, these communications were sent to the headquarters of the Commander-in-Chief in Mukden, and, after it had fallen to the Japanese, to Gongzhuling. All Pavlov’s correspondence was secret, and a great deal of time and effort went just into the enciphering and deciphering of outgoing and incoming material. In the period April to December 1904 alone, the ‘Shanghai Service’ sent more than 650 telegrams, and received and deci- phered about the same number. In addition to this, they did not use a single method of encryption, but several simultaneously. For his correspondence with regular Russian consuls, Pavlov used a ‘naval’ code, with ‘irregulars’, a letter-based code, and agents and collaborators operating on secret missions in various locations in China, Korea, and South-East Asia were provided with special personal codes. Separate ‘diplomatic’ codes were used for reports to the ‘top brass’. And all this, of course, was done by hand. All in all, Pavlov’s new appointment demanded the 164 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 utmost from himself and his colleagues, both in terms of their professional capabilities and their energy.15 The activities of the Russian service did much to complicate the counter-methods of the Japanese secret service in Shanghai, which had begun its operations there long before the appearance of Pavlov’s organization. Japanese influence and intelligence-gathering in the whole of southern and central China were concentrated in the hands of five covert operatives on the staff of the Consul-General in Shanghai. These were the consul himself, Odagiri Matsunosuke, a man described by one of the regular collaborators with the Russian service (a civil servant at the Ministry of Finance, L. V. von Goier) as ‘a person of unusual capabilities and rare education’; Colonel Tsuniyoshi, an unofficial military representative (who was replaced at the height of the war by Captain (First Rank) Mori Yoshitaro, who had been transferred from Chifu); Yamamoto, the director of the largest insurance company in Shanghai (Mitsui Bussan Kaisha); Cho, the head of the local branch of the Yokohama Specie Bank; and Hayashi, the manager of the Shanghai branch of the Nippon Yusen Kaisha steamship company. As was established by the ‘Shanghai Service’, together they made up an unofficial, though very cohesive body, which oversaw the work of a huge network of its own secret informers and spies, and which relayed the intelligence thus gathered to Tokyo once it had been processed. The appearance of Pavlov and his colleagues in Shanghai did not go unnoticed by Odagiri. Each Russian civil servant had his own ‘special watcher’ assigned to him, who was charged with attempting to penetrate Pavlov’s organization of secret informers. ‘The Japanese are forever on my tail’, wrote the head of the ‘Shanghai Service’ to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs in July 1904, ‘they are obviously trying to get to the bottom of what I’m doing here, but it is clear that they cannot get any positive corroboration to support their suspicions’.16 It is worth mentioning that the poor standard of Japanese intelligence on the activities of Pavlov and his colleagues is, to some extent, illustrated by the almost complete absence of comparable documents in their archives. Indeed, judging by Odagiri’s reports to Tokyo, he certainly was inca- pable of infiltrating his spies into the Russian ‘Shanghai Service’, and was therefore forced to rely upon information gathered by external observation. This was, however, not entirely fruitless. His agents were able to uncover contacts between Pavlov and Koreans living in Shanghai, which Odagiri was correct in identifying as evidence implicating the ‘Shanghai Service’ in the anti-Japanese demonstrations in Korea. ‘I have information from a variety of sources’, reported Pavlov to Lamsdorff, ‘that the Japanese attribute the recently uncovered anti-Japanese movement in Korea to my presence here in Shanghai, and to my alleged facilita- tion of secret relations with the Korean emperor and his followers via the Koreans, I-Khyia-Kiun and Khien-San-Gen, who live here’.17 Patriotically-inclined Koreans, be they Korean or Russian subjects, as well as western Europeans – servicemen, diplomats, journalists, merchants, businessmen, travellers and missionaries (who for whatever reason had Russia and Korea in 1904–1905 165 remained on the peninsula even after the Japanese occupation) became Pavlov’s collaborators and secret informers in Korea. Pavlov was considering the problems of organizing a secret service in Korea as early as April 1904, when he was on the way from Port Arthur to his new posting in Shanghai. His plan consisted of sending to the peninsula a group of Koreans who were former students of the government-run Russian language school attached to the Russian mission in Seoul, which had been run by the retired artillery captain N. N. Biriukov (by the beginning of the war many of them found themselves on Russian territory placed in various military and civilian educational establish- ments). ‘I believe’, wrote Pavlov to the Viceroy from Yingkou in the middle of April 1904, ‘that it would be useful to entrust the conduct of secret reconnaissance in Korea to Mr Biriukov, with the assistance of some of the above-mentioned Koreans, who would be under his direct command, and that both Biriukov and the Koreans should work separately and independently from others engaged in similar operations’.18 Admiral Alekseev agreed, though he considered it ‘more appropriate to send B (Biriukov) to one of the detachments located in northern Korea’, and that he should not only send his reports to the headquarters of army command and to the ‘Shanghai Service’, which Pavlov was proposing, but also to the field headquarters of the Viceroy himself.19 Soon, the Koreans O An-sen20 and Ku Tak-sen (from the Nizhegorod cadet corps), Khion Khion-gen and Yon Se-nion (from the Chuguevsk cavalry institute), Kim Na-kun and three other Koreans from the Kursk Academy (Kurskoe Real’noe Uchilishche),21 had been requested and sent from Russia. Another, from Petersburg, was Kim Pen-ok, a non-professional lecturer in the Korean language from the capital’s university. The Korean ‘alumni’ were provided with a monthly wage of 100 roubles, which corresponded to the salary of a junior officer in the front-line forces.22 Pavlov, of course, paid all expenses incurred in moving them from central Russia and settling them in their new location. The organization thus founded began its work in June 1904, when the majority of Biriukov’s ‘alumni’ had arrived in the Far East. The organization’s base was set up in Novokievskoe, which was the nearest Russian settlement to Korea equipped with a telegraph station, and from where Biriukov had already sent two Chinese ‘for surveillance in Korea’ at the end of May. ‘The agents are doing well’ he telegraphed to Pavlov at the end of July 1904, ‘. . . I am on my way to Korea with the team’.23 Independently of Biriukov and his group, the Russian command sent its own secret informers to Seoul in the spring of 1904. Referring to intelligence received from one of them, the ethnically Korean Russian subject Kim-Kegoni on 3/16 June, Admiral Skrydlov informed Pavlov:

The Japanese are holding the Korean Emperor under house arrest in his palace and are letting no-one in to see him. They also want to transfer him to the old palace near the northern gate. The Emperor, together with four ministers – Shim Shan-hun, Min Ken-shek, Chu Sek and Min 166 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

En-huan, is faithful to Russia. He is very depressed, and even cries. His heir has been taken to Japan.24

During the war years, one of the key figures in Russian secret operations on the Korean peninsula was M. I. Kim, who, before being christened and becoming a Russian subject, had been known as Kim In-su. ‘Regarding the responsibility of finding reliable secret intelligence on the state of affairs in Korea, both in the area of military activity and in the capital, with which I have been entrusted by the highest authority’, wrote Pavlov to the Viceroy from Dashiqiao on 12 April 1904, ‘I intend to send Matvei Ivanovich Kim, a translator and Russian subject attached to the imperial mission in Seoul, to locations adjacent to the river Yalu. This reliable Korean, who has earned our unconditional trust, will be charged with the responsibility of establishing uninterrupted secret communications with the regional Korean authorities and Korean secret agents, who, in accordance with conditions agreed in advance in Seoul, may be sent to the Manchurian border both on behalf of the Korean Emperor and of certain influential Korean dignitaries who are on our side.’25 We must remember that by this time the Japanese army under General Kuroki, which had marched half the length of the Korean peninsula, had approached the left bank of the Yalu river, and the cavalry division under General P. I. Mishchenko was already awaiting the enemy on the right bank. At the end of April 1904, having received detailed instructions, one of the most guarded secret codes (‘digram’ No. 389), 500 roubles and ID which would permit him unobstructed access to the Russian side (and their cooperation and protection) from Pavlov, Kim set off for northern Korea via Mukden and Liaoyang. His family remained in China, the head of the ‘Shanghai Service’ also taking responsibility for their well-being. On arrival, Kim was taken to one of the Korean emperor’s aides-de-camp, and then, according to the historian Pak Chon-hyo, went on to head a 3,000-strong Russian cavalry division that was operating in the northern provinces of Korea.26 Another of Kojong’s aides-de-camp, Hyen San-gen, also trusted by the ‘Shanghai Service’ (he had recently been a cadet at the Chuguevsk military school) had returned to his homeland in December 1903 and set up a partisan unit in May 1904 which also operated in the northern provinces of Korea. ‘Anti-Japanese leaflets distributed in the north of Korea have stoked up popular feeling against the Japanese’, Pavlov telegraphed Petersburg in July 1904, ‘and moreover, there are dead and wounded on both sides.’27 Having returned to Shanghai in the summer of 1904, Hyen maintained communications between the Russian ‘Service’ and the Korean emperor, although the partisan movement had still far from faded away. At the end of August the same year, a division of 300 Korean insurgents attacked the Seoul-Fusan railway, which was being constructed by the occupiers. In order to fend off the attack, the Japanese were once again compelled to call in the troops.28 While to all intents and purposes under house arrest in his own palace, Gojong remained in contact with the outside world, and was to some Russia and Korea in 1904–1905 167 degree informed of both what was happening with the popular movement and the role that Biriukov’s ‘alumni’ had in it. ‘The Korean Emperor is asking about the “alumni”, where they are, which of them is with you, are they well, and are you pleased with them’, enquired Pavlov of Novokievskoe on his request in September 1904. ‘They are well, are working diligently for the emperor and their homeland’, replied Biriukov, also in code. ‘Han and Kan are with me, O Oun-sek is in Purieng, I Iun in Pukchen, Hien in Novokievskoe, Ku in Tengsheng. I have been back in Sengjin. I am on my way to General Bernov’s division in Pikcheng.’29 The anti-Japanese partisan movement in Korea continued at least until late autumn 1904. At the end of September, Gojong’s agent in Petersburg, Chin Pom I assured First Minister Lamsdorff, and subsequently also Commander-in-Chief General Kuropatkin, that ‘a Russophile party’ in Korea ‘had been built on solid foundations’, and that, moreover, ‘it is active in the whole territory between Seoul and the province of Hamhung’.30 ‘The locals, obedient to the party’s instructions, are prepared to supply the Russian forces with the required intelligence concerning the numbers and positions of the Japanese’,31 underlined the Korean envoy, referring to the intelligence received from his homeland. The crushing of this partisan movement required the involvement of the regular army and was followed by mass executions of both insurgents and any persons suspected of spying for Russia. ‘The Japanese military authorities are taking a very hard line in Korea’, wrote Pavlov to Petersburg in September 1904, ‘they recently executed several dozen Koreans who had been accused of spying for the Russians, and a great number have been arrested on the same charge.’32 The Japanese photographed scenes of Koreans, either genuine or alleged partisans, being executed, and distributed them in order to frighten the locals. The ‘Shanghai Service’ obtained these shocking pictures without too much difficulty and used them for their own counter- propaganda ends. In autumn 1904, in the name of the editor of the English-language Shanghai newspaper, The China Gazette, which was secretly subsidized by Pavlov, the photographs (along with other revela- tory materials) were sent to parliaments, libraries, clubs, and the editorial staff of magazines and newspapers around the world. A caption in English beneath photographs of Korean Christians who had been cruci- fied read – ‘Japan’s subtle appeal for support and sympathy directed at all nations of the “yellow peril” against European civilization and particularly Christianity. These executions were carried out on 15 September 1904 in Seoul by the Japanese authorities. The pictures were taken by a Japanese photographer from Chemulpo, where they may be purchased for a few cents.’33 At the same time, the ‘Shanghai Service’ was also able to negotiate covert cooperation with the English owner of the recently founded (and the first) Korean daily newspaper, The Korea Daily News, E. T. Bethel. At great risk to themselves, the young Korean ‘alumni’ carried out reconnaissance missions (for months at a time) in Korea right up to the 168 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 end of the Russo-Japanese War. The information they unearthed was passed, as before, to Biriukov, but if for some reason they found themselves in China, then it would be handed to a Russian military representative (‘the first military agent’), Colonel F. E. Ogorodnikov of the Joint Staff. ‘The Koreans have arrived,’ telegraphed the colonel to the field headquarters of the Manchurian army on 16/29 July 1905, ‘They have informed me that a battalion of 500 soldiers of the 21st Regiment from Kumamoto arrived in Antung on 7 June, and on 12 June, five artillery companies of up to 1,300 persons, 12 eight-inch calibre cannon from Formosa. On 14 June, 400 cavalry from the 18th division from Kunushumara passed through Funhuanchen and, it is said, on to Mukden. Another Korean was in Chinampo on 18 May and on 21 May in Pen’yan (Pyongyang?), and arrived in Gensan on 28 May. Before the Koreans left, there were 800 Japanese soldiers in Yonkhyn, 8,000 in Hamhung, 4,000 in Pukchion, 3,000 in Mathyolyon, and 300 in Kyonsyon. These forces arrived from Gensan in January. In addition, in March, forces arrived from Japan via Honuyon and passed through Hamhin, but in all there were 20,000 soldiers from Gensan to Pukchion, and 10,000 Japanese workers.’34 In addition to Matvei Kim and his companions-in-arms, the ‘Shanghai Service’ was also supplied with detailed information on the activities of the Japanese occupying forces in Korea by its own western European secret agents, above all the French. Even in April 1904, stopping over in Tianjin on his way from Port Arthur to Shanghai, Pavlov heard a report from Colonel Ogorodnikov on surveillance they had organized from the sea off the western coast of Korea. This task was carried out by the French merchant Vernon (whom Ogorodnikov had ‘inherited’ from his predecessor, General K. I. Vogak) while sailing in a small (250 tonne) 12–knot steamship, the crew of which consisted of newly hired Europeans, Chinese and Koreans.35 The colonel telegraphed the information thus obtained to Petersburg, as well as to the Commander-in-Chief’s headquarters and the Viceroy. Everything else concerning Korea had to be organized independently by the head of the ‘Shanghai Service’. The gunboat Kersaint, stationerre of the French embassy in Seoul, would visit Shanghai twice a month, and each time would bring Pavlov letters from French diplomats whom he knew well from his previous posting – the trusted Viscount de Fontenay, Consul Bertaux and others working at the French mission in Seoul. On 1 July 1904, de Fontenay himself turned up in Shanghai, and, meeting with Pavlov, told him the latest news from Seoul. He also acquainted the head of the ‘Shanghai Service’ with the text of the latest personal message from Gojong to Nicholas II, which he handed to him at their final meeting, with the request that it be passed on to Petersburg. Once again pointing out the oppressive behaviour of the Japanese, the Korean emperor concluded the letter by underlining that ‘I firmly hope that, with the kind concern of Your Highness, and under the generous protection of Russia, the happiness and welfare of Korea will be guaranteed, and that the Russia and Korea in 1904–1905 169 existing friendly relations between our two countries will grow even stronger.’36 Not long before de Fontenay’s arrival in Shanghai, Pavlov had become acquainted with the French director of the northern Korean railway, Lefevre, who would go on to provide him with important information on the condition of the Japanese expeditionary corps on the peninsula, the progress of the construction of new rail branches in Korea, the fortification of ports and coastal defences, and the locations and contents of Japanese military warehouses. Pavlov reported to the Commander- in-Chief in January 1905 that ‘a few Koreans disguised as Japanese’ had made an attempt to set fire to Japanese food warehouses in Chemulpo, ‘but they were captured by the Japanese and immediately executed’.37 Another Frenchman, Laporte, the chief of Korean customs at the same port (Chemulpo), informed Pavlov about Japanese shipments to the peninsula. Valuable intelligence on current affairs in Korea was also received from the ‘Shanghai Service’s’ other secret collaborators – the Frenchmen Martel and Jean Chaffanjon, the Belgian Delcoin, and the German Bolyan. At the beginning of 1905, Pavlov’s best secret agent, a correspondent with the French newspaper, L’Illustration, J. C. Balais, who had arrived for a short time in Korea from Japan, became acquainted with the head of the diplomatic chancellery of General Hasegawa, the commander of the Japanese expeditionary corps, and was able to discover Japan’s ‘military programme’ for Korea from the general and officers on his staff. As Balais put it, Hasegawa’s next plans were as follows: ‘There would ultimately be three combined divisions under the command of this general. It would be in charge of an area comprising the whole of the Korean peninsula and the right bank of the Yalu river to the Mo Ten Lin crossing. The main forces would be concentrated on the coast from Gensan to Songjin and at a number of fortified positions between Gensan and Pinyan (Pyongyang?). Until the situation in Mukden was clarified and the outcome of the Baltic fleet’s arrival on the scene was known, Hasegawa’s activities would be of a purely defensive nature’.38 Neither did Japan’s movement of large-scale military contingents to Korea in January and February (and again in April) 1905 escape the attention of the ‘Shanghai Service’, nor the subsequent arrival of less significant reinforcements. Moreover, the rumours the Japanese had been spreading (in Balais’ opinion ‘deliberately’) that the newly arrived forces were to be assigned the task of attacking the Russian Far East were regarded from the very beginning as disinformation. ‘Personally, Balais treats stories of a campaign against Vladivostok sceptically’, reported Pavlov on 21 February 1905, ‘and expresses his conviction that in any case such a campaign would not be undertaken unless the Japanese could achieve a decisive victory over our army at Mukden.’39 Being armed with knowledge in this way, the Russian command was able to avoid scatter- ing its forces, concentrating them instead on the situation at Mukden. As it turned out, Kuropatkin was unable to defend Mukden in any case. On 25 February/10 March 1905, after a bloody attack that lasted many days, 170 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 the town was surrendered. Moreover, in their hurried retreat, the Russian forces abandoned their transport, including several carriages containing secret documents. These included, as the military itself admitted, codes and ‘information concerning secret agents abroad and their activities’. More than likely these documents had not vanished in the chaos of battle or been destroyed by fire, but had fallen into the hands of the enemy.40 This was a calamitous blow for Pavlov’s secret service and its agents. Since the time of Admiral Alekseev, it had been the rule that Pavlov and his colleagues had to name their sources of information in their reports, or, to put it another way, give the true names of their secret informers. Although Pavlov, showing some foresight, avoided mentioning the names of Martel and Balais in his coded telegrams to the Commander- in-Chief’s headquarters (preferring to refer to ‘information from “B” from Yokohama’ or to information ‘from a secret collaborator in Seoul’), the French journalist was, in March 1905, recalled from Japan, and other, less important agents were ‘frozen’ for a time. However, secret intelligence on the situation in Korea continued to reach Shanghai as regularly and in as much detail as it had done previously. For understandable reasons, the main efforts of the ‘Shanghai Service’ were concentrated on gathering secret information on Japan and its activities in China, and not about Korea, reports on which made up only a small part of Pavlov’s output. Regardless of this, for the whole of the Russo-Japanese War, Russia’s military and political leadership received detailed and reliable information concerning the numbers of Japanese forces in Korea, their positions and movements, their armaments and their state of training, the construction of military objects (railways, telegraph lines, different kinds of fortification) on the peninsula, the number of Japanese warships in Korean waters and their movements, the Japanese command’s plans, the state of Japanese-Korean relations and the mood among Korea’s ruling élite. However, insufficient forces and the Russian military leadership’s lack of initiative got in the way of this valuable information being put to the use that it might have been.41 The Manchurian command’s ardour cooled, and a series of unsuccessful military operations were conducted in Korea, above all the skirmish at the Yalu river in April 1904. In the second half of 1904, General Kuropatkin finally refused to carry out large-scale operations on the Korean peninsula. His successor in the post of Commander-in-Chief, the infantry general N. P. Linevich, was no less reluctant to act, and avoided any kind of undertakings at all, fearful of Japanese incursions from Korea into Russian territory in the Vladivostok area (despite the ‘Shanghai Service’s’ predictions). There was a lull in the main theatre of war in the summer of 1905, but in Korea the Japanese were making great efforts to force the Russians across the Tumen river and succeeding in warding off the enemy’s small cavalry divisions. On 23 August by the old calendar, or on 5 September by the new, Russia and Japan signed the peace treaty in Portsmouth, USA. With the Russia and Korea in 1904–1905 171 end of military action, there was no more need for intelligence operations in Korea. On 8/21 September, Biriukov, together with his Korean charges, left Novokievskoe, and a month later was sent home from Gongzhuling. ‘The alumni justified the trust you and the Viceroy showed in them,’ he stated, not without a little pride, in his final telegram to Pavlov.42 However, Russia did not lose its interest in Korean affairs and the hope that the country would retain its independence even after the declaration of peace. As is well known, article 2 of the Portsmouth Treaty accepted that Japan possesses in Korea paramount political, military and economical interests’, and made the promise ‘neither to obstruct nor interfere with measures for guidance, protection and control which the Imperial Government of Japan may find necessary to take in Korea’. Regardless of this, gathering at a secret meeting on 21 September/4 October 1905 in Petersburg, Grand Duke Nikolai Nikolaevich and key ministers headed by Count Witte43 came to the conclusion that ‘the independence of Korea has not been destroyed by the treaty, and, as before, it may be recognized by the imperial government’, if it were recognized by the other Great Powers.44 The same idea was present in secret instructions prepared by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs (which were approved by the emperor, but not sent in his name) for the still-to-be- named ambassador to Tokyo.45 All this time, Chin Pom-i continued to receive thousands of roubles in subsidies from the Russian treasury to finance a Korean mission in the Russian capital. With such an atmosphere prevailing in Petersburg, the head of the ‘Shanghai Service’ continued as before to follow the development of the political situation in Korea very closely, a situation, since the signing of the Portsmouth Treaty, that was becoming more and more dramatic. Pavlov telegraphed the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on 11/24 November 1905: ‘information that I have just received from extremely reliable sources in Seoul includes the following details of a decisive attempt by the Japanese on 4 November to force the emperor to agree to a Japanese protectorate. Since 1 November, while preparatory negotiations between Marquis Ito and Hayashi46 and Korean ministers have been conducted, the imperial palace has been surrounded by Japanese troops. Large divisions of infantry, cavalry and artillery have been patrolling through all the streets of Seoul on a round-the-clock basis on the pretext that Japanese residents of the city were fearful of possible disorder.’ At 4 am on 4 November, with the negotiations deadlocked (owing to the refusal of the majority of Korean ministers), Hayashi, together with the members of the Japanese mission set off for the palace, where all the Korean ministers had also gathered. At 8 o’clock that evening, Hayashi informed Ito that he had achieved nothing, and the latter immediately arrived at the palace with General Hasegawa and a detachment of Japanese soldiers, gendarmes and police. At midnight, the Japanese decided to take desperate measures. A detachment of gendarmes was sent to the Korean Minister of Foreign Affairs’ (Pak Che-sun’s) private apart- ment to search for his official stamp. By 1 am, the stamp had been 172 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

delivered to the palace by a Japanese civil servant, and, after lengthy and unsuccessful attempts to force Pak Che-sun to stamp the agreement, the Japanese did it themselves, whereupon Ito announced to the emperor and his ministers that he considered the agreement on the protectorate to now be in force. However, on 7 November the document had still not been stamped by the emperor, who allegedly declared that he would rather die than approve the agreement. But with Japanese gendarmes and police officers occupying even his private chambers night and day, there are fears that he may not hold out, and might agree to stamp the document.’47 That same day (4/17 November), Japan hurried to inform the world that it had established its protectorate over Korea, but on 14/27 November Gojong issued a statement through his representative in Petersburg in which were described the circumstances of the agreement’s ‘signing’, along with a vigorous protest ‘against the force used by the Japanese and their trampling all over the fundamentals of international law’. The Russian Ministry of Foreign Affairs circulated this document among its representatives in Paris, Rome, London, Vienna, Madrid, Berlin and Washington together with instructions for them to inquire as to the attitudes of the countries’ governments to the Korean Emperor’s protest.48 Very soon, Rome officially responded with its ‘lack of interest’ in Korea. Paris was simply ‘perplexed’ with the situation. Before long, however, the Great Powers had reduced the status of their representatives in Seoul from ministers to consuls-general, and, in doing so, acknowledged the changes that had occurred in Korea. First, even before the end of November 1905, Great Britain, Germany and the USA recalled their envoys from Seoul. Finding itself to all intents and purposes internationally isolated on the Korean question, Russia was forced to follow suit, but was the last to announce its intentions. In April 1906, the state coun- sellor E. A. Planson, the former head of the Viceroy of the Far East’s diplomatic chancellery, was named as Russia’s official representative in Korea, with the title of diplomatic agent and consul-general. Long before the selection of Planson, towards the end of November 1905, Z.M. Polyanovskii, the pre-war consul in Seoul and a member of the ‘Shanghai Service’s’ staff during the war was sent to Korea. Pavlov had entrusted him with taking over the property of the Russian mission (which had all this time been in the care of the French), but also to study ‘in as much detail as possible’ the ongoing state of affairs in the Korean capital. Polyanovskii reported to Shanghai – ‘The Japanese have forced the emperor to make another agreement countersigned by the Minister of Foreign Affairs, the Minister of War, the Minister of Finance, the Minister of Agriculture and the Minister of Education. The Prime Minister and a colleague (Min Yeong-hwan and Jo Byeong-se) have protested and have committed suicide. The five ministers who signed the agreement have been relocated with their families to the Japanese Concession to be safe from the people’s vengeance. In Seoul and in the country as a whole, things are quiet, but hatred towards the Japanese Russia and Korea in 1904–1905 173 among the population is growing all the time. I am relaying to you what the Korean people themselves are saying.’49 On 6 January 1906 an order was issued that signalled the abolition of the post of Korean Minister of Foreign Affairs, and its functions passed to the Japanese resident-general in Seoul. All in all, and as Pavlov in his time had predicted, Korea, deprived of Russian support and lacking its own armed forces (its tiny regular army, which had, since 1898 been trained by Japanese instructors, was dispersed within hours of the Japanese occupation), turned out to be doomed to becoming a protectorate of the island empire not merely de facto, but also de jure. As far as Pavlov himself is concerned, on 17/30 November 1905 ‘taking into account the impossibility of a return to Seoul as envoy’ he was instructed by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to liquidate the ‘Shanghai Service’ and return to Petersburg.50 Wrapping up affairs in Shanghai, however, took until the spring of 1906. During this half-year, Pavlov not only had to dispose of his secret service’s property and possessions and settle accounts with its many covert agents, but also had to petition on behalf of Prince Min Yong-ik’s51 request to be granted the status of Russian subject, as well as dealing with the affairs of the former Korean Minister of Finance, I Yong-ik, who returned to the Far East from Petersburg with the intention of settling in Vladivostok. It was only on 12/25 May 1906 that Pavlov was able finally to leave for his homeland via Vladivostok and Harbin. He took with him a new personal message from Gojong to Nicholas II, which Captain Khien had handed him con- spiratorially prior to his departure. With the expected international peace conference at The Hague just round the corner, the Korean Emperor once again was making an appeal for ‘gracious cooperation in reestablishing the independence of the Korean state’. As he had promised, Pavlov passed Gojong’s letter on to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, but in the conditions that prevailed at the time, Russia no longer had the power to alleviate Korea’s fate.

NOTES 1 He is mentioned from time to time in modern Russian historical literature, but his activities are always dealt with brieﬂy and are not accorded the value they deserve (see, for example, Sergeev 2004: 86). Even A. A. Volokhova could not avoid making grave errors in her recently published article especially dedicated to A. I. Pavlov (Volokhova 2005:170–176). This lacuna is even more surprising when one considers that, an entire chapter was dedicated to the activities of my namesake in the Far East: see Pavlov 2004. 2 See Globe, 19.2.1907: Rus’, 20.10.1907; Rech’, 20., 22. & 23.3.1908; Sovremennoe Slovo, 21.3.1908, Slovo, 26.3.1908; Peterburgskaia gazeta, 24.3.1908, Novoe Vremia, 26.3.1908, S.-Peterburgskie vedomosti, 25.3., 1.4. ,5.4., et seq. 1908. 3 The diary of A. N. Kuropatkin, Moscow, 1923: 23–24. 4 AVPRI, fond 191 (Missiia v Seule), opis’ 768. d.. 26, ll, 81–81ob. 5 This code was destroyed in the ﬁre at the emperor’s palace in April 1904. 174 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

6 AVPRI. f. 143 (Kitaiskii Stol), op. 491, d. 58, ll. 6–6ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs containing the text of a personal message from Gojong to Nicholas II. Shanghai, 2/15.7.1904 No. 300. 7 Ibid. d 71, ll 9ob.-10. – A secret telegram from A I Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs containing the text of a personal message from the Korean Emperor to Nicholas II of 12.7. 1905, delivered to Shanghai by General I Ion Ik. Shanghai, 4/17.9.+ 1905. 8 Ibid. d. 2972, ll. 151ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Shanghai, 14/27.5.1904 No. 163. 9 Ibid. d. 58, ll. 14–14ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Shanghai, 2/15.7.1904 No. 332. 10 Ibid. d. 2972, ll. 144ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Shanghai, 2/15.7.1904 No. 329. 11 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 2978, ll. 130 – A secret telegram from E. A. Planson, of the Viceroy’s headquarters, to A. I. Pavlov in Shanghai. Mukden, 7/20.5. 1904. 12 Ibid. ll. 105 – A secret telegram from N. G. Hartvig to A. I. Pavlov in Shanghai. St Petersburg, 29.5.1904. 13 Ibid. ll. 86 – A secret telegram from N. I. Skrydlov to A. I. Pavlov in Shanghai. Vladivostok, 10/23.6.1904. 14 Ibid. d. 2980, ll. 55 – A secret telegram from A. N. Grushetskii (of the Commander-in-Chief’s staff) to Pavlov in Shanghai. Mukden, 10/23.2.1905. 15 For further details concerning the organisation of the ‘Shanghai Service’ and its activities see: Pavlov 2004:287–325. 16 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 2978, ll. 117ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Shanghai, 28.7./10 .8.1904 . 17 Ibid. 18 Ibid. d. 2982, ll. 143–143ob. – A top secret letter from A. I. Pavlov to the Viceroy in Mukden. Yingkou, 15/28.4.1904 No. 70. 19 Ibid. ll. 135. – A secret telegram from E. I. Alekseev to A. I. Pavlov in Shanghai. Mukden, 7/20.5.1904 No. 111. 20 Also known as O Oun-sek. 21 It is typical of Pavlov that he ﬁrst made a request of the Viceroy that the Korean ‘alumni’ would have the right to complete their studies in Russia once the war had ended. 22 The equivalent of US $3,500–$3,700 today. Biriukov’s own salary was 400 roubles a month, that is four times greater than theirs. 23 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 2982, ll. 72. – A secret telegram from N. N. Biriukov to A. I. Pavlov in Shanghai. Novokievskoe, 22.7./4.8.1904 No. 312. 24 Ibid. d. 2978, ll. 63, – A secret telegram from N. I. Skrydlov to A. I. Pavlov in Shanghai. Vladivostok, 22.6. /5.7.1904. 25 Ibid. d. 2978, ll. 21–22. – A top secret letter from A. I. Pavlov to the Viceroy in Port Arthur. Dashiqiao,12/25.4.1904. No. 69. 26 Pak-Chon-Hyo 1997: 212. 27 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 2978. ll.12–12ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Mukden,17/30.7.1904. No. 403. 28 Ibid. d. 59, ll. 179–180ob. – a secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Shanghai, 20.8./2.9.1904. No. 522 Russia and Korea in 1904–1905 175

29 Ibid. d. 2982, ll. 46, 39. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to N. N. Biriukov in Novokievskoe. Shanghai, 22.9.1904 No. 607. and a reply sent from Biriukov to Pavlov in Shanghai sent on 6.10.1904 No. 35. Biriukov, however, had his doubts about the authenticity of Gojong’s request. He wrote – ‘The emperor is surrounded by the Japanese and spies, there is a feeling that this question is actually coming (in the emperor’s name) from the Japanese.’ 30 The Korean diplomat had in mind the province of Hamgyongdo (whose administrative centre is Hamhung), bordering Chinese Manchuria and the Russian Iuzhno-Ussuriiskii Krai. 31 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 60, l. 149. – A copy of a secret message from the Korean envoy in Petersburg, Chin-Pom-il to the Adjutant General A. N. Kuropatkin. St Petersburg, 23.9.1904. 32 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 60, ll. 122ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Shanghai, 17/30.9.1904 33 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 60, d. 2985, ll. 25. 34 Ibid. d. 2982, ll. 139–140. – A secret telegram from F. E. Ogorodnikov to the ﬁeld headquarters of the Commander-in-Chief in Gongzhuling (No. 1121) and to the joint staff directorate in St Petersburg (No.1122). Peking, 16/29.7. 1905. 35 Ibid. d. 2982, ll. 139–140. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Viceroy in Mukden. Tian’tsin, 25.4. 1904, No. 112. 36 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 2972, ll. 142ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs 2/15.7.1904, No. 330. 37 Ibid. d. 2980, ll. 71ob. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the command headquarters in Mukden. Shanghai, 22.1./4.2.1905 No 45. 38 Ibid. d. 64, ll. 40. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Shanghai, 23.1./5.2.1905, No.47. 39 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 64, ll.229ob. 40 Ibid. d. 2978, l. 145. – A secret telegram from A. I. Pavlov to the envoy to China, P. M. Lessar in Peking. Shanghai, 5/18.3.1905. 41 Russian command staff generally treated intelligence gathered by Korean secret agents with scepticism. The adjutant at the headquarters of General Linevich, Count A. A. Ignat’ev, for example, scornfully referred to such intelligence in his memoirs many years later as ‘fantastical’. See Ignat’ev 1959: 22. 42 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 2984, ll. 38. – A secret telegram from N. N. Biriukov to A .I. Pavlov in Shanghai. Novokievskoe, September 1905. 43 With strikes and walkouts raging all across Russia, Nicholas II preferred to sit it out in his country residence of Peterhof, but agreed with the decisions made, which he ﬁrst heard verbally from Witte, and subsequently in a letter from Lamsdorff. 44 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 2972, ll. 6. – A letter from A. I. Pavlov to D. K. Sementovskii-Kurilo at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, 6.7. No. 106. 45 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 72, ll. 9–9ob., 19. – The minutes of the meeting on 21.9.1905 to discuss questions arising from the agreement reached with Japan in Portsmouth on 23.8./ 5.9.1905. 46 Ibid. ll. 43–50ob. – The draft of secret instructions for the envoy to Tokyo. On the document Nicholas II wrote ‘S’ [which stood for the Russian soglasen, ‘I agree’]. Peterhof, 11/12.10.1905. 176 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

47 Ito was a marquis and chairman of Japan’s Privy Council; G Hayashi was chargé d’affaires and Japan’s envoy to Korea. 48 Ibid. II. 51–51ob. – A circular telegram from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to Russian representatives in Paris, Rome, London, Vienna, Madrid, Berlin and Washington. St Petersburg, 14/27.11.1905 (the text of which was approved by Nicholas II). 49 AVPRI, f. 143, op. 491, d. 2972, II. 89–90. – A letter from Z.M. Polianovskii to A.I. Pavlov in Shanghai. Seoul, 23.11./6.12.1905. 50 Ibid. d.2973, II.160. – A secret telegram from Deputy Foreign Minister of Foreign Affairs, Duke V.S. Obolenskii, to A.I. Pavlov in Shanghai. St Petersburg, 17/30/11/1905. 51 This relative of Queen Min had lived in Shanghai since her brutal murder twenty years previously in Seoul by Japanese agents. Now, in 1906, he turned to the Russians fearing that he would be forcibly handed over to the Japanese. His request was approved as ‘a special act of monarchic charity’. 12 The Japanese Consular System in China during the Russo-Japanese War

CAO DACHEN*

he diplomatic relations established between China and Japan by the Tcommercial treaty of 1871 were suspended on the outbreak of the Sino- Japanese War in 1894. After the Treaty of Shimonoseki the next year, Japan won huge gains and projected its power into Asia, raising its national prestige by securing footholds in Korea and mainland China. Tensions between Russia and Japan then escalated until they ﬁnally resulted in war between the two powers from 1904 to 1905. During this war the Japanese consular system in China managed gradually to recover and develop. Three causes may be given: ﬁrst, Japan adjusted its foreign strategy and began to promote a continental policy; second, with the modernization of Japanese diplomacy, the structure of diplomats and consuls gradually became more organized; and third, the war zone was neither in Japanese nor Russian territory but in the north-east of China. This enabled Japanese consuls to control the operation of diplomatic affairs, military administration and public welfare, while the neutral stance adopted by the Chinese government gave Japan a platform to run its consular system. The objective of this paper is to examine in detail the Japanese consular system in China, which developed into an interesting historical phenomenon, in the context of modern international law, particularly under wartime conditions.

THE CONSULAR STRUCTURE IN WARTIME In August 1869, Japan established the Ministry of Foreign Affairs ‘to conduct diplomatic relations and supervise commerce’. With the

* Chinese-Japanese translation by Doda Yosuke. 178 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 retirement in 1878 of Yanagihara Sakimitsu and So Yoshiaki, undersec- retaries who had specialized in relations with China and Korea, diplomacy with the West now took precedence following the appointment in 1874 of the former minister to Britain, Terashima Munenori, as Minister of Foreign affairs. Japan had from 1871 gradually established legations in countries such as Britain, America, Russia, China and Korea. In December 1885, Inoue Kaoru was appointed as the first foreign minister under the new cabinet system and together with the restructuring of ministry personnel, there now appeared the ‘career diplomat’ with a regular university education. In October 1893, the government established an ‘examination system for diplomats and consulates’, announcing the formation of a ‘selection committee for diplomats and consuls’ to be organized on an annual basis.1 In June 1899, it announced a ‘system for diplomats and consuls’ which divided consular posts into four ranks under consul-general, consul, vice-consul and consular aide, all appointed with imperial approval. The system allowed diplomats under direct imperial appointment to transfer to the post of consul-general and, in cases where there were no diplomats on site, allowed consular officials to act as diplomatic secretaries.2 As this system showed, Japanese consulates could conduct diplomatic business either partially or fully in addition to managing general matters such as residential affairs and commerce. This was different to the system that was in use in the West. After many years the United States, for example, had finally woken up to the disadvantages of using a system of merchant consuls and had replaced them with specialist consular officials.3 In 1871, Japan and China had signed the Sino-Japanese Commercial Treaty in Tianjin, which permitted commerce in ports along their respective coastlines and stipulated that both countries should send officials to supervise their own merchants. These ‘councillors’ were what would later become ‘consular officials’. It also stated that in addition to their own duties such councillors ‘must not engage in trade and cannot represent other countries without prior arrangement’.4 The ‘Commercial Regulations’ concluded at the same time designated ports where Sino- Japanese trade was allowed, fifteen of them in Chinese cities (one in Manchuria, two in the north, five in the centre, and seven in the south and Taiwan). Based on these ‘Commercial Regulations’, Japan subsequently established several consulates, although these were closed during the war with China from 1894 to 1895. When peace was restored, they gradually reopened so that by the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War there were fifteen Japanese consulates in China; two consulates- general in Shanghai and Tianjin, eleven consulates in Amoy, Fuzhou, Guanzhou, Chefoo, Niuzhang, Suzhou, Hangzhou, Hankou, Chongqing, Changsha, Sashi, and two annexes in Shantou and Nanjing.5 The first time that Japanese police were sent to China was during the 1884 Franco-Chinese War, when the Foreign Ministry despatched two patrolmen to the consulate in Shanghai. After the Sino-Japanese War, police officers were sent to each consulate in succession on the pretext of The Japanese Consular System in China 179 supervising Japanese residents. Following the outbreak of the Russo- Japanese War, Japan also established a consular police force in Manchuria. This was set up at the consulate in Niuzhang based on a proposal made by the consul, Segawa Asanoshin, to the Foreign Ministry after Japanese troops occupied the city in August 1904. Then in October, the ministry decided to set up police forces at all the consulates-general and consulates, announcing a ‘notice on the establishment of a police force abroad’. According to these regulations, the main duties of the consular police were to protect and control Japanese residents in China and, although their activities were initially just to guard the consulate building itself, these were later expanded to include the residential concessions as requests from civilian groups led to their hiring Chinese patrols to control shipping. The ‘Consulate’s Duties’ announced by the Foreign Ministry in March 1899 enabled consular officials to perform not just their own tasks, but also that of police inspectors or even judicial secretaries. The idea of a country establishing its own police force in another country’s territory was unprecedented anywhere in the world. The Chinese authorities frequently protested, calling on the Japanese government to respect international law and recall these police stations, together with their personnel. Japan claimed that they had a right to be there ‘according to the treaty’, but according to the 1896 Sino-Japanese ‘Commercial Shipping Treaty’ Japanese consular officials held judicial rights only to the effect that ‘any Japanese national who prosecutes another Japanese or who is prosecuted by other nationals should come under the jurisdiction of an official sent by the Japanese Government without passing through Chinese officials’ hands, while any Japanese national prosecuted under Chinese criminal law should be inspected by Japanese officials and if convicted sentenced according to Japanese Law.’ Establishing a police station at the consulate was thus clearly an attempt to expand the consul’s judicial powers. Japan, however, refused to withdraw its police forces. According to a Foreign Ministry survey in August 1904, at the time of the Russo-Japanese War the ministry had a total 210 consular officials posted overseas, including 37 consuls or commercial secretaries, 30 diplomatic or consular aides, 128 secretaries or translators, and fifteen reserve diplomats and consular officials. These may be imperfect statistics, but Japan had set up sixteen consulates in Europe and America, and ten in Korea. Both in terms of their number (fifteen) and the strength of personnel, Japan had more consulates in China than any other country, indicating how, following on from Korea, the ‘continental policy’ was being implemented in the diplomatic sphere.6 From 1904 to 1905, the consulates-general were at the centre of a Japanese consular structure in China in which consulates and annexes played a supportive role. The Japanese government placed almost the entire country, from provincial down to district level, under the jurisdiction of consuls-general and consuls. Establishing such areas of control was not just for ‘matters requiring negotiation and responding 180 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 to need’, but imposed a structure for the expansion and diffusion of Japanese influence in China. At the time, the area under the jurisdiction of the Niuzhuang Consulate was Japanese-occupied territory and their environs, which mainly incorporated Yingkou in Mukden Province, the city of Jinzhou, the prefectures of Gaiping and Haicheng, together with Fuzhou.7 Although Japan’s consular staff in China comprised fewer than a hundred officials in total, many of them were highly educated with university and other qualifications. Not only were they familiar with both Chinese and Western history, but they were rational in outlook and equipped with specialist knowledge. Together with the ‘Chinese perspective’ they received from their own intellectual backgrounds, they were also influenced by Japan’s continental policy.

THE ROLE OF CONSULS IN THE WAR ZONE Diplomatic relations between Japan and Russia were broken off when war was declared on 10 February 1904. Since the war zone was in the north-east of its own country, China’s announcement of neutrality two days later complicated its relations with both Russia and Japan. In ‘peacetime’, these had taken the form of relations with the treaty powers. In ‘wartime’, they became those of a neutral country with participants in the ﬁghting. The situation took on a further dimension due to the varying attitudes shown towards Russia and Japan by the other neutral treaty powers in China. Japan’s Foreign Ministry manifestly kept these international relations in a somewhat obscure state. Of course, it was not so easy to maintain consular relations within neutral territory in China, still less so in the war zone in the north-east. Unsure of the situation on the ground and acting out of safety for its consular staff, the day after war broke out on 11 February, the Foreign Ministry closed down the Japanese Consulate at Niuzhuang and recalled the consul, Segawa Asanoshin. Following the Japanese capture of Yingkou on 26 July and the retreat of the Russian civil authorities to Manchuria, Ijuin Hikokichi, the consul- general in Tianjin sent a letter to Foreign Minister Komura Jutaro calling on him to dispatch a consul there.8 The next day, the consul at Chefoo, Mizuno Kokichi also sent Komura a letter stressing the need for a quick appointment, declaring that ‘every day this is delayed incurs another day’s worth of damage’.9 As Niuzhang was ‘at present the most important location in military terms’, the Foreign Ministry had decided to entrust consular affairs there to Segawa, who knew the place well.10 Due to some problems in arranging his passage, however, Segawa was unable to return to his post until the middle of August. On 29 July, Komura sent Ijuin an urgent telegram, instructing him to take on the additional consular duties at Niuzhang with orders ‘to leave Tianjin at once, proceed to Yingkou, select the necessary personnel from your consulate and then return to Tianjin once Segawa arrives’. Komura also sent a telegram with The Japanese Consular System in China 181 the following instructions on the administrative policy to be pursued at Yingkou:

1. Establish a military government ofﬁce and take all measures that military needs require. 2. Permit the return of Chinese district authorities and place civil administration under their authority with the exception of military affairs. 3. Allow current staff to control customs in so far as this does not affect military requirements.11

On 2 August, Komura sent a letter to Segawa who was then travelling back to his post, informing him of these administrative regulations and announcing the administrative rules for Yingkou in much the same terms. He then went on to reiterate that ‘as relations there are extremely complex, your consulate must always receive assistance from military officials and even if Fujing is captured the situation is still so chaotic that you must consult with them on all major issues, and follow orders from me in each given case’.12 Meanwhile, Ijuin had left Tianjin as soon as he received his instructions from Komura and the Japanese Consulate at Niuzhuang reopened on 4 August.13 Before the Russo-Japanese War, the north-east region of China (Manchuria) had been within Russia’s sphere of influence and the only Japanese consulate in the war zone itself was at Niuzhuang. After war broke out, the Foreign Ministry’s orders to the consul-general at Tianjin to take on concurrent duties there served to raise the consulate’s status, and it was promptly furnished with ten staff. The reconstituted consulate at Niuzhuang was now equipped with more staff than the consulate- general at Shanghai and in terms of scale was second only to the consulate in Seoul, which had eleven officials.14 When the Japanese Army captured Niuzhuang, the consulate was temporarily based in the military government office, but a Chinese residence was later rented and business conducted there instead. It subsequently played a very active role in the war zone, following instructions from the Foreign Ministry and cooperating with the occupying military authorities as it supervised the Japanese resident community and dealt with third parties, including China. The Foreign Ministry laid out its administrative policy for occupied territory on 30 June 1904, stipulating that ‘control of land in Manchuria occupied by our army is to be exercised throughout under military jurisdiction in accordance with international law’. It divided administration in Manchuria into three zones; the Russian concession, Chinese commercial ports and the Chinese interior. The Russian concession applied to the southern part of the Liaotung Peninsula, including Jinzhou where Russian justice, legislation and administration had been enforced. Here, the Japanese army set up a military government and military officials were ordered to exercise overall control of administration and law. In 182 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Manchuria, there were three Chinese commercial ports at Yingkou, Dadong’gou in Andong Prefecture and Mukden, but the jurisdiction of the Chinese district authorities in Yingkou had not been recognized when these had been under Russian administration. Based on military requirements, the Japanese Army made the Chinese district authorities administer civil affairs there. In the Chinese interior, however, Russia had recognized the jurisdiction of the Chinese district authorities, so the Japanese Army decided that in addition to setting up a military government it should make the Chinese administer their own civil affairs.15 After June 1904, as the Japanese Army continued its push to the north, majors and lieutenant-colonels were appointed as military officials in occupied territories and military government offices were set up in many parts of Manchuria.16 Once each government office had been established, an announcement was made warning civilians not to disobey the military command and regulations. In Fuzhou, for example, the Japanese military government declared that ‘telegraph lines, poles and timbers along the railway are the responsibility of all supervisors who will be interrogated together with the village chief concerned in the event of any damage’.17 At Qingniwa the military government announced that ‘anyone involved, however peripherally, in conspiring to cause damage to the railway or railway carriages will be executed’.18 The ‘Japanese Empire’s Consular Regulations’ announced by the government on 19 April 1890 stipulated that ‘on matters concerning his duties the consul must report to the Foreign Minister’.19 On the eve of the Russo-Japanese War, therefore, Segawa, the consul at Niuzhuang, had sent a number of telegrams to Komura describing the movements of the Russian Army in the area. Such reports included material on the general state of the population, travel regulations, customs, post offices, shipping traffic after Japanese occupation, local councils, foreign residents and consulates of the other powers, the Japanese community and consular affairs.20 Information was also sent on the local military situation, the state of the army and navy, subsequent movements by the Russian Army and the Chinese population’s attitude towards the Japanese.21 At the beginning of March 1905, the Japanese Army set up a military garrison in Xinmin with a view to an extended occupation.22 The Chinese Foreign Ministry sent the Japanese Government a memorandum criticizing this as a transgression of neutrality and calling for an immediate troop withdrawal. Believing Xinmin to be inside the war zone, however, Major-General Fukushima Yasumasa did not comply and declared that he would ascertain whether this was a neutral area or not.23 In order to cooperate with the army, Consul Segawa sent an official called Shibata to Xinmin to pay his respects to the governor there and mediate. During this interview, Shibata made it clear that a Japanese garrison there was needed at present on military grounds and, once these had passed by, the security force would voluntarily withdraw. He also warned the governor that ‘our army has no intention whatsoever of obstructing your country’s government, or stealing from the Chinese people. Japan is The Japanese Consular System in China 183

fighting the Russian state that has caused suffering to your government and your people, so your government and your people should cooperate with our army.’ After the meeting, Shibata consulted with Fukushima, expressing his sincere hope that civilian officials might be sent to help raise the awareness of the Chinese people and promote development through peaceful commercial competition.24 On the eve of war, there had been British and US consulates inside what now became Japanese-occupied territory and subsequently France and Germany also set up consular agencies there. Many of the 91 Western people based in the area administered by the Niuzhang Consulate worked in customs, the postal service, trade, hotels and the grocery business. In addition, there were 40 to 50 temporary residents. In July 1904, there was some confusion when the Japanese Army captured Yingkou. When announcing military rule in occupied territory, usually everything had to be conducted in accordance with the treaties and based on practice in international law and any cases of criminal charges against foreigners must be handled by the consul of their own country. The Foreign Ministry, therefore, decided to appoint a diplomat or consular official within the military government office just to manage the business concerning foreign nationals. On one occasion during his term Ijuin met with the British and US consuls in Yingkou and questioned them about foreign residents’ attitudes towards the Japanese Army.25 After Segawa took up his post on 27 August, he frequently interviewed influential foreigners and Chinese there and consulted with them about their views on the military administration. He also tried to forestall criticism of the Japanese consular system by participating in the consuls’ council, not only explaining the position of his government but keeping an eye on other consuls’ dealings with the local authorities and promoting mutual understanding between them and the military government.26 Another duty of the wartime consul was to manage and supervise the Japanese community. Before war broke out, there were about 100 Japanese residents in Niuzhuang. After the Japanese Army occupied Niuzhuang in July 1904, their numbers grew rapidly, and by November there were 891 Japanese residents there. Out of military need and to maintain public order, no women or children were allowed with the exception of residents’ families. Before the war, all the Japanese residents had been engaged in commerce, but after Niuzhuang was occupied many of the new arrivals sold and transported military supplies, among them some who aimed for profits of at least ‘a thousand pieces of gold’.27 Xinmin was a gateway for Mongolian trade and a cargo distribution centre. Segawa foresaw that the numbers of Japanese merchants heading there would increase after its capture by the Japanese Army in March 1905, so he sent an official on a reconnaissance mission.28 After receiving his orders on 15 March the official travelled to Xinmin where he found so many Japanese residents already that he stressed the need for strict control measures. He then consulted with Major-General 184 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Fukushima, calling on the army to summon the most trustworthy merchants it could ﬁnd and decided to restrict residence permits to those who had identity papers from the Niuzhuang Consulate or the Yingkou military government. To win the support of the Chinese local authorities, he also put pressure on the governor of Xinmin, pointing out that with the city now effectively under Japanese control, ‘since our army relies on the power of Japanese people for military supplies, foreigners, especially Japanese, should be permitted to reside and trade’.29

CONSULAR BUSINESS IN NEUTRAL TERRITORY Japanese consuls who were clearly outside the war zone in neutral territory were not in the thick of the fighting itself. During the war, however, there were frequently times when a Russian warship or transport ship would escape to a neutral port and on such occasions the consul on site would monitor the warship’s movements while negotiating with the local authorities to ensure that China did not break its neutrality. At the same time, consuls used the special rights enshrined in the commercial treaty to plan for Japan’s long-term interests throughout the extensive stretches of neutral territory in China. They naturally also continued to play an essential role in protecting and supporting the economic activities of Japanese residents. On 7 May 1904, the Shanghai Customs Office received an order from the General Customs Bureau which announced ‘regulations on handling prohibited goods in wartime’. These stipulated, first of all, that purely military commodities such as weapons and gunpowder viewed as prohibited goods in wartime must not be stored in the port of a country at war or within the war zone itself and would thus be unloaded and impounded until the war was over. Secondly, general commodities such as cereals and other foodstuffs were to be considered as regular commercial products even if they were used for military purposes, so that at their own risk merchants could ship these to a country at war without any interference. Any such commodities directly bound for the war zone, however, must all be seized as military goods and impounded until the end of the war. Thirdly, in accordance with this regulation, such commodities shipped via Chinese ports must be seized with the consignee bearing any costs incurred by the merchant for unloading the cargo, which would always then be subjected to a customs inspection.30 Just before the outbreak of the war in 1904, the Russian gunboat Manchuria docked in Shanghai.31 On 10 February, she loaded a large quantity of coal, weighed anchor and moved to the quay in front of the China Eastern Railroad warehouse, where she was seen loading gunpowder. Odagiri Masanosuke, the Japanese consul-general in Shanghai, responded quickly by making enquiries at the Chinese local authority. The mayor of Shanghai then sent a letter to the captain of the Manchuria calling on him to leave the port immediately, but the captain did not immediately comply. According to the neutrality regulations announced by the The Japanese Consular System in China 185

Chinese Government when the war broke out, any warship of a country at war could not remain docked in a Chinese port for more than 24 hours except under special circumstances. Wary of infringing international law, the Japanese Government was not in a position to force the Russian warship to leave Shanghai. To prevent any resulting damage to commercial interests, however, and also to protect China’s position of neutrality, on 19 February it sent the warship Akitsushima to Shanghai to keep watch on the Manchuria. On the same day, the Japanese Foreign Ministry instructed Odagiri to call on the Chinese local authority to accelerate the Manchuria’s departure since her presence in Shanghai was threatening general commerce and also contravened the Chinese Government’s own neutrality regulations. He announced as well that the Akitsushima, now in Wosong, would observe these neutrality regulations and leave port within 24 hours. After some negotiations, the Manchuria finally unloaded its cargo on 28 February and Odagiri received via the French consul a written oath from the Russian captain that the ship would ‘never again take any part in this war’. On 30 March, a French mail steamer left carrying on board the Russian soldiers who had made this oath. On the same day, Odagiri and the captain of the Akitsushima inspected the unloaded cargo and apart from some prohibited commodities expressed their general satisfaction. Having now accomplished its deterrence mission, the Akitsushima promptly left Shanghai the following day.32 The Manchuria was docked in Shanghai for over a month. During this time, Odagiri conducted negotiations by sending letters to the minister for the Southern Seas and the mayor of Shanghai, while reporting on the progress of his talks to Foreign Minister Komura.33 Among these reports were a number on the issue of neutrality in Shanghai.34 In addition, several Russian warships put into port in Tsingtao during the war, and Consul Mizuno at Chefoo negotiated with German officials on site. He sent reports to the foreign minister evenhandedly both on the movements of the Russian warships in port and incidents in which the Japanese Army had fired on Chinese junks.35 During the war, Japanese consuls posted along the Chinese coast relayed information to the Foreign Ministry concerning the approach of the Russian Baltic Fleet and any Russian movements on site.36 This provided useful material for the Imperial Navy in forming its strategy in response. Before the war, many of the Japanese in China lived in foreign concessions. In general, their numbers had been increasing. The place with the most Japanese was Shanghai. In October 1905, of a total of 11,497 foreigners in Shanghai’s municipal concessions 2,157 of them were Japanese.37 The following month they formed the ‘Japanese Society’ (the forerunner of the Shanghai Foreign Residents’ Group), which laid down its own regulations, elected trustees and directors, and made arrangements to manage its own affairs. In September 1904, the Foreign Ministry starting drawing up a bill on residents’ groups with a view to supervising Japanese communities 186 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 throughout China and coordinating their relations with the consuls. In an effort to survey their situation across the country, Komura consulted with the consuls and the resulting correspondence led to a wealth of information. At the 31st session of the House of Representatives in February 1905, the bill was passed and it became law on 7 March. This legislation established that Japanese resident organizations in foreign concessions or other communal residential areas would be treated as cor- porations under the superintendence of government bodies like the Foreign Ministry. As such they were to conduct their affairs as appropriate to civilian groups within the limits of the law, the treaties and relevant conventions.38 The role of the consul in protecting civilian rights applicable in the country he represented was already acknowledged by many scholars of international law. In a review on such duties, Puladiai Fudailei had written that ‘a consul’s responsibility is to ensure that the rights a citizen receives in his own country are respected overseas and to take whatever measures are necessary in order to achieve this goal, for it is through the consul that the protection offered under the wing of the state is extended throughout the world’. The scholar of international law, Ao Behai, also recognized that protecting his fellow-citizens was ‘one of the most important duties’ a consul had.39 The efforts consuls made to protect their citizens’ rights inevitably varied depending on whether they were in the war zone or neutral territory; in the war zone, their main duty was to control civilians, while in neutral territory their role was to use their special prerogatives to secure as favourable terms as possible for their citizens’ economic activities. Japanese people had lived in China and conducted trade since the onset of the modern era, but they were confined to prescribed commercial ports and concessions. According to the Sino-Japanese Commercial Shipping Treaty of 1896 they were permitted access, the right to reside and engage in trade, manufacture and any other recognized enterprise in ports already opened or those to be opened in future. They were also allowed to carry merchandise and domestic furniture between such ports. Within the concessions in all treaty ports, they were able to rent any residence and to build places of worship, hospitals and cemeteries on leased land.40 Japanese residents, however, were not necessarily satisfied with these arrangements and frequently ventured beyond the boundaries, sold prohibited goods and leased businesses in other unrec- ognized ports. In such places as well, steps were taken with the interces- sion of the consuls. The treaty powers had been unable, for example, to build a stable foothold in Hunan, which was situated inland. Yet in June 1904, Nagataki Hisakichi, the Japanese consul in Hankou, concluded with the mayor of Changsha a set of ‘Regulations for the Concession in the Commercial Port of Changsha’, establishing the location for a new concession. Nagataki also demanded that rentable land be made available for the commercial quarter both inside and outside the city walls, but the Hunan local authorities made it quite clear that this was The Japanese Consular System in China 187 unacceptable. Nevertheless, some foreigners went ahead and built offices and warehouses regardless and an extended series of ‘negotiations on mixed Chinese and Foreign residence’ followed over the course of 1905 and 1906. Ultimately, Hunan merchants paid a certain sum to the foreign merchants and drove them out of the area.41 Even then, the Japanese consul still allowed Japanese people to live in houses within the city walls and intimidated the Hunan authorities into permitting Japanese steamships carrying merchandise and passengers to call in at both sites.42 Japan used the unequal treaties to accumulate profits from China and, apart from gaining territory and an indemnity from the Sino-Japanese War, managed to obtain twenty or so special rights over the development of concessions, customs agreements, passage for warships, coastal trade, residence and enterprise, access to internal waterways and railway construction. These were not suspended during the Russo-Japanese War and the consuls in neutral territory cleverly exercised their rights on land, administration and powers of jurisdiction within their own concessions. After the Sino-Japanese War, Japan had won jurisdiction over concessions in ports such as Tianjin, Mukden, Hankou, Hangzhou, Suzhou, Shashi and Chonqing.43 Acquiring the right to use land within the concessions in China was not the same everywhere, but the three methods foreigners used were permanent lease, purchase and free acquisition.44 Many Japanese acquired land through permanent lease in their own concessions, although once every thirty years they had to fulfil the leasehold contract procedure, and on expiry Chinese officials could cancel the contract and repossess the property.45 Once the boundaries of a concession had been fixed, the local authorities bought up all the land in the enclosed area and Japanese residents could then buy permanent lease- holds through their consul. This method was used in the Japanese concessions in Suzhou and Hangzhou.46 When the Japanese concession in Chonqing was developed in 1901, the experience at Suzhou and Hangzhou was taken into account under the ruling that ‘all the plots within the concession are to be purchased from their owners by the local authority and then land is to be allocated to Japanese residents with permanent leases approved’. After this agreement was reached, the Chonqing local government soon bought up all the land in the area to prepare for the arrival of prospective Japanese leaseholders.47 For a variety of reasons, the rate of development was not always consistent among the Japanese concessions. Those at Tianjin and Hankou were seen by the Japanese Government as ‘developed’ concessions, while those at Suzhou, Hangzhou and Chongqing were called ‘undeveloped’. The administrative structure in the ‘developed’ concessions had changed from being an ‘autocratic’ system under the consul to an ‘autonomous’ system in which the consul largely exercised police authority within the concession, while administrative rights were held by an elected residents’ council. The administrative structure in the ‘undeveloped’ concessions operated through directives from the consulate, based on which Japanese residents within the concession and its environs could form their own 188 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 council which other nationals with land and family could also join. Here there was a kind of consular ‘autocracy’ in place as the residents’ councils were nothing more than advisory bodies, since they did not hold corpo- rate status and all the decisions taken by their annually elected council members had to be referred to the consul for approval. Although the Japanese concessions were situated on Chinese territory, within these designated areas Japan exercised rights over legislation and administration, which were distributed among the Foreign Ministry, the consuls and residents’ groups. The legal and business duties the consul attended to in developing the concession may be generally divided into three categories. The first was leasehold regulations, the second land tax contracts and the third rules for residential construction. In one case where a consul was unfamiliar with this work, the Japanese Government, worried about any deficiencies and damage that might result, sent the more experienced consuls-general of Shanghai and Hankou to survey, mark out and make arrangements for the concession in the presence of the Chinese local authorities. In addition, consuls also held rights over taxa- tion as they had the power to levy taxes on Chinese and foreign residents in the concession, to levy new taxes and to adjust tax rates. Occasionally, the consul would inspect the conduct of all Japanese residents in or near the concession and consular police were posted along roads near the Chinese quarters. Not only did the Japanese concession operate entirely independently of Chinese law and administration, it was clearly a state within a state, where the consul was the supreme authority.

CONSULAR JURISDICTION AND DUAL DIPLOMACY Consular jurisdiction exempts foreign nationals from being subject to local law, even if this offers an equal level of legal protection, but places them instead under the authority of their own country’s law exercised through the consul. In terms of modern international law as practised around the world, the status of a consul in legal terms is completely different to that of diplomats (such as ministers, ambassadors and plenipotentiaries). Diplomats directly represent their country’s sovereign ruler and indirectly represent their country’s people. They are thus special agents of the government, the dignity and weight of their office sufficient to guarantee them extraterritorial rights. Consuls, however, cannot be called pure diplomats and cannot of course receive the rights of immunity that a diplomat enjoys under international law. According to consular regulations around the world in the modern era, a consul’s duties consist of no more than protecting the interests of his country’s nationals and their commerce, supervising maritime transportation and keeping records on residents, but do not necessarily allow him to become involved in international negotiations. In China, however, Japanese consuls not only conducted diplomatic affairs, exercised jurisdiction and police powers, directed the volunteer corps and held authority over residents in the concessions and beyond, but they also became in effect The Japanese Consular System in China 189 diplomats with extraterritorial powers, exempting them from Chinese criminal, civil, police and financial law. In the context of consular jurisdiction, there was a historical precedent for equal relations between China and Japan. This was the Sino-Japanese Commercial Treaty signed in 1871. The Sino-Japanese Commercial Shipping Treaty signed in 1896, however, clearly stated that ‘Chinese nationals and property in Japan fall under the jurisdiction of Japanese Law’. At the same time it stipulated that ‘trials of Japanese nationals fall entirely under the jurisdiction of officials sent by the Japanese Government and no negotiations are to be conducted with Chinese officials’. Thereafter, not just the Western powers but also Japan began to exercise consular jurisdiction unilaterally. For its own system of consular jurisdiction in China, Japan introduced consular tribunals, adjoining jails, and separate hearings so as to appear in no way inferior to that of the Western powers. This consisted broadly of the following:

1. Japanese consuls in China were qualified to conduct preliminary hearings and pass judgement on all civilian, property damage, prosecution and petty criminal cases. They could not, however, pass judgement on serious criminal cases. In the event of such a case, consuls had to conduct an enquiry, and if there was any doubt over the verdict the defendant had to be sent to Japan to be tried there. 2. Consuls were of course judges and at consulates where there were numerous cases to be heard the consul had to concentrate on managing legal matters or alternatively a vice-consul would be separately appointed. Such consuls or vice-consuls were selected from among serving judicial officers in Japan. They were empowered to conduct and deliver judgement on cases themselves. The duties of the public prosecutor were to be carried out by the consulate’s superintendent or a police officer. Superintendents who managed legal affairs were to be appointed from among diplomatic secretaries who had experience of courts in Japan. 3. In cases where a Japanese national had committed a crime in China and escaped arrest by absconding to a concession outside the jurisdiction of the Japanese police, the Japanese police authorities had to negotiate with the relevant foreign police authorities to secure the offender’s arrest. If the offender had escaped to the Chinese interior, he had to be arrested with the cooperation of the Chinese police authorities and returned to the Japanese police authorities. In cases where he had absconded to a concession with independent or shared extraterritorial rights, the civic officials were to cooperate in this process.48

In neutral territory during the Russo-Japanese War, consular jurisdiction was mainly applied to areas within the Japanese concessions. Viewed overall, however, each case that was made against a Japanese national was taken up by the Japanese consular courts and judgement passed in 190 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 accordance with Japanese law. In effect, therefore, consular court jurisdiction was carried out not only within the concessions but also in areas beyond. In general, within the Japanese concessions Chinese nationals and people from non-treaty powers fell under the jurisdiction of Chinese law. In cases where they had committed a crime in the Japanese concession or absconded there after the offence, they would be tried elsewhere, for after arresting the offenders the consular police had to hand them over to the Chinese local government ofﬁce for trial. In cases where they had hidden inside the concession, they had to be handed over to the pre- fectural authorities where the crime occurred to receive trial there. Within the Japanese concession, however, there were in fact cases where the consul apprehended Chinese nationals and others from non-treaty powers. Since the consul held legal jurisdiction there, Chinese nationals accused of crimes in the area were investigated and had their houses searched and in cases of fatal attacks, post-mortems were even carried out on the victims. These consular powers of legal jurisdiction may be summarized as follows:

1. The consular police had the right to arrest Chinese nationals who had committed a crime. In cases of ongoing crimes involving suspects within the concession, arrests could be made without a warrant, and not only was there no need to hand them over immediately to the consul as in the case of nationals from other treaty powers, but they could be held for twenty-four hours before being dealt with. 2. The consular police had the right to conduct preliminary enquiries on Chinese nationals that had been arrested. These were conducted in all cases before they were handed over to the Chinese government ofﬁce. At this time, the police would attach a document with clear details of the offence. Notable here is the fact that they used torture during these preliminary enquiries. 3. The Japanese concession had the right to decide whether or not to hand over Chinese nationals who had committed political crimes. Also in order to arrest political criminals who were active or taking refuge within the concession, the Chinese Government had to obtain the permission of the consul ﬁrst. The Japanese looked on their concession as an independent kingdom, political criminals were frequently protected and for long periods they were not handed over to the Chinese authorities. Testimony to this is borne by the fact that once Chinese nationals or foreigners from non-treaty powers entered the Japanese concession, they were under the legal jurisdiction of the consul.

Next to be examined is consular jurisdiction within the war zone. In principle, Japan’s diplomatic business fell under the supervision of the Foreign Minister, but since the military held a special position within the diversified command structure of the imperial system, there emerged The Japanese Consular System in China 191 the seeds of a ‘dual diplomacy’ in which they also conducted diplomatic policy based on their own interests and judgement.49 During the Russo- Japanese War this pattern of ‘dual diplomacy’ had already begun to take shape. The ‘Duties of the Consulate’ were announced by the Japanese Government in March 1899. This stated that consular officials held the right to handle all cases of Japanese nationals prosecuted within their area of jurisdiction.50 In Japanese-occupied territory during the Russo- Japanese War, military officials handled trials of Chinese nationals, the relevant consuls handled trials of foreigners and Japanese consuls handled all trials involving Japanese nationals, both prosecution and defence, although military officials had the power to overrule this consular jurisdiction in cases of military need. To be more specific, consuls could punish Japanese offenders in accordance with Japanese law but they had no power to prevent military officials also from disciplining them as they saw fit and in some special cases they were handed over to the military from the outset. In November 1904, two Foreign Ministry secretaries, Kawakami Toshitsune and Shinobu Junpe, went to Yingkou to survey the implementation of military rule and they then sent a report to Foreign Minister Komura on how the consular and military officials’ duties overlapped in practice. In this, they expressed concern over the vague boundaries of consular jurisdiction. They pointed out that although the military authority was an administrative body essentially not in a position to conduct trials, on the pretext of military need it was making arrests and carrying out punishments at will. In the war zone, of course, such steps were unavoidable. But Yingkou at the time was not just under Japanese military occupation but also operating as an open port. Naturally, people from various countries travelled back and forth at will and a Japanese consul was already on site carrying out his duties to protect Japanese nationals. In this context the judicial process in Yingkou was vitally important, so Kawakami urged that criminal trials there should be conducted with caution in accordance with the law.51 After consultation with the Foreign Ministry, the army ceded to the consul jurisdiction over Japanese offenders and other residential matters.52 In November 1905, the foreign minister informed the minister to China, Uchida Yasuya, of the ‘suspension of provisional military law’. This gave the consuls authority for negotiations with Chinese officials and the consuls of other powers, together with legal jurisdiction over Japanese civilians who were not part of the army. In military cases where there was no consular official or agent present, the army on site would negotiate with the Chinese local authority and then report to the consular official or agent who had jurisdiction over the area concerned. The Foreign Ministry deployed consular agents throughout Manchuria who then took over from the military officials. Prior to the withdrawal of military rule, the consuls had mainly handled all the business unrelated to 192 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

military affairs, such as negotiating with the Chinese local authority, policing Japanese residents and court matters. In general, it was also the consuls who negotiated with foreign countries.53 In this way, they partly won back their jurisdiction from the army and the vagueness over their powers was practically resolved. In the neutral territories as well, the conflict over jurisdiction persisted between the consuls and occupying army forces or troops despatched from Japan and subsequently this contradictory ‘dual diplomacy’ would resurface with fatal effect during the Second Sino-Japanese War. It is notable, however, that although this was an internal Japanese conflict, they presented a united front in terms of protecting state interests. They were also united in promoting the continental policy and any disputes between them were resolved through the cooperation of the Japanese Government. In general, fierce confrontations were also avoided by the army ceding ground or the consuls keeping their silence. On the contrary, they tacitly agreed to cooperate, with the consul using the army for backing in cases of diplomatic conciliation and the army using the consul to settle cases which could not be resolved by force. Such reciprocal political relations were by no means rare in China in modern times.

CONCLUSION During the Russo-Japanese War, the duties of consuls expanded in range and scale due to the necessities of wartime and the consular system gradually developed, the most concrete result of which was a new structure for consular cooperation. The modern Japanese consular system in China followed the policy decisions of Foreign Minister Komura, and the resident minister (ambassador) and consuls were the instruments of his will. Consuls received their instructions from and were held directly responsible by Komura. The formation of this hierarchical structure was effective in carrying out the Japanese government’s objectives and allowed Komura to pursue foreign policy with precision. There were, nevertheless, some flaws in this structure. In other words, there were gaps in the horizontal links between consuls which made it difficult for Komura to control all fronts so that there were inevitably occasions when his instructions were misinterpreted on the ground. At the same time, such gaps in information also made it extremely difficult for consuls to handle cases originating in territory under another consul’s jurisdiction that had grown to affect their own. A major problem facing the Japanese Government, therefore, was how to consolidate the level of coordination and cooperation between the consuls in China. Foreign Minister Komura used ‘telegraphic instructions’ for his correspondence with the consuls. During the war, consuls and ministers everywhere also sent him frequent reports on the situation in their own areas and besides the specific instructions he sent to individual consuls, Komura also despatched circulars to update them all on developments so that they could grasp the general state of affairs and take appropriate The Japanese Consular System in China 193 measures in response. Such a system however, simply informed other consuls of what was happening in one consul’s area, and an overall mutual understanding was never achieved. In subsequent diplomatic practice, the Foreign Ministry began to use administrative methods to coordinate communications between the consuls. There were two main approaches; one was through the Foreign Ministry Committee situated in Tokyo which was attended by consuls- general, but this was conducted at too high a level for most of the consuls to participate; the second was the Consular Committee, a large- scale general forum for all the Japanese consuls in China, which was held comparatively rarely. In addition, there were other regional level consuls’ committees in Manchuria, North China, Mid-China and South China (usually held in Taiwan). These were attended not just by the relevant consuls themselves, but also by embassy and military officials posted in the area. Apart from complementing the Foreign Ministry Committee meetings in Tokyo, these committees gave the consuls a greater sense of solidarity, enabled a greater understanding of Japanese occupying forces, reduced the contradictions of ‘dual diplomacy’, and allowed them to realize their collective potential as an integrated organization. The Japanese consular system in China during the Russo-Japanese War may be said to have existed for only a short period, but this was an extremely important stage in its overall development. Operating under the Chinese government’s foreign policy of ‘using barbarians to control the barbarian’, the consular officials’ varied activities not only supported Japan’s war effort against Russia, but were immensely influential in planning for Japan’s long-term interests in China and stabilizing and developing the consular system as a whole.

NOTES 1 Shinobu Seizaburo, ed., 1980, I: 213; Gaimusho daijin kanpo jinji-ka, ed., 1912/1999: 37. 2 Ibid.: 11–13. 3 Men Xuezhu 1992: 73–9. 4 Wang Tieya, ed., 1957, I: 319. 5 Gaimusho hyakunen shi hensan iinkai, ed., 1969: 1509–11. Gaimusho daijin kanpo jinji-ka, ed., 1912/1999: 30. 6 Ibid. 1913/1999: 27–32. Gaimusho hyakunen shi hensan iinkai, ed. 1969: 1381–1513. QTWS II: 7–10. 7 Ibid. Gaimusho daijin kanpo jinji-ka, ed. 1913/1999: 27–32. 8 Ijuin to Komura, 26.7.1904, NGM, vols. 37–8, Supplement: Nichiro senso, no.326. 9 Mizuno to Komura, 27.7.1904, NGM (III), no.330. 10 Komura to Mizuno, 29.7.1904, ibid., no.399. 11 Komura to Ijuin, 29.7.1904, ibid., no.338. 12 Komura to Segawa, 2.8.1904, ibid., no.368. 194 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

13 ‘Niuzhuang ryojikan saikai kokuji’ in ‘Kanpo shoroku’. 6.8.1904, ibid., no.380. 14 Gaimusho hyakunen shi henkan iinkai, ed. 1969: 1509–12. 15 ‘Manshu senryochi ni kansuru shisei hoshin’ 30.6.1904, NGM (III), no.260. 16 Mu Jingyuan, 1993: 191–2. 17 Nichiro Senki IX: 22–3. 18 Ibid.: 23–4. 19 Gaimusho hyakunen shi hensan iinkai, ed. 1969: 182. 20 Ijuin to Komura, 11.8.1904, NGM (III), no.387. 21 Segawa to Komura, 4., 18 & 23.9., 7.10., 18 & 23.11.1904: ibid., no.825 (IV), no.856 (IV), no.869 (IV), no.893 (IV), no.971 (IV), no.976 (IV), no.397 (III), no.398 (III). 22 Nichiro Senki: 193. 23 Segawa to Komura, 14.4.1905, NGM (III), no.455. 24 Ibid. 25 Uchida to Komura, 3.8.1904: ibid., (III), no.370. 26 ‘Manshu senryochi ni kansuru shisei hoshin’ 30.6.1904: ibid., no.260. 27 Segawa to Komura, 18.11.1904: ibid., no.405. 28 Segawa to Komura, 11.3.1905: ibid., no.450. 29 Segawa to Komura, 14.4.1905: ibid., no.455. 30 Uchida to Komura, 7.5.1904: ibid., (I), no.768. 31 The Manchuria docked in Shanghai on the pretext of protecting the Russian consul and merchants. 32 Odagiri to Komura, 31.3.1904: NGM (I), no.1106. 33 ‘Shanghai-ko Roshia-kan kosho jokyo ni kanusuru hokoku,’ Odagiri to Komura: ibid., (II), nos.1136, 1152, 1161, 1206, 1210, 1212, 1254, 1255, 1257, 1258, 1259, 1260, 1417, 1220, 1224, 1251, 1252. 34 Odagiri to Komura, 20. & 25.2., 8. & 9.3., 9. & 10.9, 4.11.1904, ibid., no.403 (I), no.817 (I), no.1061 (I), no.1065 (I), no.1086 (I), no.1752 (II), no.1753 (II). 35 Mizuno to Komura, 27.3., 30.7., 11., 12., 16. & 31.8., 13., 15. & 19.9, 14.12.1904, 2.1., 18.2. & 20.4.1905: ibid., no.349 (III), no.806 (III), no.733 (I), no.1410 (II), no.1421 (II), no.1435 (II), no.1374 (II), no.1290 (II), no.1751 (II), no.26 (III), no.94 (III), no.112 (III), no.48 (IV). 36 Ijuin to Komura, 14., 19., 27. & 29.2., 8., 25 & 26.3., 2.7., 17.9., 3.10.1904, 5.1., 17.3.1905: ibid., no.122 (III), no.123 (V), no.297 (I), no.298 (I), no.622 (II), no.634 (II), 652 (II), no.543 (II), no.784 (II), no.893 (II), no. 437 (II), no.547 (II). Mizuno to Komura, 1.2.1905: ibid., (IV), no.430. Noma to Komura, 1.2. 1905: ibid., (II), no.1708. Shirosu to Komura, 9.2.1904: ibid.,(I), no.672. Nakamura to Komura, 12., 22., 24. & 28.4., 1., 2., 3., 11., 13., 17., 22. & 24.5.1905: ibid., (I), nos. 937, 931, 934, 922, 923, 925, 938, 941, 943, 907, 913, 919, 921, 926, 916. 37 Gaimusho tsushokyoku, ed., 1906: 492–9. 38 Hanabusa Shudo 1939: 591. 39 L.T. Lizhu, 1975: 122–3. 40 Wang Tieya, ed. 1957, I: 663. 41 Liu Yangyang et al., 1994: 476–7. 42 QTWS XIII, quoted from Hunan lishi ziliao bianji-shi, ed., 1980: 211. 43 Hanabusa 1939: 599–600. The Japanese Consular System in China 195

44 Fei Chengkang 1991: 86. 45 Shen Zuwei, ‘Shanghai zujie fangdi chanye de xingqi,’ Shanghai yanjiu lunso, no.2: 147. 46 Qi YaoShan, Wu Qingcheng et al., Hangzhou-fu shi, Vol.174: 6. 47 Zhu Zhihong, Xiang Chu et al., Ba-xian shi, Vol.16: 25. 48 At the time of the Russo-Japanese War Japan’s consular jurisdiction was still in its very early stages and it was subsequently developed into a more systematic structure after the war. Gaimusho daijin kanpo jinji-ka, ed., 1912/1999: 16–22. 49 NGS, I: 415–6. 50 Gaimusho daijin kanpo jinji-ka, ed., 1912/1999: 16–19. 51 Kawakami to Komura, 25.11.1904: NGM (III), no.268. 52 Kawakami to Komura, 25.12.1904: ibid., (III), no.273. 53 Katsura to Uchida, 19.11.1905: ibid., (III), no.292.

PART IV Interior Lines

13 Russian Views of the Far East in the Period of the Russo-Japanese War

KANO TADASHI

here are at least two premises we need to address when we consider Tthe case of Russia in the Russo-Japanese War. The first is to understand the political decision-making process. At the time, the Russian state was ruled according to the State Fundamental Law codified in the 1830s, which concentrated sovereign authority in the person of the tsar as ‘absolute monarch with unlimited powers’. The Tsar had the right to appoint ministers and high-ranking officials, and his sole authority was enshrined in the Law. Of course, it does not mean that he conducted politics all by himself. He certainly exercised ultimate sanction over legislation and administration, but the State Council as a consultative law-making body also played an important role in domestic politics, diplomacy and war. Moreover, it was customary when making decisions on important matters to convene a special council, consisting of principal ministers. In the days up to the Russo-Japanese War, such special councils were convened at various times, so we can understand Russian behaviours by examining the discussions they held. The second premise is the nature of the Russian Empire, that is, especially the conditions at its frontiers. Over time, the Russian state had expanded to incorporate numerous minorities and ethnicities living in the Eurasian continent, and set up frontiers in various border regions in contrast with Moscow and Petersburg as metropolitan areas. These frontiers were immensely diverse in character: in economic terms, for example, Poland had its industrial heartland such as Lodz, whereas Turkmenistan, for example, was mainly nomadic; in religious and cultural terms, meanwhile, one area could be Catholic such as Poland, whereas others were either Muslim or Buddhist. There were not many Russians living in Siberia and the Far East areas, directly related to the Russo-Japanese War. Because, though some migrants had pushed into 200 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 areas of Western Siberia and Lake Baikal, few had advanced further east and fewer still had reached the Far East. Due to its remote location and population of many ethnic minorities, a political organisation called the ‘Minorities Alliance’ was formed in Siberia during the Revolution of 1905, and the Siberian autonomous movement sought regional autonomy. It was this position geographically located on the borders of the Empire that defined the Russian Far East. These two premises are, at the very least, important for comprehension of Russian Far East policy. Given that Manchuria shared a border with this area, we form two hypotheses about the Russo-Japanese War in this paper. First, the profound and really important causes of the war were related to both the vagueness of the borders and the conditions of the pluralistic and sluggish nature of the autocratic political process. Second, the mutual interdependence of the lives of inhabitants was the determining factor in Russian defeat. These points relate to a way of understanding Russian Empire-state structure and autocratic state- system. Now that Russian and Soviet history have come under serious review since the fragmentation of the Soviet Union, it is the time to seek fresh perspectives on the Russo-Japanese War. In Japanese historiography regarding the Russo-Japanese War, a new tendency is developing that dis- cards traditional viewpoints.1 This paper, which locates the war in the context of the Russian imperial structure, is one such attempt on the side of Russian history.2 The first section addresses the location of the Far East in the Russian Empire, the second examines the Russian Far East policy through special councils and the third concentrates on opposition to the government, particularly the hitherto neglected views of Russian liberals. Dates here use the Old Russian calendar.

THE RUSSIAN BORDERS AND FAR EAST AREA First, let us locate the Far East within Russian society as a whole. After the Treaty of Nerchinsk (1689), the Amur and Primorskii regions had experienced a period of calm through the so-called ‘syndrome of neglect’, while Russia advanced north and China settled on a policy of segregation over Manchuria. Changes occurred from the mid-nineteenth century onwards.3 With the European incursion into China, Russia explored ways of clarifying its boundaries, securing territory stretching from the lower reaches of the Amur and the Ussuri Rivers to the Paciﬁc coast through the Treaties of Aigun and Tyan’tszin (1858), and the Treaty of Beijing (1860). The Russian frontier had expanded to the east and south, and, abutting the border with Korea and China.4 Such Russian expansion, mainly performed by the Cossacks, however, gave rise to some major problems. The original cause was a scarcity of Russian inhabitants in the newly acquired territories. The theme became not so much exploration as colonization for the purpose of development. These annexations had occurred in the reigns of Nicholas I and Russian Views of the Far East 201

Alexander II, characterized as the period of repression, so there even emerged in European Russia a mood of ‘euphoria’ over building a ‘USA’ in the Amur area. Nevertheless, the dream soon faded and the full weight of reality surfaced.5 The administrative system introduced in this area was headed by a governor-general as elsewhere on the frontiers of the Russian Empire. The Amur governor-general, who had been divided from Irkutsk, governed the Far Eastern area. Alongside it, the administration of the Viceroy in the Far East was founded in Lushun in August 1903, which unified the Amur Government-General, the Chinese Eastern Railway and the Russian-leased territory in Lushun Peninsula. Every governor-general, in general terms, positioned himself under each committee attached to the imperial secretariat and then received direct orders from the Tsar. The hold over the military authority in each government-general, as often pointed out, was an expression of its independence from central ministries. In addition, as the Far Eastern Viceroy had authority in the diplomatic sphere, so his independent activity encouraged a great deal of inconsistency in Russian foreign policy and Far Eastern administration.6 The response to the insufficient population in this region was to promote migration from Europe and Western Siberia. Peasant migration in the Russian Empire had generally taken two forms before the Emancipation of the Serfs: state-controlled and voluntary relocation. State-controlled migration had begun with the State land reforms in 1843 and was permitted only from territories with a population density of less than 5 desyatina of cultivable land per person (1 desyatina = 1.09 hectares). This sort of migration occurred on a large scale with 320,000 moving between 1831 and 1866 and as many as 28,000 relocated in a single year. In the case of voluntary migration, several thousands of peasants moved out of a single province in one specific year. They headed for European Russia and the Caucasus at first and from the 1850s onwards to Western Siberia, such as Tobol’sk, Tomsk and Yenisei provinces. However, after the Emancipation of the Serfs in 1861, relocation was allowed only to those peasants who had not been allocated private land. Subsequently, government policy fluctuated between relaxing and

Table 13.1. Peasant Migration (Men and Women)*

Amur District Coastal District Entire Region Period No. years Total Annual Total Annual Total Annual average average average 1859–82 24 8,709 363 5,705 238 14,414 601 1883–99 17 24,089 1,417 45,196 2,659 69,285 4,076 1900–08 9 42,106 4,978 130,356 14,484 172,462 19,162 Total 50 74,904 1,498 181,257 3,625 256,161 5,123

* Georgievskii (1926): 21. 202 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Table 13.2. Chinese Residents in the Russian Far East 19th century to the First World War (Government-General of Amur River Region statistics)

Year Province Total Amur Coast Baikal Kamchatka Sakhalin 1886 14,500 13,000 – – – 27,500 1891 14,891 18,018 300 – – 33,209 1893 20,272 8,275 321 – – 28,868 1900 15,106 36,000 695 – – 51,801 1910 31,648 60,548 – 234 573 93,041 1914 32,787 38,779 191 472 72,229

– Dash indicates no statistics available. Source: Sorokina 1999: 37, 4. enforcing the regulations and restricted permission to those peasants ‘with just cause’ until the migration law of July 1889, effectively pro- hibiting voluntary migration.7 As government suppressed migration in order to maintain the land ownership system in European Russia, so colonists encountered difficulties in the newly acquired territories of the Amur and South Ussuri. Migration statistics for the second half of the nineteenth century reflect these difficulties. As Table 1 shows, from 1859 to 1882 the total number of migrants to the Amur and Primorskii regions amounted to little more than 14,000, an average of just 600 or so per year. These figures increased subsequently from 1883 to 1899, but it was still only around 4,000 a year on average. Considering that the Trans-Siberian Railway gave the migrants various advantages and that the Volunteer Fleet organized migration to Vladivostok, colonization from European Russia to the Far East must be said to have failed.8 Such slow advance of Russian colonization produced a wide ethnic diversity among the inhabitants of the Far East. The first reason was that, although it failed in many instances, Russian authority sought to form self-sufficient colonies of foreign migrants. Among them were groups of Germans and Czechs and fishing colonies of Finns and Estonians. The second reason had historical origins: that is, the inhabitants of the Russian Far East included many Chinese and Koreans as a result of geographical contiguity. According to a census taken in 1897, 56,000 Chinese and 26,000 Koreans lived in the Amur and Primorskii regions, although the numbers arriving, supposedly, were more in reality due to the vagueness of border security (see Table 2). As to the Chinese, since they had acquired residential and property rights by the Treaty of Aigun, they continued with their large-scale farming operations. Furthermore, due to a labour shortage, the Russian authorities used Chinese workers to construct the fortifications in the port of Vladivostok. Many of them Russian Views of the Far East 203 came from areas adjoining the Far East, where Chinese migrants had lived from the 1870s onwards in an effort to compete with Russia. As to Korean migrants, they began moving into the Primorskii region after the Treaty of Peking. Although Russian authorities restricted them, their increasing numbers resulted in the widespread formation of Korean villages. By the end of the nineteenth century, Koreans received permission to settle and their communities even appeared near the administrative capital of Khabarovsk.9 The co-existence of diverse ethnic groups brought a cosmopolitan atmosphere to the area, but what sustained this from another angle was economic dependence on other regions and countries beyond.10 The harsh climate and poor soil in the north precluded any hopes of making a success of farming, but development was also slow in the south. For, although there was land suitable for cultivation in the south, development was slow due to the difficulty in opening virgin territory together with the spread of disease in livestock and the problem of plague.11 Given this situation, much of the food supplies had to be brought in at high cost from other areas. According to Yadrintsev, it was impossible to achieve self-sufficiency in the Amur region and the 1,200,000 pud of wheat (1 pud = 16.38 kg) that was needed had to be supplied from Baikal (200,000 pud), European Russia (250,000 pud) and imported from China and Japan (700,000 pud) and America (50,000 pud). The Amur region relied entirely on exporting raw materials to pay for these supplies of food.12 The Russian Far East undoubtedly faced many difficulties in its attempts to achieve self-sufficiency. Running this region, in fact, brought an economic loss to Russia. Until 1880, the loss exceeded 55 million roubles. From the 1880s onwards, the situation changed after expansion in gold production, but population levels were still too low to achieve real development. The need to build railways was insisted in an effort to promote population growth since the era of Governor Muraviev. Alexander III at last authorized plans to go ahead with the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway following the introduction of French capital in June 1887.13 Russia thus embarked on a state project for development in the Far East. What strategy did this shift then accompany in government policy ?

RUSSIAN FAR EASTERN POLICY Policy towards China and Korea in the 1880s Relations between Japan and Russia over the Korean Peninsula became tense in the 1880s when the Emperor of Korea sought closer ties with Russia in an attempt to gain autonomy from China. It was highly pre- dictable that such tenseness could inﬂuence Russian management of the Far East where plans for the Trans-Siberian Railway were being formulated. Since it would involve, of course, the co-operation of both central and regional government bodies, the special council was convened in 204 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

April 1888 at the instigation of the Foreign Ministry and Amur Governor Korf. The themes the council discussed were Korea’s domestic situation and its foreign relations, particularly with China. First, let us examine the Russian concept of Korea. It relates to the very heart of Russian Far Eastern policy over certain questions, namely, the annexation of Korea, its effects and the geopolitical significance of the Korean Peninsula. The council decided that it would not be desirable to annex the country. Because the market potential was low, due to the lack of Russian industry along the Pacific coast and Korea’s impoverished condition. Moreover, although there were, supposedly, abundant natural resources, the exploitation would require a huge investment. In addition, while it was certainly of strategic importance in military terms, it would be difficult to defend the country considering the limited Russian forces in the area and the length of the coast. If Russia were to take Korea, it would lead to deteriorating relations not only with China, the traditional suzerain power, but also with Great Britain and might invite the risk of an alliance between China and Japan. Russia, therefore, decided on the following policy regarding Korea. First, making Korea recognize its own weak power, Russia should refrain from altering its current relations with China. Second, since extending Russian protection over the country would invite more difficulties, Russia should advise Korea to seek the cooperation of all the foreign representatives. Third, Russian involvement in Korean domestic politics should be confined to deterring disorder and riots. In addition, fourth, Russia should make Korea recognize that the best means of protecting its international standing lay in its own realistic development.14 Judging from these points, we can regard Russian policy towards Korea as cautious. Two Chinese elements prescribed such a cautious Russian approach to the Korean problem. The first was the Korean perspective of China. According to the understanding of the council, the Korean people looked on China favourably, due to both its strong historical ties and its role of protector against Japanese invasion. The hope of the Korean emperor to become independent of China, therefore, ‘did not have the support of the people’. The position of ‘non-aggression’ in Korea would have suited Russia if China’s role had remained as the traditional protector. The second was the changes in Chinese policy towards Korea and foreign policy as a whole. The council put it thus:

Unfortunately, the Chinese Government is not satisfied with maintaining the relations that existed until recently, and due to the fears that have arisen from incorrect assumptions about our country, and under the influence of over-confidence that has arisen in recent years, it is now attempting to control even Korean domestic politics. This is, of course, with a view to annexing Korea in due course.

The ‘incorrect assumptions’ noted here refer to the receptive response Russia had given to the ‘pro-Russian anti-China’ policy’ of the Korean Russian Views of the Far East 205 emperor. The mention of ‘over-conﬁdence’ meant the situation after Chinese and French forces had clashed in Tonkin Bay.15 Such hardline changes by China were undesirable from a Russian point of view, if Korea were annexed, the hitherto ‘weak and non-dangerous neighbours’ in the South Ussuri region would be replaced by the mighty China. Russian hopes for the Far East, therefore, lay in preventing the future annexation of Korea and in maintaining the status quo. It suited Russia that Japanese policy was to prevent China from occupying Korea, so that ‘the view of Tokyo on Korea completely coincides with our interests’. The council then delivered a response to the tsar which advised him of the need to ‘persuade the Mikado’s government of our disinterest’ in the Korean question. By comparison with the Russian posture, in Japan many persons subscribed to arguments about a Russian menace that the French adviser Boissonard and the Chinese politician Li Hongzhang advocated.16 Considering Japanese mistrust of Russia and its designs to advance on Korea, the Russian line of joining up with Japan to prevent the Chinese annexation of Korea misread the situation.17

Russian Far Eastern Policy and the Sino-Japanese War Subsequently, the conflict between China and Japan over the Korean Peninsula became increasingly confused until war broke out in 1894. While apprehending the moves of the British, Russia pursued its previous policy of preserving the status quo and, by avoiding any direct involvement in Korea, shared a common international stance. At a special council meeting, held just after war broke out, Witte declared that there was no need to send military reinforcements to the border with Korea.18 The issue of the Far East, however, would once again demand the attention of the Russian Government when it became apparent during the Japanese march to victory that its demands would include cession of territory on the Korean Peninsula and the Chinese mainland. As the war drew to its conclusion in 1895, two special council meetings were held on 20 January and 30 March 1895. Chaired by Grand Duke Alexei, these were attended by army, navy and finance ministers, the Chief of the General Staff, the Chief of the Naval General Staff, the foreign minister and the head of the Asia Section. The issue discussed on 20 January was: first, how Russia should respond if Japan annexed Korea. Army Minister Vannovskii expressed a strong opinion on the matter. He thought that if peace between China and Japan damaged Russian interests, they would need to ensure freedom of passage through the Korea Straits by occupying and building a military base on an island off the southern Korean coast, similar to that of the British at Hong Kong. Navy Minister Chikhachev responded to him by saying that as long as Russia controlled Manchuria, even if Japan occupied Lushun and Wei-hai-wei, its military action would have no meaning. Apart from these two, no one else referred to practical military plans and the pervasive feeling was rather that in military terms it would be logistically difficult to occupy Manchuria. On the premise that Japan’s 206 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 ultimate peace conditions remained unclear, Foreign Minister Kremer’s representative declared that even if the Japanese intention was to guarantee Korean independence, it was still ‘premature’ to discuss the infringement of Russian rights. The head of the Asia Section in the Foreign Ministry, Kapnist, also thought that if they had a Japanese guarantee, the ‘probability’ of their usurping Korean independence would be low. The Chief of the General Staff added the argument that the occupation of Korean islands by Russia did not necessarily secure its own interest because of the difficulties of defence considering their isolated location. The meeting was rather more interested in the British presence in the Far East and it was the prevailing feeling that their line with Japan was dependent on it. In the view of Finance Minister Witte, Britain, with its large trading interests in Far East, would not favour a chaotic situation. And Kapnist also said that even if their interests did not coincide with Russia it might be possible to conduct joint operations with the British in the Pacific region since they, too, wanted peace restored between China and Japan. Others, with differing opinions, stated that as all European powers should be involved together, or that as Britain might be content with stability in Far East, they might allow Japanese occupation of Korea. In the end, however, the council decided to reinforce the Russian naval presence in the Pacific as they were suspicious of Japan and to endeavour to apply ‘collective influence’ in any peace negotiations in concert with Britain and other European powers. The object was the ‘maintenance of Korean independence’.19 The advance of Japan, therefore, discomforted Russian Far Eastern policy at the start of 1895, but, in conditions of ignorance of the peace terms, Russia maintained its previous strategy since the 1880s, with the aim now of involving the European powers, especially Britain. In the period leading up to April 1895, however, the situation changed. That was why Japan, while it still recognized Korean independence, now demanded the cession of not just Taiwan and the Pescadores, but also part of the Liaotung Peninsula and the Huanghai Islands. From Russia’s perspective, though recognizing Korean independence, Japan would be ‘the number one enemy to Korea’s autonomy’ and an occupation of South Manchuria would exert pressure on China and serve as a strategic base for attacking the Amur region, thus ‘forming an alliance with China.’20 As Foreign Minister Lobanov had just before conveyed his hopes to the tsar that Japan might be an ally for containing Britain, these terms were completely at odds with the Russian outlook.21 At the special council meeting held on 30 March immediately before the Treaty of Shimonoseki, therefore, the debate included the possible scenario of declaring war on Japan. By now, it had already become apparent that Britain would not take part in any joint action with Russia but that Russia would instead collaborate with France and Germany. They were anxious that Japanese interests would overtake theirs in China. A strong anti- Japanese argument consequently prevailed at the special council. Russian Views of the Far East 207

Army Minister Vannovskii demanded that Japan guarantee Korean independence. In his opinion, since the occupation of southern Manchuria posed a direct threat to Russia, Russia should use military force if diplomacy failed. The majority present, including Foreign Minister Lobanov, felt that the Japanese strategy was to attack Russia. Finance Minister Witte, too, called for strong measures, including gunboat diplomacy. Explaining his proposal to send gunboats to bombard Japan, Witte said:

... the war planned by Japan is the result of the construction of the Trans-Siberian Railway. All the European powers and Japan are aware that China will be partitioned in the not distant future . . . we are the main target of Japanese hostile actions. Its plan to occupy the south of Manchuria . . . is probably aimed at annexing the whole of Korea. With its indemnity received from China, Japan will reinforce the occupied territories, gather the belligerent Mongol and Manchurian peoples to its side and start a new war. After several years pass, it will not be inconceivable that the Mikado would become the Emperor of China.

It was the Grand Duke Alexei and the Chief of the General Staff Obruchev who opposed such hard-liners. Alexei urged a more cautious policy, warning that hostile Russian activities would drive the Japanese into an alliance with Britain, and that they would be seen as competing with Britain as a sea power. Obruchev suggested that Russia should avoid a conflict with Japan due to its limited military strength in the Far East. One must consider, he said, why Russia must fight ‘a country located 10,000 versta away (1 versta = 1.067 km) with a population of 40,000,000 people and extremely well-developed industry’. The special council decided to adopt a strong line to maintain pre-war conditions. Russia would ‘advise’ Japan to give up southern Manchuria, with the threat that failure to do so would leave Russia ‘free to act.’ With Nicholas II in attendance, a subsequent special council meeting confirmed this decision. Thereafter, Russia strengthened pressure on Japan to amend the treaty in concert with France and Germany.22

The Manchuria Troop Withdrawal Controversy and the Crisis in Russo- Japanese Relations After the ‘Triple Intervention’ had forced Japan to return the Liaotung Peninsula, a secret Sino-Russian pact in June 1896 formed a defensive alliance against Japan with China conceding Russia construction rights over the Chinese Eastern Railway. It represented a victory for Witte’s Far East policy over Governor-General of Amur Dukhovskii who had urged the need for an Amur Railway. Also in 1898, Russia used diplomatic means to negotiate the lease of Liaotung Peninsula and construction rights for the South Manchurian Railway. It laid down the way for the despatch of Russian troops during the Boxer rebellion.23 Russian Far East Policy during this period, however, was not necessar- 208 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 ily always consistent. At the beginning of 1900, Nicholas II approved a proposal by Foreign Minister Muraviev. It proposed to maintain the status quo in the Far East by reinforcing the Liaotung Peninsula and completing the rail link and, on the other hand, to switch diplomatic priority to Turkey, Persia and India with a particular focus on the Dardanelles. That was because the outbreak of the Boer War had altered the British situation, a continuous feature in Russian diplomatic strategy. Army, navy and finance ministers reacted coolly to this proposal and the subsequent outbreak of the Boxer Rebellion prevented it from being put into effect anyway, but from a world-policy perspective, at least it shows that Russia was not consistently aggressive in the Far East.24 When the continued presence of Russian troops in Manchuria after the Boxer Rebellion became a serious international problem, Russia promised a gradual withdrawal at an accord signed on 26 March 1902 and carried out the first stage in the autumn. A special council meeting chaired by Lamsdorf in January 1903 discussed the implementation of the second stage of withdrawal due in two months’ time. Although the main theme of this meeting was the question of whether or not to comply with the accord, it also discussed Russian policy towards Japan over the Korean Peninsula in equal measure. Pointing out Japanese ‘over- exaggerated’ concern towards the Korean problem, Lamsdorf said that Russia certainly had acquired an important position in Manchuria and Kwantung independently of Japanese consent, but it was, nevertheless, desirable to avoid mutual mistrust and to maintain peaceful relations with Japan. The council was united in agreeing with Japan on the basis of the Kurino proposal of September 1902, although the navy minister added some words of caution about making too many concessions. The meeting achieved consensus because of the second clause of the Kurino proposal, which prescribed that Korean territory ‘should not be used for military or strategic purposes’.25 In the context of the meeting, it meant ‘the neutrality of the Korean Peninsula’. On the question of troop withdrawal, we know that Kuropatkin, drawing on Russian experience of turning Bukhara in central Asia into a protectorate, insisted on the need for a continued occupation of north Manchuria. One often says that his insistence was evidence of Russian original expansionism and Kuropatkin’s strategic mistakes. However, his central argument was to limit Chinese migration into Manchuria. In his opinion, the growth of the regional economy would invite greater Chinese migration in the context of increased railway traffic and all the lands leading to the Amur River would change ‘from uninhabited to pop- ulated’. Therefore, it would become difficult to stop the inflow of ‘yellow- race’ settlers in the area. Kuropatkin emphasized that ‘unless we prevent Chinese migrants from entering Manchuria, they would be overwhelmingly residents in the Amur region’. Others present at the council, however, did not approve this argument. Pointing out that Chinese migration previously had been organized to counter Russian colonization in the Far East, Witte and the Russian Views of the Far East 209 ambassador to China, Lessar, emphasized that even if Chinese policy was such, migration was an entirely natural development, but Russian pro- hibition would be difficult to enforce. The meeting did not adopt a policy of limiting migration, therefore, but Kuropatkin still demanded that Russian forces should stay in north Manchuria on logistical grounds, such as a shortage of barracks, the difficulty of moving troops, and the need to protect the border. In response, other members expressed anxiety over possible international aggravation, in particular Japanese repudiation and Chinese resistance. In the end, the special council decided the Russian occupying army should carry out its original operational mission and not administration. This decision meant that the withdrawal of Russian troops from Manchuria would be delayed, but the will to implement the accord had already taken shape in the Russian government, that is, Russia did not intend a continuous occupation of Manchuria. At this same meeting, however, the ambassador to Japan, Rosen, expressed a worrying issue. It was concerned with the problem of the absence of unified governmental decision-making. Rosen pointed out that policy towards Japan would require, first, a comprehensive perfect strategy for Korea, then united action by all units and staff. Here there can be discerned not only a fear of administrative chaos, but also some anxiety about a force that previously had not been present in decision making. This fear would become a reality in the shape of the ‘new policy line’ that was adopted from March until May.26 The meetings of the special council, held on 26 March and 7 May, both concerned the issue about setting up a private company with the objective of ‘strategic reinforcement of the Yalu River basin’. Nicholas II acted as chairman; the others present were Foreign Minister Lamsdorf, Army Minister Kuropatkin, Finance Minister Witte, plus Interior Minister Pleve and aide-de-camp Abaza. At the beginning of the first meeting, Nicholas II expressed his opinion that the establishment of such an organization would be desirable in order to restrain Japanese influence in Korea. This point indicates that Russian concessions on the Yalu were already central to policy towards Japan. With the exception of Pleve, all the ministers feared that it might lead to deteriorating relations with Japan and agreed that they should utterly eliminate the private company, or the state should participate in it to a limited extent. Witte said that Russia should exercise caution over any action in the Pacific, because it would provoke the interest of not just Japan and China but also the Western Powers. Therefore, in his opinion, Russia should confine the activities of the organization to commerce and encourage the participation of foreign investors. In addition, a framework should be set up with a ‘minimal level’ of financial help for the organization from the state. Many members recognized its establishment would result in strained relations with Japan, since it would relate to the problem of troop withdrawal from Manchuria. Kuropatkin expressed this anxiety most clearly. He reviewed the posi- 210 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 tion of the Army Ministry since the origin of this problem and stated that it was necessary for the enterprise to be private with no participation of Russian soldiers. On the contrary, the new proposal could lead the army closer to Korean territory, by refusing to withdraw from Manchuria. In his opinion, the army would have to be excluded from such a design, because ‘wherever the army advances, the danger of war is inevitable’. He stated that Russia would no doubt win in the event of war, but that it had to prepare to fight for one-and-a-half years at a cost of seven to eight hundred million roubles, thirty to fifty thousand casualties and 300,000 men wounded. The council reached a decision, after Nicholas II and Grand Duke Alexei gave their support to Kuropatkin. Nicholas said that ‘war with Japan is highly undesirable, and we need to reach a settlement over Manchuria’. Thereafter, as regards the concessions, Russia would inquire of the Korean government whether the Yalu concession was formal or not, and, at the same time, press the Chinese government for more concessions over the Bank of Manchuria. About the new company, the Russian government would recognize its foundation under the jurisdiction of the Kwantung Governor inviting American, French and Belgian capital, though limiting Russian state involvement in ‘an inconspicuous sum’. From the contents of the decision, we can consider that the ministries took a carefully defined attitude towards this project. It is important that they did not give any positive sanction to participation of the treasury in this enterprise. It meant that the company was to be private and commercial in character. Nevertheless, Nicholas did not initially consent to putting his signature to the decision, i.e. he demurred at confining the operational remit of the company to forestry development. In the end, the first meeting postponed its last conclusion on the problem of the Yalu Company.27 Afterwards, however, State Secretary Bezobrazov lodged a strong protest. He was present at the second meeting. The cautious elements were revised as follows: first, Russia would recognize its concession rights on Korea as formal and continue to press China for still more concessions; second, it would prevent the introduction of foreign capital until ‘our political and economic objectives’ are ‘fully realized’ and profitabil- ity assured; third, it would decide to use state shares in the context of the needs of state interest in the Far East; fourth, it would not confine the activities of the company to forestry. These amendments show that the council, at the second meeting, had rejected the previous strategy of weakening the involvement of the state in the company in order to avoid Japanese repudiation. Abaza indicated definitely a positive and aggressive design in his ‘memorandum’ presented to the council. He maintained that it was the greatest risk for Russia to throw away the Yalu and allow Japan to occupy Korea. In his view, Japan would ultimately threaten the South Manchurian Railway and put Korea and Manchuria under its control in concert with China. The result would be that Russia would have no choice but to declare war on Japan. Abaza concluded South Manchuria Russian Views of the Far East 211 could be protected by placing a barrier against Japan in ‘Southern Korea’ [sic.]. He disregarded the possibility of a war against Japan, because, in his view, Japan did not have sufficient capital to embark on war. Nicholas expressed his agreement with Abaza, saying that ‘compromise always invites more new ones’.28 At this moment, a hard line revealed itself in Russian politics. Of course, it does not mean that such a hard line determined the final Russian position in the course for the war, because the subsequent Lushun council, held in July, took a flexible stance on withdrawing troops from Manchuria and also because negotiations for a Russo-Japanese pact, instigated by Japan, continued until January 1904, up to the eve of war. Then, the fourth and last Russian proposal contained the possibility of a compromise on both sides.29 Bearing this in mind, the appearance of a hard line position in spring 1903 did not determine the future outbreak of war. Nevertheless, assuredly, such a hard line was embedded in a tsarist mechanism, where the tsar appointed the members of a special conference, with the consequence that decision-making in politics was pluralistic. At this time, a group of ‘treacherous subjects’ came into play in the original political decision-making, previously carried out in deliberations by the bureaucrats in charge of ministries. Since the 1880s, the economy and geography of the frontier had been basic factors in Russian Far Eastern policy. After the treaty of 1884, relations with Korea had become increasingly close-knit because large numbers of Koreans arrived and settled in the Russian Far East. It may have been only natural, therefore, for Korea to move closer to Russia when Japan tried to strengthen its influence in the peninsula. The Russian attempt to preserve the status quo served to soothe Korean fears. But what transformed this environment was the increasing potential for conflict with Japan that arose from the construction of both the Chinese Eastern and the South Manchurian Railways as well as the lease of Liaotung Peninsula. Here it is important to take into account the intrin- sic conditions in the Russian Far East. The weakness of the economic base inevitably led to interaction and co-existence with large numbers of Asian inhabitants and reliance on neighbouring countries and regions. This dependent nature of the Far East was not given due weight in the hard line policy over the Yalu issue.

THE WAR AND THE VIEWS OF THE ANTI-GOVERNMENT JOURNAL OSVOBOZHDENIE ON THE FAR EAST In the environment of hardening Japanese opinion against Russia, the Yalu River controversy became the ultimate point of contention. Just before the war broke out, Nicholas tried to suppress the Russian hard line under Lamsdorf’s advice, though irresolutely. However, before the last Russian proposal for the pact reached Tokyo, hostilities had already been put in train in January 1904.30 In Russia, peasant revolts had unexpectedly broken out in Poltava and 212 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Kharikov provinces in 1902. On the other hand, a labour movement in southern Russia and anti-government campaign of students and intellectuals in the capital gathered momentum. In the context of social dis- turbance, the war was a sudden development for Russian society. At the start of the war, Russian socialists, having shown little concern for East Asia before, appealed for an alliance with Japanese Socialists in opposition to the war, but they subsequently fragmented into groups advocating an admission of defeat or demanding peace with no victory for either side. The Second International did not regard the war as a conflict between ‘Japanese progress and Russian reaction’ and that the preven- tion of escalation was important.31 These apprehensions all related the war to problems of revolution and socialism, but they lacked the con- siderations about the Far East as a frontier. How then, did another anti- government faction, the Russian liberals, perceive the war? We examine their views in four articles in their press. The magazine of Russian liberals, Osvobozhdenie (Liberation) took up the issue of the Far East for the first time in July 1903, when Russo- Japanese relations had already become tense. Therefore, the timing of Russian liberal concern was not particularly early in comparison with the socialists. In the leading article, the editor, Peter Struve, criticized the East Asia policy of the government for ‘wasting’ the people’s energy. In his opinion, the government was thinking of ‘a serious conflict’ in East Asia. He gave particular attention to the increasingly critical domestic situation, casting light on the situation, in which ‘several hundred million roubles are being thrown away in Manchuria with the peasants sinking into poverty’. Struve thought that ‘a policy to Minor Asia’ had a realistic goal, but the current East Asia policy was characterized as ‘utopian’.’32 He insisted on an emphasis on ‘real domestic reform’ and the Turkey question. It contrasted with the nationalist newspapers calling for domestic political reform simultaneously with a positive foreign policy. After the war broke out, an article in Osvobozhdenie by ZZ under the title of ‘The Liberal Party and Foreign Policy’ insisted on the necessity for a new diplomatic platform on the premise that the crisis facing Russia lay not only in domestic politics, but also in its ‘dangerous foreign relations’. In the sphere of domestic politics, the government was seen as at least conscious of the liberal demand for local government and democracy, but in foreign policy, it was able to operate without considering public opinion at all. Since the liberals did not have a clear platform on foreign policy, the government was applying the same methods to China and Japan that it had used towards various ethnic groups in the south and east of the Russian Empire. While they might have worked well in Khiva and Bukhara, there was a danger of inviting complex tensions if applied to China and Japan. It was difficult to see where the childish fantasy and ignorant assumptions of the government were leading the country. Since an active foreign policy in the Orient would obstruct the true demands for domestic reforms, the liberals now had to carry the banner for solving the Korean issue together with two gifts imposed by piratical adventures, Russian Views of the Far East 213 i.e. ‘Manchuria and Liaotung’. While such a reckoning would certainly leave some scars on Russia’s international standing, the state would nevertheless preserve its power by ‘withdrawing at an appropriate juncture from a dangerous plan’.33 The third article by author SD on ‘War and Autocracy’ portrayed a negative prediction of the war and criticized the policy of seeking ice-free ports. The author wrote that even if Russia were militarily superior, winning a far-flung campaign would involve numerous difficulties just as in the example of the Boer War. Moreover, because Japan, unlike China, showed more vigour than any other country in Asia, Russia would have to face people with a strong fighting spirit. From the standpoint of justice, this conflict did not have grounds like the Russo-Turkish War, in which Russia had protected the Slav people and Orthodox believers. From a military viewpoint, to ensure an ice-free port at a distance of 8,000 verst was like opening ‘a sea-gate to Mars or the Moon’. Economically, the trade with China mainly handled Chinese exports, not Russian products, so the occupation of Liaotung and Manchuria was meaningless from a commercial perspective.34 As these three articles demonstrate, the views expressed in Osvobozhdenie were in accord in saying that the Russo-Japanese War was not a worthwhile enterprise and that there was a need to change the policy towards Manchuria and Korea. It was on policy in the Near East that greater emphasis should be put than in the Far East. In contrast to the three articles, the fourth presented arguments about the frontier from different viewpoints, based particularly on cultural and economic conditions in Far Fast. The theme by LYe presented in ‘The so- called Yellow Peril’ was, as the title suggests, primarily about racist arguments, then current in Europe. According to him, the races holding power in global terms were the Anglo-Saxons and the Slavs who mixed with the Finns and Mongols in blood. But from a geographic view, the locus of world development was shifting towards the Pacific Ocean. As a result, there occurred fears of ‘a second Mongol yoke’. The Yellow Peril argument was based on two fears: first, ‘political domination’ in which a capital of defeated Europe would soar on the plain of the Yellow and Blue Rivers; second, an ‘economic crisis’ due to the flow of cheap labour and goods from the Far East. However, military reinforcement, which was necessary for political domination, effectively meant Europeanization since the ‘military resurgence of barbarian lands was inconceivable without incorporating contemporary civilization in its entirety’. The second point of ‘an economic crisis’ was more plausible, considering the recent boom in Japanese textiles firms in Osaka. But Osaka, too, had already become the centre of a labour movement. As the entrepreneurs had now accommodated the labour force, no longer were ‘live products’ being sent out to countries around the world. It demonstrated ‘rapid industrial development was impossible without incurring changes in public consciousness and culture’. The two aspects of the ‘Yellow Peril’ argument, therefore, were groundless because, in cultural terms, they 214 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 would simply result in ‘Europeanization’. Such an argument, then, was no more than a ‘phoney yellow peril’. Having rejected the ‘phoney Yellow Peril’, LYe proposed a revised framework for relations with the ‘Mongol Orient’. First, he accepted the ‘Japanese protectorate of Korea’ as a platform for Russian peaceful development. Because Russian occupation of Korea was impossible, since it would entail a war on Japan’s homeland, involving ‘landing in Japan, destroying the Japanese fleet and occupying Sasebo Docks’. Second, he advocated advancing the administration of Siberia on grounds of Russian affinity with Asia. In his opinion, Russians were able to approach Asians more easily than the Western peoples. Particular affinities between Russia and Asia were based upon common ancestors, common character of Asian traditional state authority and common factors in culture and political regime, which differed from Western states. Still further, as those Russians who lived in Amur region were in constant contact with Chinese people, it was ‘not expedient’ to drive China into close relations with Japan and America. Therefore, Russian migration should focus on raising productivity in Siberia, especially in East Siberia, not Manchuria. If an expansionist policy in the Far East would drive China further into the ‘orbit’ of Japan, it potentially provoked a ‘real’ yellow peril, unlike the current phoney ‘Yellow Peril’. In order to prevent such a result, it was necessary ‘not to expand, but to deepen’ Russian power in Siberia through policies and diplomacy aimed at increasing productivity.35 Such were the criticisms levelled against the Far Eastern policy of the government in the pages of Osvobozhdenie. The arguments concluded by criticizing the autocratic political mechanism and calling for constitutional reform. The article by SD pointed out that in the absence of public opinion ‘a single Russian Government did not exist’ and deplored that situation. The crime of the war lay in having ‘a system with apprehension of a terrible catastrophe’. Such affirmation about the ‘system’ was common to a part of the government, as referred to above. On the other hand, they recognized that Russia should co-exist with Asian peoples, especially with the Chinese in Far East, but at the same time carefully preventing them from allying with Japan. We can see, then, an original perspective for the actual development of the Russian Far East as a territory, annexed less than half a century before and situated on the frontier of the Empire.

CONCLUSIONS: THE END OF THE WAR Following the defeat of the Russian ﬂeet in the Battle of Tsushima Straits, Nicholas II convened a military council under his own presidency on 24 May 1905. The Tsar called for further discussion on the following issues: ﬁrst, whether military victory was still possible; second, whether it was possible to defend Sakhalin, Kamchatka and the mouth of the Amur River; and third, whether Russia should engage in peace talks straightaway. At this council there were arguments exchanged in favour of either Russian Views of the Far East 215 continuing the war or making peace. Dubasov, who also served as a member of the State Council, argued that as Russian expansion eastwards was natural and Russia could not be stopped at this stage, they had to send the best military force possible. Army Minister Sakharov also insisted that the current domestic turmoil could never calm down without a military victory. He, moreover, stated that the termination of the war in a state of total defeat would harm its prestige and lose its status of a great power. In response, the Viceroy of the Far East Alekseev and the Commander of Amur Military District Grodenko pointed out that, not only was it practically impossible to defend Vladivostok and Sakhalin, but also the mouth of the Amur was in grave danger. Moreover, the morale of the army was weakening. Even if Russia would send reinforcements to Sakhalin and Nikolaevsk, it would be impossible to supply them because Japan controlled the seas. In Vladivostok about one month’s supply of provisions remained and any additional supplies would ‘have to be sent from European Russia and Siberia. Because there are no surplus amounts of wheat in the Primorskii region and it is forbidden to send imports from Manchuria’. It was, evidently, the weak economic basis of the Russian Far East that manifested itself as the vital issue at this time. Nicholas’standpoint was to embark on peace negotiations and Grand Duke Vladimir accepted it, saying that it was necessary to have ‘peace at home’. He added that:

... we rushed over ourselves towards Liaotung and Kwantung. We have been too hasty. Unwittingly we ran aground and water has leaked in, therefore, we must stop it now . . . what is important for us is not so much victory as happiness at home’. Nicholas replied that they had to engage in peace talks at this stage when ‘Japan has been ﬁghting outside Russian territories. Since not a single Japanese soldier has set foot on Russian soil, not a single inch of Russian soil can be ceded.

The council then adjourned without reaching a deﬁnite conclusion, but Russia subsequently asked the United States to mediate. Therefore, the defeat in the war would remind Russia of the unique nature of the Far East. It consisted of the economic and geographic conditions in a region that had never achieved self-sufﬁciency since its annexation. The construction of railways had been designed to com- pensate for a weak base, but had only provoked aggression from the new nation state of Japan, resulting in a war that culminated in exposing the insecurity of the Russian Far East. The defeat heralded an end to the administration of the Far East which the Russian government had devoted such great efforts to from the late 1880s onwards. Clause 7 in the Portsmouth Peace Treaty stipulated that the railway between Harbin and Liaotung had to be ceded to Japan and although Clause 8 left the Chinese Eastern Railway in Russian hands, it was prescribed as ‘to be used for commercial purposes only’. Thereafter Russia would pursue the construction of the Amur Railway instead.36 216 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

We can conclude that the Russo-Japanese War developed from two states of affairs in East Asia. The first was that two empires, Russia and China, both characterized by ambivalence over the populations their territories enclosed, had come in contact with each other. The second was that two such empires had encountered the newly formed nation-state of Japan that was seeking to expand its territory. It was most certainly a conflict between a European great power and a new Asian nation-state, but it was also a war fought in the context of the frontier in the Russian Empire. It is possible to understand the origins and results of the war by taking into account economic and geographical conditions in the Russian Far East. At the frontiers the way of life, where Russians and Asians lived side by side, was unchenged after the Russo-Japanese War. Of the total population of 480,000 in the Primorskii region in 1923, 220,000 or 46.3 per cent were Russian, compared with 41,000 Chinese (8.6 per cent) and 106,000 Korean (22.4 per cent: see also Table 2).37 Such a population profile in the region with Russians cohabiting with numerous Asians would not change until the later enforced migrations under Stalin. Considering the historical situation of inhabitants in Far East, it is possible to evaluate the opinions about co-existing with Asians expressed in Osvobozhdenie as reflecting the actual lives of people in the frontier of Far East.

NOTES 1 Chiba 1996 & 1997. 2 Recently, Japanese scholars became interested in the Russian political process during the Russo-Japanese War: see Yokote 2005, Wada 2006, Kano¯ 2006, and for the Japanese process see Inaba 2002. 3 Stephan 1994: 14–32. 4 Grimm 1927: 54–58 Gromyko 1985: 484–488. 5 Bashin 1999: 278. 6 Eroshkin 1983: 245–250; Stephan1994: 60. 7 ES, No45: 269; Brusnikin 1965; Tikhonov 1979; Bruk & Kabuzan 1989. 8 Georgievskii 1926: 21; Malozemoff 1958: 10–14 9 Georgievskii 1926: 16–18; Sorokina 1999: 30. 10 Stephan 1994: 71. 11 ES: 49: 219. 12 Iadrintsev 1892: 66 13 Malozemoff 1958: 39. 14 KA 52: 61. 15 Unno 1995: 67; Malozemoff 1958: 23. 16 Yasuoka 1988: 69–71, 135. 17 KA 52: 61. 18 KA 52: 66. 19 KA 52: 74. 20 Simanskii 1910, Vol. 1: 39. Russian Views of the Far East 217

21 KA 52: 76. 22 KA 52: 78. 23 KA 52: 83, 91. 24 KA 18: 18, Malozemoff 1958: 122 25 Gaimush ed. 1966: 298. 26 KA 52: 110 27 Zhurnal: 14. 28 Abaza: 3; Zhurnal: 12. In the second meeting, Nicolas ordered Lieutenant- General Vogak to read his memorandum about the Manchurian problem. Simanskii wrote that his opinion played an important role in forming the hard line of Russian Far East strategy: Simanskii, Part 3: 92, 95. Wada also pointed out the importance of the Vogak memorandum. According to Wada, Vogak intended to build strategic defence front for Manchuria in the Yalu basin against Japanese power. In this argument, it is important that Russia did not aim to occupy Korea, but defend Manchuria along the Yalu River. See Wada 2006. 29 Pak 1997: 145; Chiba 1997: 145. According to traditional historiographies, Russia did not respond to the last Japanese proposal, with the result that war broke out. However, in reality, Russia made the last answer, which almost accepted Japanese needs. That is to say, Russia admitted Japan predominance of its interests in Korea, right of advice and aid, right of commercial aid (clause 2), and right of troop dispatch (clause 4). As to Manchuria, Russia admitted ‘all rights and prerogatives’ of all the states, including Japan. Moreover, the most confrontational point, namely, building a ‘neutrality zone’ on latitude 39 degrees north was dropped from the Russian answer. Therefore, we can consider that the Russian last answer had sufﬁcient content to enable further communication on the Japanese side. Lamsdorf, the initiator of this compromising answer, sent it in four telegrams to Alekseev in Lushun on 21 January (3 February), ambassador to Japan Rosen in Tokyo, on 22 January (4 February). Nevertheless, the telegrams did not arrive at Rosen until the morning of 25 January (7 February), only after the formal Japanese decision to begin the war. Simanskii questioned strongly why these telegrams did not reach Tokyo, suggesting deliberate interference. Simanskii, Part 3: 226. Particularly about the process of making Russia answer, see Kano¯ 2006. 30 Emets 1997: 160; Hirono 2000; Hirai 2002. Nicholas once approved Lamsdorf’s proposal of Russian answer, however, afterwards, he ordered Rosen to persuade Japan to approve the introduction of a neutrality zone with secret protocols. Perepiska: 26–29; also see note 30 and Kano¯ 2006. 31 Wada 1973, vol. 1: 195–212; Pavlov 2002. 32 Osv, no. 3, 18, 21, 50. 33 Osv no. 18 34 Osv no. 21 35 Osv no.50. 36 KA 28: 191–204 37 Hara 2003. 38 Georgievskii 1926: 64 14 The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War

TSUCHIYA YOSHIFURU

n general, the home front has played an extremely important role in Ithe course of modern warfare. For Russia, in the case of the Russo- Japanese War, continuing with the war effort was made difﬁcult by the outbreak of the ﬁrst Russian Revolution. For Japan on the other hand, even though the toll taken by the war was far greater than for Russia, the endurance society showed paved the way for victory. Judging from the Hibiya Park Riot that occurred just after the Portsmouth Peace Conference it is clear that on account of the war Japanese society, too, was in a state of crisis and far from stable. The objective of this paper is to assess what caused these differences in Russian and Japanese society by examining the state of the home front on both sides, especially the support for families of soldiers sent to the front and public aid for the war effort.*

THE HOME FRONT IN RUSSIA The Japanese attack that began the Russo-Japanese War provoked deep anger within Russian society and stimulated a wave of patriotic fervour and activity. Although this war has traditionally been thought of as being deeply unpopular, at least in the early days of ﬁghting the people were passionate in their support. This had already waned, however, by the spring of 1904, culminating in the assassination of N.I. Bobrikov, the governor-general of Finland, in June and Home Minister V.K. Plehve in

* Here the old Russian or Julian calendar is used for Russian dates and the Western or Gregorian calendar for Japanese dates. In the nineteenth century the Julian calendar was twelve days behind the Western and thirteen days in the twentieth century. The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War 219

July. In Poland, where there had been opposition from the start, an anti- war campaign emerged during the summer. On his appointment as Plehve’s successor in late August, P.D. Sviatopolsk-Mirskii appealed for harmony and this had the effect of promoting a campaign by liberals focused on activists in the zemstva, but already the liberals had their hearts set not so much on the war effort but rather on structural reform.1 By the second half of 1904, therefore, society had swung sharply away from its initial support for the war, but at the same time war aid activities dating to the beginning of the conflict continued steadily without interruption. a) War Aid Efforts – the Case of Moscow City When war broke out, various forms of cooperation for the war effort took shape in Russia. These ranged from collecting donations for miscellaneous purposes to sewing undergarments and bandages for the sick and wounded, dispatching medicine and teams of nurses to the front, sending gifts to soldiers, and looking after the sick and wounded soldiers returning home. To show one example of this I will examine the case of Moscow. At the outset of war, Moscow City Duma allocated a million roubles for a hospital to care for sick and wounded soldiers, prepare medicine and bandages and to organize aid for the city’s poorer families because of their breadwinners’ conscription. Meanwhile, supplementary funds were raised through collection windows for donations organized by the City Council. It was immediately decided to set up a medical corps equipped with 225 beds to care for wounded soldiers. This corps was sent to Spasskoe Village near Nikol’sk Usuriiskii located behind the Russian army’s lines in the east, and after setting out from Moscow on 22 February it reached its destination on 30 March.2 Actions taken in Moscow included setting up a workshop for sewing undergarments and collecting commodities and donations at a central depot.3 These were established on the site of the Srednyi Department Store where upper-class ladies were mobilized by the city council to manufacture undergarments and clothes for the wounded, while the collection of donations was organized under various categories from money to a range of goods.4 Together with relief for the sick and wounded, these were the most systematic aid activities organized on the home front. During the war, the Moscow City Community Office collected donations for various needs amounting to a total sum of 554,335.66 roubles.5 In relation to donations it is interesting to note that there were aid activities in Russia similar to the gift bags seen in Japan. Although not organized as systematically as in Japan, the concept was comparable. The public donated a wide range of goods, including icons, statuettes and recreational items such as tobacco, cards and Easter Eggs. These were put in bags sewn by women working at the depot or the small municipal hall where donations were collected and then sent to the front. More than 20,000 of these bags were produced during the war. Their significance, 220 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 according to the Moscow Community Office which recorded these figures, was that ‘these presents were precious material tokens providing soldiers with a vivid, tangible spiritual connection with their homeland’.6 Russian gift bags, like those in Japan, linked the home front with the war zone and served as a device to maintain and raise soldiers’ morale. Besides donations another way in which Moscow civilians cooperated with the war effort was through labour service. This was not just people who worked in the city depot or who undertook large quantities of sewing at home, but was also to be seen among numerous Moscow businesses.7 As the war dragged on, the depot and the workshop made preparations for the winter by expanding their production to include the manufacture of warm clothing. Donations of material, ready-made clothes and money significantly reduced the burden on the city. During the war, Moscow spent about 80,000 roubles on material for winter clothing and their manufacture, but at the very least an estimated 47,000 roubles’ worth of materials were received in donations.8 In short these amounted to more than a third of the warm clothing required. Moscow’s activities in support of the war effort continued into the new year and even after Russian society descended into turmoil following Bloody Sunday in St Petersburg.9 It was on 23 August/5 September that the Portsmouth Treaty was finally signed and the Russo-Japanese War came to an end. At a meeting held on 25 August in response to the news, members of the city council and a group of ladies discussed what to do about their aid activities at the depot and donations at the city hall, but it became apparent that it was impossible to stop these straightaway. They continued to some extent even after the end of the war until a meeting on 2 November when it was decided to transfer all goods from the depot to the city council for a reasonable sum, marking an end to Moscow’s activities in support of the war effort.10 b) Aid for Families of Soldiers at the Front According to the law on military service enacted on 25 June 1877, support for the families of mobilized soldiers was held to be the responsibility of local authorities and not the state. This stipulated that the families of reserve and second reserve conscripts who could not support themselves should receive aid from the zemstva, cities, and village com- munes consisting of free housing and heating for the homeless and a minimum monthly allowance for each individual of 1 pud 28 funt of wheat (1 pud ϭ 16.38 kg, 1 funt ϭ 409.5g), 10 funt of grain and 4 funt of salt. In addition, the zemstva should take whatever measures were possible according to need and available means. Families seeking aid had to make an application to their county zemstvo, city council or police station in the case of urban residents, and to the village headman in rural areas. The final decision on the application would rest with the county zemstvo council or the city council.11 Thus, strictly speaking, therefore, it was the local zemstvo that had jurisdiction over aid for soldiers’ families The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War 221 in the villages, but the provincial zemstvo had the power to take charge. This step was taken at the time of the Russo-Turkish War by Saratov Provincial Zemstvo.12 And in the Russo-Japanese War as well, in St Petersburg, for example, it was decided that the province should organize aid for soldiers’ families.13 This, it seems, was just one of various cases since a number of provincial zemstva allocated large sums for expenditure at the start of the war. Local authorities decided on their budgets for supporting soldiers’ families based mainly on the experience of the Russo-Turkish War (1877–78). In St Petersburg City, for example, 500,000 roubles was allocated in this way.14 The funds provided by such calculations, however, soon proved to be inadequate. At the start of the war, for example, the Khar’kov Provincial Zemstvo allocated 2.6 million roubles to set up and run a field hospital and 1.4 million roubles for the support of soldiers’ families.15 Within three-and-a-half months of the fighting, however, the provincial council had already paid out 847,900 roubles at the request of the counties.16 It estimated that a sum of 225,000 roubles was needed every month just to support the families of all the reservists in the province.17 Some 73 per cent of the families of soldiers mobilized in the Russo- Japanese War are thought to have received some kind of financial aid. Within months of the outbreak of the war, however, the zemstva were clearly unable to meet the cost of supporting them, and as shown below, the result was that almost all the provincial zemstva were dependent on loans from the central government to cover the cost of this aid.18 The question of support for the families of mobilized reservists was discussed by the Tula Provincial Zemstvo at an extraordinary meeting held on 10 September 1904. The issue addressed was the fact that the zemstvo by itself was already unable to meet the cost of supporting the families, and this at a stage even before the troops in the province had been mobilized. Up until the middle of August, the shortfall had been borrowed with the zemstvo’s permission from the province’s food supply funds, but since further loans were undesirable, a proposal was made to discuss the necessary conditions and the scale of the debt for supporting soldiers’ families. The decision taken was: first, to apply to the national treasury for funds since family support was a national issue; second, until these were forthcoming, for the provincial zemstvo to borrow 900,000 roubles from 1906 onwards on a 50-year loan at zero interest; and third, to form a committee of six representatives from the provincial and county councils to supervise all matters relating to family support.19 The first point made shows that seeds were already being sown for the argument that family support at a regional level should really be run by the state. In Saratov Province as well, to avoid rioting now that its own funds had been exhausted the zemstvo applied for a loan from the national treasury in the summer of 1905. According to the provincial authorities, soldiers’ wives were starving due to a total lack or insufficient levels of support. As a result, on 1 July, 1,300 wives surrounded the county office 222 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 and demanded more from the governor.20 Not only did the lack of funds for support exert direct pressure on the zemstva, therefore, but it could also cause riots among the soldiers’ families. As described above, the 1877 law stipulated that the local authority should provide support only in cases where the soldier’s family was unable to support itself, but since no standard criteria had been specified, it was difficult to decide which families were most deserving.21 Not only were the qualifications vague but, as the example of Saratov Province shows, the aid actually provided was by no means always sufficient. According to an account in 1905 by a welfare official in Nizhnenovgorod Province, the amounts distributed were woefully inadequate due to a shortage of funds, and with the soldiers’ families now starving, many of their wives who were unable to make ends meet were leaving their villages to seek a livelihood elsewhere.22 The insufficient levels of aid for their families provoked uncertainty and dissatisfaction among the soldiers who had to leave them behind, but at the same time, it placed a great burden on the rural villages close at hand which had to support them.23 A report home from the British Embassy in St Petersburg on 18 August 1904 recorded that, although the harvest in Russia had been average with the exception of the south-west, there were increasing signs of poverty in the villages. It also pointed out that dissatisfaction was surfacing over the burden on the provinces in having to support the soldiers’ families, which in some cases was extremely heavy, together with the problem of a severe labour shortage.24 Such conditions produced repercussions in those villages that supplied large numbers of soldiers. In some cases, peasants refused support on the grounds that the war and its consequences were a problem for the state, and in others they refused it saying that as their wives had received enough from the province already it was the state that should pay for any extra aid. In Moscow Province, for example, around 60 per cent of the villages refused support and in Vladimir Province 79 per cent of them did not give soldiers’ families any support at all.25 In this context, the generally imagined framework of a village community acting as a mutual support system had begun to fragment by the beginning of the twentieth century. At the same time, among these peasants there was only a pale reflection of any public consciousness that actually identified with the war effort, in other words a sense of modern nationalism. Of course, not all villages took such an attitude. In Tiumen County in Tiumen Province, committees were set up in each locality and peasants not only donated funds to support reservists’ families but provided communal labour service to gather the harvest on their lands.26 In Kazan Province, local councils in several counties decided to collect donations.27 A number of reasons can be suggested to explain the varying approaches adopted to support soldiers’ families in different regions, such as the numbers of conscripts involved and the economic situation at a regional level, although I do not have sufficient source material to address this in depth here. As the war dragged on, however, the large-scale mobilization The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War 223 of reservists probably did impose a heavy burden on their families and the regions who had to support them. In a report from Elizavetgrad, the Social-Democratic Party organ Iskra noted that many villages were protesting against mobilization and, where they could not prevent it happening, they had decided to demand compensation for families of soldiers at the front.28 At the time of the Russo-Japanese War, therefore, although a national army had been formed in Russia based on the principle of universal conscription, there was not yet a system of support for soldiers’ families equal to the demands of sustaining the war effort over an extended period. As demonstrated later, this was not actually at variance with the situation to be found in Japan, Russia’s enemy, but there were significant differences in the formulation of legal provision.

SUPPORT FOR THE WOUNDED AT THE REAR – THE ALL-ZEMSTVO ORGANIZATION In almost all cases, support for the war effort at the rear took the form of helping sick and wounded soldiers. This activity was centred on the Red Cross, which coordinated overall operations. At the same time, there were autonomous initiatives by local authorities such as the medical team from Moscow mentioned above, and also zemstvo organizations operating under all-zemstvo control. Here I will look at the all-zemstvo organization. On 10 February 1904, the Moscow Provincial Zemstvo decided to sys- tematize the medical aid it provided for wounded soldiers at the front and selected a committee to consult with other bodies on the issue. The City Council and the committee got down to business on the same day, sending news of this decision to fourteen provincial councils under the name of D.N. Shipov, who had just been elected to a fifth term as chairman of the council. In consultation with the Russian Red Cross, the Moscow Provincial Zemstvo drew up a strategy and, together with seven other provincial zemstva, presented a six-part memorandum at the beginning of March to I. I. Vorontsov-Dashkov, the chairman of the Red Cross Executive Committee. Among the articles the zemstvo representatives declared in this memorandum was the need for a united zemstvo organization to coordinate support for the wounded and for a special executive body in Moscow. This resulted in the formation of the so-called all- zemstvo body, the Obschezemskaia organizatsiia. This held its inaugural meeting on 10 March and subsequently met five times between 17 March and 2 May. At these meetings details were finalized for despatching medical teams to the Far East, while Shipov was elected to become a special representative in charge of all the zemstvas’ activities.29 This movement, which had arisen primarily through the agency of the Moscow Provincial Zemstvo, was unquestionably patriotic in nature. Interior Minister Plehve, however, did not recognize Shipov’s election as chairman of the Provincial Council and in circulars to 224 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

governors in each province he issued directives to restrict the development of the all-zemstvo organization. Plehve thought that a zemstvo network beyond a regional framework posed a political threat. As a result of this government suppression, Shipov was unable to retain his status as chairman, and some zemstva were unable to join the organization. The all-zemstvo organization, therefore, ultimately consisted of twelve provincial zemstva (Moscow, Kursk, Tambov, Iaroslavl’, Khar’kov, Tula, Ufa, Kostroma, Voronezh, Chernigov, Orel, Penza) and one county zemstvo (Moscow). The man who led this body in place of Shipov was G.E. L’vov. Due to Plehve’s policy, therefore, the scale of the organization was restricted considerably, but from mid-May activities were underway with medical teams from each zemstvo arriving in the Far East.30 Since space is limited, I will give only some general figures here on the activities of the field clinics and canteens set up by these zemstva. According to a report made by the plenipotentiary representative L’vov in July 1904, the all-zemstvo organization had already set up 1,500 beds in its field hospitals, which if needed could be increased to 2,500.31 Between 27 May 1904 and 1 October 1905, 50,835 wounded soldiers were admitted to these hospitals, where they were accommodated for a total of 378,813 days.32 At the day clinics and bandaging rooms 25,698 men were treated, while 7,000 were carried to trains that did not have facilities, 2,068 to trains that did, and at the canteens 390,000 hot meals were served, with bread and tea served to about 71,500 men. At the front itself hot water was also provided for 107,000 soldiers.33 As mentioned already, the all-zemstvo organization had been viewed with suspicion by the government at first, but after the assassination of Prehve in July there was a change of outlook with the appointment of the reformist Sviatopolsk-Mirsky as the new interior minister. Furthermore, Kuropatkin, the army commander in Manchuria, held its activities in high esteem and the organization’s reputation grew considerably. In a telegram to the interior minister he paid tribute to the contribution made by the medical corps formed by the zemstva, expressing his hopes that they would be expanded and reinforced. In view of the need to expand medical treatment for the wounded, therefore, the interior minister, in a circular to the provincial governors on 6 October 1904, revoked the earlier directive by Plehve banning the participation of the zemstva.34 As a result those zemstva that had been forbidden to join the organization were also now allowed to supply funds to treat the wounded.35 The case of the all-zemstvo organization shows how, even as it faced the crisis of wartime the Russian government’s attitude in terms of domestic security was to try to restrict the zemstvas’ activities. At the same time it demonstrates the power of society in that the high reputation earned by the organization’s activities at the front finally won the recognition of the state. It was this government stance and the power of society that would clash in 1905. The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War 225

THE HOME FRONT IN JAPAN The various pre-existing contradictions in Russian society came to the surface in the instability precipitated by the conditions of war, dragging the country into the chaos of the 1905 Revolution. The domestic situation made it difficult for Russia to pursue its war effort, but neither can it be said that Japan was entirely free from such a sense of crisis. The morale of soldiers at the front was not at all high, especially where there was fierce fighting, and within Japan as well the crime rate among soldiers and reservists was rising rapidly.36 It is also well known that heavy taxes were levied on the population. Such a situation had elements in common with that facing society in Russia. In Japan, however, there was nothing like the chaos that was experienced in Russia during the war. Various reasons for this can be put forward, but here I will examine the issue by looking at what kind of society was formed in Japan on the home front. In Japan, support for conscripts’ families was promoted as an auxiliary function of local authorities in the course of setting up the conscription system and developing the running of military affairs. Initially begun through the efforts of powerful local figures, in time these relief services took on a partly official form, although until the Sino-Japanese War there appears to have been widespread dissatisfaction with the conscription system as many evaded the draft. With the rise in war fever this conflict produced, however, military groups such as associations for the relief of conscripts spread widely at a regional level. After the war the systematic growth of domestic garrisons at district and municipal levels also served to spread military ideology.37 The home front during the Russo-Japanese War was a continuation of this experience. Following the outbreak of the war a law was announced on 1 May 1904 for the relief of families of rank and file soldiers. This provided support to those who were still in need after having first sought help from family and friends, their immediate neighbourhood and then regional relief groups. In practice, therefore, the relief for conscripts’ families continued to be organized at a local level.38 Relief activities took on a variety of forms ranging from financial support and labour service to part exemption from primary school fees and local taxes, free health checks at public hospitals and employment training.39 These were developed systematically as soon as war broke out, probably drawing on the experience of the Sino-Japanese War and recent years. The authorities realized that such activities were important for raising the morale of the army and promoting links with soldiers at the front by enabling people to contribute actively to the war effort. In a directive to district heads and mayors, for example, the governor of Miyagi Prefecture pointed out that removing conscripts’ anxiety for their families through such relief efforts would have a significant impact on military morale.40 In Aichi Prefecture, the head of Sho¯bukai, an association for military affairs, in Noda Village in Hekikai District also sent a 226 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 letter to soldiers in an effort to raise their morale by promising adequate support for their families.41 In reality, though, the financial help that conscripts’ families received from national and regional bodies was nowhere near enough to lift them out of poverty. In Shizuoka Prefecture, for example, the average sum provided to each household was 1.60 yen per month, or less than 20 yen over the whole year. According to a survey of families who applied for relief during the war, however, conscripts’ overall annual earnings including miscellaneous incomes amounted to around 120 yen on average.42 As a result there was understandably deep anxiety among soldiers sent to the front, which in some cases produced tragic consequences. In one village in Kumamoto Prefecture, the wife of one soldier died from shock when he was conscripted as a reservist, but when the village office rejected his request to support his two children, he killed them himself before joining up. In Nagano Prefecture, too, a soldier whose former wife refused to look after their daughter killed the child ‘so as not to cause trouble’, and then on arriving back home before joining up he lied to his mother that his former wife was looking after her after all.43 Moreover, in addition to problems this system incurred there was also the question of how enthusiastic the regional population felt about providing support. In Aichi Prefecture, for example, a letter from a resident of Okazaki in Nukata District which appeared in the Shin-Aichi newspaper on 24 September 1904 pointed out the superficial nature of farewell parties for the troops and victory celebrations (shukushokai), and also criticized the cool attitude of the authorities towards providing support for the families of those soldiers killed in action.44 In the 14 June 1905 edition of Fuso Shimbun an article also appeared under the title, ‘Give relief to families of soldiers killed in the war’. This criticized the insufficient support in Nagoya, pointing out how relief operations were becoming increasingly fragmented as the war dragged on.45 While in Japan, relief for soldiers’ families was thus legally provided for by the state, in practice the burden in many cases fell on regional bodies. The much larger scale of the draft for this war naturally imposed a heavy burden on these localities, which can be said to have sometimes exposed an inadequate level of support. In this sense the situation in Japan was comparable with that in Russia. Seen in this light, relief for soldiers’ families alone may not have been enough to make the Japanese public embrace the war effort, but they somehow managed to do so through a combination of other reasons which united them on the home front. These included organized events such as victory celebrations (shukushokai) and lantern parades, which I will now address briefly here. Victory celebrations attracted the interest of many people on the home front. Lantern parades were held in various places at the start of the war as reports arrived of the Japanese victories at Inchon (Chemulpo) and Port Arthur (Lushun).46 In Tokyo as well, a lantern parade was attended by 2,300 people. The Tokyo police force reacted by banning The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War 227 lantern parades, and several days later the Ministry of Education prohibited students and schoolchildren from taking part. On 9 March the Ministry of Home Affairs also issued orders not to waste extravagant amounts on parties or parades for sending off troops or celebrating victories. The Japanese Government and the police force thus considered such events to be undesirable and introduced restrictions or banned them altogether. On this note their response was in common with the attitude of the Russian Government, which made public security their priority and prohibited spontaneous public gatherings. Some newspapers, however, criticized the attitude of the police by describing lantern parades as an important part of keeping up ‘the public’s good spirits’. The Ministry of Education’s ban on parades also received criticism from teachers and parents. The police thus had no option but to change their approach and in April 1904 lantern parades were conditionally permitted. The victory celebration then held at Hibiya Park in Tokyo on 8 May to commemorate the occupation of Chuliencheng was a large-scale event sponsored by the city’s newspapers, press agencies and magazines, and involved 30,000 or, according to some reports, as many as 100,000 participants.47 The parade, however, tragically resulted in 39 casualties after disorder broke out among both participants and spectators. Subsequent citizens’ victory celebrations, therefore, were sponsored by the City Council, with a ban placed on lantern parades to prevent stampedes by participants and tighter police crowd control. Nevertheless, the victory celebrations organized by the city still attracted large numbers, and between February 1904 and June 1905 more than 586,000 people attended the larger events alone. One reason why so many people gathered for these events was their festival atmosphere. At the Hibiya Park celebration on 8 May, for example, free drinks were served and spectators were able to enjoy slideshows and pictures of scenes from the war zone. In addition to such entertainment, many of the events featured various devices to fan hatred of the enemy Russia and drum up nationalist fervour. Apart from being a form of entertainment, therefore, they were a forum for forging national identity. During these events people were momentarily able to forget the suffering of the war. At the same time they became aware of their situation as members of a nation facing a common crisis, which enabled them to empathize with the soldiers at the front, an outlook that reaffirmed their determination to support the war effort on the home front. There was a wide gap in perception, of course, between people on the home front who, in their joy at the news of successive victories, took part in victory celebrations and the soldiers who actually fought in the harsh conditions of the war zone.48 Censorship, restraint and sensationalism due to sales rivalry led to many newspaper reports portraying the war in over-glorified terms, and people on the home front were intoxicated by such images of an imagined Russo-Japanese War.49 Without doubt this 228 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 fascination influenced the large numbers of people who gathered for victory celebrations and lantern parades. Ironically, regardless of how the soldiers themselves viewed it all, such fervour played its own role in maintaining support for the war effort on the home front.

CONCLUSION As we have seen, the conscription system in Russia that supplied the men who fought in the Russo-Japanese War was set up on the principle of a universal draft.50 At the same time relief for the families the soldiers left behind was based not on the state but on zemstva, cities and village organizations, resulting in inadequate support and financial difficulties for the regional authorities. Some villages’ refusal of relief signalled a new kind of relationship between the people and the state on the one hand, but on the other reflected the public’s failure to unite behind the war effort. Such an outlook revealed a weak sense of common identity not just among non-Russian communities within the empire but also in the Russian heartland. In Japan, the general understanding has been that the ‘nation was built’ through the Sino-Japanese and Russo-Japanese wars. A constitutional monarchy had already been established, and although there were still restrictions the public did participate in political affairs. In addition, the nationalism evoked by fighting the might of China and Russia can be thought of as fostering a sense of unity among the people. As I have shown here, the legal framework for providing relief for soldiers’ families had been developed based on the experience of the Sino-Japanese War, and besides the protection they received at both state and regional levels, officials and civilians alike used various ways to foster a sense of unity and maintain support for the war effort. Seen in juxtaposition with the home front in Japan, similarities and differences can be found within Russian society during the course of the Russo-Japanese War. Leaving legal provisions aside, the relief that soldiers’ families received was not so different in either country. In both cases it was the regions that shouldered the burden of supporting them, and frequently these families fell into a state of poverty. In both countries, too, there were variations in the level of support to be found among the regional populations. Significant differences can be seen between them, however, if we look at how a sense of unity was fostered, and the measures and policies that were taken to raise and maintain support for the war effort. Since the Russian government’s primary concern was to preserve its autocratic power and maintain public order, it placed restrictions on the activities of the patriotic all-zemstvo organization and banned spontaneous gatherings. This differed from the situation in Japan where a constitutional monarchy had already been set up and there was no choice but to listen to the voice of people. On the Russian home front this particular variation developed into a social issue that would also have an impact on the pursuit of the war. The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War 229

NOTES 1 On the situation within Russia at the time see Tsuchiya 2004: 154–167. 2 Ocherk deiatel’nosti Moskovskogo Gorodskogo Obshchestvennogo Upravleniia, vyz- vannoi sobytiiami russko-iaponskoi voiny 1904–1905 goda s otchetami (denezhnymi i material’nymi) po etoi deiatel’nosti. (hereinafter DMOGU), Moskva, 1907: 1–2 & 57–61. 3 Ibid.: 8–9. 4 Ibid.: 2–3. 5 Ibid.: 11–12. There were also donations from outside Moscow. The Temnikovskoe county zemstvo in Tambov Province donated one bed under its own name to the Moscow medical corps. Pravitel’stvennyi Vestnik, 9.7.1904: 4. 6 DMOGU: 110–117. 7 Ibid.: 13–14. Voluntary labour was also to be seen outside Moscow. In St Petersburg, for example, when an undergarments factory was set up by the Red Cross on 27 June, 100 women volunteered to work there for no pay. Pravitel’stvennyi Vestnik, 28.6.1904: 4. 8 DMOGU: 83. 9 Ibid.: 28–29. 10 Ibid.: 29. 11 Denezhnye vydachi v voennoe vremia chinam voennogo i grazhdanskogo vedomstv i obespechenie ikh semeistv. St Petersburg., 1905: 80–81. 12 Saratovskaia zemskaia nedelia, 1904, No.4: 55. 13 Izvestiia S-Peterburgskoi Gorodskoi Dumy, 1904, No.30: 1471–1472, 1478. 14 Izvestiia S-Peterburgskoi Gorodskoi Dumy, 1904, No.13: 2132–2136. 15 Russkaia Mysl’, 1904, No.3: 177–179. 16 Russkii Invalid, 29.8.1904: 3. 17 Pravitel’stvennyi Vestnik, 19.6.1904: 4. 18 Pyle 1997: 78–79. 19 Russkii Invalid, 28.9.1904: 1. It is thought that the discussion on this third item of uniting family support activities was in response to an imperial edict for a policy on uniting support for reservists’ families issued on 5 August. This stipulated that a committee should be formed by both provinces and districts for this purpose. For details of the text of the edict see Russkii Invalid, 13.8.1904: 8. 20 Pyle 1997: 93–94; Bulgakova 2001: 432. 21 For example, on the changes in the criteria for support in Moscow see Izvestiia Moskovskoi Gorodskoi Dumy (March 1904): 34–35; DMOGU: 135–136. 22 Pyle 1997: 93. 23 NAK: FO/65/1682: a British military ofﬁcer’s observations in Odessa. 24 FO/65/1681, lists 59, 63. 25 Pyle 1997:100. 26 Russkii Invalid, 25.9.1904: 3. 27 Pravitel’stvennyi Vestnik, 10.7.1904: 3. 28 Iskra, No.75, 5.101904: 6. 29 On the formation of this organization, see Tsuchiya 2004. Also for an outline of the All-Zemstvo Organization not just during the Russo-Japanese War but also afterwards see Porter & Gleason 1994: 419–37. 230 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

30 There appear to have been cases of zemstva that did not participate in the All- Zemstvo Organization also contributing towards relief for the wounded in the war zone through the cooperation of the Red Cross. For example, Olonets Provincial Zemstvo used its funds to equip a railway carriage from the regional Red Cross with 50 beds. Pravitel’stvennyi Vestnik, 18.6.1904: .3. Also the Perm’ Provincial Zemstvo and Kherson Provincial Zemstvo each donated 100,000 roubles to Aleksandra Feodorovna for relief of the wounded and a field hospital respectively. Pravitel’stvennyi Vestnik, 6.7.1904: 2. 31 Ibid., 13.7.1904: 3. 32 Polner 1910, I & 2: 407–408. 33 Ibid., II: 413–414. 34 Pravitel’stvennyi Vestnik, 9.10.1904: 2. 35 Polner 1910, II: 54–56. Kuropatkin’s high appraisal of the All-Zemstvo Organization’s medical work was also mentioned in a memorandum by British Ambassador Hardinge in St Petersburg to Foreign Secretary Lansdowne. This compared its activities favourably with those at Red Cross hospitals. BDOFA: Reports and Papers from the Foreign Office Confidential Print. Part I, Series A: Russia, 1859–1914. Vol.3, Russia, 1905–1906. (University Publication of America, 1983), Doc. 2 (January 4, 1905), p. 2. According to some other reports Red Cross hospitals were not so bad and the situation in the army hospitals was considered rather worse. See, for example, , W.H.H. Waters, ‘The Russian Medical Service’, in: Great Britain General Staff 1908: 540. 36 Oe 1976: 243–268 & 269–290. Ohama (1970): 187–191. 37 Arakawa 2001: 31–63. 38 Ibid.: 75. Kitadomari 1999: 51–73. 39 Aichi-ken shi 2002; Arakawa 2001: 76–77; Tokyo hyakunen-shi hensankai-hen 1972: 992–999; Iguchi 1998: 140–2. Employment training was often accompanied by children’s education carried out by women’s groups. For example, the fact that in Osaka nurseries were formed by women’s charity organizations shows that such charity groups expanded on the support provided by the local authorities. Kitadomari 1999: 68–9. 40 Tohoku shimbun, 3.5.1904. Quoted from Anzai et al. 1984: 118. This directive encouraged the region to take positive steps to shoulder the heavy burden of the state in paying for the war effort, and as the authors point out, relief for soldiers’ families had the natural effect of raising army morale and the soldiers’ desire to fight. 41 Aichi-ken shi 2002: 387–388. 42 Arakawa 2001: 76. The situation was not so different in Tokyo: Nogawa 1997: 29, Table 2; Tokyo hyakunen-shi hensan-kai 1972: 999–1003. 43 Iguchi 1998: 138–139. 44 Aichi-ken shi 2002: 385–386. 45 Ibid.: 388–389. 46 The section on victory celebrations and lantern parades is based on the following research: Sakurai 1984: 71–81; Nogawa 1997: 30–3. 47 In the provinces, newspapers and press agencies played an important role in systematizing donation collections together with victory celebrations and lantern parades. Detailed reports in regional newspapers on the conscripts The Role of the Home Front in the Russo-Japanese War 231

from that area were also extremely important in reinforcing links with the front. Arakawa 2001: 84–85. 48 Takeyama 2004: 240. 49 Ibid.: 258–274. The fear of Russia as a great power before the war contributed to the war fever among the people. The hitherto unimagined vision of victory over the might of Russia appeared. On the fear before the war and the sense of daring that followed see, for example, the work of the contemporary journalist and novelist Ubukata 1978: 143–4. 50 In this sense, although Yamamuro Shinichi characterizes the Japanese Army as a national army, it is inaccurate to call the Russian army Nicholas II’s army. Yamamuro 2004: 78. 15 Japanese Deportees and Prisoners of War in Siberia, 1904–05

VLADIMIR G. DATSYSHEN

he Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905 was one of the most important Tevents in twentieth century world history. The war did much to determine the further development of Russia and Japan, and was the most important factor in Russo-Japanese relations. In the last century a great number of historical works have been published on this theme, and researchers have raised and analysed the most diverse questions and aspects of this war. However, some questions concerning the history of the Russo-Japanese War have, to this very day, not only not been studied, but have also failed to attract sufficient attention from scholars and society as a whole. One of these questions concerns the Japanese deported to Siberia from the Far East or who were captured in the course of the Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905. For example, Nakamura Shintaro, in his The Japanese and Russians,1 wrote about Russian prisoners of war, but made no mention of Japanese prisoners in Russia. In the works of Russian authors, on the whole, it is simply observed that significantly fewer Japanese were captured than were Russians, and it is usually only pointed out that ‘1,700 Japanese servicemen were taken by Russian forces’,2 though without reference to any sources. According to official Japanese statistics, the total number of Japanese prisoners of war during the conflict came to 2,104. It is clear that the first researcher who raised the issue of the history of the Japanese servicemen who were held in the Russian Empire was the well-known Sakona Takeshi.3 Observing that 1,776 Japanese servicemen and one woman were being held in the village of Medved, near Novgorod, and that 197 were being held outside Harbin in December 1905, he came to the conclusion that ‘the total number of prisoners of war was therefore 1,973’. It is clear, too, that the history of Japanese deportations from Priamuria during the Russo- Japanese war also remains underresearched. Japanese Deportees and Prisoners of War in Siberia, 1904–05 233

By the beginning of the twentieth century, the official number of Japanese living within the borders of the Russian Empire was 3,953. The number of Japanese visiting the country each year was greater, for example, in 1900, 5,819 Japanese subjects entered Russia. The main body of Japanese in Russia lived in the Far East, and were rarely to be seen in Siberia itself, apart from in the Baikal region. A large number of the Japanese subjects who visited Siberia were connected with Japanese intelligence. Individually, Japanese could be encountered in a variety of walks of life. In 1903, a Japanese by the name of Yamaguchi graduated from the Troitskosavsk Training Institute, and went on to continue his education at Petersburg University. A Japanese language teacher from Japan worked at the Junker school in Irkutsk. In 1903, the owner of a sawmill in Chita, D.F. Ignatiev, invited four lacquerers from Japan. As the newspapers reported, the items produced by the Japanese craftsmen were immediately in great demand among the local people. 4A review appearing in the Yeniseiskie gubernskie vedomosti in 1902 bears witness to how often Japanese performers came to Siberian towns: ‘The performance by a Japanese troupe which took place on 24 September at the Chernie Circus Theatre ... this time failed to attract a large audience ... people had seen enough of them already. The performers, as usual, performed all their numbers perfectly conscientiously.’5 Prior to the very beginning of the war, the Japanese began to leave the Russian towns. The editor of the Vostochnoe obozrenie newspaper, Ivan Ivanovich Popov, wrote in his memoirs: ‘from the letters of my mother- in-law, my son and V.S. Efremov, I heard that all the Japanese – cigarette- sellers, launderers and others, had already rushed away from Irkutsk . . . People had also written from other parts of Siberia, saying that the Japanese have disappeared.’6 But before the very beginning of the war, Siberian society maintained extremely good relations with all Japanese who visited the region. In the Tomsk newspaper, Sibirskii vestnik, in a column entitled ‘Local Chronicle’ on 22 January 1904, an article entitled ‘The Japanese Takeshi Inakowa’ was published, which stated: ‘At the present time in our town, there is a young, well-educated Japanese, Takeshi Inakowa, from the town of Hakodate in Japan. He is staying with us for only the shortest time while on his way to European Russia.’7 The newspaper reported that this 27-year-old Japanese was going to St Petersburg, and then on to Astrakhan in order to study the fishing industry. At the onset of the war, the Japanese, as representatives of a state that had invaded Russia, were stripped of their rights of residence and travel within the country. Moreover, they feared that the Russian people would take vengeance on them, though this in fact did not happen. Their fears were not groundless, however, if one takes into consideration the anti- Chinese mood during the Boxer Rebellion in 1900, from which the Japanese also suffered. For example, a Japanese circus performer was killed by a mob in the town of Biisk having been mistaken for a Chinese. It is possible that similar events led to a Japanese man being stabbed by unknown assailants in Irkutsk.8 In 1904 the authorities employed more 234 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 sensible policies in the interest of preserving order and preventing violence, and the people of Siberia showed a marked absence of animosity or even any tendency to openly displaying hostility towards the representatives of the country with which they were at war. Russia impecca- bly observed all its responsibilities as a country at war. An important factor in this was the markedly humane treatment of Russian POWs by the Japanese themselves. Altogether, this made for relatively relaxed and secure conditions for the Japanese in Russia for the entire duration of the war from 1904–1905. On 28 January 1904, the Irkutskie gubernskie vedomosti newspaper announced that ‘a small local community of Japanese had approached the provincial authorities with a request that they be given protection’.9 The next day, almost three days after the attack by the Japanese army on Port Arthur, the Irkutskie gubernskie vedomosti reported that all the Japanese had left Irkutsk. In the beginning, the Japanese living in Siberia had been sent east, in order that they might be repatriated, but then, on the order of the local governor, Yevgeni Ivanovich Alekseev, they were sent from the Far East to the depths of Siberia. It is worth pointing out that the regional authorities took the decision to relocate the Japanese from territories which had been put on a military footing even before the decision had been made at a higher level (and which was only made in the middle of February). Under the terms of a directive from the Irkutsk Governor’s Office of 30 January 1904, 21 Japanese were sent to Chita on 2 February under the custody of two gendarmes. However, Evgenii Alekseev ordered that all Japanese currently in areas designated as being on a war footing should be sent deep into Siberia.10 Japanese subjects who had been living in the Far East were being transported to Chita from the beginning of the war, and were either housed in flats belonging to their compatriots or were imprisoned. They would then be sent on to Irkutsk, and finally deported to Japan by sea from European ports. At the beginning of June 1904, the Police Department announced that ‘by agreement with the Irkutsk Military Governor- General, it has been deemed necessary to disperse Japanese non-POWs who had been deported from areas of military activity within the Irkutsk and Enisei gubernia, and to send them on to European Russia when Lake Baikal became navigable. Taking into account that it already is navigable, and that the Japanese deportees will soon arrive in European Russia, the Minister of Internal Affairs has accepted the necessity of accommodating them in the gubernias of Perm, Vologda and in the southern districts of Arkhangelsk gubernia.’11 The responsibility of ensuring the well being of the deported Japanese initially fell to the chief of the gendarmerie of the Trans-Baikal railway, Colonel Bardin.12 In the beginning, citizens were transported around Siberia in ordinary passenger wagons at the state’s expense and under the guard of members of the Okhrana, but from May 1904, the Japanese started to be transported in staging wagons attached to passenger trains. The first group of deported Japanese from the East, numbering 140, Japanese Deportees and Prisoners of War in Siberia, 1904–05 235 arrived in Irkutsk on 6 March 1904. The head of the Siberian Railways’ Military Guard, Colonel Syropiatov, in 1904 announced that according to data ‘on passage through Krasnoyarsk station’ (obviously, this means from a stop in Krasnoyarsk), the first deported Japanese (13 men) had already travelled to European Russia through Krasnoyarsk on 23 February 1904. The first large contingent of deportees, 258 Japanese, travelled to Tomsk on 30 March, and a further 240 Japanese travelled through Krasnoyarsk on 1 April. In May 1904, 57 male and 80 female Japanese deportees followed the route across Krasnoyarsk to the city of Tomsk.13 The expulsion of Japanese, with varying degrees of intensity, continued practically to the war’s end. For example, on 15 May 1904, a steamship carried a group of Japanese numbering 280 from Nikolaevsk westward along the Amur river from Khabarovsk.14 According to reports from the Siberian Railways’ Gendarme Administration, 6 male and 1 female deported Japanese travelled to European Russia in January 1905, and a further 9 (8 male and 1 female) did so in February. The last Japanese deportees (3 female) travelled on to the west through Yenisei gubernia in April 1905.15 Despite the fact the decision had been made to transport all the deported Japanese to European Russia, a significant number of them remained in Western Siberia for a considerable length of time, and a few even remained there until the end of the war. One of the main ‘tran- shipment bases’ for the deportees was Tomsk gubernia. Already, in March 1904, an order was issued by the Ministry of Internal Affairs for the sum of 500 roubles to be sent to the Tomsk Governor’s Office ‘for the subsistence of Japanese and Chinese expelled from zones of military activity’.16 On 31 March 1904 a group of 152 ‘yellow-skinned’ persons (as they were described in the document) arrived in Tomsk, the overwhelming majority of them Japanese. They were quickly transferred from there down the river Ob to the village of Kolpashevo in Narymskii Krai. A group of 251 deportees (Japanese and Chinese) were received and billeted in dachas at the Tomsk Nunnery (in the Spasskaya district) and in the village of Togurskom. The authorities required the sum of 2,234 roubles and 40 kopeks to meet the subsistence requirements of these deportees (381 adults and 22 children).17 In May the number of Japanese and Chinese settled in Tomsk gubernia reached 442, and another 280 were expected. As of 29 May 1904, the transportation of deportees on steamships from Tomsk to Tiumen’ began in order for them to travel onward to European Russia. By the beginning of summer, 142 persons who had been deported from Priamuria remained in Tomsk gubernia, in dachas and at the Tomsk City Hospital. As of then, the number of Japanese sent from the Far East living in Tomsk gubernia continually varied. In addition to migration, natural fluctuations have been identified, with three births for every two deaths occurring among the Japanese deportees in Tomsk during the period to June 1904. By the middle of June 1904, according to the documents, 527 persons under ‘administrative arrest’ had been received and 236 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 billeted in Tomsk gubernia, with the overwhelming majority of them being Japanese. The majority of Japanese deportees from Siberia were sent on to European Russia, but far from all of them were. For example, a number of the ‘yellow-skinned’ deportees carried on living under lock and key at the Tomsk Nunnery to the end of the war. On 30 September 1905, the Tomsk District Ispravnik18 reported to the Governor: ‘I have the honour to report to Your Excellency that, of the yellow-faces [sic] being held at the Tomsk Nunnery, by order of Your Excellency, 7 Japanese and 1 Chinese left for various locations in Eastern Siberia during September. At the present time there are 10 Japanese, 10 Koreans and 1 Chinese, altogether 21 persons.’19 From the onset of military action in the Far East, Japanese were turning up and being taken captive in Siberia. They moved westward across Eastern Siberia from March 1904 to September 1905 on the Siberian Railway. Japanese POWs were sent to Baikal station, where they were handed over to the chief of the Siberian Military District. The military authorities transported the Japanese prisoners on their own troop carriers. Contemporaries observed that already by the end of March 1904 ‘a group of Japanese POWs with a Japanese officer have travelled on the railway’.20 A contingent of 280 POWs was brought to Irkutsk on March 31. In the first days of the war, Siberian towns were the prisoners’ final destination. For instance, on 15 April, 25 officers and 183 sailors were sent from Vladivostok to Tomsk.21 Before long, in Siberia itself, it was decided not to disperse them further, and a ‘special location’ was constructed for them in Penza. According to a report by the head of the Siberian Railways military security service, Colonel Syropiatova, the first POWs travelled through Krasnoyarsk to Tomsk in two contingents in June 1904 (42 officers and 259 soldiers). The POWs were often transported in small groups, staying for periods of time in various Siberian towns. Documentation shows the presence of 5 Japanese POWs in Krasnoyarsk in August 1904. In October 1904, 5 Japanese POWs were first taken across Krasnoyarsk, then 1 officer and 6 sailors, and then groups of 2 and 13 POWs. If in the beginning POWs were being taken to Tomsk, then as of the summer of 1904 Japanese prisoners were moved off to European Russia without going through Tomsk, but going directly from Krasnoyarsk to Omsk.22 We can judge the numbers of POWs moving along the Siberian Railway in the concluding stage of the war by a report from the head of the Krasnoyarsk department of the Siberian Railways’ Gendarmes’ Administration. From 29 December1904 to 29 January 1905, 51 Japanese POWs travelled westward across Enisei gubernia; From 29 January to 28 February, 214 Japanese, including 4 officers; from 28 February to 29 March, 276 POWs, including 7 officers; from 29 March to 28 April, 219 persons, including 4 officers; from 28 April to 28 May, 211 Japanese POWs and 1 Korean POW; from 28 May to 28 June, 243 Japanese, including 10 officers; from 28 June to 28 July, 104 Japanese, including 1 officer; Japanese Deportees and Prisoners of War in Siberia, 1904–05 237 from 28 July to 30 August, 13 Japanese, including 1 officer and 1 doctor. The final contingent, of Japanese POWs (consisting of 22 of lower rank and 1 officer) travelled westward through Krasnoyarsk when the war had already ended, on 1 September.23 Statistics of POW movements on Siberian railways through Krasnoyarsk are supported by figures concerning Irkutsk station24 and Tomsk gubernia.25 It would therefore appear that the total figure of 1,700 Japanese POWs sent to Russia, which is held to be the case in Russian historiography, is an underestimation. For example, in 1905 alone, more than 1,300 Japanese prisoners travelled westward across Krasnoyarsk. One may, with a good degree of certainty, say that the number of POWs sent to European Russia is considerably lower than the total number. According to police reports, during the whole of 1905 only one badly-wounded Japanese and one Japanese military doctor travelled westward. Undoubtedly, a significant proportion of soldiers from both sides were taken captive having been wounded, and therefore it is obvious that wounded Japanese remained in field hospitals in eastern Russia and Manchuria. We must bear in mind that some prisoners, spies, for example, were executed in Manchuria on the order of military field courts. There are examples where Japanese prisoners were held in various locations in eastern Russia. In July 1904, the platoon of M. Sotnikov captured a commander of a Japanese platoon, named Gunji, along with the platoon’s doctor, in Kamchatka, and both remained there for the duration of the war. Far from all the Japanese POWs were immediately sent to European Russia. Tomsk gubernia was chosen as the location for their long-term settlement. For example, from 4 May to 29 June, 26 officers and 182 of lower ranks were accommodated by the Tomsk City General Administration, from 29 June to 4 July, 68 officers and 237 of lower rank, from 4 July to 8 August, 68 officers and 251 of lower rank, from 8 August to 14 August, 38 officers and 256 of lower rank.26 Materials and documents indicate that the needs of the Japanese were adequately catered for and that they enjoyed good relations with the authorities and society at large. Despite their lack of rights, the prisoners, from the outset, were provided with basic necessities that were of no lesser standard than those enjoyed by Russian soldiers. ‘In accordance with military authorities order Number 275 (1877), the rental of accommodation for Prisoners of War is being carried out on the basis of the military housing regulations of June 1874.’27 On 12 May 1904, even before the necessary funds could be made available by the treasury, the cavalry captain of the local corps of gendarmes responsible for the Japanese POWs in Tomsk had requested a variety of goods and materials from the Tomsk Municipal Council. Later, the Tomsk Municipal Council wrote to Colonel Syropiatov, the head of the Siberian Railway’s security section: ‘As soon as the first group of Japanese POWs arrived in Tomsk, Cavalry Captain Lemeni-Makedon applied to the Municipal Council with a request for the necessary facilities and goods for the accommodation of the POWs, promising to return any goods thus supplied to the town in their original condition. The 238 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Municipal council, regardless of the fact that the Temporary Regulations on Prisoners of War during the Russo-Japanese War had yet to be published, made available all possible materials to provide good accommodation for the prisoners, and moreover handed over all the goods they had to hand under receipt to the official representatives of the convoy. The Municipal Council not only provided beds, but also sheets for the mattresses, pillows and blankets, even though the town had no obligation to provide the last named items ...’28 According to the ‘List of Things Lost and Damaged by the Japanese’ presented by the Municipal council, the POWs received bed linen, and the kitchen items even included kitchen knives, teaspoons and saucers. Among the items lost by the Japanese during the summer of 1904 were 42 blankets, at a cost of 3 roubles 60 kopeks each.29 The Temporary Regulations on Prisoners of War during the Russo-Japanese War were approved at the imperial level on 13 May 1904. This document established the following norms and principles: ‘it is necessary to treat Prisoners of War, who are legally engaged in fighting for their country, in a humane manner’; ‘Prisoners of War must in no way be hindered with regard to observing their religious rights’; ‘The possessions of Prisoners of War, with the exception of firearms, horses and military documents remain their property . . .’; ‘Prisoners of War may be subject to settlement in towns . . . on the condition that they do not cross known and clearly established boundaries; they should only be subjected to confinement under guard when circumstances make this necessary’; ‘Escaped Prisoners of War, in the event of their capture, are not to be answerable to a court of law for having escaped’; ‘Prisoners of War may be freed on their word of honour, but cannot be forced to give their word of honour . . .’; ‘Prisoners of War may engage in various forms of labour according to their rank and capabilities. These forms of labour cannot be of an exhausting nature and must have nothing to do with military activity.’ And so on.30 Russia’s international obligations were also of benefit to the Japanese. On 28 May 1904, the Red Cross established its Central Information Office in Moscow staffed by approximately ten volunteers from the upper ranks of Russian society. Judging from the documents, military and civilian authorities in Siberia not only unswervingly observed the rules, but also created conditions ‘conducive to the comfort’ of the Japanese for the duration of their stay. A special commission was set up to ensure the observation of sanitary and hygienic norms with regard to the prisoners.31 At the same time, the Russian soldiers charged with the task of guarding the prisoners were often living in appalling conditions, which the authorities did not regard as being in anyway strange or unusual. Once the Russo-Japanese War had ended, the Japanese POWs were repatriated to Japan, with some returning via Siberia. This process dragged on for many months and even at the beginning of 1906 the Russian authorities were gathering information on the presence of Japanese prisoners in Russia. However, there is no documentary information that makes mention of Japanese POWs remaining in Siberia Japanese Deportees and Prisoners of War in Siberia, 1904–05 239 beyond the deadlines established and agreed by the two countries. But only a year after being deported to their homeland, the Japanese began to return to Siberia. In the summer of 1907, the ‘Agreement on Trade and Seafaring between Russia and Japan’ was signed, which renewed an agreement of 1895, and which offered Japanese subjects in Russia the rights of subjects of a ‘most favoured nation’. But in the autumn of 1907, the military governor of the Baikal oblast’ reported to the Irkutsk Governor-General’s Office that ‘groups of Chinese and Japanese have been engaged in espionage and photographing locations at various times during the summer . . .’.32 Already by 1908, it had become commonplace to find Japanese laundry-houses advertising their services in Siberian newspapers.33 Japanese migration to Siberia had returned and was entering a new phase of development. The history of the Japanese deportees and POWs living in Siberia in 1904–1905 had not had a noticeable effect on Russian-Japanese relations, and this is down to the fact that it did not have tragic consequences and was not used as a ‘political football’. In the documents there is not one example of violence or even hostile relations with the Japanese in Siberia, either from representatives of the state or from the local population. This serves as further confirmation of the view that the Russo-Japanese War was not a clash of two nations or cultures, but the result of the globali- zation of international relations and the irresponsibility of the political elites [of the two countries]. The historical experience of the presence of the Japanese held captive in Siberia and the deportations at the beginning of the twentieth century has not, even now at the beginning of the twenty-first century, lost its relevance and value as an example of Russian and Japanese cooperation in the most trying of circumstances.

NOTES 1 Nakamura 1983. 2 Marinov 1974: 27. 3 Sakona 2002. 4 Vostochnoe obozrenie, 2.9.1903. 5 EGV, 26.9.1902. 6 Romanov 1993: 193–194. 7 SB, 2.1.1904. 8 IGV, 28.1.1904. 9 Romanov 1993: 433. 10 GAIO, f.32. op.34. d.58. 11 GATO: f.3. op.5. d.76. ll. 69. 12 GAIO, f.32. op.34. d.58. 13 GAKK, f.832. op.1. d.31. l.132. 14 GATO, f.3. op.5. d.76. l. 30. 15 GAKK, f.595. op.3. l.216. 16 GATO, f.3. op.18. d.1135. l.1. 17 Ibid., f.3. op.18. d.1135. l.2 240 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

18 Ispravnik was a title used in pre-revolutionary Russia whose modern equivalent would be District Police Chief. 19 GATO, f.3. op.5. d.76. l.286. 20 Romanov 1994: 34. 21 GATO, f.3.op.5.d.76.1.286. 22 GAKK, f.832. op.1. d.31. l.252 23 Ibid., f.595.op.3. d.216. 24 GAIO, f.602. op.1. d.9. 25 GATO, f.3. op.5. d.76. l.196. 26 Ibid., f.233. op.1. d.1037. ll.36–37. 27 Ibid., f.233.op.1.d.1037.1.5. 28 Ibid., f.233. op.1. d.1037. l.24. 29 Ibid., f.233. op.1. d.1037.l.20. 30 Ibid., f.3. op. 5 d.76. l.63. 31 Ibid., f.233. op1. d.1037. l.13. 32 GAKK, f.595. op.3. d.1063. l.1. 33 Krasnoyarets, 1.7.1908. PART V Gender and Race

16 Russo-Japanese War and Literary Expression: Voice, Gender and Colonialism

FAYE YUAN KLEEMAN

戦雲東におさまりて In the East the clouds of war have settled 昇る朝⽇ともろともに The lofty reputation for justice that 輝く仁義の名も shines like the rising morning sun ⾼く知らるるアジアの⽇の出国 We shall strive for the day when 光めでたく仰がるる everyone looks up to 時こそ来ぬれいざ励め this Asian nation of the ascending sun.

明治３７年「⽇本陸軍」 ‘The Japanese Army’ 1904 詞⼤和⽥建樹曲深沢登代吉 Lyrics: Owada Tateki, Melody: Fukazawa Toyokichi

朝⽇に匂う⽇の本の There is only one 国は世界に只⼀つ Nation of Japan, fragrant in the morning sun 妻と呼ばれて契りてし There is only one person in the world ⼈は此の世に只⼀ To whom one has made vows and taken as wife

明治３８年「お百度詣で」 ‘On my One Hundredth Pilgrimage’ 1905 『太陽』⼤塚楠 Journal Taiyo Otsuka Kusuoko

INTRODUCTION: VOICE, BODY AND IDEOLOGY s seen in the poem and song lyrics quoted above, the Japanese Aresponse to the Sino-Japanese War could be articulated quite differently. Using the same image of the rising sun, Otsuka’s poem is an urgent and personal plea for the acknowledgement of the marriage bond 244 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 between husband and wife over the nation, whereas the song for the Japanese Army makes an imperious claim for the glory of Japan, a nation that is sure to rise up from the East to become a world power. Certainly, the two pieces of writing derive from very different positions in society. Otsuka’s poem expresses the personal appeal of a wife whose husband is away at war and was published in one of the most popular Meiji magazines, Taiyo.1 What is intriguing about these two pieces, one a poem, the other a song lyric, is that they are products of the same seminal event and share a common vocabulary, yet they express very different sentiments using disparate rhetorical voices. It is not surprising that the military song lyric Nippon rikugun by Owada adopts a grandiloquent discourse of adulation and nationalism, reflecting the patriotic sentiments that were gradually gaining currency at the time. It can be seen as a precursor to the later, even more fervent rhetoric seen during the interwar period, which took on a shrill, fanatic tone approaching the end of the Pacific War. What is more interesting is Otsuka Kusuoko’s plea for an intimate and personal agenda, using a very similar lexicon to that in the military song, in a very public arena, Taiyo, undisputably one of the most popular magazines of the period. Together with Yosano Akiko’s famous tanka ‘Don’t die for the emperor’, the poem became one of the rare female voices expressed on this war.2 The gender difference in sentiments toward the war as manifested above gestures to several areas that heretofore have not been fully explored. Though it lasted just over a year, as the first modern war fought by Japan, the Russo-Japanese War sets itself apart historically from preceding wars. It was the first large-scale war fought outside of Japan proper, giving a true sense of an international engagement. It was also the first war fought out through the mass media, both domestically and internationally. It was also the first Japanese war to see significant female participation, however peripheral. This altered the preconception that war is a male domain and paved the way for the further engagement by women and teenagers during the total mobilization campaign at the end of the Second World War. As has often been pointed out, it was also the first time in modern world history that an Asian country had defeated a European nation. The war and its aftermath greatly influenced the cultural conditions in turn-of-the-century Japan. Domestically, the unambiguous victory over Russia consolidated the national identity; internationally, the status of Japan as an emerging world power was raised to equal that of a Western colonial power. In terms of culture, the Russo-Japanese War brought to us the genesis of modern post-war literature, and many of the nationalistic wartime movements and practices also carried over to the Pacific War. This study intends to trace the cultural conditions during the time of the Russo-Japanese War. It will first outline the development of modern war literature in Japan, its difference from previous war literature and its implications for the development of the genre. It will then venture into the terrain of the role gender played in representing the war culture, Russo-Japanese War and Literary Expression 245 touching on the feminine and masculine articulations of opinions towards the war through an examination of wartime material culture and the influence of the popular imagination on the construction of the heroic. Gender-specific war culture will be further explored through the life story of Kawahara Misaoko (Soko), often described as the first female spy in Japanese history, as one example of female participation in the war. I would argue that much of this feminine involvement set a precedent for a genderized war culture that lasted well into the Pacific War and ended with Japan’s surrender in 1945. In other words, this article explores the effects of war on culture at the turn of the century and its connections to later practice. The war literature (or post-war literature, to be more precise, since the war itself lasted only a short time) prefigures the flood of traumatized war writings after the Pacific War, and can be considered as the origin of modern post-war literature. The genderization of war culture that took place during the Russo-Japanese War also had an intense and lasting impact later on the First World War and in particular from the mid-thirties to the end of the Second World War in that women (and to a certain degree children) were further mobilized in the context of total warfare.3 The disparate masculine and feminine understandings of the war, though formed under the same socio-political context, manifested in the psychological disjuncture that is evident in the two lyrical expressions quoted above.

HISTORICAL WAR TALE (Senkimono) VS. WAR LITERATURE (Senso bungaku) The final part of the Meiji period is widely recognized as one of the most significant turning-points in the history of Japanese literature.4 It was when the genbun’itchi vernacular movement reached fruition with a shared modern language that circulated among writers and the public. It also marked the first phase in the development of modern media, with the appearance of journals geared towards a mass audience such as the aforementioned Taiyo and a more narrowly defined popular genre that catered to niche markets such as the popular teen magazine Shonen sekai. Because of these developments in the popular media, the Russo-Japanese War was the first Japanese war to be reported to the general public in real time and the public discourse made a great impact on how the war was fought and perceived.5 Also for the first time, prominent writers participated in and wrote about the war, either as army commanders, e.g. Mori Ogai and his ‘Poetic Diary’ (Uta Nikki) or as battlefield reporters, such as Kunikita Doppo’s ‘Letters to my Beloved Brother’ (Aitei tsushin), Tayama Katai’s ‘Diary Embedded with the Second Battalion’ (Dainigun josei nikki) and Shiga Shigetaka’s ‘Grand Battle Small Will’ (Daiyaku shoshi) and produced numerous records of the war. This type of writing, with a narrator or poetic persona directly addressing the ongoing war, is a distinctive feature of modern war literature, as Kimura Tsuyoshi points out in distinguishing the classical, pre-modern genre of senkimono from the modern Meiji genre of senso bungaku. 246 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Senkimono, from the Hogen/Heiji monogatari to Heike monogatari, Gempei seisuiki, and Taiheiki, recount the wars of their time from a retrospective, historical view. Terms such as Gassen (Ichinotani gassen; Dannoura gassen), jin, and sodo were used to designate war in those tales. The term Senso was known through classical Chinese historical accounts such as the Record of the Historian (C. Shiji J. Shiki, ca. 100 BCE), but did not appear in Japanese usage until the Meiji period. Together with the newly imported foreign words and the frequent coinage of new kanji compounds, the term Senso is thus used to designate modern warfare that employs weapons such as guns and cannon.6 The 1874 invasion of Taiwan was the first war Japan fought as a modern nation. Japan’s first journalist, Kishida Ginko, was bivouacked with the army and reported from the frontline. This first instance of the combination of war and reportage literature enabled the Japanese masses to learn firsthand of the war their nation was fighting through the new media that also first appeared in Japan at this time: newspapers and magazines. This immediacy of the frontline battles made the Japanese masses aware of their place in the global geopolitical landscape and helped in consolidating Japanese nationalism. Nevertheless, other than the widespread popularity of military songs (Gunka), nothing substantial in terms of real war literature was produced during the Sino-Japanese War(1894–95).7 The decade between the Sino-Japanese War and the Russo-Japanese War can be seen as an incubating period for a true war literature. If the institution of the newspaper matured during the Seinan Civil War and the popularization of magazines was established during the Sino-Japanese War, the Russo-Japanese War made full use of these two media. In his Imagined Communities (1983), Benedict Anderson emphasized the role of print media (newspapers, magazines, fiction, etc.) in fostering a shared consciousness among a people and consequently in the genesis of a modern nation-state. Japan was no exception. During the Russo-Japanese War, the print media created a public discourse on the war and a broad audience who craved more information from the frontlines, where their loved ones were.8 Technical advances in photography permitted it to replace the multi-coloured woodblock-printed Nishiki-e style illustrations that were used widely during the Sino-Japanese War and brought to the war a sense of real urgency through photographic images, maps of the battlefield and letters exchanged between soldiers and their families.9 It was in one sense a large-scale war fought in a remote foreign land and at the same time a very personal war for many Japanese since they were able to follow every major action on the battleground. This immediacy of the war permeated the general population, from young to old, men and women. With first-hand access to the war, interest in the minutiae of the war was tremendous. In the context of this psychological mobilization, victory prompted celebrations and processions of huge crowds throughout the city of Tokyo. Large structures emulating Russo-Japanese War and Literary Expression 247 the Arc de Triomphe (Gaisenmon) were erected throughout the city to welcome returning soldiers. The public mood was jubilant, even feverish. The excitement of the public mood also helped generate a body of writing that was different from any other previous writings on war, the gunki mono that reported the on-going conditions of the war. One of the most popular genres was the documentary-like report, jikki, that pur- ported to record the actual ongoing course of the war. This genre satisfied the insatiable appetite of the readers in the metropole who craved the details of every battle and every strategy. The public and private features of the war, as reflected in the popular military songs (Gunka), feverishly patriotic public speeches (Kodan), and popular ballads (Naniwabushi),10 on the one hand and in the immensely private sentiments expressed in Okuma Kusunoo’s poem on the other, separated modern war literature from its predecessors. The new public media made way for these sentiments to circulate and accelerate. Other more prominent characteristics of the Russo-Japanese War literature include the graphic and detailed descriptions of human casualties caused by the massive destructive capability of modern weaponry and a heightened nationalist discourse that was unseen in previous literary works and amply demonstrated the success of the Meiji nation building ideology. For example, two of the most popular works of the Russo-Japanese War literature were Sakurai Tadayoshi’s (1879–1965) por- trayal of the heroism of Japanese soldiers in The Human Bomb (Nikudan) and Mizuno Hironori’s depiction of the Battle of the Japan Sea in That One Battle (Kono issen). Both were bestsellers at the time and have come to be considered the two most remarkable achievements from the literature of that war. The Human Bomb was published immediately after the war in 1906, with the subtitle ‘Actual Record of the Battle at Port Arthur’ (Ryojun jissen ki). Sakurai was born in Matsuyama, Ehime. He joined the Matsuyama Brigade and after graduating from the Army Officers’ Academy fought under General Nogi. Sakurai was severely wounded in the battle of Port Arthur, suffering eight bullet wounds and three bone fractures and was said to have written the work with his left hand. Sakurai’s documentary style writing, combining vivid and detailed realistic depictions of the day-to-day battles with his intimate reflections on his comrades and family, resulted in the most accurate and thoughtful piece of writing of the Russo-Japanese War. The book was an instant hit and was endorsed by General Nogi’s calligraphy and a preface by Okuma Shigenobu, while the former Army C-in-C in Manchuria, Oyama Iwao, provided a Chinese kanbun preface to its first edition. On the recommendation of General Nogi, the emperor read the book and was deeply moved by the account; he later granted the author Sakurai an audience that was unprecedented for a soldier of his rank.11 The book sold out with more than a thousand reprintings in only a few years, was translated into fifteen different languages (among them, English, German, French, Italian, Chinese, Russian and Greek) and received international acclaim.12 In terms of 248 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 international reknown, it was as celebrated as Nitobe Inazo’s very popular Bushido and similar to Erich Maria Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front (1930). The term Nikudan, literally ‘using body as a bullet’, was coined by the author himself on the battlefield. It was abbreviated from the original phrase ‘using one’s flesh as bullet’ (Niku o motte tama to nasu) and later used during the Pacific War to denote the bravery of the soldiers who fought to the last despite no equipment or support. The three suicide bombers who destroyed the train tracks outside of Shanghai in 1932 in the so-called ‘Shanghai Incident’ were subsequently referred to as the ‘three nikudan heroes’ (Nikudan san’yo shi) and their courageous deed inspired various films and popular songs. While Sakurai’s Nikudan records the bloodiest battle on land, Mizuno Hironori’s Kono issen records the Battle of the Japan Sea, the fiercest sea battle of the war. Equipped with numerous charts, marine maps, strategic plan drawings, and sixty-two pages of the names of sailors who died in the battle, the book aims at conveying an experience of the war as close to reality as possible. Militarily, the Russo-Japanese War was the first war Japan fought all out with the joint mobilization of both the army and the navy. Culturally, it was a war of truly international scope both in a geopolitical sense and in its cultural impact. It was a war, according to David Wells, ‘invested with a complex and highly charged symbolic reper- toire’.13 As Hiraoka Toshio indicates in his monumental study of the post-war literature of the Russo-Japanese War, the immediacy and clini- cal detail of the close-up reports of the war set the pattern for a modern Japanese war literature fundamentally different from the pre-modern military tales.

MEDIA, GENDER AND WARTIME (MATERIAL) CULTURE Let us pause for a moment and re-examine the cultural and social conditions before, during and after the war. A recent study by Kato Yoko (2005) disputes the longstanding view that after the humiliation of the so-called ‘triple intervention’ (Sangoku kansho) by Russia, France and Germany after the Sino-Japanese War, forcing Japan to give up its con- quests in Manchuria, the entire nation went into a period that echoed the government’s slogan of ‘remembering the bitterness and enduring the hardship’ (Gashin shotan) and prepared for the next upcoming war with Russia. Kato argues that in fact a strong anti-war sentiment prevailed both in the government and among the public, and that the nationalistic impetus for the war which dominates the current view of the Russo-Japanese War was in fact a product of the later manipulation of documents and a fervent educational system that preached the nationalistic aspects of the war.14 On the other hand, Yasuda Hiroshi and Cho Kindaru’s The Era of War and Society, published the same year, takes a diametrically opposed position to Kato’s ‘pacifist’ view, reaffirming the bellicose psyche of the public. The year 2005 marked the centennial of Russo-Japanese War and Literary Expression 249 the Russo-Japanese War and saw a revival of public interest in the history of the war, as evidenced by numerous publications ranging from academic publications to popular magazines, as well as special programming and endless discussions on television. But as these two opposing examples demonstrate, the public’s take on the war has yet to reach a consensus. Nevertheless, both sides do agree on the role the media played in shaping the public opinion of the war. The media played a key role in conveying the conditions on the battlefront back to the Japanese public, though it tended to emphasize the positive and not to dwell on the hardships of the war. While anti-war sentiments were expressed by a small group of dissident socialists and Christians, the general atmosphere in the capital was that of triumphant euphoria. Even if there had been hesitation in the public mind about going to war, these doubts were largely erased after the first triumph. Planned and spontaneous parades followed every victorious news bulletin (Shoho), usually passing through or ending up in one of the many Arcs de Triomphe that had been hastily erected throughout the city.15 Newspapers were a key mechanism in the dissemination of frontline information. After advances in photographic and printing technology brought the first newspaper photograph (of the battleship Mikasa) to the Japanese public, people clamoured round street corner bulletin boards to read special editions issued by the newspapers.16 The government also issued sets of commemorative postcards depicting the sea battle off Port Arthur. They were so popular that riots occurred in post offices when people crowded into long lines to purchase them. Other visual media, such as magazines, pictorials and slide shows (Gentokai) were also popular. While radio broadcasts were still unknown at this time (the first commercial broadcast did not occur until 1906), tales of bravery on the battlefield, known as ‘beautiful tales’ (Bidan) created instant war heroes through their dissemination in the form of popular oral performances known as Kodan (story-telling of historical events) and especially the new Meiji oral performance form Naniwabushi (chanted story-telling). Both Kodan and Naniwabushi catered primarily to the working class masses with masculine tales of war, heroes, loyalty (Giri ninjo), revenge (Katakiuchi mono) and self-sacrifice.17 The war invigorated the genre. Topical events of interest to the masses led to an unprecedented naniwabushi boom surrounding the superstar Tochoken Kumoemon (1873–1916). Born and raised in a poor working class neighbourhood of Tokyo, Kumoemon was blessed with a forceful personality and a strong voice. His most popular performances were tales taking their subjects from the Sino-Japanese War, the Russo-Japanese War, and the revenge tales surrounding the forty-seven Ako ronin. He accepted Miyazaki Toten (1870–1922), who assisted Sun Yat-sen in fomenting revolution against the Qing Dynasty, as his disciple and his close ties with right-wing organizations such as the Gen’yosha and the Kokuryukai reveal the nationalist undertone of Kumoemon’s performances. In any case, Kumoemon was 250 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 able single-handedly to raise the profile of a humble art form popular among the lower classes, reaching a mass audience that included the middle class, thanks to the intense concern everyone shared concerning anything related to the war. The Russo-Japanese War, more than any other before its time, had an impact on the masses, but this effect came in gendered forms. Within the many voices articulating their view on the war, there is a distinctively gendered differentiation between the very public display of machismo in the majority of male voices versus a more pensive, self-reflective female voice. This gender distinction certainly reflects the universal reality of warfare from the beginning of human history: that males actively participate and females passively endure its consequences.18 The term Jugo (home front), which was often used to designate the feminized Japanese society during the Pacific War, originated in the Russo-Japanese War.19 Since women were left behind on the home front and were not on the battlefield, their experience tends to be mediated, based on secondary knowledge of the war. It was precisely this intervening distance that demarcated the essential difference between the male and female discourse. I would like to illustrate this gender difference by exploring cases that either reinforced or countered the customary view of the gender division of war culture. The immediacy of the male body at war, wounded, frac- tured and often dead, was presented in the news media and retold through literature and oral performances, cementing the public, masculine heroic discourse. The Russo-Japanese War fundamentally altered the Japanese image of the war hero. The modern war hero was no longer a samurai or an aristocrat, but rather a common person who might come from any walk of life.20 Common folks through their self-sacrifice could achieve the instant sainthood of a ‘warrior god’ (Gunshin) and be enshrined in Yasukuni Shrine. The legendary naval hero, Commander Hirose, is a good example. Hirose Takeo died in the second suicide mission at Port Arthur, carried out on 27 March 1904. He carefully laid explosives to destroy his own ship, the Fukui-maru, in order to blockade the harbour. Hirose was killed by an enemy shell while trying three times under dangerous conditions to search for his missing subordinate, Private Sugino. Pieces of Hirose’s flesh were recovered and carried through the streets of Tokyo under the falling cherry blossoms in an enormous funeral procession and he was subsequently elevated to the status of Gunshin. He was posthumously promoted in rank and a giant statue was erected in Tokyo (removed during the American Occupation).21 A song commemorating his noble deeds, ‘Commander Hirose’ (Hirose chusa, 1915) was designated an official elementary school song (Shogakko shoka) by the Ministry of Education and a Shinto shrine was built in his honour at his birthplace in Oita.22 Patriotism and the near-fetish adulation of war-related objects was manifested in the instant beatification of dead soldiers, the transformation of their belongings into sacred relics, in comfort pouches that women sewed and sent to the Russo-Japanese War and Literary Expression 251 front, and in children’s toy battleships and game boards that traced the course of famous battles. In contrast to the relentless display of military machismo evident in photographic images, Gunka and the glorification of the male body through the deification of Gunshin, the female voice lacked a public stage for this type of performative patriotic expression. Sasaki Yoko points out that female engagement in the Pacific War took four forms: through maternity, as part of the labour force, as prostitutes and as part of the fighting force. During the Russo-Japanese War, women participated primarily as mothers and labourers, and much of their labour was limited to symbolic actions like sewing bandages and ‘comfort pouches’ (ian- bukuro). Sometimes the categories overlapped. For example, nursing was a newly emerged occupation for females during the Russo-Japanese War that combined the functions of motherly nurturing, drudgery and military enlistment. The Meiji Empress, who was the nominal head of the Japanese Red Cross and was seen portrayed in drawings and prints leading a group of nurses in caring for wounded soldiers, can be seen as the quintessential representation of the new role for women, at once traditional and modern.23 But only a minority of women served as nurses or travelled to the battlefront. The great majority of women were involved with the war through neighbourhood organizations like the Patriotic Women’s Association (Aikoku fujinkai), founded in 1901 by Okumura Ioko (1845–1907) to comfort wounded soldiers and to care for the families of the deceased. Okumura was the daughter of a Buddhist priest in Karatsu, Saga. Influenced by her father’s political inclination, she was a loyalist to the Imperial court (sonnoha) and was active in local affairs, working to develop Karatsu into a modern port city. Her first marriage ended in the death of her husband and after divorcing her second husband, she went with her brother, the priest Enshin, to Korea for missionary work, where she founded an industrial school in Koshu (Kwangju). In 1900, while visiting soldiers in North China wounded during the Boxer Rebellion (in Japan often referred to as Northern Qing Incident), Okumura came to realize the human cost of the war and founded the women’s group. Okumura’s group played a major role in mobilizing women on the home front and can be viewed as a mode of female engagement with the war. Nevertheless, its functions were largely limited to providing spiritual and material support for the soldiers and the war cause through charity activities, caring for war widows and disabled soldiers, and managing their households with efficiency and economy. Despite Okumura’s own political activities and extensive travel to the battlefronts outside of Japan, the values of the Patriotic Women’s Association were conservative, reinforcing a traditional supportive role of women within the family system. In other words, the ‘good wife and wise mother’ ideology (ryosai kembo) that emphasized women’s place inside the home was further bolstered by the fact that men left home for the front and women were 252 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 left to guard the home all by themselves. In 1908, shortly after the Russo-Japanese War, membership reached 700,000 and it became the most powerful women’s organization. In 1942, the group merged with the Great Japanese Women’s Alliances (Dainippon rengo fujinkai, founded in 1930) and the Women’s National Defence Association (Kokubo fujinkai, founded in 1932) to form the Great Japanese Women’s Association (Dainippon fujinkai) which played a dominant role during the Pacific War.24 The traditional ideal of women’s virtue (jotoku) combined with the home front reality of morale and labour demands produced dogmatic images such as the ‘Mother/Wife of the Military State’ (gunkoku no haha / tsuma) who proudly sends her loved ones to the battlefield and endures in quiet dignity their loss. Given that Okumura’s initial intention in starting the Patriotic Women’s Association was to reveal the hor- rible physical conditions the soldiers endured on the battlefield, it is ironic that her group was transfigured into something celebrating their embarkation for the battlefront. Another figure who became a household name during that period was Kawahara Misaoko (1875–1945),25 who was the first woman to receive the Sixth Cordon of the Order for contributions to the military effort. Born into an aristocratic household in Nagano, Kawahara attended the Tokyo Women’s Normal School (modern Ochanomizu University) and taught in the first Women’s School in Shanghai in 1902. In 1903, she was invited by Prince Karachin of Mongolia to serve as the Principal of the first Mongolian Women’s School. The seat of the Mongolian court, located near modern Chifeng, was situated at a crucial point on the Rehe Railway and Russia had long been interested in co-opting the regime. While the Prince and his wife were pro-Japanese, most of the others in the court leaned toward Russia. Kawahara was recruited into the Special Mission Unit and sent intelligence back to Japan using the cover name ‘Shin/Shen’. The Special Mission Unit was a special intelligence unit created before the Russo-Japanese War that infiltrated the enemy and performed missions such as sabotage and scouting. Its legacy lived on and was again active in infiltrating America before the Pacific War. True to the patriotic traditionalism that characterized nationalism at the time, the unit consisted of 47 members, echoing the legendary 47 Loyal Subjects of Ako. With the title ‘Education Consultant’ to the Royal family, Kawahara was able to facilitate the training of Japanese agents in the palace, set up outposts, and procure supplies for their missions. Kawahara also helped with all the preparatory work and served as guide for them. But more important, after the Japanese set up an Intelligence Office in Chifeng, she was responsible for sending intelligence back and forth between the office and Beijing. Kawahara’s adventures in Mongolia were detailed in her own autobiography, Souvenirs from Mongolia (Moko miyage), which was published in 1909 and reprinted in 1944 in the middle of the Pacific War, then several times in the post-war era.26 Also in 1934, a biography by Fukushima Sadako was published, Kawahara Isaoko and the Secret History Russo-Japanese War and Literary Expression 253 of the Russo-Japanese War (Nichiro senso hishi chu no Kawahara Misaoko), with a preface by the then army general Watanabe Jotaro, stating: ‘I hope this book will be read by not only young ladies but also those young men who tend to be feeble and cowardly.’27 Despite Kawahara’s vagueness about the exact details of her actual involvement in the war, her patriotic rhetoric was certainly evident throughout. She was determined to serve her nation and her emperor. By the time she returned to Japan in 1906, she had become a household name and a celebrity. In contrast to the low-key narrative of her life in Mongolia which was published three years after her return, the mass media’s reports focused incessantly on her heroic endeavours and often referred to her as ‘Japan’s first female spy’, or ‘Japan’s Mata Hari’. One common story reported that Kawahara carried a pistol and a short sword at all times. It was certainly not uncommon for a Japanese woman to carry a sword, often a wedding gift from her parents, to demonstrate her determination to be faithful to her husband and lord when death was required of her. The pistol gave a modern twist to the traditional female moral commitment. This image of both the familiar (represented by the sword) and the exotically risqué (the pistol) captured the public imagination and inspired many tales of female spies participating in international intrigues.28 These two female figures, though only peripherally involved in the war, were still exceptions to the rule against women’s direct participation in the war. Most women’s backstage status did not allow them to voice their concerns in the public arena. One can only get a glimpse of the common voices from the female population through readers’ letters to (women’s) magazines and newspapers. Though many told of their anxiety and worries for their loved ones, most of them echoed the main- stream positive, passionate outlook on the war.

PUBLIC VOICE, PRIVATE EMOTIONS: ARTICULATING GENDER DIFFERENCES In this context of female patriotism, the articulation of antipathy to war by poets like Yosano Akiko and Otsuka Kusuoko is rather remarkable and can be seen as a rare case of feminine intervention in the public (male) domain. Otsuka Kusuoko’s poem Ohyaku-do mode (A Hundred visits to the shrine) that was quoted above treads delicately a middle ground between vulnerability and deﬁance, carefully balancing the grand right- eousness seen in the masculine song lyrics of ‘The Japanese Army’ with ﬁne-tuned reticence. Published in the January issue of Taiyo in 1905, Otsuka’s poem follows the more famous anti-war poem by Yosano Akiko, Kimi shinitamau koto nakare (September 1904, Myojo). Defending Akiko when attacked by the critic Omachi Keigetsu, Otsuka echoed the last stanza of Akiko’s poem, which reminds her brother of his young wife at home. Otsuka alludes to Akiko’s line kono yo hitori no kimi narade and composed her own poem in the same spirit: 254 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

With my ﬁrst step I think of my spouse, Though with the second step I think of the country, With the third step I think of my husband again. There is sin in a woman’s heart! There is only one country in the world Where the sun begins, fragrant in the morning. There is only one person in the world Whom I have vowed to take as my spouse. So, my country or my spouse If I am asked which is important, I can only sob and not answer. On my hundred-fold pilgrimage, oh, there is sin!

This poem appeals to feminine sentimentality through the use of words like female heart (onnagokoro), marital union (chigiri), and teary (nakan nomi). It skilfully employs the poetic techniques of repetition (hitoashi, futaashi, miashi), alternation, and comparison and false choice (mikuni to wagatsuma, izure omoshi to), and rhetorical self-effacement (onnagokoro ni toga ari ya, aa toga ari ya) and evasiveness (tada kotaezu ni nakan nomi). The emphasis put on the uniqueness of one specific individual (kono yo ni tada hitori no otto ya tsuma) and the affinity between a man and a woman, which form the basis of family (ie) trumps the much larger structure of the nation-state (kuni). Though in the minority, there were certainly some enunciations of anti-war sentiment in the contemporary media. Socialist activists such as Kotoku Shusui and Sakai Toshihiko were outspoken in their own weekly paper Heimin shimbun, arguing the inhumanity of the extra tax burden that the war imposed on the populace. Christian leader Uchimura Kanzo considered the Sino-Japanese War a righteous war (Gisen), but voiced his anti-war views based on his Christian belief and pacifist philosophy, regarding the invasion of another country’s territory in order to maintain Japan’s interests in Korea as an Imperial war.29 It is interesting to see that the two most famous female voices expressing anti-war sentiment, Yosano Akiko and Otsuka Kusuoko, pressed their cases neither from the angles of political ideology (i.e. socialism) nor religious ideals but rather from a self-interested, personal point of view. It is also somewhat ironic that the two poems have become their most famous poems; particularly in Otsuka’s case, more than anything she wrote she is now known mainly as the author of this poem. The irony deepens when one considers that thirty years after the publication of Akiko’s anti-war poem, she shifted to writing fanatically patriotic pro-war poems such as Kogan no shi, which lamented the untimely death of young soldiers but nevertheless was generally in favour of the war. The militarism and nationalism that emerged from the Russo-Japanese War survived and reared its ugly head again in the Pacific War. However, under the repressive climate of fascism, even personal expressions that questioned the legitimacy of the war, such as those of Yosano and Otsuka, were no longer to be seen. Russo-Japanese War and Literary Expression 255

NOTES 1 For a study of Taiyo during the Russo-Japanese War period, see Suzuki Sadami 2001. 2 Recent studies have re-evaluated whether Yosano Akiko’s poem is indeed an anti-war poem or simply expresses love for her brother and a general dislike of the war as a whole, without making an explicitly political comment. For an extensive study of this poem, its historical background, and its reception during and after the Russo-Japanese War, see Nakamura Fumio 1994. 3 See Sasaki Yoko 2001: 19–58; 121–147. 4 Tomoko Aoyama 1999: 60. 5 The public fascination was not limited to his fiction and non-fiction literary works. For example, a riot occurred when some could not purchase a set of commemorative postcards issued by the postal service. This shows the degree of public excitement surrounding the war and the boom in war memorabilia. 6 ‘Kaidai’, Meiji senso bungaku shu 1965: 383–406. 7 Among the more famous works of the Sino-Japanese War are Izumi Kyoka’s Giketsu kyoketsu and Yamada Bimyo’s Heikogo. Both works owe their prominence to the fame of their authors rather than their literary value. 8 Hakubunkan’s magazines ruled the publishing industry during the Russo- Japanese War period. The mass audience magazine Taiyo, the literary journal Bunsho kurabu, and the niche magazine for teenage males Shonen sekai each dominated its genre. 9 Japanese newspapers first included photos in their newspaper reports during the Russo-Japanese War. Hochi Shimbun first published a layout of the eight most famous Japanese women on 2.1.1904; Miyako Shimbun followed suit on 19.3 with a picture of the captain of the battleship Asashio, Matsunaga Kokei, to accompany a report of the battle with Russia at Port Arthur. See http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.tokyo. Also see Kono Kensuke 2003: 117–146. 10 Another articulation of popular sentiment through voice can be seen in the popularization of the oral performance Naniwabushi. The extremely popular recitation of the 47 Ako roshi by Tochuken Kumoemon, framed as a saga of revenge tapped into the popularity of Kodan and Naniwabushi, which was referred to as ‘modern national epic’ and their relationships with nationalism and masculinity, see Hyodo Hiromi 2000: 98–100. 11 Although The Human Bomb is Sakurai’s best known work, he later became the squad leader of New Division for the Army and continued to write books about his wartime experiences, including Home Front (Jugo), Pray to the Grass (Kusa ni inoru), House with the Black Tile Roof (Kurorenga no ie), Smoke Screen (Enmaku) and an autobiography entitled Chronicle of a Sad Man (Kanashikimono no kiroku). 12 It is said that President Theodore Roosevelt loved the book and recommended it to his children and friends. The German kaiser also assigned the book as a must-read to his soldiers and it was distributed to all soldiers as a means to learn about Japanese spirit before the First World War: see Meiji senso bungaku shu 1965: 399. 256 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

13 See Wells & Wilson 1999: ix. 14 Kato Yoko 2005: i-xi; 54–75. 15 More permanent statues commemorating war heroes were erected throughout the city. Many memorials were built throughout Manchuria and later became must-see spots for Japanese tourists visiting the colony during the high colonial period. See Nishimura Yasushi 2005: 249–330. 16 See Huffman 1997: 271–309. 17 Kodan is a traditional genre of storytelling focusing primarily on war tales and historical political intrigues and has its roots in the Otogishu of the Warring States period (1493–1573). During the Tokugawa period, this sort of oral performance was known as koshaku, and became popular during the early eighteenth century. Its popularity peaked during the Meiji period, when it was more commonly referred to as kodan. Naniwabushi derived from kodan but used more musical elements in its performance and was considered a distinctively Meiji art form. After the Second World War, the GHQ banned performances that promoted feudal values, such as revenge and loyalty to one’s lord, leading to the demise of this oral performance tradition. 18 Female support groups for the military emerged during the Sino-Japanese War, but became particularly active during the Russo-Japanese War. The Aikoku Fujinkai (Association for Patriotic Women) funded by Okumura Ihoko was the most effective and dynamic group. Founded in 1901, it boasted seven hundred thousand members during the immediate post-Russo-Japanese War period. For women’s groups supporting the war, see Komori & Narita 2004: 133–150. 19 See ibid.: 115. 20 See Hayakawa Noriyo hen 2005: 9–10. 21 See Rabson 1998: 69 and Aoki et al. 1999: 93–109. 22 For the lyrics to this song, see http://bariken.com/columnhirose01.shtml. For information on Hirose Shrine, see http://www. asahi-net.or.jp/~ku3n-kym/ heiki2/hirose/hirose.html 23 A detailed study of the occupation of nursing in Japan, which started in the Sino-Japanese War and the Meiji Empress’ role in promoting the maternal patriotism can be found in Wakakuwa Midori 2001: 253–281. 24 See Iida Yuko, ‘Oba no chikara: Okumura Ioko to Aikoku fujinkai’ in: Komori 2004: 133–150. 25 Kawahara’s personal name has alternative readings of Misaoko and Soko. I follow the usage in the Japanese OPC online catalogue. She is also known as Ichinomiya Misaoko, using her husband’s surname. 26 The book was reissued with a different title Princess Karachi and Me in 1969 and the original has been reissued in different editions in recent years, too. See the bibliography for details. 27 Fukushima Sadako 1934/1992: 1–2. 28 For example, see ‘The Tale of Secret Detective Prisoner Beauty (Himitsu tantei horyo bijindan)’ in Sakurai Tadayoshi 1969: 358–61. 29 Ito Sei 1996: 54–59. 17 Japan under Paternalism: The Changing Image of Japan during the Russo-Japanese War

IKURA AKIRA

‘ n connection with the Russo-Japanese War there is nothing as strik- Iing as the complete change which has come over public opinion in the outside world with regard to the combatants’, wrote Alfred Stead, an enthusiastic British Japanophile of the day several months after the outbreak of the war in February 1904. He recalled the recent past and said, ‘Before the war, and even in the early days of the struggle, the most friendly and optimistic nations could not rid themselves of the idea that Japan could not stand up against the Colossus of the North, and even the early Japanese naval victories did not dispel this idea to any great extent’. He also stated that ‘it was impossible to convince the public that Japan was not a little country’. However, he went on to say, ‘The victories of the Japanese armies . . . have changed public opinion absolutely’.1 Even after this essay was published in October 1904, Japan continued to win battles. It captured Port Arthur in January 1905, occupied Mukden in March and won the battle of the Sea of Japan in May. Japan’s victory changed not only the world of international politics but also peoples’ perception of Japan. In particular, the unexpected, overwhelming Japanese victories startled the Western nations who normally regarded Japan as only a minor Asian power. They began to recognize its military capabilities and consider it a ﬁrst rank military power. The period of the Russo-Japanese War witnessed a challenge to the existing views of Japan which underestimated her strength and presented a simpliﬁed image of an exotic country. Underlying such ‘romantic’ views of Japan seems to have been Western paternalism seeing Japan as a protégé. Japan opened herself to the world in the mid-nineteenth century. That was a time of power politics, colonialism and burgeoning imperialism. 258 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

The Western powers were very strong politically, economically and militarily. The Meiji government inevitably chose modernization policies which meant Westernization. It attempted to modernize politics, economy, society, and the military by adopting advanced Western technology and institutions. Japan is said to have been one of the most successful countries in modernizing herself. However, without friendly cooperation and instructions from the teachers, Western countries, Japanese modernization would not have been achieved in such a successful manner. The fact that Japan modernized herself by emulating Western civilization seems to have inspired a ﬁxed idea among the people in the West and even among the Japanese themselves: Japan was a loyal ‘pupil’ in the school of Western civilization, and the West was her ‘teacher’. From the West’s point of view, Japan was nothing but a protégé. Hence, the perception of Japan as a protégé derived from paternalism which was often seen in the Western colonial policies. This paternalistic attitude covered a wide range of the Western views of Japan. Such an attitude was general and persistent, particularly in Britain, Germany, France and the United States. These were the countries Japan mostly depended upon in the adoption of their technologies and institutions. In fact, they cooperated generously in the modernization of Japan behaving like fathers to a son. This generous behaviour, however, can be accounted for by the overwhelming superiority of modern Western civilization and its veiled contempt or prejudices toward non-Western countries, including Japan. During the Russo-Japanese War, especially in its early stage, this paternalistic view of Japan became visible in Western journalism. It began to fade away after Japanese victories in the major battles, but continued for a long time explicitly or tacitly. This essay attempts to examine changing Western views of Japan during the war in terms of paternalism which appeared not only in the countries criticizing Japan for its superﬁcial imitation of Western civilization, but also in countries praising Japan.2

MEANING OF PATERNALISM Paternalism, the key concept of this essay, has many definitions. A relationship based on paternalism, however, can be seen in various social contexts: father-child, teacher-pupil, guardian-protégé, master-disciple, doctor-patient, leader-follower, feudal lord-vassal, king-subject and state- nation. If you enlarge the concept to international societies, it is applicable to relations such as colonizing and colonized states, protecting and protected states, and centre and periphery states.3 From the nineteenth century onward, paternalism has been an issue of arguments about justification for state intervention in individual behaviour. Paternalists insist that if the state acts are for the individual’s good, even against his will, it can be justified as a paternal act deriving from a father’s benignity. The starting point of this issue was a dispute on the limits of state intervention by John Stuart Mill, a prominent Japan under Paternalism 259

British philosopher and economist in the nineteenth century.4 Mill emphasized his anti-paternalist viewpoints in his treatise On Liberty and stated, ‘the only purpose for which power can be rightfully exercised over any member of a civilized community, against his will, is to prevent harm to others’. He continued to say, ‘His own good, either physical or moral, is not a sufficient warrant’. Interestingly, however, Mill exhibited some exceptions, which, as a result, provided paternalists with grounds for paternalistic interference. Those were the cases of ‘children’ and persons under age, of those who were ‘still in a state to require being taken care of by others’, of the man who was ‘about to cross the unsafe bridge’ without sufficient time of warning, and of ‘the uncivilized’ or in other words ‘barbarians’.5 This suggests that images of Japan as a ‘child’ and pupil of Western civilization, as the uncivilized, or as a man in danger could be found during the Meiji period. Paternalism can be shown to demonstrate four characteristics.6 The first one is generosity as it is shown in a father’s benignity toward a child. In Japan’s relations with Western countries, as is pointed out, the West as a master generously helped Japan as a disciple by introducing its technology and institutions. The second is authoritative character. People in authority are inclined to enforce their relatively conservative values on subordinates, while restricting their freedom and sometimes interfering in their acts. This tends to cause problems especially when those under tutelage want to be independent of their guardian. Reaction to a move towards independence can be regarded as the third characteristic of paternalism. As children would become independent of parents some day, so a protégé would grow up sooner or later and try to become his own master. If his independence is achieved through resistance or rebellions, this produces an adversarial relation between a guardian and protégé. If it is achieved through peaceful transition, it creates a cooperative win-win relationship between those who guide and support and those who were guided and supported. The last characteristic is the possible reversal of roles or positions. As aged parents may be taken care of by their children, a former pupil may become a teacher or instructor to his former teacher. Keeping these four characteristics in mind, the following sections will analyse the paternalistic traits in the Western image of Japan.

JAPAN AS PROTÉGÉ, PUPIL OR CHILD Looking back on the days of the Russo-Japanese War, an American historian wrote, ‘American sympathy, both ofﬁcial and popular, was overwhelmingly with Japan. Japan, America’s protégé, was ﬁghting, it was believed, for self-preservation against [Russia].’7 Other American authors who studied American public opinion on Japan called the United States ‘once Japan’s sponsor’, and described Japan as ‘the protégé of America’.8 Although such views were written several decades after the war, they seemed to have frankly expressed the general opinion of American people: Japan was America’s protégé and the US was its guardian. 260 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

A similar view was found in an article in the New York Times written by a contemporary Japanophile, William Eliot Griffis. It stated, ‘Again were the Japanese eager pupils. How magnificent are the tributes today of Count Okuma, Marquis Ito, and others to their teachers, Perry, Harris, and Bingham.’ ‘[W]hen the Japanese were totally ignorant of the diplomatic usages of the West’, he stated, ‘so handsomely treated were the Japanese by the Americans, so noble the precedents, so honourable were the treaties.’9 This evidently shows the teacher-pupil relationship between America and Japan. In Britain, Japan’s ally, a kind of paternalistic view was expressed even a few months after the war. One writer made much of the excellence of both the British and Japanese navies and added, ‘The Japanese navy is the child of the British Fleet.’10 Japan as a protégé, pupil and child seems to be far better image than the infant image of Japan as presented in The Times correspondent’s article published shortly after the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War. It said that the Western nations, with the exception of Britain, underestimated Japan’s power and ‘thought of the nation as a people of pretty dolls dressed in flowered silks and dwelling in paper houses of the capacity of matchboxes’. The correspondent also referred to the nations in the West that had ‘been foolish enough to believe that Japan is but one stupendous doll’s house – a people to be toyed with, humoured when they are peevish, subdued by threats when they are disobedient’.11 Although these views were exaggerated to some extent as the article intended to boast a foresighted Britain, Japan was considered to be an infant and uncivilized whom the West should tend as a father, a mother, or a teacher. It is obvious from these remarks that paternalism was the latent and unspoken assumption among the Western countries, even such countries favouring Japan as Britain and the United States. Although there were diverse opinions on Japan in Britain, the majority of the British press was favourable towards Japan. The first and major reason for their sympathies with Japan was, of course, the alliance with Japan. Japan was their ally, and they seem to have thought that Japan was fighting for them as well as for itself. Second, the similarity between the two countries as island naval empires with monarchs also enhanced the intimate feeling. The third reason for British sympathy for Japan was the sympathy for the weaker nation. During the war, the British press called Japan ‘the Britain in the Far East’, ‘the Englishman of the Orient’ and ‘the Britain in the East’. T.W.H. Crosland, a poet and a critic with numerous works, including an anti-Japanese book titled The Truth about Japan, stated cynically that ‘The ha’penny papers have vied with one another in the invention of endearing epithets’ for Japan.12 Such endearing names included ‘the Englishman of the Orient’, ‘little Jappy Atkins’, deriving from Tommy Atkins (the nickname for British army soldiers), and ‘the Britain in the Far East’. Specifically, the last one was the phrase many newspapers and publicists were fond of using. Although these words enhanced intimate Japan under Paternalism 261 feelings of the British public toward Japan and might have promoted goodwill toward Japan, these representations also reflected a paternalistic view of Japan. For example, ‘the Britain in the Far East’ was an appellation assuming that Britain was the model that Japan ought to emulate. The colonial empire of Britain encountered Japan as the ‘other’ in the middle of the nineteenth century. The first British view of Japan was coloured with romanticism and exoticism. Japan as a ‘half-civilized’ nation, at least from the Western point of view, aimed to become a nation like a Western one and earnestly tried to introduce Western civilization. Having an opportunity to learn from Great Britain and other Western powers as ‘teachers’, Japan grew up as a ‘pupil’ of Western colonialism and, later, imperialism. Consequently, the metaphors using Britain for Japan symbolize the teacher-pupil relationship between them. The Japanese reaction to such kinds of epithets is not necessarily clear, yet it may not have provoked feelings of resistance because, as discussed later, Japanese emissaries were willing to use the teacher-pupil relationship to create sympathies for Japan. Furthermore, the Japanese did boast of such names. Henry Dyer, a Scottish engineer who had resided in Japan for about ten years, witnessed the modernization of Japan, and contributed to it as a professor of engineering. He was appointed as the principal of the Imperial College of Engineering in Tokyo when it was founded and was even called ‘the father of modern engineering in Japan’.13 He published a book about Japan in 1904 in Britain. The title, Dai Nippon (Great Japan), seems to have been used in connection with the ‘Great Britain’. Symbolically enough, the subtitle of the book was The Britain of the East. In this book, he recalled, ‘When I arrived in Japan (in 1873) the highest ambition of all the officials with whom I came in contact, and also of my own students, was that their country might become the Britain of the East.’14 He saw the ideal of ‘the Britain of the East’ continued to exist among the Japanese, even though he left the country about twenty years before. Thus he stated, ‘the Japanese have no higher ambition than that their country should become the Britain of the East, resting secure in her own strength, but with no wish for territorial expansion in other parts of the world’.15 These comments seem to be too ‘idealistic’ as neither Britain nor Japan was so peaceful. Yet, it can be said that the teacher-pupil type of paternalism underlay the statements of a former ‘teacher’ of modern Japan. As Japan won battles in the course of the war, the epithets for Japan using the similarity with Britain became less visible. In accordance with this, the Western paternalistic view was forced to change. Nowadays, nobody calls Japan ‘the Britain in the East’. The metaphor for Japan at that time which had survived nearly a century was the ‘Rising Sun’. It derived from the flag of the Rising Sun used by the Japanese military and the land of the Rising Sun and originally implied progress. Yet it was revived as a title of Michael Crichton’s crime novel Rising Sun (1993) against the backdrop of the economic threat of Japan to the United States in the 1990s. 262 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

CHEERING ON A ‘LITTLE’ JAPAN One of the reasons why Britain and the United States stood by Japan was the sympathy for the weaker nation or the ‘underdog’. This inclination to side with a little nation or an underdog also discloses a paternalistic element. The most widely used epithet for Japan at that time was ‘little’. This made a sharp contrast with the appellation ‘Northern Colossus’ for Russia. At least, in the initial stage of the war, the British general public did not believe that ‘little’ Japan could overcome the Northern Colossus. The Daily News suggested this point: ‘public feeling in this country undoubtedly runs strongly in favour of Japan. She is the smaller and, we think, the weaker Power on land.’16 Americans also tended to support a weaker power. The Wall Street Journal indicated that some Americans ‘always give their sympathies to the weaker party in any fight’.17 This was called the sympathy for the underdog. Clearer examples of American sympathy with a little Japan appeared in letters to the editor of the New York Times about a week after the outbreak of the war. One contributor wrote, ‘the “little Jap” stands a good chance of winning his fight against the Muscovite giant, and I rather think that most Americans will wish all success’.18 Another contributor stated, ‘little Japan is so well fighting alone the battles of civilization’ against ‘the northern colossus’.19 Yet, another letter also stated that the war was between ‘the little brown man’ and ‘the bears’ and ‘Japan is fighting for a principle, the open door, and the sovereignty of the Chinese in China’.20 These comments, even though they were somewhat derogatory, showed American sympathies with the little power. The Russians deplored such sympathy towards a weaker one and more straightforwardly uttered their regret in the cartoon (Figure 17.1) in the Chicago Record Herald stating, ‘That is the worst of being so big – the little fellow has all the sympathy.’21 The concept of ‘little’ Japan appears to have been accepted by the Japanese of the day. A cartoon (Figure 17.2) in the Chuo Shimbun caricaturized the international relations in the Far East after the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902 and depicted Japan as a young man being instigated by John Bull to confront a big Russian man. Alongside John Bull, Uncle Sam is watching the young Japanese.22 In another cartoon (Figure 17.3) published in the Japanese quality newspaper, Jiji Shimpo, Japan is likened to David who struck down Goliath, namely Russia, using a sling. The Japanese David wears a kimono and looks like a young samurai.23 This David-Goliath encounter is, of course, based on an episode in the first book of Samuel from the Old Testament. It is interesting to note that although the character of Japan was small, even in the Japanese cartoons, they were all young. It may be that in the Japanese mind, Japan was a growing young man within Western civilization. The representation of ‘little’ Japan at that time demonstrated the paternalistic view of the West and provided a rhetorical source for Western sym- Japan under Paternalism 263

Figure 17.1. Cartoon: Powder Keg in Manchuria

Figure 17.2. Cartoon: The Anglo-Japanese Alliance Caricaturized (Chu¯o¯ Shimbun) pathy towards Japan. It was also regarded as a nickname for the daring Japanese. Yet, in a different time and place, a similar expression, like ‘Xiao Riben (“little Japan” in Chinese)’ used by the Chinese today, might be considered a contemptuous epithet. 264 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Figure 17.3. Cartoon: David and Goliath

AMERICAN PATERNALISTIC DIPLOMACY AND ‘THE YANKEES OF THE EAST’ America is often called a new state with no long history. It is true that only about two hundred thirty years have passed since its independence. Yet, paradoxically speaking, the United States is an old state in terms of political institutions. It has the world’s oldest written constitution, even though it has been amended many times, and an old political system based on it. The Americans are proud that no other country has ever been able to maintain such old political institutions which, they believe, are the best. Thus, the United States, while embracing the ideas of freedom, equality, and democracy, tends to behave like a father or a big brother with such beliefs, and sees Japan, together with some Latin American and East Asian countries, as its ‘child’ or ‘younger brother’ to whom they have to train and teach those American beliefs. In the classic book titled The Tragedy of American Diplomacy, William A. Williams, a leading American diplomatic historian, describes the three conceptions which guided American policy in the field of ideas and ideals. The first conception is ‘warm, generous, humanitarian impulse to Japan under Paternalism 265 help other people solve their problems’. This exactly corresponds to the generosity, the first characteristic of paternalism as is discussed. Secondly, Williams points out ‘the principle of self-determination applied at international level’. This suggests that Americans admit, or at least pretend to admit, the rights of other people to decide by themselves. Yet the third conception is candid enough to portray the idea shared by many Americans; that is to say, ‘other people cannot really solve their problems and improve their lives unless they go about it in the same way as the United States’. In other words, ‘other people ought to copy America’, otherwise they cannot solve even their own problems.24 This assertion clearly reveals the authoritative character of paternalism and implies the problem of independence in paternalism. Americans enforce their own values and tend to be reluctant to accept the independence of other people. This paternalistic character of American diplomacy can be found in the American image of Japan during the war. ‘The Russo-Japanese War of 1904–1905 marked the high point of the golden era of American-Japanese relations’ wrote an American historian. This was true and more applicable in the initial stage of the war than in later stages. He went on to say that when the war broke out ‘American sympathy, both official and popular, was overwhelmingly with Japan’.25 Another study also declared, ‘American popular sentiment was pro- Japanese throughout the period of the Russo-Japanese War’.26 More interestingly, Thomas A. Bailey, an American diplomatic historian, revealed concisely three reasons why Americans sympathized with Japan by saying that after the outbreak of the war, ‘American sympathies immediately went out to the Japanese. . . . The Japanese were not only protégé and underdogs, but they appeared to be upholding the Open Door’.27 American sympathy toward ‘underdogs’ seems to have been reinforced by their paternalistic feeling to the Japanese people. It was typi- cally expressed in the editorial of a tabloid, the New York World, which was once known to have exposed the massacre in Port Arthur during the Sino-Japanese War of 1894–95 and denounced Japan. A few days after the surprise Japanese attack in February 1904, the paper wrote:

It is impossible for the great majority of American to feel anything except warm admiration for the daring, the skill, the celerity and thor- oughness of the initial naval attack of the ‘Yankees of the East’. This feeling is not altogether due to a natural sympathy with the smaller antagonist – ‘underdog in the ﬁght’ who boldly tackles his big enemy. The Japanese nation has shown such marvellous progress and capacity for self-improvement since the United States ﬁrst secured there an ‘open door’ for the entrance of civilization that it has compelled the wonder and commanded the respect of the Western world.28

Although the tag ‘Yankees of the East’ did not become so popular in the United States as ‘Britain in the Far East’ did, it can be said that the paternalistic feeling permeated through this editorial, especially in the view 266 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 that, Americans believed, they had given Japan ‘an “open door” for the entrance of civilization’. As Bailey specified, the Open Door doctrine of the American foreign policy is deemed to be one of the main factors that affected the American perception of Japan. In 1899, Secretary of State John Hay sent his first Open Door note to major European powers and Japan to insure equal commercial opportunity in China. In 1900, he circulated his second note proclaiming the territorial integrity of China along with the commercial equality. Although the Open Door doctrine was only accepted by the powers with conditions, it became the doctrine of the American foreign policy in the Far East. More importantly, Secretary Hay succeeded in pub- licizing it, gained public support for it, and ‘brought a high moral flavour to the conduct of American foreign affairs’.29 That high moral flavour seems to have been nurtured in the context of Manifest Destiny, which justified the claim that civilizing half-civilized people was the mission for the American people. The other important effect of the Open Door policy was to establish a framework of Anglo-American cooperation in the Far East.30 In fact, Britain actively supported the doctrine and Japan accepted it in order to challenge Russia by gaining support from Britain and America.31 Moreover, originally it had an intention to prevent China from being partitioned, but after the Boxer Rebellion it became the cause to oppose the Russian de facto occupation of Manchuria. Therefore, it is not too much to say that the Open Door doctrine prepared the ground for supporting Japan in the United States. Americans naively believed that Japan as a disciple of America was fighting for ‘altruistic’ motives; that is, the Open Door. After the war Japanese activities in Manchuria allegedly hindered the commercial interests of the United States, began to be blamed for closing the Open Door in Manchuria and became one of the causes which brought about the deterioration of relations between Japan and the United States.32 Japan’s actions were, in a sense, a challenge by the disciple to the teacher.

JAPANESE EMISSARIES USING THE VIEW OF JAPAN AS AN ‘APT PUPIL’ Interestingly, Western paternalism was accepted by the Japanese. Furthermore, Japanese emissaries tried to use the guardian thinking of the West to gain sympathy for Japan during the war. Kaneko Kentaro was sent to the United States immediately after the outbreak of the war as an emissary with a mission to create favourable feelings towards Japan.33 He attempted to arouse American paternalistic sentiment to fulﬁl his aim. He spoke to newspaper men immediately after arriving in the United States and told of the Japanese obligation to the United States to the effect that the Japanese people ‘had not forgotten that the United States had awakened them to their present position by the coming of Commodore Perry’. He said that the Japan-US Amity treaty Japan concluded with the United States after Perry’s arrival meant ‘the beginning Japan under Paternalism 267 of her advance to a great people’. Frankly speaking, the treaty was signed as a result of the gunboat diplomacy of the United States and it, in effect, meant the beginning of a series of unequal treaties with the Western powers the Meiji government long tried to revise. Even at the time of the Russo-Japanese War, Japan did not recover tariff autonomy. Kaneko went on to say that ‘in the reconstruction of the empire, Japan had looked to America for aid, so that her departments of Government at her own request had been directed by Americans’.34 Indeed, emphasized here was the image of Japan as a pupil of America. His comments must have appealed to the American sentiment as a guardian of young Japan. Another emissary, Suyematsu Kencho, who was sent to Europe during the war with the same mission as Kaneko, likened Japan to an ‘apt pupil’ in a speech in January 1905.35 It was a time when Japanese ‘unexpected’ victories over Russia began to create perplexed feelings and anxieties among Western peoples just as the fear of the Yellow Peril had done. That being the case, Suyematsu appealed to the West as follows:

It would be like turning round on an apt pupil whom one had oneself trained and encouraged and brought to the world’s notice – rather against its own original inclinations and wishes – and that on the mere ground that the pupil belonged to a different set from one’s own, and had grown a triﬂe more quickly and become more robust than one had expected when one ﬁrst took him by the hand and led him forth into new paths.36

The representation of Japan as an ‘apt pupil’ was intended to appeal to the paternalistic sentiment of European countries. Yet the message here was somewhat apologetic because Suyematsu made this speech on 11 January 1905, a few days after the fall of Port Arthur. If it had not been for the Japanese victories at battles, his speech would have been completely different and less apologetic. Actually, from around this time, Japan began to be recognized more as a ‘real’ power than as a pupil or a protégé.

GROWTH OF THE ‘CHILD OF CIVILIZATION’ During the war, there were many articles contrasting the belligerents. Especially, the British and American press were fond of presenting a dichotomy between the two countries, portraying an excessively positive picture of Japan, and describing Japan as a representative of civilization, namely Western civilization. A few days before the outbreak of the war, The Times predicted it in its editorial and wrote, ‘It is really the contest of two civilizations, and in this lies, perhaps, its profoundest interest to the observer.’ The paper continued to say, ‘it is part of the irony of the situation that in this controversy the Asiatic Power represents the forces of civilizing progress, and the European Power those of mechanical repression’.37 Another British quality newspaper, the Daily Telegraph, also stated in its editorial, ‘The 268 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 present struggle is essentially one between a genuinely national and enlightened Government and a hopelessly retrograde and inefficient tyranny.’38 The newspaper also likened Japan to Greece, that is civilization, and Russia to despotism.39 Alfred Stead foresaw the Japanese victory and wrote, ‘Japan stands in this war as the advocate of the high principles of justice, freedom and Christian civilization. She stands for education against ignorance, for freedom of religion against religious intolerance. Truly she is fighting the battle of all that is highest in our Western civilization . . .’40 This contrast was not confined only to the British press. It could be witnessed also in the American press. The New York Times quoted in its editorial an article written by an anonymous writer ‘Historicus’ and stated:

The writer of the article [‘Historicus’] . . . declares that ‘American sympathies are with Japan because she is battling on the side of enlightenment and civilization against Russian duplicity’. That view is widely held. Any one who consults public opinion in this country will probably discover that it is the general view.41

The Seattle Post-Intelligencer also wrote, ‘While the war is a clash between two civilizations, it is Japan which represents the Occident and Russia the Orient.’42 As we have seen, excessively positive views of Japan appeared in British and American journalism. Japan was described as a representative of such ideals as civilization, enlightenment, liberty, freedom and progress. This was a stereotype which was new and positive, but was problematic. These ideals were nothing but Western ideals, especially those of the Anglo-Saxon nations. It may be, therefore, that editors, writers and contributors who praised and extolled Japan, in fact, only projected their own ideals onto it and did not care about the reality. Indeed, this stereotype was like a house of cards which was easy to build but was too fragile to stand in good shape. One factor which reinforced this house of cards appears to have been Western paternalism as it assumed that Japan was a loyal pupil of civilization. Not only Anglo-Saxon nations but also other continental nations had a similar paternalistic view. In France, a Russian ally, Pierre Leroy- Beaulieu, the French writer, expressed a kind of paternalistic view a month after the outbreak of the war saying that France had played a great part in the organization both of the Japanese Navy and the Japanese Army.43 And the similar sentiment was certainly shared by some German people as the Japanese army learned more from the German than the French.44 This was, in a sense, a common view of Japan among the Western nations which had assisted in the modernization of the country. The Yellow Peril fears advocated by the Western press, especially in France and Germany, during the war can also be regarded as the reverse side of the coin of paternalism.45 The Western nations helped Japan to modernize itself, yet now they had to confront the potential threat of Japan under Paternalism 269

Japan as a leader of the yellow race which would modernize other Asian nations. They feared that Japan would raise a hand against them together with other Asian nations under Western colonial rule. This may have been a feeling of a person whose hand is bitten by the pet dog he had tamed. The impressive thing to note is that the most widely used blame word towards Japan in France at that time was ‘treacherous’. For Western people, especially those who had no sympathetic feeling to Japan like the French, Japanese attacks on Russia might have been seen as a treacherous act as Japan used extensively the military skills, strategies and weapons introduced from the West. This sentiment also seems to be a product of the authoritative character of paternalism and symbolizes adversarial relations between the former teacher and pupil. That was most impressively represented in a cartoon (Figure 17.4) in a German satirical journal Simplicissimus during the war. Its title was, indeed, ‘The Apt Pupil’. Japan learned the use of a bayonet from Western nations and ﬁnally stabbed Russia with it. Its caption said, ‘The Powers teach Japan the art of war, and the result!’46 The period of the Russo-Japanese War witnessed a fundamental change in Western perceptions of Japan. The ‘paternalistic’ view was, in general, replaced by the ‘rivalry’ view, though the former persistently survived in modern history and underlay the Western perception of Japan. There remain the preachers who admit the strength of Japan, although sometimes reluctantly, but at the same time constantly attribute Japanese success to Western instructions, and still dismissed her as an imitator.

CONCLUSION: DISCIPLE’S INDEPENDENCE OF AND THE REVERSAL OF ITS ROLE After the Meiji Restoration in 1868, the modernization of Japan began in earnest. It is said that Japan successfully transformed herself from a pre- modern feudal state into a modern state by the middle of the 1880s. Edwin O. Reischauer called this transformation ‘the perilous transition’. It is true that there was a great risk involved in achieving modernization in such a short period. Yet Japan achieved it and became ‘strong enough to be safe from further Western encroachments’ and ‘politically stable at home’.47 Western nations’ perception of Japan, however, did not change as rapidly as her actual transformation. There is always a time lag between the fast changing reality and perceptions of it. Therefore, it took a long time for the Western powers to recognize the reality of Japan’s modernization, and admit her to their ranks. The ﬁrst incident which pushed Japan towards the rank of a power was her victory in the Sino- Japanese War (1894–95). Japan was now recognized at least as a regional power in the Far East. Lafcadio Hearn hastily concluded, ‘her place among civilized nations seems to be assured: she has passed forever out of Western tutelage’.48 However, as the Triple Intervention after the war by the Dreibund European powers, Russia, Germany and France, 270 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Figure 17.4. Cartoon: The Apt Pupil

abundantly revealed, she was nothing but a regional minor power. No doubt, the overwhelming Japanese victories in the Russo-Japanese War impressed upon the West the strength of Japan, and she acquired the rank of the first class military power. E.H. Norman outlined the recognition of Japan as a world power from the Sino-Japanese War period to the Japan under Paternalism 271 end of the Russo-Japanese War and said, ‘following this victory, Japan replaced Russia as the greatest power either actual or potential in East Asia’. He said in his conclusion, ‘The Treaty of Portsmouth signalized the entry of Japan into the ranks of the Great Powers.’49 E.H. Carr stated in his classic Twenty Years in Crisis 1919–1939, ‘Recognition as a Great Power is normally the reward of fighting a successful large-scale war’, and he pointed out ‘Japan after the Russo-Japanese War’ as one of ‘familiar recent instances’.50 There were many epithets for Japan after the war like ‘Great Power’, ‘Power of the first rank’ and ‘World Power’. These titles imply that Japan was recognized as one of the makers of the world order. Furthermore, for Japan those names also meant Japanese independence from Western tutelage. Japan already began to be independent of the West in the later stage of war as she emerged as a Great Power. Yet the reaction to this rising Asian power differed by country. In the United States, the newly emerging power in the Pacific, Japan came to be recognized as a rival across the ocean. On the other hand, in Britain, Japan’s ally, it became a symbol of efficiency. Alfred Stead wrote, ‘If Japan’s triumph at Port Arthur demonstrates one thing more than any other, it is the absolute necessity for national efficiency, achieved by the unanimous effort of all the people.’51 Although Stead regarded Japan’s example to be the lesson for the world, ‘national efficiency’ was one of the main subjects of British politics. Symbolically enough, he named his new book on Japan Great Japan: A Study of National Efficiency (1905). Actually the early twentieth century was witnessing the beginnings of the decline of Britain and her Empire. For that reason, British liberals, conservatives and socialists tried to wake up John Bull again and sought for a model of ‘national efficiency’ outside of Britain. It is no wonder that they paid considerable attention to the Japanese success, and discovered an enigmatic code of practice in Japan.52 This was Bushido, the code of honour of the samurai, or according to the subtitle of Nitobe Inazo’s book Bushido, the soul of Japan. Ironically, Bushido was discovered not only by the British but by the Japanese themselves. Consequently, Okuma Shigenobu wrote during the war that nowadays Bushido has come into fashion.53 Japanese lessons for Britain implied the reversal of the teacher-pupil relationship. At least, the West could not help paying attention to Japan’s successes in major battles. A cartoon in the Life magazine (Figure 17.5) in November of 1904 portrayed the Western soldiers marching to enter ‘the Mikado School of War’.54 As its title ‘Creeping Like Snail – Unwillingly to School’ explicitly showed, the queuing Western nations, Britain at the front, then Germany, Russia, France, and the United States at the end, were compelled to learn from their former pupil, Japan. Indeed, they had to accept even ‘unwillingly’ the reversal of the teacher- pupil relationship sometimes witnessed in paternalistic relations. The Yellow Peril idea propagated in the West also assumed that Japan would be the teacher of Asian nations or would take over the colonizing 272 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Figure 17.5. Cartoon: The Mikado School of War role of the West as a teacher. The Japanese leaders in the Meiji era, however, denied such ideas and behaved more cautiously in order not to raise such fears in the West.55 Yet, as time passed, Japan attempted to change its roles from that of pupil/disciple to teacher/master and began to behave paternalistically towards other Asian nations. This was clear in the idea of the Greater East Asia Co-prosperity Sphere declared in 1940 in which the Japanese gave themselves a special mission as a ‘master race’ in East Asia. Japanese paternalism was short-lived and disappeared in 1945. In the post-war period, Japan seems to have been again under the tutelage, not of the entire West this time but of the United States alone. The United States behaved like a generous father during the occupation and after and helped Japan to avoid becoming a military power and become instead a great economic power. It is in this manner that paternalism has been signiﬁcant and far-reaching for modern Japan and its relations with other nations.

NOTES 1 W.A. Stead 1904a. 2 On Western paternalism and Japan, see Lehmann 1978; Iikura 1992. 3 On paternalistic relations, see Sartorius 1983; Douglas 1983. 4 On Mill’s argument on paternalism, see Lively 1983. 5 Mill/Collini 1989: 13–14 & 96–97. 6 See Sartorius 1983 & Douglas 1983. 7 Thorson 1948: 439. 8 Tupper et al. 1937, I: 16. 9 W.E. Grifﬁs, ‘How Japan in War Time Observes International Law’, New York Times, 19.6.1904. 10 Hurd 1905: 829. 11 Lehmann 1978: 151–52. 12 Crosland 1904: 2. Japan under Paternalism 273

13 Kita 1984, Chaps. 4 & 5. 14 Dyer 1904: 342. 15 Ibid.: 343. 16 Daily News, editorial, ‘The First Shot’, 10.2.1904. 17 Wall Street Journal, 18.2.1904: editorial, ‘Russia or Japan?’ 18 Williams, R. H. 1904. 19 W.P. George, ‘A Coincidence of the War’, New York Times, 14.2.1904. 20 Johnson 1904. 21 Chicago Record Herald, n.d. in: Review of Reviews 29: xii. 22 Chuo Shimbun, n.d. in: Murozuki et al. 1973: 262. 23 Jiji Shimpo, n.d. 1904 in: Review of Reviews 29: 433. 24 Williams, W.A. 1959: 13–14. 25 Thorson 1948: 439. 26 Tupper et al. 1937: 6. 27 Bailey 1980: 517–18. 28 New York World, editorial, 11.2.1904. 29 Bailey 1980: 480–84. 30 Matsuda 1983: 62. 31 Beasley 1987: 71. 32 Ibid.: 94. On the deterioration of US-Japan relations, see Asakawa 1909. 33 On Kaneko’s activities, see Matsumura 1987b. 34 New York Times, ‘Says Asia’s Salvation is Stake of the War’, 20. 3.1904. 35 On Suyematsu’s activities, see Matsumura 1980; 1987a. 36 Suyematsu 1905: 296. 37 The Times, editorial, 6.2.1904. 38 Daily Telegraph, editorial, 12.2.1904. 39 Daily Telegraph, editorial, 10.2.1904. 40 Stead 1904b: 997. 41 New York Times, editorial, ‘The Moral Isolation of Russia’, 14.2.1904. 42 Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 11.2.1904 in: Thorson 1944. 43 Leroy-Beaulieu 1904. 44 On German paternalism and Japan, see Nakano et al. 1987. 45 On the Yellow Peril fears, see Iikura 2004a. 46 Simplicissimus, n.d., ‘The Apt Pupil,’ in: Review of Reviews 29: 545. 47 Reischauer 1964: 111. 48 Hearn 1897: 234. 49 Norman 1940: 307, 314. 50 Carr 1939: 102–3. 51 Stead 1905: 212. 52 See Searle 1971: 57–60. 53 Okuma 1905: 6. 54 Life, 3.11.1904: ‘Creeping Like Snail – Unwillingly to School’. 55 Iikura (2004b): 229. 18 The Russo-Japanese War and the Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ in Japanese Foreign Policy

SVEN SAALER

‘ in the war, and Japan will be denounced as the “Yellow Peril”; Wlose the war, and Japan will be labelled “barbarian” ’ – this was Mori Ogai’s assessment of the signiﬁcance of the Russo-Japanese War (Mori 1993: 59). Ogai (1862–1922), who had spent several years in Germany, had observed increasing racial resentment in Europe towards the rising ‘yellow’ power, Japan. The Russo-Japanese War should become a watershed in Japanese foreign policy along with the role of the notion of ‘race’ in Japan’s foreign relations. This paper will analyse the roots of racial notions in Japanese foreign policy and examine the effects of European ‘Yellow Peril’ propaganda on and in Japan. How, if at all, did Japan react to this kind of propaganda? How did Japanese foreign policy change as a consequence of it?1

THE CONCEPT OF ‘RACE’ IN INTERNATIONAL RELATIONS AND THE IDEA OF THE ‘YELLOW PERIL’ The increasing use of the concept of ‘race’ in international politics can be observed from the mid-nineteenth century, as part of the accelerating imperialist dash for control of even the remotest parts of the world.2 Racial prejudice and racism, as a ubiquitous phenomenon accompany- ing the rise of the concept of race during the era of imperialism, can be defined as ‘an integral part of an intricate, complex and often changing set of interrelated threads composing the tapestry of politics and diplomacy’. (Lauren 1988: 3) For US President Theodore Roosevelt, the highly Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ 275 praised mediator after the Russo-Japanese War, imperialism basically meant a ‘racial war’. (Lauren 1988: 62) The invention of ‘race’ had taken place in the atmosphere of nineteenth century nationalism and imperialism and the European search for its own ‘modern’ identity vis-à-vis the rest of the world. In the era of imperialism, when European expansionism reached its climax, new concepts such as pseudo-scientific biological and anthropological studies as well as social-Darwinist concepts entered the sphere of foreign policy and were used to legitimize colonial rule, sometimes combined with notions referring to ‘civilization’, such as the ‘white man’s burden’ (Rudyard Kipling; cf. Lauren 1988: 63).3 Particularly important for the application of the concept of ‘race’ to international relations were the writings of Joseph Arthur Comte de Gobineau (1816–82), Houston Stewart Chamberlain4 (1855–1927) and others, who manipulated the term to legitimize European (white) colonial rule, claim the supremacy of the ‘white race’ and deny non-white peoples’ equality and establish a firm ‘hierarchy of races’.5 Due to the demographic situation in the world, i.e. the by far higher population of large parts of Africa and Asia in comparison to Europe, the notion of ‘race’ became indispensable to legitimize and stabilize colonial rule by the white European powers. It does not need any explanation that the appearance of Japan as a non-white and non-European (and moreover, non-Christian) power from the European point of view posed a serious threat to ‘white’ supremacy over large parts of the world. It was in this context that the concept of race surfaced in international relations in East Asia and took the form of the notion of a ‘Yellow Peril’. A modernized Japan, so the scenario underlying fears of a ‘Yellow Peril’, allied to a populous China might not only resist European attempts at colonial control, but even strike back, just as other ‘Asian hordes’ had done before: the Huns, the Magyar peoples, the Mongols, the Islamic Arabs or the Ottoman Empire. Before entering the sphere of international relations, the phrase Yellow Peril, was instrumentalized in the context of sentiments against Chinese immigrant labourers in North America, which eventually led to a racial exclusion policy beginning in the mid-nineteenth century. In a similar fashion, racial exclusion policies also were practised in Australia (‘White Australia’), South Africa, New Zealand and Canada (Lauren 1988: 51–56; Iikura 2004: ch. 8). German Emperor Wilhelm II, notwithstanding quite cordial relations between Japan and Germany before 1895, took the leading role in applying the notion of race to imperialist Realpolitik after the Sino-Japanese War 1894–95 (Gollwitzer 1962). The Sino-Japanese War had heralded the rise of a non-European rival in the imperialist-colonialist competition (Hashikawa 2000; Gollwitzer 1962; Iikura 2004; Saaler 2002a). Germany under Wilhelm II had increased colonial activity and racism became an integral part of the ‘new course’, which was also advocated by right-wing pressure groups, such as the Pan-German League (Alldeutscher Verband) (cf. Hering 2003; 276 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Arendt 1996). As a major protagonist of ‘Yellow Peril’ fears, the Kaiser’s aims were twofold: first, as a believer in European civilizational supremacy and a reader of Gobineau, whose writings had been introduced to Germany through composer Richard Wagner’s Bayreuther Blätter,6 it is quite likely that he genuinely believed that in the long run a strong Asia could gather around Japan and China and challenge Western supremacy and the allegedly supreme Western civilization. Second, and probably more important, the Kaiser wanted to distract the Russian Empire. Germany after the retirement of Chancellor Bismarck had become increasingly isolated in Europe and encircled by a Franco- Russian alliance. The Kaiser wanted to assign to the Russian Tsar, his cousin, the role of the defender of Europe in the Far East in order to have a free hand in Europe himself. Only this can explain the joining hands of Germany with Russia (and France) in the so-called Triple Intervention of 1895, which prevented Japan acquiring colonial territory on the Asian mainland after the Sino-Japanese War. After the Triple Intervention, in order to reconfirm the concentration of Russian policy in the Far East, the Kaiser ordered a painting from court painter Hermann Knackfuß that was painted after a sketch by the Kaiser himself (Knackfuß painting). The drawing is the visual expression of the fear of a ‘Yellow Peril’ and – being sent to, among others (Iikura 2004: 77), the tsar himself – it was a message that could not be misunderstood. It shows the archangel Michael, the patron of the German people, as the leader of a group of armoured mystical figures that represent the other European nations. The archangel points to the distant threat that we can

Figure 18.1. Knackfuß Painting Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ 277 see behind a blossoming landscape – it has the form of a menacing Buddha, enthroned on a black dragon that hovers above scenes of destruction. Lest the message be unclear, the Kaiser added an inscription: ‘Peoples of Europe. Save Your Holiest Goods.’ The major addressee of this message, of course, was the Russian tsar; Russia, the bridge between Asia and Europe, was assigned the task to defend Europe from the ‘Asian hordes’ that threaten to bring destruction on the civilized world.

THE JAPANESE REACTION Germany and Japan throughout the early Meiji period had maintained cordial relations; Germany was highly respected in Japan for its contribution to the Japanese modernization process, particularly in fields such as medicine, law and the military (Saaler 2007b). The early Meiji period therefore also has been referred to as the ‘Golden Age of Japanese- German relations’. (Matthias-Pauer 1984: 117) How did Japan react to the German participation in the Triple Intervention and the propagation of the ‘Yellow Peril’ by the German Emperor? The Western concept of race had been introduced to Japan through the writings of Fukuzawa Yukichi (1835–1901) at the beginning of the Meiji period. Since at that time writings on race in the West also were contradictory to a high degree, it is not astonishing that we can find all kinds of interpretations in Japan, too, of ‘race’ and racial theories (Weiner 1997: 98). Not everybody in Japan adhered to the omnipresent idea that Japan was a part of the ‘yellow race’ (oshoku jinshu). Popular writers, such as Taguchi Ukichi (1855–1905) in the 1890s, had begun to argue that the Japanese were of ‘Aryan origin’ and rather had to be counted as an independent race of itself (Nihon jinshu-ron) or as a part of the ‘white race’ or the ‘Aryan race’ (see Oguma 1995: 172–176). After the Japanese victory against China in 1895 and again during the Russo-Japanese War in 1905, Taguchi argued that these victories had been possible due to Japan’s superiority, which again had its reason in Japan being part of the white race or, in linguistic terms, a part of the Aryan race (Taguchi 1904: 30–33; 37–39). Japanese discussions about foreign policy until the end of the nineteenth century were rather characterized by concepts such as ‘civilized’ versus ‘barbarian’, concepts that always had roots in the former East Asian world order centred on China. The Sino-Japanese War of 1894–95, therefore, was seen above all as a war of civilization (Japan) against barbarism (China) (Yonehara 2002: 176), and also in the case of the Russo- Japanese War we can notice similar patterns of legitimization. However, even though the term ‘race’ also was interconnected with the notion of ‘civilization’, at the end of the nineteenth century ‘race’ gradually began to replace civilization as one of the central categories in Japanese foreign relations and in the Japanese perception of ‘the West’. During the process of adopting methods of imperialist Realpolitik, the notion of ‘race’ found its way into Japan’s political vocabulary and into discussions about 278 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 national identity, but also changed the contents of this imperialist Realpolitik. After the Sino-Japanese War, Japanese politicians were still careful not to make the ‘Yellow Peril’ fear in Europe a self-fulfilling prophecy and made every effort not to increase European fears of a gathering of ‘Asian peoples’ under Japanese leadership.7 Prince Konoe Atsumaro (1863–1904) for example, after publishing an article in the journal Taiyo in 1898, was harshly criticized for advocating a close alliance of ‘yellow peoples’ against the West (Saaler 2002b: 21; Aihara 2000). At the outset of the Russo-Japanese War, the Japanese government sent the diplomat Suematsu Kencho (1855–1920) to Europe, assigning to him the task of containing ‘yellow peril’ fears in England, France and Germany, in cooperation with Makino Nobuaki (1861–1949), Alexander von Siebold (1846–1911), and others.8 Even their activities have been interpreted as successfully contributing to the localization of the war, in Japanese discourse on international relations, the Russo-Japanese War and its outcome without doubt hastened the increase of the use of racial notions in Japanese discourse on international relations. The Japanese victory over Russia, at least in military terms a still generally acknowledged superpower, seemed to bring the recognition of Japanese equality with the European powers (rekkyo). Germany, for example, upgraded its Tokyo legation in 1906 in line with the other major powers to an embassy, thus acknowledging Japanese equality in diplomatic terms. However, in Japan, as a ‘coloured’ nation, the feeling remained that the country was only acknowledged as an equal ‘first-class power’ (ittokoku) in formal or diplomatic terms, but was still looked down upon in terms of racial differences. As demonstrated with the Ogai quote at the beginning, disillusion with the West and the Western powers’ reluctance to leave racial prejudice behind and consider Japan a real equal partner began to grow after 1905.9 The disillusionment demonstrated by Ogai would also surface in other publications. Okakura Tenshin (1862–1913), to quote another example, in his ‘Book of Tea’ wrote in 1905: ‘The average Westerner [. . .] was wont to regard Japan as barbarous while she indulged in the gentle arts of peace; he calls her civilized since she began to commit wholesale slaughter on Manchurian battlefields.’ (Okakura 1989) Okakura speaks out what many Japanese – politicians, diplomats, businessmen and intellectuals – thought at that time: Japan had achieved military equality with the West and thus the West – due to its own standards – had to recognize Japanese equality in terms of ‘civilization’ or ‘modernization’, notions that became more and more seen as identical with military power.10 Since racial discrimination against Japanese – whether immigrants in the Americas, students in Europe or diplomats in all Western countries – continued, in Japan the impression spread that Japan was still not considered completely equal with the West, notwithstanding tendencies in the West to accept Japan as an ‘honorary white’ nation. While Japanese Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ 279 politics was eager not to add fuel to fears of a strong Asia under Japanese leadership and the fears of a ‘Yellow Peril’ in the West, some Japanese media and intellectuals, such as Tokutomi Soho (1863–1957), began criticizing the ‘double standard’ of the West (Yonehara 2002: 183) and increasingly argued that the growing antagonism in racial terms between the West and the rest of the world inevitably had to lead to racial struggles (jinshu toso) or even to a war along racial lines, a ‘clash of races’ (jinshu shototsu). In this clash, many authors argued, Japan’s place was in the camp of ‘coloured’ peoples, and the ‘coloured’ nation of Japan had to lead the fight against the West and therefore, above all, to become the leader (meishu) of Asia as a first step to redesign Japanese foreign policy and reshuffle international relations in East Asia. ‘Even we don’t like the idea,’ Mori Ogai argued, ‘we have to stand in opposition to the Whites, this is our destiny.’ (Mori 1904: 2–3) That Japan, as a ‘yellow’ power, was allied with the ‘white’ power Great Britain, and other ‘coloured people’ also had good relations with European countries or the US was only considered ‘a temporary phenomenon,’ as Itagaki Taisuke (1837–1919) had emphasized in a 1913 memorandum to Prime Minister Yamamoto Gonnohyoe (Itagaki 1970: 352). It was in this context that the notion of race and racial discourse rapidly grew in prominence in Japanese media and politics after 1905.

THE ‘CLASH OF RACES’ IN JAPANESE MEDIA AND POLITICS AFTER 1905 While we do know since John Dower’s study (Dower 1986) that race played an important role in the Pacific War in the 1940s, not much attention has been paid to the emergence of racial notions in Japanese foreign policy.11 As argued in what follows, not only anti-Asian (i.e. anti-Chinese and anti-Korean) resentments, but also anti-Western racism in Japan had its roots in the Meiji period and developed as a consequence of the rise of Japan to a leading power. It is, above all, the expression of a new Japanese self-confidence vis-à-vis the West, the confidence to be equally as strong as the Western powers, which until then had dominated East Asia; the confidence to be one of the five ‘Great Powers’ (go-taikoku).12 While Japan at the beginning of the Meiji period (1868–1912) was a weak island nation on the edge of colonization, at the beginning of the Taisho period (1912–26), it was a regional power acknowledged by the West at least in military terms, and therefore self-confidence began to grow in Japan that Japan could also challenge the Western powers, a thought absolutely unrealistic at the beginning of Meiji. As an essential part of the idea to challenge the West, the idea of forging a pan-Asian league of ‘yellow’ – later ‘coloured’ – Asian nations began to gain strength in Japanese foreign policy discussions.13 One of the first expressions of an increasing awareness of race and a possible new alignment of Japan in international relations, but also the first direct warning in the Japanese public of a ‘clash of races’ is a special issue of the widely read magazine Taiyo in 1908. It carried the title 280 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Kohaku-jin no shototsu [The Clash of the Yellow and the White Man] and contained a reprint of the Knackfuss painting right after the table of contents.14 The authors of the articles warn of an ‘intensifying competition between the races, of which the violent Japanese-Russian war was just the prologue. While there can be heard much talk about a yellow peril everywhere, [we] want to relativize this and rather raise consciousness about the problem of the white peril.’15 The volume also introduces the ‘idea of a harmonization of the Western and Eastern civilization’ [Tozai bunmei chowa-ron] (Taiyo 1908:171 ff.), an idea to be advocated by Okuma Shigenobu (1838–1922) in later years (Okuma 1923). However, the authors conclude that a harmonization of ‘Eastern and Western civilization, due to large differences in the fundamental character of the two, . . . is impossible to achieve by human means’. (Taiyo 1908: 192) And further: ‘If the European nations (sho-kokumin) with their white- centred self-conceit challenge the Orient or aim at replacing Asian civilization with European civilization, then the clash of the two will eventually not be avoidable anymore.’ It comes not all too surprising that the names of the authors in this volume of Taiyo were not listed, but the articles appeared anonymous. Japan, of course, did not yet have the potential to challenge Western supremacy and therefore not everybody welcomed voices that might have disturbed Japanese relations with the West and the recognition of Japanese equality with the Western powers. While there had been writings on race in Taiyo in earlier years – particularly in the years prior to and after the First Sino-Japanese War, for example by well-known intellectuals and politicians such as Kaneko Kentaro, Tsuboi Shogoro or Taguchi Ukichi – the 1908 special issue caused a ﬂood of writings on race and a possible ‘clash of races’ in the years to come. Only in the years prior to the First World War, writings on race and a clash of races retreated, only to return and increase once again after the First World War (Nihon Kindai Bungakukan 1999), a point to which I will return later. Since a ‘clash’, realistically speaking, would mean war with one or several Western powers,16 it is not surprising that we can ﬁnd remarks on a clash of races and a possible clash with European powers also quite early in army documents. In October 1911, Major General Utsunomiya Taro (1861–1922) in a top-secret document, ‘Personal Views on China’, notes that:

the territory ruled by the white man (hakujin) is expanding to the East faster and faster year by year. The white man already rules 85 per cent of earth, and due to the colonization of Morocco and Tripolis, this per- centage will increase even further. This fact is right before our eyes and cannot be overlooked. The white man is very close to its ideal of a white man’s Africa, a white man’s America, and a white man’s Australia. Today, even the possibility of a white man’s world must be considered as real. (Uehara Yusaku Monjo Kenkyukai 1976: 55ff.) Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ 281

The perception of white domination of Asia and therefore a threat to Japanese sovereignty is underlying Utsunomiya’s statement and the consequence is Utsunomiya’s advocating a closer relationship with China, whether through equal cooperation or, if this could not be realized, Japanese domination of China. Utsunomiya did not remain an isolated voice, as we can see in other documents of leading army ﬁgures of that time. The highest authority in the army as well as in politics, to cite another example, elder statesman and Field-Marshal Yamagata Aritomo (1838–1922), in a memorandum on China policies in 1914 emphasizes:

Recent international trends indicate that racial rivalry (jinshu no kyoso) has become more intense year by year. It is a striking fact that the Turkish and Balkan Wars of the past and the Austro-Serbian and Russo- German Wars of the present all had their origins in racial rivalry and hatred. Furthermore, the exclusion of Japanese in the state of California in the US and the discrimination against Indians in British Africa are also manifestations of the same racial problem. As a consequence, we cannot rule out the possibility of a further intensiﬁcation of the rivalry between the white and coloured peoples, and the possibility that this might eventually lead to a clash between the two. When the present Great War in Europe is over and order restored, [. . .] European countries again will turn their eyes to their interests in the Orient. Then the rivalry between the white and coloured people (hakujin to yushoku-jin) will become intense, and we have to be aware that then the time will arrive when the whites will unite and become the enemy of us, the coloured people (ware yushoku-jin). (Oyama 1966: 341)17

It is obvious that Yamagata in terms of terminology does not distin- guish between racial rivalries, i.e. rivalries between what was called ‘white’, ‘black’ and ‘yellow’ races at the time, and ethnic conflicts, i.e. those between Austria and Serbia. Before and during First World War, dis- tinctions between ‘race’ (jinshu) and ‘ethnicity’ (minzoku) were rarely made,18 and jinshu was frequently used where one would later rather use minzoku. However, Yamagata’s statements reveal that the idea of a clash of races had entered the highest circles of Japanese politics by the time of the First World War, and leave no room for doubt on which side Japan would have to stand in case of a racial war. A better founded analysis that came to the same conclusion of the inevitablility of a clash of races and the necessity of Japan to align with the yellow race in 1916 was presented by Lower House member Kodera Kenkichi (1877–1949). Kodera, who had studied international law and international relations for almost a decade in Germany, Austria and the US, had summarized his ideas in a volume with the title ‘Treatise on Greater Asianism’ (Dai Ajiashugi-ron) (Kodera 1916). In his book, he emphasizes the discriminatory character of Western imperialism and the deep-rootedness of Western racism, and he argues in favour of Asian unity vis-à-vis the West. He claims that there is a base for this unity in a 282 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 common Asian culture, in history and in the fact that Japan, China and other Asian nations belong to the same ‘yellow race’. Kodera considers this base stronger than the bases for regionalist developments he observes in other parts of the world, particularly in the form of pan- movements such as Pan-Germanism, Pan-Slavism, or Pan-Americanism. In view of these developments, he proposes a ‘Greater Asianism’ and a four-stage plan for the unification of Asia, but he also leaves no doubt that Japan, as the only country that has so far successfully modernized in Asia, has to be the leader (meishu) of this united Asia. In his view, Asian nations would not disapprove of the Japanese leadership in this Pan- Asianism. While the idea of ‘developing Asia’ (ko-A) or the idea of an alliance with China (Nisshin teikei) had been common before the First World War, Kodera was the first to give the idea of Asian unity an ideological base with his construction of ‘Asianism’ – a term not used in writings before 1916 (not even in the publications of the ‘pan-Asian society’ Kokuryukai), but soon to become omnipresent in discourse after the appearance of Kodera’s book, as I have shown elsewhere (Saaler 2007a).

THE ‘CLASH OF RACES’ IN JAPANESE MEDIA AND POLITICS DURING AND AFTER THE FIRST WORLD WAR There were warning voices, too, in Japan, pointing out the character of the idea of a ‘clash of races’ as a self-fulfilling prophecy. As early as in 1915, in the midst of the First World War, which allowed Japan to use the preoccupation of Western powers with European affairs to increase its regional hegemony in East Asia, political scientist Inada Shunosuke from Tokyo University published a book on ‘The Race Problem’ (Jinshu Mondai).19 In his book, he distances himself strongly from the main- stream of writings on race during that period, amongst others by reject- ing the idea of primordially existing or scientifically identifiable ‘races’ (Inada 1915: 6–8; 19). He emphasizes that affiliation with a certain race ‘always has been relative, but not absolute’ (ibid.: 66) and that all so- called races at present are ‘mixed blood races’ (konketsu jinshu) (ibid.: 86). However, Inada’s concern is not criticizing established race theories as such, but the political exploitation of these – lofty – theories, and the vicious cycle human mankind could enter by overemphasizing the importance of race. Inada considers the ‘so-called race problem’ not a natural problem, but rather ‘the artificial product (. . .) of politics’ (ibid.: 129–30). Consequently, for Inada the race problem has to be analysed above all as a political and social problem. He characterizes the race problem as a result of ‘group psychology’ (dantai shinri, shugo shinri), arguing that any group, whether it is a race or a social class, constructs an ‘Other’ against which the group can be united and mobilized. A racial group has the purpose of boasting the unity and solidarity (kessokuryoku) of their own group and stimulating animosity against other racial groups (ibid.: 6–9; 119–24), and in Inada’s view, race is particularly suited for this task, more Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ 283 than other group bonds such as religion (ibid.: 17). Inada strongly warns against the dangers of utilizing such an ideology for the sake of politics (ibid.: 19–20; 128–29). In his opinion, the whole world, including Japan, was in the midst of a vicious cycle, heading towards more ‘racial struggle’ (jinshu toso), i.e. a global race war. As Inaba saw recent developments in the world, including the outbreak of the First World War, a promotion of – racial or national – unity (danketsu) had to lead to an escalation of ‘racial struggles’, which again had to lead to another rush to assert unity, leading to, yet again, more racial struggle. For Inada, the strengthening of unity and war therefore had to be considered the two sides of the same coin, although he was not sure whether it was war which, once broken out, required unity, or whether the strive for unity had not been the actual reason for the outbreak of war (ibid.: 132–3). Even though Inada shares with Yamagata, Utsunomiya and others the awareness of an increasing importance of racial consciousness in politics, his conclusion is not to jump onto the train and promote racial unity in Asia, he rather claims that overemphasizing racial unity will be the actual trigger for a war that others want to prepare for. Notwithstanding such voices, in the wake of the First World War notions of a ‘racial struggle’ again gained more weight in political discussions, while the main focus of the ‘race problem’ shifted towards the discrimination against Japanese (and other Asian) immigrants in the US, but also in Canada, Australia, New Zealand and Russian territories in East Asia.20 Exclusionist laws to prevent immigrant ‘waves’ from East Asian countries were perceived in Japan as discriminatory and inappropriate to be directed against the nationals of a ‘first-class power’, as which Japan was recognized since the victory over Russia in 1905. Distinguished statesmen such as Okuma Shigenobu remarked that Japan had to push for the ‘abolishment of racial discrimination’ (jinshuteki sabetsu taigu teppai) and called discrimination against Japanese unreasonable and unjustified, considering the criteria of civilization (Okuma 1919: 6–7). For the elder statesman, Japan had to be treated equally after it had been recognized as a ‘civilized nation’. While he admitted that states could be treated differently according to their level of civilization, racial discrimination had to be fought against (Okuma 1919: 87–88). Japan had aimed at the inclusion of a clause of racial non-discrimination in the Charter of the to-be-founded League of Nations in 1919 (cf. Shimazu 1998; Lauren 1988: ch. 3). But the Japanese proposal was rejected due to US opposition (Okuma 1919: 11–14), and thereafter the race issue again became a hotly debated topic in Japan. Due to the fact that the US had been identified as the major culprit in racial discriminatory measures against Japan, after the end of the First World War the vision of a future ‘clash of races’ merged into early fantasies of a war with the US.21 As Okuma had suspected in 1919, the race problem had become ‘more than a temporary problem’ in international relations. Above all, it had become the main obstacle to ‘eternal peace’ – the eternal peace that was supposed to be brought about by the ‘war to end all wars’ (Okuma 1919: 10–14). 284 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

While Okuma was ‘merely’ disillusioned with the complete failure of the ‘new and open diplomacy’ so vociferously proclaimed by US President Woodrow Wilson (Okuma 1919: 13–14), others went further and wrote in more concrete terms about a future ‘racial war’ or gave it historical rea- soning, such as Mitsukawa Kametaro (1888–1936) in his ‘Historical view of the struggle between eastern and western races’ (Mitsukawa 1926).22 Kodera Kenkichi already had shown where the frontlines in a future race war would lie and where alliances had to be established, and now, since the early 1920s, military officers began to stress the importance of preparations for a war against the US, which increasingly was considered Enemy No. 1 of Japanese national sovereignty and pride. Visions (or predictions) of a war against the US were published by (retired) army officers (Sato 1921) and political associations such as the Amur Society (Kokuryukai).23 The Kokuryukai in its publications frequently warned of a coming ‘clash of races’. In the 1 November 1917 editorial of the association’s journal Ajia Jiron, the society calls for Japan ‘to prepare for encirclement (hoi) by the White Peril (hakka)’. The writer claims that Japan has to be aware that ‘the Western powers, filled with the spirit of ethnic rivalry (minzokuteki kyoso no seishin), are planning an offensive alliance (kogekiteki renmei) for the time after the end of the European War’. (Ajia Jiron 1.5, 1.11.1917: 7ff.) While during the Paris Peace Conference, on which the Japanese proposal for a clause against racial discrimination was repudiated,24 the Kokuryukai blamed the West for opportunism: ‘Wilson’s justice and humanitarianism (seigi jindo) is only opportunism for the benefit of his own country, but by no means meant as a universal and holy principle.’ (Ajia Jiron 3.3, 8.3.1919: 3) Another writer, freelance journalist Hishinuma Chikunan, in the same journal had stressed the urgency of the task of ‘strengthening the army’ in order to be prepared for a clash with the Western powers: ‘We have to know that the white and the coloured peoples, for historical and emotional reasons, are unlikely to live in harmony, probably not for eternity.’ (Ajia Jiron 1.4, 1.10.1917: 39) Scenarios, as can be seen in these examples, became increasingly martial, opposition against the West became stronger and more candid, and at the same time, the vision to unite Asia vis-à-vis the West become more Japan-centred after 1905. The growth of Japanese national strength led to a strong claim for Japanese leadership, which ruled out Asian unity based on equal relations. The suppression of the Korean First March Movement (San-ichi undo) in the same year, 1919, in which Japan demanded the inclusion of a racial non-discrimination clause in the Charter of the League of Nations revealed the impossibility of a pan- Asian regionalist order that was based on the assumption of Japanese leadership rather than on the notion of equality.

CONCLUSION The Russo-Japanese War has to be seen as a watershed in the perception of the notion of ‘race’ and particularly the perception of the idea of a Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ 285

‘clash of races’ in Japan. After the war, we increasingly find the notions of ‘race’ (jinshu) and a ‘clash of races’ (jinshu toso-ron) in discourse on foreign policy and national or regional identity, not only in government documents but also in writings by influential politicians and military officers as well as in widely circulating journals such as Taiyo. The assumption of racial similarities, i.e. the belonging of East Asian peoples to the same ‘yellow race’, was now referred to in order to advocate Asian unity vis-à-vis the ‘white peril’, i.e. the imperialist West. Japan began to demonstrate the belief that her place in the international arena is not on the side of the Western powers, but in the midst of the ‘coloured people’ (yushoku minzoku) and in a position as the leader of a future pan-Asian, regional league. This, of course, has to be seen as a consequence of Japan’s rise to a regional superpower and a ‘first-class power’ (ittokoku) in the international arena, which naturally was accompanied by a rise in Japanese national self-confidence. Was the Japan of the early Meiji era a country on the brink of colonization that could not possibly dare to challenge the West? The outcome of the Russo-Japanese War had demonstrated that a pan-Asian league under Japanese leadership that was determined to challenge the West was no more completely out of the range of Realpolitik con- siderations. As Rotem Kowner has demonstrated for the Western perception of Japan, ‘Western writings on the Japanese race reflected not only the racial knowledge of the period but also the power relations between the West [and Japan]’ (Kowner 2000: 105). The same can be held for the Japanese perception of relations with the West and the role of the concept of race in international relations: after the rise of Japan to a ‘first- class power’, a clash of races, i.e. a challenge of the ‘white’ West by a united ‘yellow’ Asia was discussed in Japanese political and military circles as a possible future scenario that was worth thinking about. The conclusions drawn in Japan from this new development were as follows: since an alignment with Western powers, due to increasing racial frictions, seemed to be more unlikely in the future, voices demanding an alignment with nations belonging to the same ‘yellow race’ gained strength in Japanese politics and public opinion. To be prepared for a future ‘clash of races’, i.e. a war against one or several Western powers, Japan had to become the leader (meishu) of Asia, unite Asian nations (and eventually all ‘coloured’ peoples) and lead the fight against the ‘white peril’ and the yoke of Western imperialism. While some politicians and diplomats were still careful not to add fuel to ‘yellow peril’ fears in the West and therefore opposed the pursuit of such an idea in actual foreign policy, the idea of a united Asia based upon a regionalist idea of pan- Asianism by the time of the First World War had become a major lacuna in Japanese politics (Saaler 2007c). However, although the vision of a united Asia based on pan-Asian commonalities in terms of culture, script, history and race was expressed in concepts of regionalism, the proposed Asian unity above all was a product of Japanese national objectives and national self-centredness. 286 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Therefore it did not ﬁnd acknowledgment in Asia. Until the Russo- Japanese War, leaders of the Asian independence movements still had applauded Japan’s successes, but soon thereafter, Japan was harshly criticized as becoming a colonialist power herself and as becoming the ‘public enemy’ (koteki) of Asia, as Yamamuro Shin’ichi has recently put it (Yamamuro 2006: 202–204). Eventually, pan-Asian unity as pursued by Japan after the First World War remained caught in a national framework and the idea of a united Asia degenerated into a mere tool of Japanese national defence policy, in which Asian nations were only assigned a passive role, but not one of equal partners in the creation of a transna- tional or regional order in East Asia.

NOTES 1 Previous research on the ‘Yellow Peril’ has mostly analysed the phrase in a European framework (Gollwitzer 1962; Wippich 1996), but hardly its effects in Asian and the reaction in Asian countries. On the other hand, research on ‘race’ in an East Asian context mostly has been focusing on the notion of race in identity construction (Dikötter 1997). In a recent article, Anthony Best has explored the connection between race and the royal diplomacy of Japan and Great Britain after the conclusion of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance of 1902 (Best 2006). 2 Pre-modern and early modern European voices concerning Asian nations had been rather favourable and largely free of racist stereotypes (Marco Polo, Tribault, Voltaire; cf. Demel 1992). Concerning East Asia, as the latter demonstrates, the idea that the Chinese could belong to something like a ‘yellow race’ did not occur to any of the European explorers and travellers of the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries (Demel 1992: 631), and according to Kowner 2004, the same holds generally true for the Japanese, who, just as the Chinese, mostly were referred to as ‘whites’. The first one clearly defining a ‘yellow race’, according to Demel, was German philosopher Immanuel Kant, an idea taken up later by physician Johann Friedrich Blumenbach (Demel 1992: 648–9). 3 We can also find similar lines of argumentation in Japan: for example, see Okuma 1919: 6. 4 In his publications, Chamberlain, who was the brother of Japan specialist Basil Chamberlain, emphasized the heroic Teutonic aspects in the works of the composer, Richard Wagner. In 1899, he published Die Grundlagen des neunzehnten Jahrehunderts [The Foundations of the Nineteenth Century], 2 vols., 1911, a strongly biassed analysis of European culture, in which he claimed that the Western Aryan peoples have been responsible for the greatness and creativity of Europe and that the Jewish influence had been primarily negative. Chamberlain’s later works included studies of Kant (1905) and Goethe (1912), the autobiographical Lebenswege meines Denkens [Pathways of my Thinking] (1919) and Rasse und Persönlichkeit [Race and Personality] (1925). In 1907, he settled in Bayreuth and married Wagner’s only daughter, Eva, his second wife. Remaining in Germany during the First World War, Chamberlain received the German Military Cross in 1915 and became naturalized the following year. Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ 287

5 In this context, particularly Gobineau’s Essai sur l’inégalité des races humaines was a major step on the synthesis of previous strands of Western chauvinist thought into a political concept of ‘race’ as a means of sustaining power and rule. Cf. Lauren 1988: 35ff.; Kowner 2000; Hannaford 1996. 6 Moreover, one of the members of the Bayreuther circle and a personal friend of Gobineau was Count Philipp zu Eulenburg-Hertefeld, whose uncle Friedrich Albert zu Eulenburg had led the Prussian mission to China and Japan in 1859–62. Philipp was to become not only Wilhelm’s chief political adviser, but he was also the architect of the Kaiser’s ‘personal regime’ in politics. 7 In general, the Foreign Ministry at that time was on the alert against ‘the publication of views that might complicate the operations of Japanese diplomacy’: cf. Marshall 1977. 8 See Matsumura 1987 and the collection of speeches given by Suematsu during his stay in Europe (Suyematsu 1905). 9 Ogai had already made similar remarks prior to 1905. In ‘An Outline of Racial Philosophy’ [Jinshu tetsugaku gaikan] published in 1904, he had criticized Western racism of the kind in Gobineau’s Essai sur l’inégalité des races humaines and had warned of the ‘white peril’ (hakka) that threatened to completely col- onize Asia: see Nakamura 1996: 787ff. As well, in ‘An Outline of the Yellow Peril’ in 1904, he had critically analysed German Yellow Peril writing and emphasized: ‘I know that there is a white peril in the world. However, I have never heard of something like the yellow peril’: Mori 1904: 1–2. 10 This had been different in the early Meiji period, when writers such as Tokutomi Soho still argued that, for example, ‘The strength of England does not lie in its military power, but in its “civilization”.’ See Yonehara 2002: 168. 11 The various contributions in Dikötter 1997 address important aspects of the notion of race in identity building in modern Japan (and China). 12 See also Wilson 2005 for a broad assessment of the ‘Discourse of Natural Greatness in Japan’ from the 1890s to 1919. The new self-confidence included even a pro-Japanese Korean writer: see Bin 1920. Bin Genshoku was a pro- Japanese Korean who cooperated with the Japanese over the objective of fully and equally integrating Korea into the Japanese Empire and achieving suffrage for the Korean citizens of the Empire. Bin also shared the view that a racial clash lay ahead, for which the ‘coloured races’ had to unite under ‘Japanese leadership’: ibid.: 62–3. He was murdered by the Korean independence movement in 1921. See also Oguma 1998: 363–7. 13 See the various contributions in Saaler and Koschmann 2007 for aspects of the development of Pan-Asianism in modern Japan. 14 It is not perfectly clear when the Knackfuß painting became known in Japan. Iikura Akura refers to an account in the official history of Emperor Meiji (Meiji Tenno-ki) from 1896, when foreign minister Mutsu Munemitsu presented a ‘painting of the Yellow Peril drawn by the German Emperor Wilhelm II’ to the Emperor (Iikura 2004: 95), but stresses that it cannot be taken for granted that this meant the Knackfuß painting. In the journal Taiyo, we can find reference to the Knackfuß painting and a description of it in 1896, but without it actually being reproduced: ibid.: 99. 15 Emphasis added. 288 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

16 A 1907 publication with the title, ‘Yellow Peril, White Peril: The Future Great War’ (Chiba and Tanaka 1907) had for the first time presented a vision of constant warfare after the Russo-Japanese War. It opens with the sentence: ‘It is said that if you paint the devil on the wall, he will come’ and then draws a picture of constant warfare among the European powers and of Japan against the Western powers, in the course of which ‘the fleet of Admiral Togo’ in swift succession erases the US-American and British fleets, thus contributing to the liberation of the Philippines, ‘the Malayan brothers’ and other Asians under European control, thus fulfilling the mission of ‘Asia for the Asians’: Chiba and Tanaka 1907: 75 & 212. The final stage of the future Great War was to be the fight of a united Asia against a united Europe (Oshu domei): ibid.: 85, in which Japan profited by successive wars of Britain with France, Italy and the USA. Another writer taking up similar scenarios to draw the picture of a ‘yellow peril’ frequently in his fiction after 1905 was Jack London: cf. Hashimoto 2005. 17 Emphasis added. 18 Authors such as Okuma Shigenobu 1919: 106 or Inada Shinosuke used the terms jinshu and minzoku synonymously. 19 Inada, as one of the few authors in Japanese writing on jinshu clarifies that it is equivalent to the term race in English: Inada 1915: 65. However, in his writings he seems to employ the term minzoku (ethnicity) with the same meaning: ibid.: 134. 20 Even though the problem of racial discrimination and immigrant exclusion has so far mostly been analysed in the framework of US-Japanese relations, for Japan the situation of Japanese nationals (including ethnic Koreans) in the Russian Far East had also become a major issue by 1914. The research section of the South Manchuria Railway Co. summarized this in a report of 1924, entitled ‘The Problem of the Yellow Population in the Russian Far East’: Minami Manshu Tetsudo K.K., Shomubu Chosaka 1925. In the Maritime and Amur provinces by 1910, probably more than 250,000 Chinese workers (officially 155,000: ibid.: 12) and 10,000 Japanese (ibid.: 175) – as fishermen, shopkeep- ers and traders – had taken up temporary residence, and discrimination against them, in the eyes of the authors of the report, had been a grave problem on Russian territory as well. To fight discrimination, the Japanese residents had founded ‘Residents Organizations’ (Nihon Kyoryumin-kai) in the large cities, especially Vladivostock, where the majority of Japanese in the Russian Far East lived: ibid.: 179 and cf. Chapter 11 above. Both Koreans and Japanese, due to their strong group solidarity, were considered a danger for the Russian control of the remote provinces: ibid.: 204. 21 Cf. Peattie 1990. 22 Concerning Mitsukawa, cf. also Szpilman 2007. 23 Retired army and navy officers such as Sato Kojiro (army, 1862–1927) and Sato Tetsutaro (navy), but also civilians such as Mitsukawa Kametaro wrote in the Kokuryukai journal Ajia Jiron on the coming war between Japan and the USA. See, for example, Mitsukawa 1921; Sato 1920. 24 The Kokuryukai had taken the leading role in organizing a rally (and a pressure- group, the Jinshuteki Sabetsu Teppai Kisei Domeikai, afterwards) to push Japanese Emergence of the Notion of the ‘Clash of Races’ 289 politicians to insist on the inclusion of this paragraph in the Charter of the League of Nations. See Ajia Jiron 3.3, 8.3.1919 – toku 1–31 and Ajia Jiron 3.4, 14.4.1919: 19–39 for speeches given during the first two rallies of Jinshuteki Sabetsu Teppai Kisei Taikai.

PART VI Global Repercussions

19 The High Road to the First World War? Europe and the Outcomes of the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–14

ROTEM KOWNER

he First World War was a seminal event in the chronicles of mankind. TThe greatest conflagration in military history until then, it generated political and social developments that signalled the end of an era and shaped much of the twentieth century. For the last nine decades count- less books and articles have sought the reasons for the occurrence of this titanic conflict. They often cite the system of alliances before the war, and imperialism, nationalism and militarism as its primary underlying causes. Others have focused on the immediate causes of the war, particularly the slide, some referred to it as an ‘accident’, that led to a clash five weeks after it was supposedly sparked by the assassination of the Austrian Archduke Franz Ferdinand in Sarajevo on 28 June 1914.1 None of these studies deems the Russo-Japanese War a major cause for the outbreak of the First World War, and most of them overlook the earlier clash altogether, treating it at best as a remote colonial war temporarily affecting Russia.2 Studies on the Russo-Japanese War itself fared no better and for years none of them argued for any causal relations between the two events. This view has changed recently, starting perhaps with a major edited volume on the war entitled: The Russo-Japanese War in Global Perspective: World War Zero (2005). The editors maintain in the preface that the modern era of global conflict began with the Russo-Japanese War rather than in 1914.3 Although they do not argue explicitly for a link between the two conflicts, nor elaborate much on their contention, the intriguing title inspires an inevitable question: in which way did the Russo-Japanese War affect the outbreak of the First World War? The effect of the Russo-Japanese War on the subsequent Great War, I argue in this chapter, was momentous and far-reaching. It went well 294 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 beyond the realm of Russia and was felt in many channels, especially in the diplomatic, military, and psychological domains. The effect was mainly on the power balance of Europe as a whole, and more than anything it corroborates the argument that the outbreak of the First World War was not an ‘accident’ but stemmed from long processes rather than immediate causes. A glance at the state of affairs in Europe before and after the Russo-Japanese War may suffice to illustrate the startling shift this continent underwent. At the beginning of the twentieth century Europe was characterized by a moderately stable political system. For almost a century its major elements (the ‘powers’) maintained a relative unwavering equilibrium despite occasional but limited conflicts between some of them. The continent was stable enough that neither the temporary weakness of a single power nor the overseas colonial conflicts between several of them could jeopardize it. Although the Russo- Japanese clash took place more than 10,000 kilometres away from the European continent, it had momentous repercussions, some immediate and some delayed, on every major power of Europe. The contention of this chapter is that the Russo-Japanese War shook the long stability in Europe and caused the ‘rigidification’ of the two alliance blocks, an armaments race and mutual suspicion, which contributed to, if not shaped, the European road to the Great War.4 Their importance notwithstanding, the repercussions of the Russo- Japanese War on Europe did not last long, and therefore were easily ignored by historians in the subsequent decades. The First World War reshaped European politics and geographical borders so drastically that it erased any substantial influence associated with the earlier conflict of 1904–5. When Germany accepted the armistice terms demanded by the Allies on 11 November 1918 the political circumstances of Europe were very different from those at the outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War in February 1904. But to a lesser extent Europe of September 1905, when the fighting in Manchuria had ceased, was different from Europe 19 months earlier. These two transformations, despite their difference in length and scale, were not unrelated. They are linked by explicit causal relations, since the short and minor transformation in 1904–5 contained some of the seeds of the later one. This chapter overviews the repercussions of the war on six major European powers during the decade starting in 1904 and analyses their significance in a continental perspective. The Rashomon-like narratives of the powers focus on the road each of them, and the continent as a whole, took towards the First World War.5

RUSSIA: THE RETURN TO A WESTWARD ORIENTATION Russia was the only European power that took an active part in the Russo- Japanese War, and throughout the following decade the fiasco of its defeat became a major factor in its national politics, but also in the politics of the entire continent. Obviously, of all the powers, Russia was affected the most by the war, and its post-war decline had a consequential effect on The High Road to the First World War? 295 the nation at least until the Bolshevik Revolution, if not throughout the entire twentieth century. The Russian navy, for instance, regained its pre- Russo-Japanese War standing only in the 1970s, this time as the navy of the Soviet Union. While its casualties in the fighting on land and sea were relatively light, Russia lost in the campaign two of its three fleets as well as a large quantity of armament and munitions.6 It also tarnished its military image at home and abroad, and paid a huge economic price for its 19-month mobilization.7 Still, the most important consequence of the war for Russia was the outbreak of the revolution of 1905. The war was not the only cause, but it served as its main catalyst. While the upheavals in Russia prevented the political system from acting with full force against Japan, the war outside Russia made it difficult to respond effectively to the riots within the empire.8 The revolutionary activities did not cease even with the conclusion of the Treaty of Portsmouth in September 1905, which ended the hostilities with Japan. In the end of October all European Russia was paralysed by a general strike, directed in the capital by the first workers’ council (soviet). On 30 October the tsar yielded and granted Russia a constitution that promised a legislative Duma (the so-called October Manifesto). This act split the revolutionaries into two camps: the majority were willing to accept the tsar’s concessions, whereas a minority continued resistance for several weeks, fighting in the streets of several cities, notably in Moscow, until January 1906. Thereafter, the tsarist regime suppressed the revolutionaries, although the revolutionary spirit, together with many of the causes for the revolution, did not disappear. The Revolution of 1905 signalled a structural weakness in Russia’s social and political system in the following decade, and for this reason it is often regarded as one of the precursors of the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917, which brought down the tsarist regime and installed instead the Soviet Union for seven decades. Critically, the inability of the tsarist regime to cope simultaneously with a foreign enemy and an internal rebellion recurred with even greater intensity in autumn 1914, and led to its downfall three years later. Although the impact of the Revolution of 1905 on the Bolshevik Revolution was indirect and is still a subject of controversy, the outbreak of the former, and the inability of the tsarist regime to fully suppress it, started a snowball that ended only with the abdication of the tsar and the rise to power of the most extreme revolutionary forces. In regard to Russia’s foreign policy, the war with Japan marked a turning point between two orientations. If until 1904 St Petersburg seemed inclined to an eastward orientation of expansion in Asia, after the war it turned westward again, namely to intense involvement in European affairs. Having lost most of its blue-water navy, and having pushed away from the promising lands of Manchuria and Korea, Russia shifted from its one traditional orientation to its other.9 Obviously, it did not return to the European arena as a victor. The detrimental effect of the war on its confidence in conducting diplomacy in Europe could be 296 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 detected already in June 1905, in its policy on the peaceful separation of Norway from Sweden, and more explicitly a month later when it concluded a treaty with Germany in Bjørkø, Finland. Still, Russia did not choose to withdraw into the confines of its empire and stay tranquil until it rearmed itself. Out of several alternatives, that of an alliance with Britain and France was not the most obvious to the tsarist regime, but the lack of coherence that characterized it before the war with Japan was only accentuated in the following years.10 Indeed, the return to a European orientation, to the Balkans in particular, was not free of chal- lenges. German determination to achieve political hegemony over Europe (so evident during the war), the rapprochement between Britain and France, and the defeat in Manchuria drove Russia into the arms of Britain, its archrival for most of the nineteenth century. Unimaginable before the war, now an accord between the two could consolidate the Russian position in Europe, but in Asia too, as well as facilitate rapprochement with Japan.11 With the signing of the Anglo-Russian Entente, only two years after the war ended, a new de facto balance of the European powers came into existence, remaining in force until the outbreak of the First World War. Based on a harsh reality, Russia’s diminished military image in German and Austro-Hungarian eyes was another major outcome of the war and a critical factor in establishing its position in European affairs, the Balkans in particular, in the following decade. The link between the war in Asia and the Russian involvement in the Balkans requires some clarification. Before the war, A.J.P. Taylor contended, Russia ‘had no ambitions in European Turkey nor interest in the Balkan states, except as neutral buffers versus Austria-Hungary and Germany’, and its main concern in Istanbul was free passage in the Bosphorus.12 This view seems somewhat to underestimate Russian schemes in the region, as it evidently wished to create in the Balkans a series of semi-autonomous satel- lite states, but from 1897 to 1906 it tended indeed to see the Balkan questions fairly eye-to-eye with Austria-Hungary.13 The ostensibly har- monious relations between the two powers did not last long. It was the Russo-Japanese War, as several historians have noted, that served as a turning point in their relations. The war, Robert Seton-Watson pointed out, ‘diverted Russia’s attention from the Near to the Far East’, and consequently created a political vacuum the Central Powers could not avoid exploiting.14 The Russian defeats in 1905 resulted in gradual escalation of tension in south-east Europe, as they heightened Russian concern for the Black Sea and apprehension of the Central Powers’ increased embroilment in the Balkans and the Near East. Austria-Hungary’s involvement in the Balkans during the war was partly responsible for retriggering St Petersburg’s support for pan-Slavic national aspirations, of the Serbs in particular, setting it on a collision course with Austria-Hungary and its ally Germany. A year after the war Russia’s opposition to the Austrian Balkan railroad project showed that it regarded any significant change in The High Road to the First World War? 297 the status quo as a casus belli. In 1908, however, Russian foreign minister Aleksandr Izvolskii gave his approval to the Austrian annexation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, in return for Austria’s support for the revoca- tion of the clauses of the 1878 Berlin Treaty preventing the opening of the Bosphorus to Russia’s Black Sea Fleet. This naval prerequisite was indubitably connected to the Russo-Japanese War, since that fleet was the sole survivor of the once mighty Imperial Russian Navy – the world’s third largest naval force before the war. Aware of Russia’s dwindled power, Austria-Hungary did not hesitate to announce the annexation prematurely, but still in time to force Russia to accept the annexation, and to do so with much humiliation. In March 1909 the tension over the Bosnian question mounted to the brink of war, but a German ultimatum forced Russia to withdraw its support from Serbia.15 The Bosnian Crisis marks the breakdown of the fragile equilibrium that still lingered in south-east Europe. The crisis was settled, but the obvious Russian and Ottoman weakness was a strong stimulus for the irredentist aspirations of the Slavic peoples in the region, to the extent that in 1912 the members of the Balkan League began to act aggressively without consulting their sponsors in St Petersburg. Russia meanwhile wavered, at least fleetingly, between recognition of German pre- eminence and stronger ties with its Anglo-French allies. In 1912, it became hesitant about the latter option, and as it entered a period of economic expansion it began the following year to allocate sizeable budgets for massive modernization of its army and navy, in what became known as the Great Program.16 On the eve of the Great War, Russian decision makers, the tsar in particular, argued Russia’s need of Serbia and Romania as a buffer zone to protect its interests in the Black Sea and the Bosphorus, believing that its national status depended on its role as patron in the Balkans. Their anxiety that another withdrawal would lead Russia to ‘second place among the powers’, as the Russian Foreign Minister Sergei Sazonov stated, was not unfounded.17 It was directly associated with the Russian experience since the war with Japan: a domestically unstable Russia, they were convinced, could not afford a further series of humiliating retreats and failures caused by its European neighbours.

GERMANY: THE WAR AS A WINDOW OF OPPORTUNITY FOR A GREATER WAR Seven years before the Russo-Japanese War the Kaiser Wilhelm II, together with his Secretary of State Bernhard Fürst von Bülow, launched a policy of achieving imperial greatness abroad, and also, as some argued, of staving off conflict at home. By then German production of iron and steel was the greatest in Europe, and ever since the Franco-Prussian War of 1870–71 all had a high regard for the awesome capabilities of its military machine. While the potential threat of the recently unified empire was looming, it remained neutral during the Boer War and rejected 298 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 alliances offered by Britain in 1898 and 1901. In 1904–5, however, the Kaiser’s geopolitical aspirations reached maturity, and more important they were recognized as such by his neighbours. In this sense the Russo- Japanese War served as a discernible stage in, or even a catalyst to, the rise of German ambitions to become a world power, or at least the hegemonic power on the continent.18 More than any European nation, it was Britain that became aware of the German transition during the early stages of the conflict in Manchuria. It had a good reason to be alert. Traditionally it acted radi- cally against any power striving for hegemony on the continent; Germany was approaching this state, and was also becoming explicitly anti-British.19 British leaders needed only to pore over the statistics of the two powers to call for caution. Germany, with a population only slightly larger than Britain’s in 1870 (39 vs. 31 million), and a lower GDP by far, was now surpassing it in many economic indices, and a few simple extrapolations indicated that in several years the eclipse of power would be complete. As had been foreseen, by 1913 Germany surpassed Britain even in its share of world manufacturing production and the population difference between the two had risen to 19 million (65 vs. 46 million).20 With the conclusion of its Entente Cordiale with France during the early stages of the Russo-Japanese War, Britain delivered the Kaiser’s aspirations their first significant blow. Two years earlier Britain had signed its first major alliance of the twentieth century with Japan, aiming mainly at the reinforcement of its position in Asia vis-à-vis Russia. German supporters of naval expansion were not oblivious to the repercussions of the Anglo-Japanese Alliance on British naval standing in Europe as against Germany.21 Back then, however, Britain was still uncertain about the identity of its allies in Europe. Even in late 1901, slightly before Britain concluded its alliance with Japan, Arthur Balfour, a supporter of an alliance with Germany and soon Britain’s prime minister, warned that ‘the Japanese Treaty, if it ends in war, will bring us into collision with the same opponents as a German alliance, but with a much weaker partner’. Germany, Balfour cautioned, ‘should not be squeezed to death between the hammer of Russia and the anvil of France.’22 In 1904, by contrast, Germany could interpret the conclusion of the Entente Cordiale as nothing but a tremendous blow to its newly gained position in Europe. Thereafter, France was less isolated on land, whereas Britain could concentrate its naval power against Germany. Berlin was determined to crack the new alliance, focusing on its archrival France. In the following months it monitored constantly French military capabilities and diplomatic firmness, and finally, three weeks after the Japanese victory at the battle of Mukden, it acted.23 Using as a pretext the declaration of the French foreign minister, Théophile Delcassé, regarding France’s intention to seize Moroccan local rights to regulate customs and trade, German leaders ventured to bully France at a time its Russian allies were trapped in the Manchurian quagmire.24 Wilhelm II’s landing at Tangier on 31 March 1905, and the announcement of his support for The High Road to the First World War? 299

Moroccan independence from France, was a reminder of France’s weakness vis-à-vis Germany, but also of German reluctance to give up the geopolitical advantages gained during the Russo-Japanese War. Receiving alarming reports from its military attaché in St Petersburg and its observers in the front, Paris was painfully aware of the Russian weakness exposed in 1904–5.25 For this reason, the French now felt heavily dependent on their British allies, who less than a year later were willing to rally to France’s support in the Algeciras Conference. Germany as a result faced a humiliating diplomatic defeat and found itself even more isolated than before. Despite the Kaiser’s public blustering, in private he admitted Germany was still unprepared for a continental war and eventually was forced to acknowledge French involvement in Morocco.26 After the conclusion of the peace agreement at Portsmouth, and in view of the German pressure in 1905 and the weakened Russian position in Asia, France and Britain felt obliged to bring Russia into their bilateral alliance. From a British perspective, at least, only a few years earlier an alliance with Russia would have been regarded as an impossibility, but not at this stage. In 1907, the three nations formed a triangle of understanding with regard to Germany, thereafter known as the Triple Entente. The road to an all-European war was not irreversible, but on the diplomatic front no significant change occurred in the power balance over the next decade, and no new alignment was formed to divert Europe from a major conflict. Despite its economic and military hegemony Germany was isolated diplomatically. Lacking a large empire overseas and agricultural hinterland it felt the encirclement by Russia, France, and Britain closing in. The war in Manchuria and the subsequent temporary shift in the military balance in Europe provided Germany with a unique opportunity to reverse its prolonged failing diplomacy, which had begun to deteriorate since its last successful diplomatic collaboration in 1895.27 In March 1905, Wilhelm II was trying to drive a wedge in the Anglo- French ties by raising a credible threat of war against its western neighbour France. Five months later he turned to his eastern neighbour Russia, this time in an attempt to prize Franco-Russian ties apart. By signing a treaty with Tsar Nicholas II at Bjørkø, Wilhelm believed that the latter could be wooed at a time of debacle abroad and crisis at home. He was momentarily right perhaps, but within a few weeks the treaty was barely worth the paper it was written on.28 While Germany was losing in the diplomatic arena during the Russo- Japanese War, German generals did accelerate their plans for war. The prospects for a successful offensive on their western border were probably better in 1905 than on the eve of the First World War.29 Concluding that Russia could not help France, German strategists planned in 1904–5 an offensive (‘preventive war’) against the latter. Their scheme did not materialize since Wilhelm was still unready mentally for the undertaking. At this stage he probably did not grasp the full consequences of the war and revolution for Russia, but nonetheless he orchestrated the plans, albeit without sufficient coordination.30 In December 1905, his 300 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 strategists completed the most ambitious plan to take over Europe, known as the Schlieffen Plan. Since this notorious plan remained the basis for the German decision to go to war in 1914, the proximity of its completion to the Russo-Japanese War deserves some elaboration. In two memoranda written in late 1905, Alfred von Schlieffen, the Army Chief of Staff and person behind the plan, concluded that in a future war the decisive theatre would begin in western Europe as the Russian army in eastern Europe was relatively weak and slow to mobilize. Accordingly, he designed a huge encirclement manoeuvre of two main forces (depicted graphically as a hammer and an anvil), whose target was the north of France while avoiding the French fortresses along the border. During the first three or four weeks of this colossal manoeuvre, Germany was to commit only a single army corps, of ‘greenhorns and grandfathers’, to hold, together with the Austro-Hungarian armies, the Russians at bay.31 Once the French Army was annihilated, the bulk of the German army was to be moved eastward for another gigantic campaign, this time against Russia. In this vein Schlieffen perceived the Russian dispatch of troops to East Asia and their defeats in Manchuria as bettering Germany’s chances of taking over France.32 Less than a month later the Kaiser moved a step closer to confrontation by appointing Helmut von Moltke, nephew of the victor of Sedan, to replace the seventy-two-year-old von Schlieffen, believing the latter was a superb strategist but too old to lead the troops effectively should armed conflict break out. While theoretically Germany reached military superiority in Europe during the Russo-Japanese War, it still hesitated to exploit its temporary advantage and go to war. Nonetheless, the desire of Germany, and to a lesser extent of Austria-Hungary, to maintain its continental advantage gained during 1904–5 was one of the cardinal causes of the war a decade later. These two powers perceived the Russo-Japanese War as a ‘window of opportunity’ in which they could exploit their momentary hegemony.33 Used in 1905 in regard to France, this Machiavellian concept reappeared in similar fashion in 1909 in regard to Serbia. Recommending military action against the Serbian armed forces, the German military attaché in Vienna concluded: ‘Such a favourable opportunity for disciplining the unruly Serbs will not come again soon.’34 The report surely struck a chord with the Kaiser, who filled the margins of the document with exclamations ‘Correct!’ As 1914 approached, the consciousness of a rare ‘opportunity’ for national greatness turned into a mantra.35 In the decade that followed the war in Manchuria, German politicians and military leaders were becoming painfully aware that relative to Russia, their national power was rapidly diminishing and that the ‘window’ for a military operation against France, Russia, or both was closing fast. To be sure, the Russian economic and military machine was speedily growing, especially in 1912–13, but the issue at stake was perceptions rather than reality.36 The precarious sense that the period of grace starting in 1904 was about to end became, at least on the German and Austrian side, most The High Road to the First World War? 301 acute in 1914, and this sense, I contend, became one of the most decisive undercurrents for war in 1914. To emphasize this point I will further argue that much of the road to the Great War was associated with the changing perceptions of the German leadership regarding the military balance in Europe during and soon after the Russo-Japanese War.37 Needless to say, the German road to war after 1904–5 shows a marked shift in perceptions and grandiose plans, but also in deeds. German attempts to force the dissolution of the Entente in 1905, its ultimatum to Russia during the Bosnia Crisis, and its aggressive policy towards France during the second Moroccan Crisis of 1911 underscore the transformation in German policy to more aggressive diplomacy, as well as an inclination to resort to military means in time of conflict. France, by contrast, looked for a policy of co-existence with Germany from 1906 onward, and during the second Moroccan Crisis was willing to compen- sate it with a slice of its colonial empire. Germany, however, did not hesitate again to create an artificial war crisis, which was checked by another Anglo-French collaboration. Starting in 1905, dangerous German games with war crises and ultimatums recurred several times, culminating in July 1914: unaware that it had chosen war, Germany’s support for Austria was a cardinal immediate cause of the slide into the First World War.

GREAT BRITAIN: FOES IN TRANSITION As Japan’s closest ally, Britain was one of the few European beneficiaries of the Russo-Japanese War. Although most of the strategic advantages gained from the conflict lasted only a decade, their legacy helped to sustain the integrity of the British Empire in Asia and stabilize its position in Europe a few decades longer.38 During the nineteenth century, British involvement in Asia was matched only by Russia’s expansion. Britain’s victory in the first Opium War against China (1839–42) set the scene for its armed conflict during the second half of the nineteenth century. These were mostly colonial wars fought far from the British Isles against inferior forces, in Burma, India, New Zealand and the Near East. Twice it cooperated with France: during the Crimean War against Russia in 1853–56, supporting the Ottoman regime, and during the second Opium War with China (1856–60) which ended with the Treaty of Peking, earning Britain indemnities and concessions on Chinese soil. In Europe, however, Britain kept itself in ‘splendid isolation’ throughout the entire period and signed no alliances, while growing and expanding its control elsewhere to nearly a quarter of the world’s lands and population. The turn of the century signalled the beginning of an evident decline in the British empire. Facing growing competition from the tightening Franco-Russian alliance in Africa and Asia, being challenged by the continental rise of Germany, and having engaged in the Boer War, Britain found itself antagonized and isolated. Even at sea Britain’s undoubted superiority endured some constraints. The naval race against France and 302 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Russia during the 1890s placed a heavy burden on Britain’s budget, leading to doubts about the ability to further sustain naval hegemony in the form of the costly ‘Two Power Standard Plus’. Among several options, Britain chose to abandon its diplomatic isolation and also determined new priorities for the defence of the empire, which rendered East Asia relatively minor in importance. The death of Queen Victoria in 1901 after a sixty-three-year reign was perceived as bringing the empire’s glory to a close and the old Prime Minister Lord Salisbury resigned after three terms in office. Prior to his resignation in 1902, he concluded the Anglo- Japanese Alliance, which allowed Britain to concentrate more warships in the European arena, while backing Japan’s effort to prevent Russia from taking over Manchuria and Korea.39 Although still apprehensive of the Russian territorial appetite in Asia, in Europe London was becoming more concerned by the rising military and economic might of Germany.40 In April 1904, the newly elected Prime Minister, Arthur Balfour, with the support of King Edward VII, went ahead and signed the Entente Cordiale with France, which drew Britain still farther from a conflict with Russia.41 Historians tend to disagree as to the extent to which this Anglo-French alliance was originally intended to isolate Germany, since there was nothing in the accord that could be construed as an anti-German measure. In essence, France agreed to British control over Egypt in return for recognition of French hegemony in Morocco.42 Nonetheless, many in Britain and France expressed relief at the fact that German foreign policy could no longer count on the tension between the two states. From Britain’s viewpoint at least, the accord maintained its traditional policy of preventing any single power in Europe from breaking off its vital trade with the continent. Germany was approaching such a position and during the Russo-Japanese War Britain began to react. Thereafter it fully abandoned its lengthy ‘splendid isolation’ and became involved in the continental quagmire, leading to its fateful participation in the European conflict of 1914, side by side with its new allies. At the time of the Russo-Japanese War, and especially during the Moroccan Crisis, Britain’s policy on Germany was sealed, remaining unchanged for the next decade and then virtually until 1945. The scheme Britain had for Europe began to become clear with the April 1904 signing of the entente. This second alliance Britain concluded within two years was instrumental in its policy on Germany, as Russia at that time was France’s ally, but also seemingly weakened by the war in Manchuria and thus much less than the arch-rival Britain had feared. Admittedly, negotiation on the entente had begun before the outbreak of the Russo- Japanese War, and when the alliance was concluded the war’s results were still far from evident. Still, the fact that these two colonial powers, Britain and France, overcame their traditional animosity in early 1904 attests how seriously they both viewed the threat posed by Germany.43 The sudden outbreak of the hostilities in Manchuria accelerated the Anglo- French rapprochement as both were bound by specific clauses of their The High Road to the First World War? 303 respective alliances with the two combatants: the Anglo-Japanese and the Franco-Russian alliances. Threatened by a direct conflict against each other, which neither wanted, the two settled their differences within two months and concluded their accord. As in Europe, also in East Asia Britain chose a policy of containment. Thus, during the Russo-Japanese War, it ‘may have given the impression,’ as Ian Nish phrases it carefully, ‘of being more a neutral and less an ally’ to Japan.44 This policy was worthwhile at least vis-à-vis Russia, and indeed in less than two years after the conclusion of the war, Britain consolidated an alliance also with St Petersburg, thereby appeasing both its former main rivals. Of the two, the rapprochement with France had the greatest significance. Only a few years earlier Britain had been uncertain about the identity of its allies in Europe, but after the war it no longer considered Russia a threat and with the urging of France, the two concluded the Anglo-Russian Entente in 1907.45 Once defeated, and no longer the menace to Britain it was earlier, Russia also amended its policy on Britain.46 Although Russia did not abandon its interests in East Asia, it temporarily retired from an almost century-long wide-ranging border conflict with Britain across Asia (whimsically referred to as ‘the Great Game’), and instead turned its focus back to Europe, the Balkans in particular.47 For both Britain and Russia, and at least for their French ally too, the containment of Germany was the main objective of the 1907 entente. Over a year earlier, Britain’s foreign secretary, Sir Edward Grey, had declared unhesitatingly: ‘An entente between Russia, France and ourselves would be absolutely secure. If it is necessary to check Germany it could then be done.’48 Side by side, as the Russo-Japanese War ended, Britain (but not necessarily all of its decision makers) became convinced that in the event of a continental war in Europe it must send troops to support its new ally France. Despite the Anglo-German détente during 1911–14, this decision to intervene was not modified until 2 August 1914.49

FRANCE: ADDING A BITTER FOE TO AN ALLIANCE WITH A FAILING ALLY Half a century before the Russo-Japanese conflict, France fought alongside Britain against Russia in the Crimean War. The victory of the alliance propelled Emperor Napoleon III to wage more wars against Austria and conduct a military expedition to Mexico. Increasingly isolated in the political arena, France found itself in 1870 declaring war on Prussia, ending in defeat and the ceding of territories that remained in German hands until 1918. In the following decades French international politics was characterized by the quest for alliances against the growing threat of Germany within Europe, accompanied by a colonial competition with the British empire overseas. In two accords, signed in 1892 and 1894, France concluded an alliance with Russia, ensuring that French security would not depend solely on German goodwill. After the turn of the 304 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 century the growing fears of German territorial ambitions both in and outside Europe brought France closer to Britain, despite their lingering colonial friction in Africa and Asia. The outbreak of the Russo-Japanese War shocked French politicians and financiers. Whereas the former were anxious about the possibility that France would have to intervene in that remote war, the latter were concerned for their huge investment in Russia.50 The signing of the Entente Cordiale liberated France from fear of a military collision with Britain, and a year later, while the war in Manchuria was still raging, France began to exploit its new position in Europe. The accord with Britain, together with the consent of Italy and Spain, inspired French confidence it could violate earlier agreements and extend its control over Morocco. German wrath at the act proved this confidence premature. Uncertain still of its newly established British support, the French parliament took a defensive stance and offered a settlement during the Moroccan Crisis. But when Germany pushed for a better position, it was repelled by an international vote in the Algeciras Conference, allowing France to complete its domination of Morocco. The unexpected success resulted in nationalist fervour that demanded a still more aggressive foreign policy and even the restoration of the monarchy. The Quai d’Orsay chose a safer way but its attempts to appease Germany were not successful, as seen in the second Moroccan Crisis and the consequent escalation of tension between the two powers. France’s diminished position in European affairs after 1904 was due to the rise of German military might, but also to the weakness of Russia, its closest ally since the early 1890s. Aware of the possible linkage between the Russo-German relative power already before the Russo-Japanese War, France urged St Petersburg to limit its military activities in East Asia and concentrate its power in Europe as a counterbalance to Germany’s burgeoning aspirations.51 Fearing to jeopardize its new ties with Britain, France was in a most difficult position during the voyage of the Baltic Fleet. When they found out the fleet’s destination, French officials asked the Russian government to route it via Cape Horn, thereby avoiding coaling in French ports. Heavily involved in investments in various projects in Russia, France provided its ally with much needed loans in 1906. A year later it entered into the unofficial Triple Entente with Russia and Britain, thereby completing its vision of a countermeasure for German ambitions. In military terms too, the French strategists did not remain idle during the war, and revised their Plan XV vis-à-vis Germany, completing it in 1906.52 In the wake of the conflict in Manchuria, France witnessed some deterioration in its strategic relations with Russia, but was able to mend them by 1907.53 Russian involvement in the Balkans after the war did not please the French government. It was anxious about being trapped in a conflict between Russia and the Central Powers, but not as much as it feared being isolated in a case of a Franco-German confrontation. Its support of Russia and the Serbs was based on a calculated judgment of The High Road to the First World War? 305 its position in respect of it allies and its fears of remaining isolated against Germany, both outcomes of the recent decade. Similarly, France regarded British support as essential for its position in Europe and did as much as possible not to alienate London. On the whole, however, France emerged as a restraining power during 1904–14, especially in the Balkans, although it was by no means willing to break up the alliance with Russia and Britain, not even at the price of a European war.54 The alliance with Britain was important, but the meagre British army could not save France in case of a German offensive. Therefore, seven years later, on the eve of the Great War, French foreign policy still centred on its shaky alliance with Russia. On the eve of the First World War, France was the target of the main German attack, as planned in 1905. This time, however, France was stronger than ten years earlier, and due to the two alliances it formed and masterminded during and soon after the Russo-Japanese War, it could withstand German aggression and ultimately survive the war.

AUSTRIA-HUNGARY: THE SWAN SONG OF AN EMPIRE IN DECLINE The dual monarchy of Austria-Hungary is considered today a major factor in the ‘slide’ to war, and evidently its government was the one to initiate the violence at that stage.55 At the same time, on the surface at least, this power had little to gain from the Russo-Japanese War. Dominating Central Europe until 1918, but having only a negligible blue-water navy, it had no imperial aspirations in East Asia or any official vision of the desirable outcome of the clash. Nonetheless, in the next decade Austria-Hungary was much affected by the war, and not by chance. In fact, since the mid-nineteenth century Austria was wary of war in its vicinity in which it did not take part. Austrian indecisiveness during the Crimean War, for example, cost it the control over the Danube principalities. In 1873, Austria, by then six years in a dual monarchic union with Hungary, signed peace treaties with both Germany and Russia, and in 1877–8 supported Russia’s war against the Ottomans in return for supporting Vienna’s plans to gain control over Bosnia and Herzegovina. Indignant of Russia’s abuse of its promise, and prepared to resort to force, Austria-Hungary was eventually granted a mandate over Bosnia and Herzegovina by the Berlin Congress of 1878. It then signed a secret treaty with Germany against potential Russian aggression, but under German mediation it signed another treaty with Russia temporarily to avert conflicting interests in the Balkans. In 1882, Italy joined the Dual Monarchy and Germany to form the Triple Alliance, which was renewed in 1891, whereas the alliance with Germany and Russia finally crumbled in 1887. Vienna followed the Russo-Japanese War with much interest, expecting the conflict to reduce some of its tensions with St Petersburg.56 Nonetheless, the war caused precisely the opposite result, notably in the Balkans, where the diminished status of Russia contributed further to the destabilization of the region. Initially, Russia’s weakness exposed in 306 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

Manchuria caused Austria-Hungary to seek rapprochement, leading the two nations to negotiate a ‘Promise of Mutual Neutrality’ and to sign a secret protocol in 15 October 1904 to maintain the status quo in southeast Europe.57 The appointment of the crafty Alois Lexa von Aehrenthal, the former Austrian ambassador to Russia, as the minister of foreign affairs in 1906 increased the tension between Vienna and St Petersburg. Without doubt, Austria-Hungary’s growing sense of confidence during the war was one of the causes of the deterioration of its diplomatic relations with Italy, soon resulting in a war scare and in unresolved suspicions and mutual armament during the following decade.58 As with Italy, Austrian confidence did not deter Russia either, which resumed its meddling in the Balkans after the war with Japan even more intensively than before. Although Russia had earlier expressed its consent, an Austrian move to annex Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1908 without notifying St Petersburg resulted in a six-month crisis with Russia. An imminent armed clash with Russia was averted through boycotts, threats and repa- rations, but the successful annexation left the Dual Monarchy and its ally Germany in greater mutual commitment and with a sense of vindica- tion. The Bosnian crisis, Robert Seton-Watson concluded, ‘converted the Southern Slav Question and the relations between Austria-Hungary and Serbia into an international problem of the first rank’, and it remained so throughout the Balkans Wars of 1912–13 until it triggered the outbreak a year later.59 Russia’s diminished power, at least in Austro- Hungarian eyes, manifested itself again in 1912, when St Petersburg was unable to prevent the Balkan League from declaring war on Ottoman Empire.60 In 1914, Russia’s position in Austria-Hungary, in contrast to its image in Germany, was at its lowest ebb. At the Common Ministerial Council meeting of 19 July, the Austrian decision makers wasted no time at all discussing the prospects of Russian intervention. They thus cate- gorically disregarded the only power that could stop them from van- quishing their Serbian foes.61

THE OTTOMAN EMPIRE: A CRUMBLING POWER UNDER TERRITORIAL AND POLITICAL THREAT In 1904, the Ottoman Empire stretched over three continents, with only a small part of it in Europe. Nonetheless, the empire, disparaged by its western neighbours as ‘the Sick Man of Europe,’ still had much impact on the crucial developments in south-eastern Europe in the decade between the Russo-Japanese War and the outbreak of the First World War. Like its neighbour, Austria-Hungary, it was uninvolved directly in the Russo-Japanese War but much affected by it, and similarly it was a power in decline, suffering from constant conﬂicts and rebellions of the mix of populations inhabiting its ever-shrinking Balkan territories. The slow Ottoman retreat from Europe began as early as in 1683 and following the Russo-Turkish War, its inﬂuence and territories on the continent The High Road to the First World War? 307

dwindled further. In the subsequent years the empire continued to dis- integrate. In 1881 Britain occupied Egypt, in 1885 Eastern Rumelia was united with Bulgaria, and in 1898 Crete was put under international control following fighting between Ottoman and Greek units. The Russo-Japanese War attracted much attention among both the constantly alert high echelon in the capital and junior officers in the provinces, most of them in favour of Japan – a modernizing Asian model but also an unrelenting enemy of their own greatest foe.62 During the war, Istanbul retained its neutrality, seeking to prevent the very likely departure of the Black Sea Fleet.63 Sultan Abdul Hamid was personally a target of constant international pressure: whereas Russia demanded that he allow the fleet to pass southwards, Britain pressured him to ensure that Russian ships stayed north of the Dardanelles. Recognizing its own weakness, the Sublime Porte sought to avoid the enmity of the powers, Russia in particular. This delicate Ottoman policy resulted in some acts that might be interpreted as beneficial for Russia, rather than maintaining balanced relations with both sides, let alone showing any official liking for the Japanese.64 British pressure, however, was fairly effective most of the war, although it did not prevent the passage in July 1904 of two Russian merchant ships, the Petersburg and the Smolensk, which carried guns and ammunition and were sailing for the shores of Manchuria. In October that year, Japanese envoys in Istanbul, who kept watch on Russian naval movements, offered the sultan a treaty of friendship with Japan, but the Ottoman authorities declined.65 Following the debacle of the Russo-Japanese War, Russia’s greater involvement in the Balkans caused much tension in Istanbul. To add to that, the Anglo-Russian Entente of 1907 was widely rumoured to contain a new plan for the partition of the declining empire. Partly influenced by this rumour and to some extent affected by the Japanese model, a group of junior Ottoman officers in Macedonia made an attempt to settle this vexed question once for all. Known as the Young Turks, the group sparked an armed rising in Resna in July 1908 and a revolt spread throughout the empire.66 Soon, the group took power in the capital, leaving the sultan with no alternative but to restore the constitution. This bloodless revolution aroused enthusiasm throughout the empire, particularly among Serbian, Bulgarian, Greek and Armenian revolutionaries. The restoration of the constitutional regime delayed plans to dismember the Ottoman Empire, but neither Austria-Hungary nor Russia was deterred. On 15 September 1908, their foreign ministers agreed on a partition plan: the Dardanelles were to be in the Russian zone, Bulgaria in the Russian sphere of influence, Macedonia and Serbia in the Austrian sphere of influence, and Albania and Greece in the Italian sphere of influence. Two weeks later, Austria annexed Bosnia-Herzegovina, and Bulgaria declared its absolute independence. Eventually, Russian support to pan-Slavic aspirations in the Balkans and the strong Austrian position in the region since the Russo-Japanese 308 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

War brought about further losses to the scanty holdings the Ottoman Empire still retained in the region. While Ottoman forces were struggling to repel an Italian invasion of its Tripolitanian provinces (present-day Libya), several Balkan states declared war on Istanbul in October 1912. This first Balkan War soon turned into a debacle for the Ottoman forces and ended in substantial territorial concessions and further decline of the empire. These losses led the Ottoman government in mid-1913 to the conclusion that its military establishment required urgent reforms, and it chose German army officers to supervise them. This development did not bring Istanbul immediately under the German sphere of influence and during the first half of 1914, Ottoman authorities made various overtures to the Entente powers, France in particular. Nonetheless, the traditional fears of becoming ‘Russia’s vassal’, strengthened by Russian conduct in the Balkans after 1905, tilted Istanbul towards Berlin. Consequently, during late July and early August 1914, the two powers consolidated their military cooperation, bringing the Ottoman empire to the side of the Central Powers.67

CONCLUSION: THE COLLAPSE OF THE POWER EQUILIBRIUM IN 1904–5 AND THE ROAD TO THE FIRST WORLD WAR The Russo-Japanese War was not the main cause of the First World War, and certainly not an immediate trigger of its the outbreak. That said, I argue that the effect of the former conflict on the latter was momentous and far-reaching. Although the Great War, as Paul Kennedy once suggested ironically, ‘offers so much data that conclusions can be drawn from it to suit any a priori hypothesis which contemporary strategists and politicians wish to advance’,68 recent studies suggest, in fact, there was no one ‘big cause’ of the war in 1914. It resulted from an array of factors and sources, of which some had begun to play a role decades earlier. Among them, the war in Manchuria in 1904–5 appears to be a catalyst, which played a role in shaping and enhancing the geopolitical circumstances that caused the outbreak of the war a decade later. It was, I posit in this chapter, a turning point on the European road to war that accelerated a number of earlier processes. While dis- turbing the balance of power in Europe, this remote conflict was instrumental in re-creating it, at least temporarily, albeit in a more ‘rigidified’ manner than before. Starting with the Prussian victories over Denmark, Austria and France in 1864–71, the meteoric military and economic rise of Germany was the prime factor in unbalancing the relative stability Europe that had experienced since the Napoleonic Wars. Nonetheless, in the first fourteen years that followed the retirement of Bismarck in 1890, the evolving system of two alliance blocs was sufficient to keep Europe steady and induce its parties to look for territorial and economic gains outside the continent. As a newcomer to the Age of Imperialism, Germany could not contain its ambitions for long. Even if the Russo-Japanese conflict was to The High Road to the First World War? 309 be avoided, German aspirations for continental hegemony and the fears of it among the other powers would probably lead to a clash sooner or later. In this context, the Russian fiasco of 1904–5 facilitated the consolidation of a new system of two alliances. By 1907 Europe was divided into two blocs: On the one hand a diplomatic alliance (the Triple Entente) of Britain, France, and Russia; on the other hand a defensive alliance (the Triple Alliance) of the Central Powers: Germany, Austria-Hungary and Italy, and Rumania. The road to an all-European war was not irreversible, yet on the diplomatic front no change occurred over the next several years, and no new alignment was formed to divert Europe from a major conflict. True, the alliances were defensive, but after 1907 the balance between them was much more volatile than before the war, and within several years they shored up the confidence of the powers to the extent they were willing to risk a continental clash.69 Following its final defeats at Mukden and Tsushima in the first half of 1905, Russia was not reduced to a level of negligibility, but it unquestionably became a second-rate power in its own eyes, in its military capabilities, and in its actual capacity to influence others. While Russia lost its former military status, Germany was about to complete a ten-year period of military buildup and during the war it emerged as Europe’s supreme military and industrial power. The German rise was not a new phenomenon, but the Russian defeat suddenly highlighted the continental hegemony of Germany. The exposure of Russia’s military weakness, financial burden, and internal instability swung the already uneven military balance in Europe still further to Germany’s favour. In the next decade the fluctuating balance between these two powers determined the fate of the continent. During 1904–14 this fragile equilibrium was in large measure, as David Herrmann points out, ‘the story of Russia’s pros- tration, its subsequent recovery, and the effects of this development upon the strategic situation’.70 The undermining of the power system in Europe during the Russo- Japanese War created among the powers a spiral of reciprocal fear, exacerbated by a series of crises. Starting with the first Moroccan crisis in 1905–6, followed by the Bosnian annexation in 1908, the second Moroccan crisis and the Tripolitanian War in 1911, and finally the two Balkan Wars of 1912–13, Europe entered into a mood of a continental crisis. With each crisis, the powers were further engulfed in an increasingly self-fulfilling prophecy regarding the imminent occurrence of a grand clash, named by Wolfgang Mommsen ‘the topos of inevitable war’.71 This mood was felt especially in Germany, which experienced a wave of fatalism and collective paranoia during this critical decade, as best exemplified in Bethmann Hollweg’s views of the future of his nation. This chancellor of Germany on the eve of the war doubted the need to plant new trees at his estate, since ‘in a few years the Russians would be here anyway’.72 Associated originally with extensive industrialism, urban migration, and harsh social policies, after 1904 much of the German fatalism 310 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05 stemmed from the idea of being ‘encircled’ militarily and diplomatically, mainly by Russia and France, but also by Britain. In turn, this projection of its own aggression made Germany consider a preventive war necessary, as well as just. Such a move could exploit a supposed rare window of opportunity for territorial gains for both Germany and Austria- Hungary, opened by the shift in the power balance in Europe during and after the Russo-Japanese War. Critically, it was the sense of the gradual closure of this imagined window which pushed these two powers into war, at a time when their military advantage was already marginal at best. By then, a war of aggression in Europe – ‘a battle of Germans against the Russo-Gauls for their very existence’ as the Kaiser himself stated in 1912 – seemed a legitimate outlet.73 The Russo-Japanese War also provided much inspiration for the armies that were to clash in the First World War. Despite its distance, the war attracted the attention of all the larger armies and navies, which sent an unprecedented number of observers to the front to record lessons of the fighting. They witnessed a number of large-scale battles, foremost among them the battle of Mukden, the largest battle in military history until then and, unbeknownst to them, a true archetype for the sluggish trench war to be fought on the Western Front ten years later. The war in Manchuria was overwhelming proof for those still in doubt of the importance of firepower as the dominant factor in military combat, but it did not stimulate a dramatic change in tactics or strategy.74 In the naval arena, however, there was some substantial transformation after the war, resulting in a naval race between Britain and Germany.75 The most important outcome in this domain took place in Britain with the launching of a revolutionary class of battleship, HMS Dreadnought, one year after the war and designed using the lessons of the battle of Tsushima. After the commissioning of the Dreadnought in 1906, more than 100 battleships of earlier classes, many of them belonging to the Royal Navy, became outdated and a new naval race commenced, this time chiefly between Britain and Germany.76 European attention to military innovation and performance during the war in Manchuria was followed by a psychological change, too. Thereafter, the political environment in Europe shifted from a mode of peace, and belief in diplomatic means to solve conflict, to an increasingly fierce armament race (although not necessarily fully linear in form), and a conviction that national objectives could be gained only by military means.77 The war between Russia and Japan offered a desirable model of limited conflict.78 Not total war, nor overly costly, especially in human lives, it appeared to contain the capacity to be resolved quite easily around the negotiation table and to result in decisive political gains to the victorious aggressor. The war also seemed to demonstrate that a newcomer of even limited means but with sufficient determination and a well-trained army could defeat a huge but traditional power. War, as such, no longer seemed an impossible option, but a default. The High Road to the First World War? 311

NOTES 1 For partial exceptions, although in none is the link between the two wars the major topic, see Herrmann 1996: passim; Mombauer 2002: 7–8; Rich 2003: 196–206. 2 For a succinct review of these causes and their historiography see Mombauer 2002; Hamilton and Herwig 2004 3 Steinberg et al. 2005: xix–xxi; see also Kowner 2007a. 4 For the use of the term ‘rigidiﬁcation’ of the alliance blocs in this period, see Gilbert 1984: 110. 5 This chapter does not offer a separate review in regard to Italy, since this minor power was hardly affected by the Russo- Japanese War in its national conduct during the following decade. 6 The Russian death toll in the war was about 43,000 men, whereas the number of prisoners of war was slightly less than 80,000: see Kowner 2006: 81, 308. 7 On the economic cost of the war see Fuller 1992: 402–407. 8 On the relation between the soldiers’ unrest in the rear and at the front, see Kusber 2007. 9 For further elaboration on this juncture see Rich 2003: 200–202. 10 On the Russian options and policy after the war see Frankel 2007. 11 On the Russo-Japanese rapprochement after the war, see Berton 2007. 12 Taylor 1971: 484. 13 Austria-Hungary’s preferred arrangement for the Balkans was similar to the Russian one, but it saw the fragmented and docile states attuned to Vienna rather than to St Petersburg: see Tunstall 2003: 125. 14 Seton-Watson 1926: 29. 15 On the annexation and the breakdown of the equilibrium in East Europe, see Stevenson 1996: 112–164. 16 The programme was supposed to increase the size of the peacetime army by 40 per cent by 1917: see Lieven 1983: 111. 17 Quoted in Joll 1984: 55. 18 For the argument that German elites provoked the war in 1914 to establish Germany, among other motives, as a world power, see Fischer 1967. 19 By 1903, the Kaiser’s ‘basic and primary idea’, as his later chancellor Theobald von Bethmann Hollweg noted, was ‘to destroy England’s position in the world to the advantage of Germany’: cited in Spitzemberg 1960: 428. 20 Whereas in 1880, Britain’s share was much greater than Germany’s (23 vs. 8 percent), in 1913, the German share became greater (15 vs. 14 percent): Ferguson 2004: 288. 21 On the impact of the war on the Imperial German Navy, see Eberspaecher 2007. 22 Balfour Papers, Add. Mss. 49727, Balfour to Lansdowne, 12.12.1901: cited in Charmley 1999: 301. 23 For German reports on French military activities during the war, see Raulff 1976: 128. 24 See Keiger 1983: 20–22; Herrmann 1996: 40–41. 25 See Herrmann 1996: 41–42. 312 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

26 For the reasons German decision makers preferred peaceful settlement in 1906, see Stevenson 1996: 75. 27 The Three Power Intervention, together with France and Russia. 28 On the Treaty of Bjørkø, see McDonald 1992; 77; McLean 2003. 29 See Kennedy 1988: 325. 30 On the German plans for a preventive war in 1905, see Moritz 1974. 31 Showalter 1991: 68. 32 For various views on the Schlieffen Plan see Ritter 1958; Bucholz 1993; Zuber 2002, and on its repercussions in 1905, see Mombauer 2001: 72–80. On the decision to replace Schlieffen, see Ritter 1958: 111. 33 For earlier references to the German idea of a national ‘window of opportunity’ and its relation to the origins of the war, see Van Evera 1991: 80–86; Herwig 2003a: 186; Seligman 2007. 34 Cited in Herrmann 1996: 126. 35 This sentiment can be plainly discerned, for example, in von Moltke’s view, expressed at a meeting with his Austrian counterpart Franz Conrad von Hötzendorf on 12 May 1914: ‘To wait any longer means a diminishing of our chances; as far as manpower is concerned we cannot enter into a competition with Russia.’ Eight days later, recalled the German Foreign Minister Gottlieb von Jagow, Moltke lectured him that ‘there was no alternative to waging a preventive war in order to defeat the enemy as long as we could still more or less pass the test’. Cited in Geiss 1967: docs. 3, 4; cited in Ferguson 1999: 100. See also Fischer 1967: 164–167. In another memorandum regarding Russia’s future potential written in 1914, von Moltke estimated that the Russian army would be fully ﬁtted from 1917 onwards, concluding: ‘There cannot be any more serious doubt about the fact that a future war will be about the existence of the German people.’ Cited in Mombauer 2001: 176. For a similar conclusion regarding von Moltke’s view of ‘war now or never’, see Mombauer 2001: 288. 36 For economic indices on the relative rise of Russia vis-à-vis Germany throughout the period of 1905–14, see Doran and Parson 1980: 957, especially Fig. 3. For the rise in military expenditure in Russia in 1912–13, see Stevenson 1996: 4 (Table 2). 37 On the post-war negative image of the Russian national character in general and the capabilities of the Russian Army in particular among the British, German, and Austro-Hungarian military authorities, see Herrmann 1996: 93–95. 38 On the repercussions of the war for British policy, particularly in Asia, see Otte 2007. 39 On the Anglo-Japanese Alliance, see Nish 1966; O’Brien 2004. 40 On British awareness of the German challenge in 1902, see Monger 1963: 82. 41 On the link between the two accords Britain concluded in 1902–4, see Edwards 1957: 19–27. 42 See Kennedy 1988: 324–327. 43 I.e., Britain informed Japan about the movements of Russian ships and was instrumental in pressuring Istanbul to prevent the Black Sea Fleet from sailing through the Bosphorus. The High Road to the First World War? 313

44 Nish 1966: 292. 45 Monger 1963; passim; Gooch 1974: 171, 175. 46 For British attitudes to Japan in 1907, see Nish 1966: 363–364. 47 On the Russian interest and activities in East Asia soon after the Russo-Japanese War, see Nish 1972: 19–20; Berton 2007, passim. 48 Cited in Hamilton & Herwig 2004: 136. 49 Ferguson 1999: 56–81. 50 On the French attitude to Russia and Japan during the war, see Beillevaire 2007: 124–131. 51 For the French views on this crucial alliance, see Kennan 1984. 52 On the French Plan XV, see Herrmann 1996; Tannenbaum 1984; Luntinen 1984. 53 On the deterioration of Franco-Russian relations at this stage, see Kiesling 2003: 244. 54 Keiger 1983: 89. 55 See, for example, Williamson 1991: 1, 6. 56 For the coverage of the war in the Austrian media, see Lehner 2007. 57 Pribram 1967: 237–239. 58 See Behnen 1985: 100. 59 Seton-Watson 1926: 36. 60 Similarly, Russia’s secondary role in the Triple Entente did not prompt its two allies to lend support to St Petersburg’s position in this turbulent region during the entire period until the Great War. On Russian diplomatic weakness after the war and Russian policy in the Balkans, see McDonald 1992, 2005. 61 Kann 1971: 12. 62 On Ottoman admiration for Japan during the war see Akmese 2005: 28–31, 72–79; Worringer 2006. 63 The Ottoman insistence on preventing the passage of the ﬂeet was in line with an agreement signed with Russia in 1891, barring the passage through the Bosphorus of warships carrying armaments or munitions. 64 On Ottoman policy during the war, see Akarca 2007. 65 On the question of the Bosphorus and Dardanelles during the Russo-Japanese War see Inaba 2003. 66 On the Young Turks and their revolution, see Turfan 2000; Hanioglu 2001. 67 See Yasamee1995: 229–268. 68 Kennedy 1984: 37. 69 While none of the decisions for war was mandated by treaty obligations, as Hamilton and Herwig 2004: 10, note, the treaties did form a mindset of escalation to war. For an argument against the alliance system as a cause for the war, see Herwig 2003: 467–8. 70 Herrmann 1996: 7. 71 Mommsen 1981. 72 Cited in Berghahn 1973: 186. 73 Cited in Fischer 1975: 161. 74 On the military lessons of the war see Herrmann 1996: 87–95; Sheffy 2007. 75 On the repercussions of the war on the naval arena, see Kowner 2007b. 76 See Marder 1961; Herwig 1991. 314 Rethinking the Russo-Japanese War, 1904–05

77 For ﬁgures on the annual army expenditures of the European Powers see Stevenson 1996: 2–8; Herrmann 1996: 237. 78 None of the belligerents in the Great War appeared, at least initially, to desire a general European war in which Britain was to join the war against the Central Powers. On the supposed preferences of the Great Powers on the eve of the war in 1914, see Levy 1991: 237. Bibliography

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Abaza, Admiral, 209–211 92, 101, 114, 121, 137, 139, 147, Abdul Hamid, Sultan, 307 303 Aerenthal, Alois Lexa von, 306 Anglo-Russian entente, 296, 303, 307 Afghanistan, 3, 139, 143, 148 Aoki Shuzo, 34 Africa, 140, 304 Arkhangelsk, 234 South-West, 95 Arme blanche, 131 Agents, secret, xxiv, xxix, xxxii, 78, Armistice, 294 138, 139, 140, 146, 149, 164, Army, Japanese First, xxiv, 11 173, 245, 252–3 Japanese Second, 11 Aichi, 225–6 Japanese Third, 13, 16–17 Aikoku Fujinkai, 251–2 Ashmead-Bartlett, Ellis, 124 Ajit Singh, 143 Asia, Central, 85, 140 Albania, 307 Asian nationalism, xxix, 140 Alexandra, Tsarina, xxi, 74, Immigration, 92 Alexander II, Tsar, 201 Assassination, 108 Alexander III, Tsar, 74, 203 Plot, 107 Alekseev, Y.I., 234 Australia, 275 Alexeiev, Admiral E.I., 24, 26, 162, Austro-Hungarian Empire, 75, 89, 296, 163, 165, 170, 215, 305–306 Alfred, Duke of Edinburgh, xx Awdry, Bishop, 123 Alfonso, King of Spain, xxviii Aziz, Sultan Moulay Abdul, 82 Algeciras conference, 82, 99, 304 Azuma, Captain Otohiko, (aka Algeria, 81 Higashi/Hayashi), 138 All-Zemstvo Organization, 223–4 Alsace-Lorraine, 73, 75 Baelz, Dr Erwin, 25 Alvensleben, Count von, 53 Baikal, 203, 233, 235–6, 239 Amur, 40, 200–203, 206, 208, Balais, J.C., 169 214 Balfour, Arthur J., 140, 298, 302 Anderson, Brigadier, xxix Balkans, 3, 79, 89, 100, 296, 303 Anglo-American relations, xxix Balkan League, 297, 306 Anglo-French entente, xxvii, 27, 79, Balkan wars, 306, 309 95, 97, 297–8, 302, 304 Baltic Fleet, xxvii, xxviii, 16, 17, 18, Anglo-German antagonism, xxviii, 89, 80, 89, 94–5, 97, 185, 304 95, 139 Baluchistan, 143 Anglo-Japanese Alliance, xxi, xxv, xxx, Banks, xxvii–xxviii, 63–72, 107, 146, 4–6, 19, 22–4, 28–9, 33–5, 51, 84, 163, 164 340 Index

Bardin, Colonel, 235 foreign policy, 5–6, 119–134, Battle-cruiser, 131 205–207 Battle of Mukden, xxix, xxxii, 10, 17, imperial strategy, 137, 140 18, 28, 40, 78, 82, 97, 169–170, national security, 137 298, 309–310 war plans, xxix, 89, 140 Battle of the Japan Sea (Tsushima), British Admiralty, xxi, 27, 120, 143 xxii, 19, 28, 40, 98, 127, 140, British Army, 132 214, 247–8, 309–310 British Blue Book, 37 Battle of the Shaho, 15 British Foreign Office, 137, 139, 140, Battle of the Yellow Sea, 127 143 Battle of Yalu River, 70 British War Office, xxi, xxiii, 137, 138, Batum, 139 140, 143, 148 Behn, Meyer & Co., 145 Brodrick, St. John, xxiii Belgium, 114, 140, Buddhists, 199 Benckendorff, Aleksandr, 26 Bukhara, 208, 212 Berlin Congress, 305 Bulgaria, 307, Bertaux, Consul, 168 Bülow, Bernhard von, 53, 89–91, 93, Bethel, E.T., 167 97, 101, 297 Bethmann-Hollweg, Chancellor von, Burma, 301 147, 309 Bezobrazov, A.M., 26, 210 Caliph, 142 Bezobrazovites, 160 Calthorpe, Captain, 138 Biisk, 233 Cambon, Paul, 79 Birilev, Aleksei, 83 Cameron, Sir Ewen, 66, 69 Biriukov, Captain N.N., 165–7, 169–71 Camranh Bay, 80 Bismarck, Prince Otto von, 75, 89, Canada, 275 276, 308 Cassel, Sir Ernest, xxvii, 66, 68–70 Black Sea fleet, 297, 307 Casualties, battle, xxxii, 16, 127 Blockade, naval, 139 Caucausus, 143, 148, 201 Bloody Sunday, 78, 220 Censorship, 121, 143 Bobrikov, N.I., 218 Ceylon, 144 Boehm, 145 Chamberlain, Basil H., 123 Boer nationalists, 148 Chamberlain, Houston S., 275 Boer (South African) War, xxiii, 79, Chemulpo (Inchon), 78, 226 128, 137, 207, 297, 301 Chifu, 115 Boissonard, 205 Chikhachev, 205 Bosnia-Herzegovina, 297, 305–306 Chin Pom-i, 167, 171 Bosnian crisis, 297, 301, 309 China, 40, 76, 85, 89, 96, 111, 123, Bosphorus, 296 128, 143, 148, 177–95, 200, Boxer Uprising, xx, xxi, 4, 5, 23, 88, 203–204, 213–14, 301 90, 106, 110, 113, 128, 138, 208, China Field Force, 138 213, 233, 251 Chirol, Valentine, 123 Boy-Ed, Captain, 146 Chita, 234 Brackenbury, General Sir Henry, 137 Choshu faction, 13 Bribery, 78, 141, Church, Colonel, xxix, Bridge, Admiral Sir Cyprian, xxii City of London, 63 Britain, 301–303 Cockerill, Brigadier, 145 Index 341

Codes, 163, 166 Eulenburg, Viktor Graf zu, 140 Collbran & Bostwick Co., 111 Europe, 293–314 Combes, Emile, 77 Extradition, 146 Communications, secret, xxx, 146 Extraterritoriality, xxx Continental commitment, 140 Contraband, 139, 162 Fashoda incident, 79 Corbett, Sir Julian, 128 Filipino independence movement, Cossacks, 200 xxx Creagh, General O’Moore, 138 Finland, xxv, 139, 148, 218 Crete, 307 First World War, 41, 45–6, 99, 245, Crimean Expedition, xx, 200, 303, 305 280, 293–4, 299, 305, 308 Crosland, T.W.H., 260 Fischer, Commander, 147 Cruisers, Argentine, 27 Fisher, Admiral Sir J.A., xxviii, 127, Curzon, 85, 138, 131, 140, Fontaine, Vicomte de, 161, 168–9 Daily Telegraph, 267 Forestry, 210 Dakar, 80 France, xxvii, 4, 40, 73–87, 114, 143, Dardanelles, 142, 208, 307 269, 303–305 D’Anethan, Baroness Eleanora, 33 Franco-Prussian war, 297, 303–304 Decryption, 139, 145–6, 148 Franco-Russian alliance, 74–77, 276, Delcassé, Théophile, 75, 77–83, 85–6, 303 298 Franz-Ferdinand, Archduke, 293 Denison, Henry W., 27 Freycinet, 80 Denmark, 94, 95 Frontiers, 199–201 Dennett, Tyler, 54 Fukai Eigo, 63–4 Deportees, xxxii, 232–40 Fukien, 4 Diehn, August,145 Fukushima Yasumasu, General, xxiii, Dogger Bank Incident, 40, 81, 95, 96 xxiv, xxix, 138, 182–5 Dubasov, 215 Fukuzawa Yukichi, 277 Duboulay, Captain, 128 Dukhovskii, Governor-General, 207 Gender, role of, xxxiii, 243–56 Durand, Sir Mortimer, xxvii, 51, Genro, xxi, 4–8, 18, 23, 24, 25, 56 Duryee, Schyuler, 63 Gerard, General, xxiii, 129 Dyer, Professor Henry, 261 Germany, xxviii, xxix, 4, 33, 70, 73–4, 82–3, 88–102, 114, 148, 297–301 Eastern Rumelia, 307 Gift bags, 219–20 Edward VII, King, xx–xxi, xxvii–xxviii, Gobineau, Joseph Arthur, Comte de, 66–70, 79, 302 275–6 Efremov, V.S., 233 Goier, L.V. von, 164 Egypt, 5, 80, 142, 143, 146, 148, 302, Gojong, Emperor, 106–109, 114–16, 307 160–1, 165, 204–205 Elizavetgrad, 223 Gold standard, 65 Emancipation of the Serfs, 201 Goto Shumpei, 4 Emden, cruiser, 144 Grand Duke Alexei, 205, 207, 210 Enver Bey, 142 Grand Duke Nikolai, 171 Espionage, 120, 138, 139, 140, Grand Duke Paul, 83 Etzel, Major von, 141 Grand Duke Vladimir, 215 342 Index

Grand strategy, 149 Hirose Takeo, Lieutenant-Commander, ‘Great Game’, xx, xxix, 85, 303 39, 250 Greater Asia Co-prosperity Sphere, Hitler, Adolf, 99, 100, 142 272 Hoad, Colonel, 120 Greece, 307 Hoff, Colonel van Arr, xxxii Grey, Sir Edward, 303 Home front, xxxi, 218–31, 250 Grierson, General Sir James, 140 Hong Kong, 138, 205 Grifﬁs, William Eliot, 260 House, Colonel, 146 Grodenko, General, 215 Hyen San-gen, 166 Gunji, 237 Gurkhas, 144 I Yong-ik, 173 Ignatiev, D.F., 233 Hague, international conferences, 148 Ijuin Goro, Admiral, xxii, 14, 17, 18 Haldane, Colonel Aylmer, xxiii, xxix, Ijuin Hikokichi, 180 120–1, 125, 128, 130, Image, xxxii, 121, 257–73 Hamilton, General Sir Ian, xxii–xxiv, Inada Shunosuke, 282–3 xxix, 120–1, 125, 128, Indemnity, xxvi, 29, 52–3 Hanotaux, Gabriel, 75 India, xxix, 5, 51, 137, 139, 142, 147, HAPAG, 81, 94 208, 301, Hara Takashi, 33, 35, 37–9, 41–5 army intelligence bureau, 138, 148 Harbin, 18, 173, 232 department of criminal Hardinge, Sir Charles, xxiv, 53, intelligence, 142, 148 Hart, Sir Robert, 65 political intelligence unit, 142, 148 Hartwig, N.G., 163 Indian independence movement, Hasegawa, General, 169 xxix, 143, 146 Haushofer, Major Karl von, 141 Indochina, 76, 79, 85 Havard, Colonel, xxxii Inokawa Takeshi, 233 Hay, John, 266 Inoue Kaoru, 7, 32, 63, 71, 178 Hayashi (NYK), 164 Intelligence Hayashi Gonsuke, 38, 171 military, 138, 140, 141, 233 Hayashi Tadasu, xxv, 6, 23, 34, 37–8, counter-, 139, 146, 44 services, xxix–xxx, 137–76, 162 Hearn, Lafcadio, 269 Intercepts, 26, 120, 139, 145, 146 Hellferich, Otto, 145 International law, 40 Henry of Prussia, Prince, xx, 94, 97 Iraq, 143 Hepburn, Clarissa and James, 63 Irish nationalists, 146, 148 Hibiya Park Riot, 41 Irkutsk, 233–4, 236–7 HIJMS Akitsushima, 185 Ishii Kikujiro, 51, 54–5 HIJMS Asahi, frontispiece, xxii Iskra, 223 HIJMS Hatsuse, 9 Islam, 142, 149 HIJMS Mikasa, 249 Itagaki Taisuke, 279 HIJMS Yashima, 9 Italy, 75, 115, 143, 306 HMS Dreadnought, 310 Ito, Admiral, 10, 16 Hill, Arthur, 65–6 Ito Hirobumi, Marquis, xxvi, 3–4, 7–8, Hill 203, 16–17 19, 34–5, 37–8, 41–2, 45, 71, 171, Hintze, Rear-Admiral Paul von, 141, 260, 146 Iwasaki company, 71 Index 343

Iwasaki, Consul-General, xxviii Khabarowsk, 203 Izvolskii, Aleksndr, 297 Kharkov, 212, 222 Khiva, 212 Jackson, Sir Thomas, 69 Kiaochow, 88, 147 James, Lionel, 120 Kim Hong-Jip, 105 Japan Kim Hong-Ryuk, 107 army, 8–14, 32, 34, 36, 39, 42–44, Kim, Matvei Ivanovich, 166 94, 100, 128, 132, 147, 269 Kim Ok-gyun, 111 consular system, 177–95 Kimura Tsuyoshi, 246 diet, 38, 41, Kishida Ginko, 246 executions, 167, 182 Kishiniov, xxvii, 68 ﬂeet, 214 Kitchener, Field-Marshal Lord, xxiii, foreign loans, 36, 39, 63–72, 138 foreign ministry, 24, 25, 32, 34, 54 Kleimenov, K.V., 163 foreign policy, xxx Knackfuß, Hermann, 276–7 imperial headquarters, 11–13, Knollys, Lord, xxiii 16–17 Kodama Gentaro, General, xxiii, 4, migration, xxvii, 58 11–15, 18, 43, 79 navy, 8, 36, 127, 142, 260, 269 Kodera Kenkichi, 281, 284 privy council, 7 Kokuryukai, 282, 284 Red Cross, 251 Kolpashevo, 235 secret services, 138, 139, 164 Komatsu, Prince, xx supreme war council, 7–8 Komura Jutaro, xix, xxiii, xviii, ultranationalist societies, xxix, 146 xxv–xxvi, 6–8, 18, 22–30, 32, 34, Jaurès, Jean, 77–8, 81 37, 45, 53, 55, 60, 108, 112, Jewish community, xxvii, 66 180–1, 192 Jihad, 142 Komura Shoji, 56 Jiyuto (Liberal Party), 39 Kono Hironaka, 38 Jo Byeong-sik, 111–12 Konoe Atsumaro, Prince, 278 Journalists, 120, 130, 258 Korea, xxviii, xxx, 3, 28, 38, 85, 88, 91, 93, 96, 104–18, 148, 159ff., Kabo reforms, 109 200, 203–205, 214, 302 Kamchatka, 18, 214, 237 Korean First March Movement, 284 Kaneko Kentaro, xxv, xxvii, 27, 50, Korean partisans, 162 52–4, 57–8, 93, 266–7, 280 Korf, Governor, 204 Kapnist, 206 Kotoku Shusui, 254 Kapsin coup, 109 Kraft, Georg Friedrich Vincent, 145 Kargodo, 162 Krasnoyarsk, 235–7 Kato Takaaki, xix, xxvi, 23, 32–49, 71 Kremer, 206 Katsura Taro, xxiii, 3, 5, 6–8, 11–14, Kuhn, Loeb & Co., 65–6 15–19, 22–3, 30, 32–4, 37–9, Kumamoto, 226 41–3, 56, 71, 79, 98 Kunikita Doppo, 245 Kawahara Misaoka, xxxii, 245, 252–3 Kuomintang, xxix, 146 Kawakami Toshitsune, 191 Kurino Shin’ichiro, 24, 208 Kazan, 222 Kuroki, General Tametomo, 123, 166 Kensei-Honto (True Constitutional Kuropatkin, General Aleksei, xxiii, 24, Party), 38, 42 160, 167, 169, 208–10, 224 344 Index

Kwangmu reforms, 109–10 Mediation, xxvi, 3, 14–19, 56, 97–8, 215 Lamsdorf, Count Vladimir, 5, 23, 53, Mediterranean Agreement, 74 83, 160, 164, 167, 208–209 Medved, 232 Language skills, 33, 63, 120 Meiji, Emperor (Mutsuhito), xix, xxi, Lansdowne, Marquis of, xxv, xxvi, 23, xxiii, xxiv, 3–21, 59, 71, 94, 125, 26, 35, 51, 69–70 247 Laporte, 169 Mexico, xxx, 146, 303 League of Nations, 283, 285 Middle East, 85 Lee Geun-taek, 114 Migration, 201–202, 208, 211, 214, Lee Ji-yong, 114 216, 283 Lee Yu-yoku, 115 Mill, John Stuart, 258–9 Lefevre, 169 Min Yeong-hwan, 107, 172 Lemeni-Makedon, Captain, 237 Mines, 127 Lenin, Vladimir I., 147 Mishchenko, General P.I., 166 Leroy-Beaulieu, Pierre, 268 Mitsui, 71 Lessar, 209 Miyagi, 225 Li Hongzhang, 205 Miyazaki Toten, 249 Liaotung penisula, 206–208, 211, Mizuno Hironori, 247–8 215 Mizuno Kokichi, 180, 185 Libya, 75, 308 Moltke, Helmut von, 300 Lilioukalani, Queen, 71 Monarchy, constitutional, xx, 3 Linevich, General N.P., 170 Mongols, 207, 213 Loans, 78, 84, 96, 111, 147, 203 Monroe Doctrine, 54 Lobanov, 107–109, 112, 206–207 Morgan, House of, 66 Louis, Prince of Battenberg, xx–xxi Mori Arinori, 63 L’vov, G.E., 224 Mori Ogai, 245, 274, 278–9 Mori Yoshitaro, Captain, 164 Macarthur, General Arthur, xxx Morocco, xxviii, 3, 58, 75, 80, 82, 97, Macarthur, Lieutenant Douglas, xxx 99, 140, 298–9, 301–302, 304, MacDonald, Sir Claude, xxi, xxiv, xxv, 309 22, 24, 25–8, 38, 51, 55, 128, 129 Moscow, 219–20 Madras, 144 Motono Ichiro, 76, 80 Maeda Masana, 63 Muraviev, Minister, 208 Maeda Renzan, 44 Muraviev, Governor, 203 Makino Nobuaki, 38, 278 Murray, David, 63 Malay States Guides, 144, 145 Muslim world, xxx, 142, 148, 199 Manchuria (gunboat), 184–5 Mutiny, 145 Manchuria, xxvi, xxxi, 3, 5, 11, 13, 44, Mutsu Hirokichi, 44 56, 79, 85, 90, 93, 96, 106, 108, Myeong Sung hwang-hu (Queen Min), 111–16, 200, 205, 208–11, 212, 106, 108 294–5, 298, 302, 308, 310 Marathey, 144 Nadolny, Captain, 144 Maria Fedorovna, Dowager Tsarina, 83 Nagai, Professor, 147 Masanpo, 109 Nagano, 226 Matsukata Masayoshi, 5, 7, 18, 71 Nagaoka Gaishi, General, 9, 13, 14, Mecca, 143 16, 18 Index 345

Nagataki Hisakichi, 186 Okakura Tenshin, 278 Napoleon III, Emperor, 303 Okazaki, 226 National characteristics, 121 Okazawa Kiyoshi, General, 10 Navy, Royal, xx, 81, 94, 127, 131, 141, Oku, General, 130 301–302, 310 Okuma Kusunoo, 247 Near East, 301 Okuma Shigenobu, 38, 247, 260, 280, Nelidov, 80, 83 283–4 Netherlands, 143 Okumura Ioko, 251–2 East Indies, 143, 144, 146, 162 Omsk, 236 Neutrality, xxvii–xxix, xxx, 40, 93, Open Door, 93, 96, 99, 265–6 104–18, 139, 146–8 Opium wars, 301 breach of, 94 Oppenheim, Freiherr Max von, 142, Newspapers (shimbun) 262 144 Fuso Shimbun, 226 Oshima Kenichi, Colonel, 18 Irkutskie Gubernskie Vedomosti, 234 Oszvobozhdenie, 211–14, 216 Nichi Nichi, 40–1, 43 Otsuka Kusuoko, 243–4, 253–4 Shin-Aichi, 226 Ottley, Captain Charles, xxii Sibirskie Vestnik, 233 Ottoman Empire, xxxiii, 3, 142, 148, Vostochnoe Obozrenie, 233 208, 307–308 New York Times, 260, 268 Owada Tateki, 243–4 New Zealand, 275, 301 Oyama Isao, General, xxiii, 7, 10, Nicholas I, Tsar, 200 12–17, 71, 163, 247 Nicholas II, Tsar, xx, 24, 50–3, 57–8, Ozaki Yukio, 71 74, 76, 78, 83, 88, 90, 98–9, 107–108, 115, 160–1, 168, Paciﬁc War, 60 207–10, 214–15, 299 Pak Che-sun, 171–2 Nicholson, General Sir William, xxiii, Pakenham,Captain Christopher, 120 frontispiece, xxii, 127, 131 Nikolaevsk, 215 Paléologue, 80–1 Nikol’sk-Ussuriiski, 219 Papen, Captain Franz von, 144, 146 Nishi, 108–109, 112 Parisbas, 82 Nitobe Inazo, 271 Parr, Cecil, 69 Nizhnenovgorod, 222 Paternalism, xxxii, 257–73 Nobel Peace Prize, 59 Pavlov, Aleksandr Ivanovich, xxx, Noel, Admiral Sir G.U., xxii, xxx 159–76 Nogi Maresuke, General, 16, 64, 71, Peasant revolts, 212 100, 141, 247 Perm, 234 Norway, 146, 296 Perry, Commodore, xxi, 266 Nossi-bé, 80 Persia, 142, 143, 148, 208 Pescadores, 207 Observers, military, 119–20, 126, 128, Petersburg, 307 129, 131, 141 Petrie, David, xxix, 145 Obruchev, 207 Philippines, 92 Ofﬁcers, exchange of, 100, 138, 141 Pimodan, Count, 128 Odagiri Matsunosuke, 164, 184 Pinkerton detective agency, 146 Ogorodnikov, Colonel F.E., 168 Pitsewo, 163 Oka Ichinosuke, 15, 18 Plan XV, 304 346 Index

Planson, E.A., 172 Rothschilds, xxvii, 65, 68 Plehve, Viacheslav, 209, 218–19, 224 Rouvier, Maurice, 76, 82–3 Pogroms, xxvii, 66, 68 Russia, 295–7 Poland, xxv, 139, 148, 199 Far East, xxxi, 54, 199–217 Police, 226–7 labour unrest, xxxi Police, secret, 79, 235 military intelligence, 138 Poltava, 211 navy, 295, 297 Polyanovskii, Consul Z.M., 172 1905 Revolution, xxv, 139, 148, Popov, I.I., 233 218, 295, 299 Port Arthur (Lushun), xxvi, 9, 13, 1917 Revolution, 146, 295 14–16, 39, 78, 88, 91, 96, 127, political intelligence, 159–76 130, 162, 163, 226, 234, 247, 249 State Fundmental Law, 199 Press, xxxi unconditional surrender, xxvi Primuria, 232 Russian Red Cross, 222, 238 Primorskii, 202, 215–16 Russo-Japanese negotiations, xxv, 3, Prisoners-of-war, xxxi, 145, 147, 24–7, 38–9 232–40 Russo-Turkish War, 213, 221 Ryohei Nobuo, 56 Race/racism, xxxii, 89–90, 91, 105, 121, 213, 274–85 Sabotage, xxx, 141–2, 146, 149, 252 Radio, use of, 120 Saigo Tsugumichi, 5, 6 Railways, 43, 140, 208, 215 Saionji Kinmochi, Prince, 35, 42, 71 Amur, 207, 215 Saito Makoto, Admiral, xxii, 9 Bagdad, 89, 140 Sakai Tokutaro, 52 Chinese Eastern, 5, 90, 184, 201, Sakai Toshihiko, 254 207, 211, 215 Sakatani, 71 Keigi, 110 Sakhalin, 14–15, 18, 29, 40, 41, 51, Seoul-Fusan, 166 53–5, 57–8, 214–15 South Manchurian, 58, 88, Sakharov, 215 207–208, 211, 215 Sakurai Tadayoshi, 247–8 Trans-Siberian, 89–90, 201, 203, Salisbury, Marquess of, 137, 302 207, 210 Sands, W.F., 111 Rajput Light Infantry, 145 Sansom, Sir George, 126 Reimbursement, 54 Saratov, 221–2 Repington, Charles à Court, xxix, Sasebo, 214 119–21, 123, 127, 130 Sasonov, Sergei, 297 Revelstoke, Lord (John Baring), 66, 69 Satow, Sir Ernest, 29–30, 33 Revolution, 142, 148, 295 Satsuma faction, 13 Ridout, Colonel, xxix Schiff, Jacob, xxvii, 59, 63–72 Roberts, Field-Marshal Lord, 139 Schlieffen Plan, 300 Rodzhestvenskii, Admiral Zinovii, 80, Second International, 212 141, 162 Second World War, 90, 100, 244–5 Roosevelt, Theodore, xix, xxvi, xxviii, Sedition, 148 28, 53–60, 67, 92–3, 96–8, 121, Segawa Asanoshin, 179–80, 182 123, 274–5 Seinan Civil War, 246 Rosen, Roman, 25–6, 50, 108–109, Seiyukai, xxvi, 7, 32, 35–7, 38, 41–2, 112, 209 45 Index 347

Selborne, Earl of, xxvii, 137 Suematsu Kencho, xxv, 27, 267 Serbia, 300, 306 Suez Canal, 81 Shand, Alexander Allan, 63–4, 66–7 Sun Yat-sen, 144, 249 Shanghai Incident, 248 Supply, coal, 81, 94 ‘Shanghai Service’, xxx Weapons, 144 Shantung, 89, 105 Surgery, 122 Sheremetev, Count, 160 Surprise attacks, 78, 95, 140 Shibusawa Eiichi, 71 Sviatopolsk-Mirskii, P.D., 219, 224 Shiga Shigekata, 245 Sweden, xxx, 143, 146–7, 148, 296 Shinobu Junpe, 191 Switzerland, 148 Shipov, D.N., 223–4 Syropiatov, Colonel, 235–7 Shipyards, 76 Shirai Jiro, Colonel, 10 Taft, William, 8, 67 Shizuoka, 226 Taguchi Ukichi, 277, 280 Shobukai, 225 Tairo Doshikai (Anti-Russian League), Showa, Emperor, xxiv 36 Siam, 143, 146 Taisho, Emperor, xxiv, 9, 11 Siberia, xxxi, 54, 148, 165, 199–200, Taiyo, 244, 278–80 214–15, 233–6, 238–9 Taiwan, 4, 246 Siebold, Alexander von, 278 Takahashi Korekiyo, xxv, xxvii, 63–72 Singapore, 144–5 Takahira Kogoro, 93 Sino-Japanese relations, xxvi, Tanaka Giichi, 100 xxx–xxxi, 4, 29, 206 Tangier, 82, 298 Sino-Japanese War, 11, 36, 106, 109, Tayama Katai, 245 113, 123, 177, 205–207, 225, Terashima Munenori, 178 227, 246, 275, 277–8, 280 Terauchi Masatake, General, xxiii, 7–8, Skrydlov, Admiral H.I., 163 10–19, 43 Smith, Thomas, xxxi The Times newspaper, xxix, 38, 109, Smolensk, 307 123, 260, 267 So Yoshiaki, 178 Tiumen, province, 222 Social Darwinism, 132 Tiumen, river, 105, 170 Sone Arasuke, 8, 15, 18, 71 Tobol’sk, 201 Sotnikov, M., 237 Tochoken Kumoemon, 249 South Africa, 275 Togo Heihachiro, Admiral, xxii, 17, South Ussuri, 202, 205 59, 64, 71, 123, 141 Spain, 80 Tokuji Sanenori, Colonel, 15, 17 Spheres of inﬂuence, 110 Tokutomi Soho, 279 Spring Rice, Cecil, xxvi Tomsk, 201, 235–8 Sredhnyi department store, 219 Tonkin Bay, 205 Stalin, J.V., 216 Torpedoes, 127 Stead, Alfred, 257, 268 Total war, 149, 310 Sternburg, 92 Translators, 120, 166 Stoessel, General, 100 Treaty of Aigun, 105, 200, 202 Stone, Melville, 59 Beijing, 105, 200, 202–203, 301 Struve, Peter, 212 Bjørkø, 59, 83, 98–9, 296, 299 Subversion, xxx, 141–6, 149, 162 Frankfurt, 75 Sudan, 143, 148 Nerchinsk, 200 348 Index

Treaty of (cont.) Wallenberg, 147 Portsmouth, xxvii, 19, 29–30, Wallinger, Major, xxix, 143 39–42, 50–60, 84, 98, 140, 161, Warburgs, 70, 147 170–1, 215, 218, 220, 295, 299 Weber, 108 Shimonoseki, 206 Weihaiwei, 88, 205 Tyan’tszin, 200 Wheat imports, 202 Triple Alliance (Dreibund), 74, 75, 309 White, Henry, 51 Triple Entente, 99, 142, 299, 304, 309 Wilhelm II, Kaiser, xx–xxi, xxviii, Triple Intervention, xxi, 24, 58, 76, 51–3, 59, 75, 79, 82–3, 88, 90, 95, 88, 106, 147, 206–207, 248, 269, 97–9, 101, 140–1, 142, 275–6, 276 297–300, 310 Tripolitania, 143, 308 Wilson, President Woodrow, 146, Troubridge, Captain Ernest, xxii, 128 284 Tschirschky, 83 Wingate, Major Alfred, 138 Tsuboi Shogoro, 280 Witte, Count Sergei, 5, 54, 56, 90, 160, Tsuniyoshi, Colonel Tadamichi, 164 171, 205–209 Tula, 221 Wogack, General K. de, 26, 168 Turkmenistan, 199 Wounded soldiers, 162, Twenty-One Demands, 41 Xiamen (Amoy) incident, 4, 33 Uchida Yasuya, 30, 37, 147, 191 Uchimura Kanzo, 254 Yalu, 209–210 Ujina, 11 Yamagata Aritomo, Field-Marshal, Ukraine, 148 xxiii, 4, 6–7, 12–18, 22, 32, 34, Usagawa Kazumasa, General, 15, 18 42, 71, 107–109, 112, 138, 281 US-Japan relations, 57–60, 92 Yamaguchi, 233 USS Plunger, 573 Yamamoto (Mitsui Bussan), 164 Utsunomiya Taro, Colonel, xxv, 138, Yamamoto Gonnohyoe, Admiral, xxii, 139, 280–1 7–8, 10, 13–14, 16, 18, 25, 27, 29, 120, 141, 279 Vannovskii, 205–207 Yanagihara Aiko, 9 Verbeck, Guido, 63 Yanagihara Sakimitsu, 178 Vernon, 168 Yangtse valley, 93, 96 Viceroy of the Far East, 201 Yellow peril, xxxii, 58, 79, 89, 92, 100, Victoria, Queen, xx, 5, 302 122, 123, 141, 167, 213–14, Vigo, 81 268–9, 271–2, 274–5, 279 Vladimir, 222 Yenisei, 201, 234–6 Vladivostock, 18, 54, 91, 169, 170, Yongmpo incident, 109, 114 173, 202, 215, 236 Yosano Akiko, 244, 253–4 Vologda, 234 Yoshimura Akira, 56 Volunteer Fleet, 202 Young Turks, 307 Vorontsov-Dashkov, I.I., 223 Yu Gil-jun, 111 Yuan Shi-kai, 146 Wagner, Richard, 276 Wall Street, 63 Zemstvo, xxxi, 220–3